“Yes, private group. It’s not a military operation for them.” Roberts looked up from the chart to give Bones a hard stare. “But it is for you two.”
Maddock focused on the chart while he spoke. “Has the group made a public announcement about finding Earhart’s plane? I haven’t heard anything in the news.”
Bones gave him a mock scowl. “You wouldn’t hear about it unless they bought ad time on that public radio crap you listen to.”
“Excuse me for not spending all my time reading about alien conspiracies,” Maddock snapped.
The commander jumped in. “Actually, no public announcement has been made yet.”
Maddock quickly recovered his composure. “So then how do you know they found it, or think they did?”
Roberts dropped his pencil and crossed his arms, his gaze becoming intense. “Without going beyond a need-to-know level of detail, SEALs, I can tell you that the Navy has a certain interest in Amelia Earhart’s plane that has not been authorized for public disclosure at this time. Some time ago when the EARHART group announced within the commercial diving community that it was seeking divers to assist them with salvage efforts relating to Earhart’s plane, the Navy responded to their request by posing as a commercial diving outfit. You two are going to work for them under that guise.”
Bones held up a hand. “Excuse me, Sir. Wait just a minute, please. Do you mean to say that you’re sending us on an undercover assignment?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Bonebrake.”
“Cool!” Bones sprang to his feet. “For some reason, I never get asked to go undercover. People think I stand out. No idea why.” He lifted his chin and rose up a bit on the balls of his toes, emphasizing his height.
The commander did not smile.
Maddock gritted his teeth. Would Bones never stop? As his comrade settled back into his seat, Maddock returned his attention to the commander. “What are our specific objectives for this mission?”
Roberts nodded in his direction, probably grateful for Maddock’s directing the briefing forward in a professional manner.
“What we need you to do is simple: If this group has actually located Earhart’s plane, we need you to confirm that, and then we need you to recover certain assets from it if they can be found.”
The commander paused to allow Maddock and Bones to absorb this.
“There are two major types of assets we’re looking for that may be in or around the site of the plane wreck. “One…” Roberts said forcefully to regain their attention, “we’re looking for any kind of photographic apparatus, especially undeveloped film, associated with Earhart’s plane. Two: we need to recover anything resembling a porcelain or ceramic container, which—pay attention now — may still contain weaponized smallpox.”
The commander leaned back in his chair as if ready to field an inevitable barrage of questions.
“Did you say smallpox?” Maddock clarified.
“I said weaponized smallpox, yes. Don’t ask what she was doing with it, if it’s even there. Your job is simply to find it and bring it back to us. If possible, keep even the EARHART team from knowing about its existence, but either way, get control of it and have it with you when you make the sat-phone call for extraction.”
“Smallpox?” Bones repeated. “I don’t think my people ever wrote a thank-you note to the white folks for that generous gift.”
Maddock shuddered as he recalled images he’d seen of Native Americans suffering from the disease, their entire faces and bodies riddled with horrible-looking, pus-filled sores before they died.
Roberts managed a sympathetic look that lasted about a second. “In all likelihood the smallpox,” he paused for a moment, seeking the right word, “…containers are no longer with the plane. Or if they are, they’re most likely no longer intact after more than six decades of immersion in seawater following the plane crash.”
“Most likely?” Bones made a sour face. “One time, this chick told me she ‘most likely’ didn’t have herpes. Not too comforting.”
The commander cleared his throat. “I agree.”
He was about to continue when there came a knock at the door. He told the person to come in, and a female Navy nurse in her late twenties wheeling a stainless steel medical cart entered the room.
“Set up right over there, please.” The commander pointed to a corner of the room before quickly getting back to Maddock and Bones. He picked up a pair of manila folders. “That’s why I’ve taken the liberty of accessing your medical histories.” He opened one of the folders and leafed through its pages. “You two are…” He halted in mid-sentence. Maddock was following him Bones’ gaze was on the nurse as she began unzipping some sort of kit. Roberts cleared his throat. “Bonebrake? You with us?”
Bones snapped his head back around. “Sorry, Commander.”
“You two are too young to have gotten a smallpox vaccination as children. The U.S. stopped giving the vaccine in the early nineteen seventies after successful eradication efforts. We still stockpile it, though, just in case.” He raised an eyebrow and tipped his head toward the nurse, who gave a welcoming smile as she held up a needle.
“Just in case of a weaponized attack against the U.S.?” Maddock asked.
“That’s right. After all, because so many citizens have never been vaccinated against it, an outbreak would be catastrophic. It’s quite contagious.” Maddock nodded to acknowledge the response and then the commander said, “Please, walk over to Lieutenant Sanchez so that she can administer the vaccine to you. It’s just a precaution.”
Bones reached the nurse’s station almost before Roberts finished his sentence, with Maddock walking up behind him.
“Okay, boys, roll up your sleeves. This won’t hurt a bit.” The nurse watched as Maddock and Bones presented their bare shoulders, and she quickly swabbed a portion of their skin with alcohol pads.
“This, on the other hand,” she said, picking up a strange-looking bifurcated needle, “will most definitely hurt.”
She dipped the two-pronged instrument into a flask and jabbed it into Bones’ shoulder, cutting off his laughter. He looked up at her in surprise.
“You’re a tricky one!”
“You might be able to fool a couple of dolphins, but you’re not getting past me.”
Maddock presented his shoulder. “Heard about that, huh?”
“The whole ship heard about it.” She picked up another of the needles and stuck it into Maddock’s arm. She looked at him and frowned.
“Something wrong?
“No, it’s just weird that you’re a Navy guy and your eyes are the color of the sea. They’re…” She paused, shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, and then resumed a professional air.
“It should turn red in a few hours, then in a day or so develop kind of an open sore. That’s completely normal. Another day or so after that it’ll scab over. If you experience a different progression than that, then notify a doctor when you get back.” She glanced from Maddock to Bones and back to Maddock.
“Good luck, boys!” She began packing up her equipment.
Commander Roberts said, “Thank you, Lieutenant. Dismissed.” He waited until she had wheeled her cart to the door and Bones held it open for her. When they were alone again, Roberts said, “In terms of what to expect on the dives, I’m told you’ll be using traditional scuba air tanks for dives to a depth of two hundred ten feet, where the plane rests on a coral shelf.”
“That’s deep,” Maddock said.
“We’ll be deep undercover,” Bones quipped, eliciting an eye roll from the commander, who continued.