More than that, DeeAnn knew something the rest of her team didn’t. Something she had been reluctant to accept. Even though, down deep, she knew it was true. A sickening dread that told her she could not pretend any longer.
There were simply too many signs to be ignored.
She reached into a breast pocket and withdrew her phone. She then sat it down on Lee’s desk and stared at it for a long time. Because once she made the call and let the information out, there would be no putting it back into the bottle.
DeeAnn closed her eyes for a moment before slowly opening them again, and began dialing.
When his phone rang, Will Borger was gripping a section of railing and trying to steady himself over the violent rocking of their small boat. It was a supply craft, used for transferring items back and forth to the rig, and kept secured beneath the platform during the day to avoid being picked up by aerial photos.
But it was no match for the incoming storm. A small tropical storm building from the southeast had changed the conditions drastically. It caused their boat to pitch wildly as they motored through the steep swells. With every up and down motion, Borger gripped the rail tighter and prayed that he wouldn’t get sick before they reached the Pathfinder.
Upon hearing the ringing from his phone, he switched hands and attempted to steady himself by widening his stance. With his free hand, he pulled the phone out and studied the screen before answering.
“Hello?”
“Will, it’s DeeAnn.”
He looked curiously at Caesare who was watching from several feet away, though seemingly much less affected by the boat’s pitching. “Hey, Dee. What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you. About the search.”
“Uh, can we talk later? This isn’t the best time.”
“It’s important,” she replied firmly.
“Okay.” Stepping inside the boat’s large pilothouse, Will pressed himself firmly against an interior wall for support. “Shoot.”
“Do you have any results yet?”
“Not yet,” Borger said. “The servers are making good progress, but they haven’t found anything yet.” He frowned. “Why, is everything okay?”
“I have a place for you to search.”
Borger glanced forward and out through the window at the bright lights of the Pathfinder’s stern. Outside from the bow of their own boat, two members of their team were yelling to each other over the powerful wind. Borger turned away and covered one ear with his hand. “Say again?”
DeeAnn raised her voice. “I said, I have a place for you to search.”
“Where’s that?”
As she spoke, DeeAnn felt the name roll off her tongue like poison. “Rwanda.”
Borger thought a moment. “I think we’ve scanned that area of the map. Everything above fifteen-degrees latitude. We didn’t pick up anything there.”
On the other end of the phone, DeeAnn’s response was blunt.
“Then scan it more carefully!”
With the phone still in his hand, a puzzled Will Borger stared at Caesare and abruptly swayed sideways in response to their boat’s first bounce against the stern of the U.S.N.S Pathfinder.
32
“Hello, beautiful.”
Neely Lawton recognized the voice immediately and turned to spot Steve Caesare standing in the doorway of her lab.
“Commander.”
Caesare rolled his eyes. “We’ve been over this before. It’s Steve.”
She let out only a trace of amusement. “Right, Steve.”
He stepped into the brightly lit room. Behind him, the door began to close before it was caught and pushed back open.
“And good evening to you, Mr. Borger.”
Caesare squinted at her upon hearing the change in her voice to Will. “Really?”
She let the grin spread across the rest of her face and reached out to secure a mug on the table as the Pathfinder rolled over a large wave. “And to what do I owe the pleasure tonight?”
“Langford wanted us on the call. And we have some parts to pick up.”
The “parts” that Caesare was referring to were more than just normal supplies for restocking the Valant.
The most important was a piece of hardware procured from the International Ocean Discovery Program or IODP. Established in the mid-20th century, the global project constituted the longest running collaboration of international scientists to study the Earth’s history by drilling beneath the seafloor.
And true to Langford and Miller’s word, they managed to procure one of the IODP’s most sophisticated underwater mobile drilling units with few questions asked.
Of course, what the IODP did not know was that the Pathfinder’s engineering team was about to replace the giant drill bit with one designed to chew through some of the hardest substances on Earth. What was singularly unique about the IODP’s Mobile Undersea Platform (MUP) was its design as a self-contained environment, allowing “dry drilling” even while completely submerged below the ocean surface. A perfect solution when drilling through substances that one did not want to simultaneously flood.
Neely nodded and looked at her watch calmly. “The call’s in about a half hour.”
“Perfect,” Caesare replied. “Just enough time to get some grub. Care to join me?”
She paused, considering it. Then shrugged with a smile. “Sure.”
While Neely turned and opened a drawer to put some things away, Caesare looked at Borger and lowered his voice. “You’re not invited.”
Borger feigned a hurt look. “Fine. I’ll try to find some more Bonine.”
“Try ginger tablets.”
When Neely stood up, Caesare noticed the several cages secured atop the table behind her but said nothing. Instead he smiled and extended his arm for her.
Neely glanced at his muscular arm but made no movement toward it. Without a word, she grinned and moved quickly toward the door, opening it before he could and promptly stepping out.
An amused Caesare raised his eyebrow at Borger. “Feisty.”
In the galley, surrounded by stainless steel counters and partitions, rows of long blue tables filled the dining area as several of the Pathfinder’s crew sat together conversing.
At a smaller table against the wall, Neely sipped a cup of tea while Caesare took a bite from a corned beef sandwich.
“So how’s it going over here?” he asked.
“Mmm… not so good.”
Caesare paused in mid-bite before continuing. “That doesn’t sound like good news.”
“How about you?”
“Pretty much the same. This thing sitting under us is pretty damn big. I honestly don’t know how long we’re going to be able to keep it quiet.”
“And there’s probably been about a hundred satellite flyovers by now.”
“Exactly. If anyone’s paying attention, it won’t be long before they get just a little curious.”
“How much longer do you think we have?”
“A lot less than we need,” Caesare frowned. “Maybe weeks. Or less if someone figures it out.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Then we all start speaking Spanish and act like we’re lost.” Caesare winked at her. “You’d be surprised how well that works.”
Neely smiled and raised her cup toward her mouth. “I get the impression you’re speaking from experience.”
“It’s gotten us out of more than one tight spot.”
She watched him, his wide frame completely relaxed, as he finished the first sandwich and then picked up a second. It was interesting because in some ways he and John Clay were very different, yet they were fairly similar in others. Clay had a slightly more serious or quiet personality, and Steve Caesare was more jovial. Not in an immature way, just more… unrestrained. Caesare was also a few inches shorter and more muscular than Clay.