“Let’s give it a try.” Dane set up Bones’ rig and then the two of them cast their lines into the boat’s wake. While they waited for a strike, Bones monitored the mystery ship, focusing with his binoculars on its tow rig.
“What do you think? Magnetometer?” he asked, referring to a kind of high-tech metal detector used in deep water shipwreck searches. He passed the binoculars to Dane, who directed them at the ship.
“Definitely a magnetometer. They’re coming back around now, too, to start another leg of their grid pattern. They’re searching for something made of metal down there. The Spanish ship itself was made of wood, of course, but its treasure, if it carried gold and silver, would register.”
“If the show made it known where they found the treasure wreck, why do they have to search for it?”
“It’s not unusual for portions of a wreck to be scattered over a large area, even miles. Especially one that sank in water this deep, probably in a storm. You can picture it breaking into pieces on the way down and then those pieces settle on the seafloor in a long debris trail.”
“So the Science Channel people could have found only part of the wreck, and now these guys are looking around to see what else they might have missed?”
“That’d be my guess.” Dane handed the binoculars to Bones.
“But why wouldn’t the Science Channel also be interested in the Spanish wreck, keeping that discovery to themselves? Why announce it?”
“Probably because the TV expedition is not really focused on the shipwreck. They want the capsule. They may even be renting equipment that they only have a set number of days to use, and it’s going to take all their concentration and resources to be able to pull that spacecraft salvage off. After all, if they’re successful, it’d be the deepest commercial salvage operation ever done. So they decided to stir the publicity pot a little by announcing the treasure ship. It could…”
Suddenly the fishing rods — first Dane’s and then Bones’—bent sharply at the tips and they heard a rapid clicking noise as line spooled from the reels.
“Fish on!” Dane said, yanking his rod out of the holder. He let the fish run until it soared from the water, glistening in the light.
“What is it?” Bones picked up his rod and almost lost it over the side before he realized how much strength he needed.
“Yellowfin tuna!” Dane said. “We’ll be eating good tonight.” He briefly coached Bones on how to fight the gamefish and then went back to reeling in his own.
Bracing the butt of the pole against his midsection, Dane pulled up on it, feeling his biceps burn with the effort. Pull up, reel down, repeat. It was a familiar set of actions to him, and for a little while he almost forgot that he was a highly trained naval operative on a dangerous undercover assignment. The faint smell of diesel in his nostrils, the salt spray flicking from the spooling line peppering his face… it took him back to the days of his youth, fishing Florida waters. He squinted his eyes against the sun-dappled ocean where the majestic fish thrashed and pulled for its life.
Soon the sound of splashing yanked Dane out of his reverie and he was staring at a fish whipping the water behind the boat into a frenzy. He reached over the side with a gaff and hooked his tuna behind a gill, hauling it aboard where it slapped hard against the deck.
Bones almost had his tuna to the boat by sheer brute force, and Dane told him to pull up on it while he readied the gaff again. In one smooth motion he hooked the second fish and tossed it over the rail.
“Not bad, right?” Dane said to Bones, who was grinning ear to ear while looking at the pair of tuna on deck. In addition to the cover, Dane had also hoped that the fishing would help him bond with his partner. They got along well enough most of the time after a rocky start in BUDS school, but the relationship was still being forged and for this mission above all others, they would need to respect one another. Dane knew that the wily Cherokee felt he was too by-the-book at times, too safe.
He removed the titanium dive knife he wore clipped to his belt and proceeded to filet his fish on the deck, throwing the scraps over the side.
“You’re as good at that as I am at skinning a deer,” Bones noted.
“Spent every summer fishing while I was growing up. At least, the years we lived in Florida. Caught tons of yellowfins just like these.”
“This is my first one,” Bones said with a hint of pride.
“No way! Well then you’ve got to do the ritual.”
Bones gave him a skeptical look.
“Seriously.” Dane bent to the big fish with his knife and made a few deep cuts. After a minute he withdrew his bloodied hand from the animal and held out a small globule of dark red meat for Bones’ inspection. It quivered slightly in his palm.
“The heart.”
Dane popped the morsel into his mouth and swallowed, enjoying the look of surprise on Bone’s face as he chased it with a swig from a bottle of water. “The ultimate sushi,” he said, wiping his mouth. “It’s good luck to eat the heart from your first tuna. Try it with yours.”
Dane knew he was appealing to Bones’ native American instincts. In short order he had extracted the powerful muscle from the tuna Bones had boated. The hefty Indian took the piece of meat and held it up for closer inspection. “When I killed my first deer, my uncle spread its blood over my face. I guess this is the fish version.” He glanced over the boat’s rail toward the ships they were monitoring. “I guess I could use all the luck I can get, too.” He tipped his head back and dropped the heart into his mouth. Like Dane, he swallowed it whole and chased it with water.
“How is it?”
“Tastes like chicken.” Bones grinned.
The two SEALs looked one another in the eye. They were in this together now, in a way that went beyond the non-disclosure agreements they’d signed aboard the Learjet.
Then they heard the radio, rigged such that it was broadcast over a loudspeaker system to be heard when not in the wheelhouse, crackle to life.
“Calling fishing trawler, this is research vessel Ocean Explorer, please reply!”
Chapter 4
Dane and Bones ran to the trawler’s pilothouse where Dane picked up the radio and keyed the transmitter.
“Attention R/V Ocean Explorer, this is fishing trawler Atlantic Pride acknowledging your transmission.” Dane repeated his message one more time before they received a reply.
“Atlantic Pride, you are advised to fish away from this area, which is now the site of a deep water salvage operation. Fishing gear in the water may interfere with salvage operations. Do you copy?”
Bones glanced through his binoculars at the salvage ship in the distance. “They worried we might snag their ROV cables with our lines from a mile away?”
Dane held the transmitter at the ready without keying it while he weighed the question. “More than likely they just don’t want anyone around. But let’s have a little fun.” He spoke into the microphone.
“We copy. We’ll stay clear.” He kept his tone casual. “Mind if we ask what you’re salvaging?”
Bones raised his eyebrows. Would they be truthful? But the reply was easygoing.
“Space capsule on the bottom. We’re filming for a Science Channel cable special.”
Dane grinned at Bones as he replied. “Cool! I wouldn’t mind getting a look at that. When do you plan to bring it up?”
Bones’ eyes bugged out at the directness of the questions. But once again, the television crew’s representative seemed unfazed by the line of inquiry. Why shouldn’t they be open when they had no reason to believe anyone would want the capsule more than they did?