“Yeah, yeah…” Sam interrupted his thunder. “Often used in mining, probably one of the local Mexican silver mines.”
“Okay, so I see Matthew’s filled you in. But the next part is what you’re going to find really interesting, my friend.”
“What?”
“The sources of the contamination weren’t dumped here at all, as we expected. Instead, it came from an underwater tunnel, and guess who owned the tunnel?”
“Michael Rodriguez, the owner of the closest silver mine?”
“Good guess, but no. A man by the name of Ajtzak Wikea.”
He waited for the name to ring a bell in Sam’s ear, but it didn’t.
“Never heard of him. What does he do?”
“Not what he does, but what he did.” Waiting for the words to sink in, Tom continued, “He lost the future hope of the Mayan empire, after losing its greatest weapon at the Ciudad Del Carmen in 1443 to an unknown enemy.”
Sam’s eyes focused and his smile turned radiant, “The Ark of Light — I’ve read about it, and often wondered if there was any truth to the stories. Myth has it that it was a powerful scepter, covered with ornate jewels, and at the center a giant diamond, which had the ability to regulate the direction and intensity of the sun. Enough power to destroy ships with one shot — but it’s never been found, and neither has any evidence of its existence. Like all longstanding myths, I can imagine that its origins had some semblance of truth.”
“That’s the one…”
“What else do we know about Ciudad Del Carmen?”
“Not a lot. So far, all we know is little more than what the tourist brochure says — that what was named “Ciudad Del Carmen” in the 16th century by the Spanish invaders, was a Mayan fortress dating back thousands of years that served as a trading outpost between the Aztec and Mayan civilizations.”
“Do we have the archeological maps of the Mayan fortress?”
“Sure do. It took some work, but we convinced someone from the University of Mexico to email them to us.”
“And what did they show?” Sam asked.
“Nothing that would indicate an underground passage deep below the sea.”
“So what we’ve found is an entirely new section of the building?”
“Looks like it.”
“Okay, so how did our fifteenth century friend get involved in all this?” Sam asked, shaking his head.
“That I don’t know. But the tunnel leads somewhere, and I think it’s time you and I find out where — so we can stop this before it destroys most of the planet’s sea life.”
“Sounds like a plan. When do we dive?”
“The Rock will be ready in two hours.”
A crooked smile crossed Sam’s face, as he thought about diving the unexplored, ancient Mayan tunnel.
This was more like the environment he wanted to work in: dangerous, mysterious, and ancient. He went through the dive plan with Tom, and although he now took over the control of the mission, he was happy with the plan.
They would use the dive bell to reach the seafloor, 300 feet below. The Maria Helena housed a technologically advanced dive bell. It was capable of supporting up to five divers at any one time for up to five days without shipside support, or indefinitely with a shipside tether.
The Rock, as the bell was affectionately known, had a potential bottom depth range of 1000 feet, although Sam would be reluctant to attempt to work at such depths without the aid of a mechanical atmospheric dive suit. It was also equipped with a hyperbaric chamber, making rapid ascents possible, if required.
Once on the seabed, Sam and Tom would set up for a deep dive and enter the tunnel. Wearing fully encapsulated diving helmets, the two men would be protected from the lethality of the hydrogen cyanide, which is most dangerous when breathed or ingested. At that depth, the two men would have a dive time of less than fifty minutes in which to locate the source of the cyanide contamination and seal it. Returning to the outer chamber of the Rock, the two men could then begin the decontamination process, which involved scrubbing each dive suit with a neutralizing agent before entering the dive bell and then having the dive suit washed again before the men removed the equipment and entered the main living area of the bell.
Or that was how it was supposed to go.
At the bottom of the seafloor Sam shook Tom, who, lying flat on his back in the relatively cramped space, was snoring soundly. It took more than a light shake to rouse the man, “Hey, we’re here. It’s time to get ready.”
“What time is it?” Tom’s voice was groggy.
“1410. The dive time is set to commence at 1430.” Shaking his head, Sam said, “We’re about to dive in 300 feet of water. Our bodies will be under 30 times their normal atmospheric pressure. As though that isn’t dangerous enough, we’re going to do so in the hope of sealing a catastrophic leak of hydrogen cyanide, in a tunnel that will compete with the extreme depth to kill us… and yet you sleep like a baby?”
Tom shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve always been a good sleeper — you never know when you’ll need the extra energy later. You want an egg sandwich before we dive? I packed you one too,” he said casually, taking a bite.
“I’ll be all right, but make it quick.”
Sam put his legs through his dry suit and checked both of their twin dive tanks. By the time he looked up, he caught a glimpse of Tom shoving the remaining half of his sandwich in his mouth. His boyish grin was displayed behind the mouth full of food.
Ordinarily, Sam would remain on the ship as the director of the operation. But when Tom had spoken of an ancient tunnel, he wouldn’t hear a word about missing out on it. Consequently, Matthew would take over his role. He had direct access with several doctors from the CDC, who could provide real time answers to any question Sam or Tom asked while they were in the tunnel.
It took less than five minutes to lock their dive helmets and complete their checks on each other before they were ready to dive.
“Maria Helena, Maria Helena, this is Reilly, how do you read?” Sam said through his push to talk (PTT) system.
“Loud and clear.” It was Matthew’s voice that answered him.
“Very good. Now that we’ve established the Rock’s relay communications are working, are we clear to dive?”
“Weather up here is still good. You and Tom have a safe dive.”
Sam looked at Tom, who nodded to show he was ready. And then, one after the other, they started to climb backwards down the steps into the moon pool below, and into another world.
The water was dark, but the visibility with their flashlights excellent — at least fifty feet. Sam checked that the navigation beacon on board the Rock was working, and that his range finder could clearly see it. Reassured by the flashing bulb, he then held the electronic dive tablet in front of him, and hit Search.
It flashed several times, sending ultrahigh frequency sound waves out in a 270-degree arc ahead of them. Immediately, the screen showed the flat surface of the seabed and the only obstacle for a hundred feet — the entrance to the tunnel.
Sam pointed at his marking, and Tom responded, “That’s our cave.”
“Copy that.” He marked the entrance to the tunnel with an asterisk, and like a GPS his tablet directed him precisely to the point.
“Just wait till you see this thing, Sam…” Tom said.
It was a short swim to the entrance of the tunnel. The surrounding area was noticeably devoid of any sea life.
Sam looked up at the entrance in front of him.
“Holy shit, you’ve got to be kidding me!”
Above him, the entrance to the tunnel stood at nearly forty feet. The outside was carved in ornate jade, intricately connected. Despite the buildup of sand and erosion of nearly six centuries, Sam had no doubt what he was looking at. His mind quickly referenced the little he knew about Mayan culture.