Bones stroked the stubble on his chin as he pondered the notion. At length, he said, “I suppose it’s possible. But make-up? Not sure why she would need make-up on the flight, though.”
“I read in the briefing materials that she did a lot of media stops, like newspaper photos along the way that her husband set up. So maybe she wanted to look good.”
“That’s a chick for you. Speaking of pictures, we better take some.” Bones removed his camera from a pocket and got some close-ups of the items without physically disturbing them.
“There’s a busted knife over here.” Maddock pointed to what looked like an old buck knife — a rusty blade that had become separated from its plastic handle pieces which lay nearby in the dirt. Bones photographed it.
“Hopefully Spinney doesn’t see these when he appropriates our cameras to look at the dive images.”
Bones laughed in agreement. “I’ll take some harmless beach and dive site shots to have something in front of the wreck site images. If he scrolls back too far he’ll stop there.”
“Good idea. We better get back to camp.”
“Did you see anything in that other passage? No human bones, I guess.” The idea that Earhart had met her fate here was both creepy and exciting at the same time, and Maddock suppressed a shiver.
“Nope, nothing at all.”
“Okay, let’s go.” They walked up the tunnel to the edge and dropped back down into the main passage. From there they retraced their steps until they reached the outer cave entrance. After climbing down the jumble of boulders and regaining flat ground, they walked back to the wheelbarrow.
“Your turn on this thing,” Maddock said.
Bones shook his head. “Typical white man, adding to the red man’s burden. Ro-sham-bo you for it?”
“Just take…”
Maddock’s words dissolved in the thunder of a nearby explosion.
Chapter 15
“I think it came from the beach!” Maddock looked back the way they had come but could not see anything beyond the dense foliage.
“That’ll have woken everybody up for sure. We better get over there and pretend we just got out of bed to come check it out.”
“We’ll have to come back for this.” Maddock let go of the wheelbarrow and the two undercover SEALs ran through the jungle, the beams from their dive lights illuminating their path in chaotic, bouncy patterns.
They made rapid headway, tripping only a couple of times over exposed roots. As they neared the edge of the rain-forested area, they slowed to a walk and killed their lights. They could now see orange flames peeking through the foliage.
“Looks pretty bad.” Bones started to forge his way through the last stand of trees before reaching the open area fronting the beach, but Maddock stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Hold up. Hear that?”
Above the roar of the blaze they could hear people shouting.
Bones nodded. “Team’s coming this way.”
“We need to fall in with them so that they think we’re stragglers, just waking up like they did.”
“Got it.” He pointed off to their left. “Let’s wait over there until they pass by and then we’ll fall in at the end of the line.”
Maddock nodded and they crept to a copse of trees from which they could observe both the fire and the procession of people making their way toward it.
Bones pointed to the conflagration. “The pier is nothing but a fireball!”
Maddock counted the team members as they passed. “Now. Fall in. Act tired like you just got up.”
“I don’t have to act tired.”
The SEAL pair slipped out of the forest without moving any branches and ambled over to the back of the line of people making their way to the pier. No one seemed to notice them sneaking out of the woods. While everyone’s backs were toward them, Maddock and Bones mingled in with the group as though they had just arrived. The whole team was shouting. As they stood there in back of the group, they spotted George Taylor, who gave them a knowing smile before quickly looking away.
From this vantage point, it was clear that not only was the pier destroyed, but also the boat and seaplane. Roiling flames engulfed both. Another explosion thundered in the night as the seaplane’s fuel tank detonated. The group fell to the ground, shielding their faces.
When no more explosions seemed to be forthcoming, they all got to their feet, still watching their fleet burn.
“We’re stuck here now,” someone pointed out.
Spinney flapped his arms like a big bird, trying to quiet everybody down so that he could say something. They did after about a minute.
“Listen up! I think we all know who’s responsible for this.”
War cries of “Mizuhi!” went up in unison.
“I don’t see the ship,” one of the divers said, scanning the water.
But then Bugsy pointed off to their left, near the edge of the lagoon. “Look! The whale!”
Maddock followed Bugsy’s point in time to see a black dorsal fin slice through the water’s surface in the moonlight. Spinney also looked and then turned around to address his group once more, the flaming backdrop giving his words the effect of a fiery oration.
“Mizuhi must have trained that pilot whale to stick a bomb on our pier!”
Mentally, Maddock corrected him, thinking of the magnetic hockey-puck-sized explosive devices they had worked with in San Diego: On the plane, since it has a metal surface.
“Not to worry!” Spinney continued. “This is a logistical setback, but at least none of our recovered artifacts or our photographs were lost. We will get through this, people. But we need to step it up. We have to salvage as much as we can before Mizuhi does something really crazy!”
Spinney turned to his radioman. “Sims, I want you to make a report right now to all the authorities — Honolulu, the Coast Guard, Kiribati government — let everyone know what’s happening here.” And then, to the Australian photographer: “George! Are you getting this?” He thrust a hand toward the devastation.
Taylor held up a camera. “On it, boss.” He moved away from the crowd to get unobstructed shots of the team’s assets being consumed by flames. There was a hiss of steam as one of the plane’s wings raised upward and it began to sink into the lagoon where the pier used to be. The Zodiac’s rubber material had melted away, and the outboard was gone, probably resting on the lagoon’s sandy bottom.
“This won’t stop us!” Spinney reiterated. “This morning’s dive is still on!”
Bugsy stepped forward. “How are we going to dive with no boat?” A chorus of yeahs from the team followed in the wake of the question. Spinney hesitated while looking around the island, up into the forest, and then spoke decisively.
“We’ll build a raft! Let’s get to work on it!”
It immediately became clear that, by we’ll and let’s, Spinney meant Bugsy and the divers would do the building. He quickly launched into an unnecessary set of instructions.
“Cut down some logs, gather some vines, lash them together! Get some oars! Go, go, go! If we get it done now, we can stick to our timetable. Morning dive!”
With that, Bugsy turned and rallied his troops. “You heard the man! Are we up for this! Can we do this? C’mon gents, we’ll all be belly up to the Mermaid Bar in Tahiti after we get this done. And on Spinney’s tab, right, boss?”
Spinney turned back around. “That’s a promise!” Then he turned to the two kitchen staff and instructed them to go make some coffee. “Nobody’s going back to sleep, and it’s going to be a long day.”