“It is a demanding dive, which you’ll be doing multiple times. Take care. The surface water is warm, but it’s colder at two-hundred feet there than it is in the harbor here,” he said, waving an arm at the water outside his office walls. “But there’s more than that,” he added before his two SEALs could shrug. He knew they’d been through far worse conditions than that, and if anything would need to fake discomfort to match their fictitious backgrounds.
Both of them waited for him to speak. He looked down at his desk for a moment, almost as if uncomfortable. Then he said, “There have been reports of a strange sea creature or creatures in the area.”
Maddock and Bones exchanged questioning glances. At length, Bones asked, “What kind of creatures?”
Roberts shrugged. “We’re not sure. It might even be some kind of publicity stunt on the part of EARHART. Just stay alert down there at all times. That’s all.”
He stood and handed Maddock and Bones the briefing files. Maddock and Bones stood up to go.
“One more thing.” They looked at their commander.
“In the chopper you’ll find a backpack with a few supplies including a satellite phone and two digital cameras in waterproof housings. You will not be taking any firearms on this mission as it would be out of line with your cover story. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir,” they both intoned.
Then, “Our dive gear?” Maddock wanted to know.
“All of it will be provided by the EARHART team. Don’t bring your own, with the exception of minor accessories if you have a preference, and especially don’t let on that you’re used to using military equipment, understood?”
The two SEALs nodded, the nature of their undercover work now setting in.
“I can’t deny I have reservations about sending the two of you on this mission.” The commander’s voice sharpened as he spoke. “You come highly recommended, but you also have the reputation of being a couple of buffoons. Nothing I’ve seen in this meeting has dissuaded me that the latter is true, at least when it comes to one of you.” He turned a flinty gaze upon Bones.
“We won’t let you down,” Bones said, suddenly chastened.
“I hope not. Good luck, gentlemen. I look forward to debriefing you after a successful mission.”
After saluting their superior officer, Maddock and Bones walked to the door.
“Smallpox,” Bones muttered as he looked at his shoulder while they exited the room. “Why’d it have to be smallpox?”
When they stepped out of the office the sailor who had escorted them here was waiting outside the door. “This way, please.”
He smiled at them and waved toward the expansive stern deck, where a helicopter’s rotors began to turn.
Chapter 3
“That’s our island.” The pilot of the Sikorsky pointed down at a ring of coral set against a dazzling blue backdrop. A non-military charter pilot who knew nothing about his passengers other than they were part of an expedition to find Amelia Earhart’s plane, he engaged in some radio chatter as he banked the craft toward the designated landing spot.
In the rear passenger seat, Maddock and Bones gazed down at their destination. They were travel-weary after nearly fifteen hours in the air; Honolulu was already a distant memory to them, like a dream. Manila was a blur of airport red tape that ended with them boarding the chopper over an hour ago.
“That’s it?” Bones squinted out the window. “I thought that was just a cloud shadow.”
“That’s probably what Amelia Earhart thought, too. We’re at the same altitude, one thousand feet, that she was coming in at looking for Howland.”
“You bring a lot of people out here?” Maddock held his new digital camera up to the window and took an aerial snapshot of the island. He knew from experience that it might come in handy. The atoll consisted of a thin strip of land in a rough oval shape surrounding a shallow, turquoise-colored lagoon. The outer edges of the land featured sandy beaches, while the middle of the ribbon-like land mass was green with scrub forest and coconut palms.
“I’ve been to the Phoenix chain before, but this is my fist time to Orona. Pretty much nobody goes here, ever. Hold on,” the pilot finished, indicating that he needed to focus on the landing. Maddock and Bones gripped the hand straps hanging from the ceiling as the pilot brought the aircraft lower until the tops of the palm trees bent with the force of their rotor wash.
As they leveled out and skirted the treetops, Maddock looked out along the atoll and spotted the tallest man-made structure on the island — a radio antenna atop a metal tower. A few tent-like structures were set up at the base of it. Bones pointed over to one end of the island where a seaplane and a small boat floated beside a modest pier. In a clearing on one of the larger strips of land where it flared out before continuing on as a thin ribbon, an encampment was visible as a rag-tag patchwork of multi-colored tents. That was all there was on the atoll. Everything else was just sand, coral, jungle, lagoon and ocean.
Far out to sea Maddock spotted what must have been a sizable ship to be visible at this distance. Other than that, the ocean, too, seemed empty.
Did it conceal Amelia Earhart’s airplane?
Maddock didn’t have long to wonder because they soon were dropping down vertically into a cleared area not far from the camp. On the ground, a group of three men waited, shielding their faces from the blowing coral dust kicked up by the chopper’s rotors. One of them was taking pictures of the chopper as it landed.
The pilot turned around to face them. “This is where you get off. I’ve got to get back to Manila. Enjoy your stay and good luck!”
Maddock and Bones grabbed their backpacks and jumped from the helicopter onto the coral island. Immediately they felt the sunlight on their backs and the humidity in their lungs. They ducked until clear of the rotors. When they stood straight again a man of average build somewhere in his sixties was standing in front of them, hand extended. He wore a khaki outfit complete with wide-brimmed straw hat, sunglasses and leather flip-flops. He sported a bushy white beard and mustache. Two other men stood beside him, one of them snapping pictures of Maddock and Bones with a 35mm camera. EARHART already had their photos as part of their bogus employee files from the “dive company,” but still, it wasn’t comforting to know they were being photographed while actually on a mission.
“Welcome to the Phoenix Islands,” the man with the beard said, pumping Maddock’s hand and then Bones’ rapidly in turn. There was no real enthusiasm to the greeting, Maddock noted. He was just going through the motions. “First time, I presume?”
“That’s right,” Maddock said. Bones nodded in agreement.
“Hopefully we find this damn plane and you have a trip to remember. Something to tell the grandkids, right?” Grandkids were the furthest possible thing from Bones’ mind, but he smiled and laughed politely.
“I’m Fred Spinney, Director of The EARHART Group and leader of this expedition.”
Maddock steeled himself for a convincing delivery. “Jim Abott, sir, from Deep Star Divers. Nice to meet you.”
Spinney nodded and then looked at Bones, who said, “Keith Winslow, also from Deep Star. Great to meet you.”
“Wow, I thought your name might be Running Bear or something like that!” Spinney looked at one of the men standing next to him as if to see how big a laugh he had elicited, but the short, pudgy man with a sweaty forehead only shook his head and extended a hand.
“That’s funny,” Bones said to Spinney. “Actually, they call me Crapper because I chew annoying white guys up and… well, you get the picture.”