He had looked up some of the details of the myth prior to their departure, but those defied credibility even more than the events of the Argonauts' adventures. The Golden Fleece was said to be the skin of the winged ram Chrysomallus, sent by the god Hermes to rescue Phrixus and Helle, the heirs of King Athamas, who had been targeted for death by their ambitious stepmother. Their literal flight took them east across the Black Sea, though Helle fell along the way, and according to the myth, her death created the strait known in ancient times as the Hellespont-since renamed the Dardanelles. Her twin, Phrixus survived the journey and eventually came to the kingdom of Colchis where he sacrificed Chrysomallus out of gratitude to the gods, and gave the Fleece to the king of that land. In many respects, the elaborate nature of the myth had been part of what had led Kismet to give some credence to its actual existence, albeit not in a strictly literal sense. Myths often ascribed supernatural origins to geological formations — and that was certainly the case with the death of Helle. There was a certain logic to the idea that the Golden Fleece might have been as real as the Hellespont, though formed in an equally mundane fashion.
He briefly pointed out some of the more salient facts. "Some of the later Jason stories do speak of his using it to end a drought, but it is usually thought of as a trophy, not a talisman."
"But it saved your life. It turned water into air; what other explanation is there?"
Kismet equivocated. "It may have something to do with electrical fields—"
"Electrical fields," Irene scoffed. "You think that electrical fields could encase an entire ship in gold, turn sea water into breathable air, and cause fish to defend the Fleece with their lives?"
"It's not so farfetched," he replied, choosing his words carefully so as not to sound foolish. "It's a known fact that electricity can split the water molecule into hydrogen and oxygen atoms. And the ancient Greeks knew how to electroplate bronze. Sea water is loaded with dissolved metal particles; over the course of three thousand years, an electrical field generated by the Fleece could draw quite a bit of gold out of the water."
"That might also explain the light you described," offered Anatoly. "And the fish would naturally be drawn toward the oxygen rich waters of the wreck site."
"Even if I accept that theory," Irene retorted, "it doesn't explain what causes the Fleece to generate an electrical field in the first place."
"Some kind of galvanic reaction with the sea water," Kismet speculated, withholding the information Harcourt had earlier entrusted to him. "I don't know; I'm not a chemist. But I can see why Grimes is interested."
As Kismet attempted to change the subject, Irene realized that she did not care one whit about learning the source of the Fleece's power. She was arguing with Kismet simply to hear the sound of his voice. The sea had given him back to her and she was overjoyed.
After losing his hold on the anchor, Kismet had immediately sunk to the bottom of the harbor. However, the sea floor beneath the trawler's moorage was only about five fathoms deep; cold and dark, but not an especially dangerous depth to Kismet in his diving gear. All he had to do was walk up onto the shore beneath the dock pilings. Once on dry land, he was able to force open the faceplate of the helmet before cautiously making his way to Anatoly's house. Thus far, he had experienced none of the symptoms associated with the bends.
"I thought you dead," Anatoly confessed. "It was impossible that you could have survived, yet you were clinging to my boat all the time. I am such a fool."
"You couldn't have known. But maybe next time we can figure out a better way to communicate—"
"Next time?" Irene gasped. "You almost died. You can't go back."
"I have to. Now, more than ever. Severin marked the site; if he gets there first, he'll have the Fleece and that will be the last anyone ever sees of it." Unless the Russians learn about the EMP weapon, and then we're really in trouble. "But if we act quickly, we'll be long gone before he returns."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this."
"Irene, this is something I have to do. Now listen, I know what I'm going to be up against. And I know what the dangers are. I've got a plan."
She threw up her hands and headed for the door. "I'm done shedding tears for you, Nick. Go on, get yourself killed. Leave me out of it."
Kismet stopped her with a firm hand on one shoulder. "Irene, I need you."
She refused to face him, but dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, ashamed that she still did have tears to shed for him. "Damn you, Nick."
"Irene. I will come back. I promise you that. And you know that I keep my promises."
She slowly turned toward him, still refusing to look him in the eye. Her hands came up to his chest, her fingers knotting in the fabric of his shirt. "That's not good enough," she rasped, her voice thick with emotion.
"What else can I give you?"
She looked up, biting her lip, as if afraid to answer the question. But Kismet knew the answer, and let her draw him down against her body.
Anatoly gaped in disbelief as the kiss grew more passionate, but his wife quickly took his hand and led him from the room, giving the couple a measure of privacy. Kismet and Irene were too lost in each other's arms to notice or care.
Almost twenty-four hours later, Kismet, Irene and Anatoly stole quietly through the city and boarded the trawler. It had taken most of that day for Kismet to make all the preparations for his second attempt to gain the Golden Fleece. One of the technically complex jobs had been rigging a telephone line, which would link him to the surface. Many of the other details had been time consuming and given the threat of surveillance from enemies on two fronts, somewhat dangerous. Other aspects of the preparations seemed like a scavenger hunt. Anatoly's mechanical skills had been invaluable, and Irene had proved quite capable, apparently having inherited her father's talent for engineering.
Leaving under cover of darkness had been essential to Kismet's plan for several reasons. Primarily, he hoped that it would spare them from the spying eyes of informants in the village. Whether or not they were successful in this regard was difficult to ascertain. Kismet was confident that his return from the sea had gone unnoticed by the locals, but there could be no disguising the sound of Anatoly's trawler chugging out of the harbor and out to sea after dark.
The night was astonishingly clear, the stars and moon shining down with alarming brilliance. The still waters of the Black Sea reflected the myriad points of light, giving the journey a surreal aspect, as though they were sailing on a sea of stars. Kismet found himself wondering if Jason and the heroes of the Argo had experienced such a sight on their voyage.
He knew better. The story of Jason and the Argonauts was just a fairy tale. That the Fleece, or rather a golden fleece did exist, proved nothing. Likely, the very real object that he had discovered in the wrecked ship had merely served to inspire the legend.
As his thoughts wandered, Irene joined him. She had not voiced any misgivings since their coming to an understanding on the previous night. Remarkably, she had maintained her good mood throughout the day, evincing confidence not only in Kismet's plan, but also in his promise.
After a full day, Kismet was convinced that he had dodged the bullet of decompression sickness. He had always understood that the bends were by no means inevitable. Nevertheless, the incautious nature of his escape from the depths had left him feeling like another character of Grecian myth: Damocles, who was forced to sit beneath the point of a sword which was suspended by a single hair. But twenty-four hours later, with no signs or symptoms of the bends, Kismet dared to believe that the danger had passed. Returning to the pressurized environment of the deep would actually alleviate the risk by breaking up any pockets of nitrogen gas lurking in his muscle tissue, and Kismet was determined, upon his next descent into the sea, to religiously observe decompression times.