“What other things?”
Sol gave an apologetic shrug. “Things covered by the NDAs.”
Aston sighed. “So where do I fit in? Surely there are thousands of other people qualified.”
“Well, we need you mostly with regard to the fauna. And we need this on the quiet, so your desire to remain in hiding makes us think you’re less likely to risk breaking any secrets. Plus we think some of your unique experiences make you a perfect fit.”
Aston sipped coffee, thinking fast. Unique experiences? That just set off more alarm bells for him.
“We’re offering decent compensation. Starting with thirty grand, US.”
Aston raised his eyebrows. The exact amount required to cover his debt to Chang and give him a chance to restart. How much did these people know? Everything, it seemed. And the temptation was strong, but his instincts told him to turn this guy down with extreme prejudice. Sol presented as friendly enough, but there was clearly something under the surface the man was hiding. His real intent circled down there, like a shark in a shallow bay, awaiting its chance to attack. “Look, that’s one hell of a tempting figure,” Aston said. “But the last time I received an offer like that, things didn’t turn out so well.”
Sol nodded, laughed softly. “Yeah, we know all about Lake Kaarme.”
“You saw Jo Slater’s documentary.”
“Of course,” Sol said. “Who didn’t, right? But we know it’s real even if ninety-nine percent of the population wrote it off as a giant hoax.”
“And from what I’ve seen online, the whole thing seems to have damaged Jo’s career more than helped it,” Aston said. He winced internally at the mention of Slater, guilt chewing at him. He hated not backing up her story in public, not letting her know he was still alive, especially after the documentary had included an incredibly touching In Memoriam at the end. Her emotion on screen was real, he knew her well enough to see that. He told himself she was better off without him, but the truth was her documentary declaring him dead did more to help him hide from Chang than anything else. He’d stopped reading the online comments about it, even though he knew lots of people, especially the scientific community in Australia, still considered him missing rather than deceased. He wondered how much grief Jo Slater had received from the authorities over it. More guilt for him. But if she genuinely thought him dead, she was safe from his past and his future.
“Regardless of what the rest of the world thinks,” Sol said, “we know the documentary was real.”
“Just what are you playing at?” Aston’s anger was more for himself, he knew, but it was easier to direct it at Solomon.
“I promise, everything with us is above board. We’d be happy to leave you to your exile, but it’s not that simple.”
“I’m pretty sure it is!”
Solomon paused, lips pursed. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but we found a door.”
“A door? Damn it, Griffin, I’m a marine biologist, not a carpenter.”
“An unusual door.”
Scenes from Slater’s documentary flashed through Aston’s mind. Her piece to camera about the mysterious door of carved stone, supposedly an entrance to the Hollow Earth, that had been lost when the explosives took out the beast down there under Lake Kaarme. Slater’s film had included sketches drawn from her memory, but no footage was made at the time. They’d had rather more pressing concerns. Regardless, the doorway was real, and it mystified him constantly. But it was lost now. Could there be another? How many more? And where?
Sol nodded again, watching Aston work it out. “It’s just like the one beneath Lake Kaarme.”
Aston shook his head slowly. He wanted no part of any of this. Did he?
Sol cleared his throat. “The figure I offered, that’s only the up-front payment to get you on board. We’ve been in touch with Mr. Chang in Brisbane, and he will accept it to clear all your debts with him.”
“What? How do you know how to—?”
“When the mission is over,” Sol interrupted. “We’ll pay you that much again as your own salary. It’s a lot of money for what will be a couple weeks’ work at most.”
Aston knew he would regret any agreement to go along with this frankly frightening turn of events, but he was tired of living with a price on his head. He imagined unknown years more swimming in tanks, feeding sharks for gawping tourists who were never satisfied. Last time, the chance to make good money and clear his debts hadn’t worked out well at all though. Surely he couldn’t be that unlucky twice?
“Rest assured,” Sol added, “that our founder and chair, Arthur Greene, is no Ellis Holloway.” He paused, watching Aston’s face closely. “Admit it. You want to know what’s behind that door as much as we do.”
Aston swallowed the last of his coffee, then clunked the mug down onto the bar. “I’ll take the job,” he said resignedly. He raised a hand before Sol could speak. “But I have two conditions. One, I want evidence that Chang is paid and satisfied before I go anywhere. And two, I want full disclosure from day one.”
Sol smiled. “You’ve got it.” He reached out a hand to shake and seal the deal.
As Aston returned the handshake, he said, “But if it’s anything like Lake Kaarme, I know what’s behind the door.”
“Really? What?”
Aston grinned at the well-dressed man. “Nothing good.”
2
Jo Slater walked along the waterfront of the V&A Marina in Cape Town, questioning pretty much everything in her life. The two and three story blue and white port buildings to her left bustled with people as she threaded through the milling crowds heading onto ships going to exotic locations, or disembarking into Cape Town, eyes wide to capture whatever wonders might come their way. The city billed itself as the “Best Destination in Africa” and even without her foul mood, Slater was pretty sure she would scoff at that claim. Sure, it was nice, but better than Morocco? Or the savannahs of Zimbabwe? Kruger National Park? Victoria Falls? Hardly.
Table Mountain stood tall in the background behind the man-made expanse of Cape Town, and that was most definitely a breathtaking sight. She thought maybe she would rather be there right now. But she had a job to do, and a job was important these days after the debacle of the Lake Kaarme film. Of course there would always be a certain percentage of the population who considered anything a hoax. There was huge movement denying the truth of the moon landings, after all. And an equally large contingent convinced the attack on New York on September 11th, 2001 was the work of the government, or aliens, or the Illuminati. One thing for which humanity could always be relied upon was its consistent percentage of absolute idiots.
But the vitriol she had received for her documentary, the solid mockery from all quarters, had been brutal. And the network had told her, enthusiastically, that a bombshell like that was the perfect note to end the series on. Which was just another way of firing her, none too subtly. So she had been left treading water, unsure where to go with her career, the chances of ever being taken seriously as a genuine journalist more damaged than ever.
Then came Solomon “Call me Sol” Griffin, with his wide smile, sharp suit, and irresistible offers. Come and document this expedition, he had said, and SynGreene would fund a full new season of her show in exchange for those services. Similar format, bigger budget, new channel. It all seemed too good to be true. And if Jo Slater had learned anything in television, it was that too good to be true usually was exactly that.
But what choice did she have? There weren’t any other offers on any tables. She thought it an odd arrangement, with virtually no information given, but Sol promised it would all make sense once she’d signed her NDA and learned the full story. And he had also pointed out that as her reputation was in tatters, no one would take her seriously if she broke those NDAs. That was a backhanded compliment if ever she’d heard one. Regardless, she needed the work.