“Are you saying they built the Bimini Road?” Matthew interjected.
“No! Well maybe. Numerous maritime archeologists have studied the strange formation of underwater stones. And despite being a strange phenomenon they all agreed the thing is entirely natural.”
Matthew stared at the admiralty charts of the area surrounding North Bimini Island. “So then how did the Antique Nautae use it?”
“I believe they learned through experience that the sea responded uniquely under certain circumstances. For example, a strong easterly wind after a king tide. I’m really not sure what the conditions were. But, in theory, a certain type of event caused the Bimini Road to produce a rogue wave.”
“Interesting theory. Do you know where they lived?”
“No idea.”
Tom put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s a good theory. The only problem with the entire thing is that there’s absolutely no evidence that the Antique Nautae ever existed.”
Sam laughed. “That’s not entirely true. There were reports of more than a dozen large ships being lost in these seas during the 17th century. And then there’s this oil painting.”
“The oil painting could be of any number of early seafaring cultures, or it could have just as easily been an image from the artist’s own fantasy. As for the ships going missing — hundreds of ships were lost with no traces during the 17th century along the coast of the Americas.”
Sam grinned. He was just about to prove a long standing theory of his. “Yes, well we’re going to find the truth in the next few days. A bottle of Grange says I’m right?”
Matthew stared at him. “I’m not a betting man.”
Tom intervened. “I’ll take that bet.”
“You seem confident,” Matthew said.
“Well, there’s one more thing. Even if Sam was right we’ve dived the Bimini Road many times before. And never seen signs of any shipwrecks.”
“That’s because we never knew where the rogue wave would finally form and strike its target.”
“And now we do?” Tom asked.
Sam brought up the GPS coordinates of all three of the cargo ships recently severely damaged by the rogue waves. “Now we do.”
Chapter Nineteen
Their private Sea King helicopter flew overhead and circled the Maria Helena once. At its control, Tom recognized Veyron, their chief engineer. In the passenger seat, a young woman was just visible.
“Are we expecting visitors?” he asked.
Sam smiled at the sight. “No. Veyron’s returning after picking up our latest crew member.”
“I didn’t know we were taking on new staff?” Matthew asked.
“We’re not. This is an old member, who I’ve asked to relocate on board the Maria Helena because of a hunch.”
“Elise?” Tom asked.
“Yes.” Sam confirmed that they were going to meet his highly illegal, computer genius, who often provided them with unique and often just as illegal intel.
The helicopter landed. The rotor blades settled to a stop, and then both doors opened. Veyron stepped out the right side door and immediately set about connecting the Sea King’s locking harness so that it didn’t get accidentally knocked off the Maria Helena’s deck. The second occupant got out the opposite side and walked towards them.
She looked nothing like what Tom had expected. Not that he really knew what he expected. Despite talking to her hundreds of times over the phone, he’d never met her. Had no idea where she lived or what she looked like. Sam had once told him that Elise had intentionally done so. Her parents had died before she was five and the CIA had kind of adopted her when a routine school assessment showed that she was in the finite 0.001 percent of the population capable of breaking impossible codes. She was taught code breaking and computers by the best of them at the CIA — and then one day, when she felt that her goals and the CIAs no longer aligned, she simply walked away.
Not before leaving a backdoor to the CIA’s main server, which allows her unique access to one of the world’s greatest information gathering machines. She’d created a new name, passport and life for herself. From what Sam had told him, Elise was the new name she had chosen, and no one knew what her real name was.
Even so, Tom stared at her, surprised.
She was slightly shorter than the average American woman, but not by much more than a few inches. She wore cargo shorts and a white tank top, revealing toned and muscular arms. Tom’s first thought was that she probably did a lot of yoga in her spare time. Her ancestry was probably Eurasian. She had golden skin, light brown hair and a wondrous expression. Like life was all one big game, and she was the one with the most talent.
“Welcome aboard the Maria Helena,” Sam said shaking her hand formally. “This is Matthew our skipper.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she said shaking his hand.
“And this is Tom. He’s our pilot and despite his size, he’s probably the best wreck diver in the world. You’ve already met Veyron, our engineer.”
Tom shook her hand. She removed her sunglasses, revealing startling purple eyes. Clearly she wore contacts, but still it had taken him by surprise. “It’s nice to finally put a face to your name, Elise.”
“Pleased to finally meet you too, Tom. Between the two of us, we seem to keep Sam alive, despite his apparent indifference to it.”
She was much younger than Tom had imagined her. Sam had never mentioned that she was still in her early twenties.
Sam looked at them both and said, “So that leaves Genevieve. Our three-hatted French chef. Tell her what you like and she’ll make certain you have it. Also, if you need any help with anything around the ship, she’s your general go to person.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Do you need anything before we get started?” Sam asked.
“I’ll have a glass of water with ice. Then I’m happy to help find you anything you want to know. About anything anywhere in the world — current or old.”
“Great. Did you get the video clip?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, simple.” She smiled confidently. “Child’s play. You want to watch it now?”
Chapter Twenty
Sam sat down at the head of the mission room table. Elise sat on the corner opposite to him and set up her laptop and connected it to the overhead projector.
“This is the video recording from the live-streaming camera mounted on the satellite dish of the Mirabelle, giving it ample view of the deck right through to the horizon.”
At first there was little to see. After all, the ship was a marvel of modern engineering and probably considered ghoulish to the traditional sailor. There were no intricately woven ropes, winches, or even canvas sails. Instead there were four massive masts with matching carbon fiber sails.
Sam ignored the yacht out of instinct and studied the sea instead. It appeared mild, with a following swell. Apart from the brilliantly lit phosphorescence there was nothing spectacular about the image. A man casually walked up to the bow and stood there for a while, just watching the sea. He looked mesmerized by the beauty of the water.
“That’s Luke Eldridge — the person who dragged us into this in the first place.”
Tom nodded his head.