Upon hearing about the dive, Amelie and one of the ladies on the crew came up on deck. The sun was fast dipping towards the horizon, for a dive at least, and it was going to be hard to cut in such short time. She winced. “It’s so creepy. I hope that reading is wrong.” A shudder shook her body visibly as she considered the possibilities. A room full of bones? People’s bones? The idea made her cringe, and Purdue’s eagerness only affirmed her suspicion that his drive for exploration bordered on the taboo most of the time.
Still, it was not her place to judge the man. Her only function was to be in charge of his nutrition, but it scared her just a little how the billionaire inventor always had a penchant for the darker finds in archaeology. It had never bothered her this much before, but then again, she’d never before been involved in one of his impulsive excursions. This time it had a direct bearing on her, this unsettling attraction Purdue had to things of the more dangerous variety. But because she was just another person in his employ, she had no right to any opinion.
Amelie recoiled as she watched Purdue and Jeff ready their diving equipment. Something felt wrong, but she chalked it up to her own insecurities.
“What are they hoping to find?” she asked Peter casually, as he walked past her to bring the wetsuits to the two men.
“Bones, I suppose?” he answered with equal befuddlement. He shrugged before he retrieved the neoprene suits from the large holding cabinet, groaning, “Honestly, I think a mass grave under the sea is not that far-fetched, given the history of this region and its wars.”
Before she could ask what he was referring to, Peter staggered over to Purdue, leaving her curiosity unsatisfied. The lady standing in her vicinity was busy putting away some loose lying tie ropes and plastic bottles, but was also listening to the conversation. She lifted a refuse bag to dump the bottles in and sighed, “I think he means the ancient history, the sinking of entire armadas and the battles they never recorded in the official history books.”
Amelie whirled around to address the other female crewmember. “Wait, what? How do you know this?”
“My brother,” she rolled her eyes at Amelie, “drove me crazy all throughout high school with that crap. He’s still like that, but thank God I don’t live under the same roof as him anymore.”
The two women shared a giggle before the woman continued as she worked, “True story. He’d befriended this professor online back then who fed him all this stuff of secret history too sensitive for the world know about it. Almost like a secret…,” she gave it some thought to pick the right phrase, “…pirate pact, or something.”
“Ooh! Well, you can’t say it’s not interesting,” Amelie remarked.
“Absolutely,” the lady agreed, smiling. “If it weren’t such fanatical horse shit.”
A splash ensued while she was still speaking, drawing everyone on board’s attention. “There they go,” Amelie sang emptily. “Brace yourself for the enthusiasm due when Mr. Purdue rears his head back up over that step.” The crew chuckled in concurrence, all familiar with Dave Purdue’s almost undisputable ability to be right about his instinctive suspicions. None of them doubted that he would surface with some success, whether it be the exact thing he was after or something undoubtedly amazing. He would never have made the effort to explore, especially with the great toils of diving preparations, if he had not deemed it worthwhile.
Amelie frowned as she folded her arms. “I wonder…”
“What?” Peter asked.
She tilted her head while asking, “How did Mr. Purdue know to look under the water? What told him that there was a shipwreck right under us at this very moment?”
Peter shrugged, “Kismet.”
4
Lost and Found
Upon the orange-painted waters of the horizon a vessel appeared, black in its silhouette. It looked unremarkable at first, but as it came nearer, the crew noticed that it was a large trawler, close to the size of Purdue’s yacht. Though matching it in speed and size, it was lacking in the esthetic prowess of Purdue’s as yet unnamed yacht. It slowed down at about a nautical mile from the yacht, and remained at that distance.
“What do you think that’s all about? Fishing, maybe?” the mechanic asked Peter.
Peter didn’t answer, as he was looking through the binoculars and having difficulty focusing at first. Meanwhile, the skipper was agreeing with the mechanic that it looked like a fishing boat.
“It’s rather huge for something like a fishing boat, sir,” Peter reported, straining his eyes. “Maybe a tug boat? Maybe for towing services…” He looked at the skipper with a worried look. “Oh shit! What if it’s a salvaging company coming for Mr. Purdue’s wreck?”
“That would present a problem,” the skipper, Captain Solis, remarked. “Let me see if I can get them on the com.”
Amelie came out on deck to see what the discussion was about. The ominous shape drifted at a distance, instilling an unsettling peace on her senses. In the background, she could hear Captain Solis ask the boat to identify itself, but after continuous attempts the vessel neglected to make contact.
“I hope Mr. Purdue surfaces soon,” the captain said evenly. “I would like to put some distance between us and them, just for good measure. Nobody needs bad luck on the sea.”
Amelie and the other crew lady exchanged glances. “If they say us women are the cause of bad luck I will harpoon them, I swear,” she muttered, evoking a hearty laugh from the stewardess.
“If only it were simple superstition that drove me to feel this uncomfortable, ladies, I would have been content with that. But… I don’t know… something about their sudden appearance just seems off, don’t you think?” Solis replied.
“I agree, sir,” Peter said. “But I hope our assumptions are misdirected, nonetheless.”
“Me too,” the stewardess agreed softly, looking equally distrustful of the new developments. “They’re just sitting there, doing nothing significant.”
A vociferous rush of water startled the women and had Peter jumping in his tracks, too. The welling disturbance yielded a rush of white bubbles and foam as Purdue and Jeff broke the surface, leaving the crew relieved by the friendly din. They hastened to assist the two men onto the deck and Captain Solis came immediately to inform Purdue of the unknown vessel a small distance away.
Purdue took Peter’s binoculars and had a look, but could see little more than any of the others had been able to. “I cannot ascertain the insignia on the flag, can you?” he asked Jeff, giving him the binoculars. Jeff pulled a face as he concentrated, but finally just shook his head. “Nope. I don’t see any discernable identification markers anywhere on the boat,” he told Purdue, “but the sun sits behind it, so it’s probably just a matter of light marring our view.”
Amelie and Peter waited for orders from Purdue, but all he was interested in was making a call to Edinburgh. “Sam!” he cried happily on his satellite phone. “Have I got a golden story for you, old cock! I just discovered something paramount and I think you should come out and cover it. What say you?”
“Sam?” Amelie asked the skipper.
“Sam Cleave, the world famous investigative reporter,” Captain Solis filled her in. “A close friend of Mr. Purdue’s.”
“Ah,” she nodded. “Think I saw him on some earlier excursion footage.”
“That’s him, yes,” the mechanic chimed in. “You do know, of course, what that means, right?”
They did not. Both Amelie and Captain Solis waited for an explanation. The mechanic smiled, “Whenever Sam Cleave gets involved… well, the man doesn’t cover small fry stuff, you know? He doesn’t exactly fly out to do exposés on petty crap like the Royals or incidents like assassinations, see. When Sam Cleave gets invited, you know it’s going to be big. That’s when you know something huge is happening.” He grinned excitedly, like a corny publicist at a press conference. Tanned skin made his big teeth look even whiter than they were as he whispered, “If Mr. Purdue calls in Sam Cleave, it means he found something down there. And I’m not talking a new coral reef or some interesting seismic readings, geddit?”