Edison was latched into a safety harness in front of him, and he gave him a quick pet. Edison’s tail thumped in response. Joe angled the submarine down. “Just a little deeper, boy, and then the fun begins.”
“Are we rated for that depth?” Vivian asked. His sometimes bodyguard, she was usually fearless.
“This baby can go even deeper. She’s a work of art.”
“Sure.” She tightened her seat belt.
“All the safety money can buy.” His facial-recognition software had earned him millions, but because his agoraphobia had trapped him into an indoor existence, he didn’t have much he could spend it on. Unlike his peers, he had no use for cars or houses or private jets.
But he could use a submarine.
There was something else he’d like to have — someone he trusted to be his eyes and ears in the world above. “Speaking of all the safety money can buy, have you thought about my job offer?”
“You receive great protection via Mr. Rossi and his team. And I’m on call there. You don’t need to hire me full time.”
“You’re better than the others,” he said. “And if you worked for me, you’d have benefits and a much higher salary.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir, but I work for Mr. Rossi. He pays more than enough.”
Mr. Rossi didn’t pay her enough. Joe had checked. “My door’s always open if you change your mind.”
“If your door opens right now, we’ll drown.”
“It’s a figure of speech.” He was hurt she wasn’t taking his offer more seriously, but he didn’t want her to see it. Instead, he reached down and patted his dog. Edison licked his hand. He sensed Joe’s disappointment.
“Are we close to the marker?” she asked.
That was the end of the discussion for today and a not-so-subtle reminder to get back on task. They were on a submarine scavenger hunt. Sponsored by an organization called Blue Dreams and limited to ten private subs, it had an entrance fee of a half million (brown, black, black, black, black, black) dollars. The proceeds were to go to the winner’s charity.
If he and Vivian won, the funds were earmarked for a facility that trained service and guide dogs. He wanted to shorten the average six-(orange)-year wait for these dogs so everyone who needed a helper like Edison could get a dog right away.
A shipwreck took shape in the darkness. He swiveled his navigation lights over an algae-covered hull. Silver fish with big round eyes darted away from the beams.
“I hope the crew got off safely,” Vivian said.
“She’s been down here for five years.”
“Still.”
Even though the shipwreck wasn’t their goal, he eased the sub in sideways for a closer look. His propellers kicked up algae, and he nearly knocked against the wreck. When he pulled back on the stick, she tensed up but didn’t say anything.
“I know,” he said. “But I got this.”
He was still learning to control his craft. A submarine wasn’t like a car — a sub was slow to accelerate, slow to turn, and hard to stop — but it had been so long since he’d driven anything, he could forgive the small yellow craft a lot of flaws. He hoped it could forgive him his.
“What’s it called?” she asked. “The ship?”
“According to my map, she was called the Aronnax. Maybe named after Pierre Aronnax from Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?”
Barnacles crusted the ship’s surfaces, and anemones softened the sharp edges of her broken hull. Her mast had snapped, and the stump listed to the side, rotted lines undulating like tentacles in the current.
“Doesn’t look like it worked out for old Pierre,” she said.
Slowly, Joe circled her. The Aronnax wasn’t the most famous wreck down here, not even close, but she had a desolate charm. Someone had loved this pile of rotting wood once — painted her hull, varnished her spars, coiled her lines on her shiny teak deck. Until the ocean swallowed her and left her rotting in her grave.
Edison gave a sharp bark, and he followed the dog’s gaze.
A gray shadow had slipped from the sailboat’s hull and eased into the navigation lights. Triangular dorsal fin, powerful vertical tail, and sleek gray skin.
“It’s just Jaws,” Joe said. “Nothing to worry about.”
A calm dog, Edison rarely barked, but he knew a predator when he saw one, and he growled.
“I’m with you, Edison,” Vivian said.
“You’re such a badass on land. But underwater—”
“Before you finish that sentence, remember we’ll be back on land soon.”
He grinned, tipped the sub upright, and followed the shark. If the animal chose to evade him, he’d never keep up with it, but the shark didn’t seem to mind. It glided through the water with tiny flicks of its fins, more maneuverable and free down here than he would ever be. He envied the beast more than he could say.
The shark headed for a line of algae that looked like a bump on the ocean floor. The line extended out past his vision in both directions. Longer than any snake or eel. The shark had found what Joe was searching for.
The animal opened its massive jaws impossibly wide. White teeth flashed as the creature lunged to bite the line. Brown muck exploded upward, clouding the water and obscuring the shark. He waited. The ocean rewarded patience.
Slowly, the muck settled, and the shark came back into view. It must not have liked what it had tasted when it bit down, because it let go of the cable. After another glance at the strange dark line, the shark swam until the green darkness swallowed it from his view.
He slowed the sub and drifted down. The cable gleamed black where the shark had scraped away the algae, brown otherwise.
“Following a shark is cheating,” Vivian said.
“Nothing wrong with natural inspiration.” He maneuvered closer to the bottom. “That’s definitely a transatlantic communications cable. Maybe the cable we’re looking for.”
People had been dropping cables under the sea since 1858 when the first telegraph line connected Ireland to Newfoundland. That cable had long since gone silent. This one, too, might not be active anymore, but he suspected it was. If so, he just needed to follow it to the marker and the first part of the scavenger hunt would be over.
“Why’d the shark bite it? And will it bite us?”
“It can’t get a grip on the sub.” He hoped. “But it bit the cable because it could detect electric current running through. It happens so often that modern cables are specially designed to withstand periodic bites.”
“Great,” she said. “We’re cruising right next to something sharks like to attack.”
“Bite, not attack.”
“A distinction that doesn’t matter much if it takes off your arm.” Vivian rolled her shoulders, as if preparing to fight to hold on to her arms. She’d definitely land a few punches if a shark tried to eat her.
He followed the cable east into deeper water, and an octopus swam into view. The mollusk danced in his lights, then draped itself over the bubble cockpit.
“Wow,” Vivian said.
Round suckers tasted the outside of his window, and an alien silver eye looked in. He’d read octopi were at least as intelligent as dogs, and he wondered what the creature thought about these strange intruders in its realm.
He let the sub drift forward, not wanting to scare the octopus away before it finished its examination. After all, he was down here looking around himself. The least he could do was let the octopus satisfy its curiosity, too.