“Ethan Riis? What about him? I don’t piss in my backyard, not anymore.”
“Okay, sis.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just the stories I heard about you,” Gordon said. “You know, being the only woman stuck inside an all-male sat chamber for months at a time.”
“No comment,” Chloe said. The truth was she did fool around at first, but soon learned it wasn’t the way things were done and treaded carefully around the issue for the rest of her career.
“Alright, I’ll drop it.”
Chloe didn’t like where the conversation was going, but at least she’d got him talking again. “Why are you heading off to Dubai? Where’s this job supposed to be?”
Gordon shrugged. “Beats me. All I know is that we’ll be heading out into the Arabian Sea. We’ve all signed non-disclosure agreements, but they haven’t even told us anything yet.”
“Is it for an oil rig?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I chatted with Matt Mullins over a week ago, and all he could tell me was that it was going to be a big job. Seems Morgenstern Oceanic is pulling every available diver they have on contract to head over there.”
“I know Matt. I used to dive with him,” Chloe said. “He’s a good guy, just stick close to him.”
“Yeah, he’ll be one of the topside supervisors on this trip. I spoke with Don O’Keefe yesterday through social media, and he told me some weird things about it.”
“Like what?”
“Don told me there was another work boat that had been in the area for months, and with their own dive crew,” Gordon said. “You know Clive Liger?”
Chloe swore under her breath. The commercial diving community was small, and everyone knew everybody else—if not personally, then by reputation. “Yeah, I know him. He’s a total douche. I haven’t heard about what he was up to for years, though.”
“That’s the thing. Don told me this Liger guy and his team were all working on something big out there for months, close to that artificial island we were watching on the news a few nights ago, remember?”
“Lemuria? Well that does explain a few things.”
“What does?”
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that Morgenstern sort of set up a semi-submersible work barge of some kind,” Chloe said. “Since you mentioned Clive Liger, it’s obvious he might have had something to do with it.”
“Yeah, Don pretty much told me the same thing,” Gordon said. “He said he met a fellow diver who was part of Liger’s crew, and the guy was swimming in cash but he couldn’t say anything about what kind of job he was doing. Don got him drunk and was able to get a few clues before the guy passed out.”
“What was his name?”
“Pete Poole, I think.”
“Yeah, I know about him too,” Chloe said. She remembered being part of a diving team with Liger, and she preferred to repress her memories of that time. “Poole and Liger… they’re very bad people. You ought to stay away from them.”
“Oh, I already know the team I’ll be working with,” Gordon said. “It won’t be any of those buttholes, that’s for sure.”
“That’s good news,” Chloe said. “Just watch yourself out there.”
“I will, sis. What about you? Staying nice and comfy here in Southern California while I’m gone?”
“Nope,” Chloe said. “I’ll be close to your neck of the woods, actually. For a couple of weeks, anyway.”
“Oh, where are you going?”
“Sydney,” Chloe said. “I’ll be bringing the prototype submersible over to a potential client for some sea tests. The Australian Oceanographic Institute is considering buying at least two of my subs.”
“Great. So you’ll be taking the Wanderer down under?”
She nodded. “Yup. They’re willing to put me up in a hotel but I insisted on sleeping on the boat. It’ll be my first time ever in Sydney. I heard the seafood is pretty good over there.”
Gordon tilted his head back and chuckled. “You’ve got all the luck. Someday I’ll be doing what you’re doing, and without any help from you either.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing that.”
6
LOOKING OUT PAST THE side window of the Cessna 206H Stationair floatplane, Clive Liger stared at the opaque waters below. The early afternoon sun cast its rays over the Arabian Sea’s seemingly calm surface, the glimmering refractions resembling an undulating plain of fragmented golden glass over a bluish expanse stretching out across the infinite horizon.
He hated riding on aircraft, and his usual gruff, commanding demeanor had mostly kept silent throughout the whole trip from Kochi Airport, after having made a fueling stop on one of the islands in Lakshadweep before continuing on westwards. Glancing at the equally quiet Indian pilot to his left, Liger realized he didn’t even know the man’s name.
Few people liked him, but he didn’t care. Liger had had a number of girlfriends in the past, but he just couldn’t bring himself to marry any of them; settling down to raise a family just wasn’t in his blood. As he got older and became less patient in dealing with people, he stopped trying to pick women up, using Third World bargirls instead to satisfy his sexual desires whenever he couldn’t take it anymore.
His reputation in the commercial diving community was secured when he knocked out a fellow diver inside the hyperbaric chamber during a slight argument over how the other man chewed his morning cereal. From then on very few wanted to work with him, for there was only one way Liger ever did things: his way. If it were not for his superb skills and experience in getting things done ahead of schedule, Liger would have certainly been blackballed years before, yet he somehow managed to keep getting the plum contracts, and he had one of the deepest green tans in the business.
Even though he was a hard man to work with, Liger eventually gathered up his own diving crew and led them like a brutal tyrant. His team’s reputation grew due to their efficiency and fearlessness; they were willing to take on any kind of job, no matter how dangerous. With intense competition at every corner, Liger threatened and cursed before he fought tooth and nail for his men, eventually earning their respect. Other divers began to steer clear of their group, for Liger’s team were loyal to no one but each other.
I just need to finish this last job, and then I can retire in luxury, he thought. Glancing at where the pilot was pointing to, Liger nodded. They both could see the diving support vessel now, and the plane would soon begin its descent.
Liger and his five-man team had been recruited personally by no less than Kazimir Morgenstern himself, and were tasked to build something hidden out in the deep blue waters of the area. Naturally, Liger had asked for an inflated price for his crew’s services, fully expecting the hard charging billionaire to reject him. To his surprise, Kazimir accepted, provided that they keep quiet about the whole project.
The last few years had been a mixture of hard work doing underwater construction, interspersed with the luxurious high life that only billionaires and their friends could ever dream of. Liger was given access to Kazimir’s personal yacht and a number of his mansions all over the world. His off days were spent in the company of teen fashion models, luxury sports cars, high stakes gambling, caviar and champagne. His subconscious continued to tell him that Kazimir was merely using him, but in the end, Liger didn’t mind at all. The money and the perks were just too good to turn down.
Everything seemed so easy until disaster struck at nearby Lemuria. Kazimir had called him in the middle of the night, with orders to evacuate the laboratory and seal whatever was inside of that place. Sensing the desperate weakness in the other man’s voice, Liger naturally asked for a raise, and he got it.