The Mahogany Ship (Sam Reilly Book 2) Read online

  Sam sat down with Matthew and opened his computer tablet.

  Harry took the sign it was time to work. “Be sure to catch up soon, and tell me all about this beautiful girl I hear has stolen you.”

  “I will. You can bet on it.”

  Matthew smiled.

  It wasn’t like him to pry into Sam’s personal business. “How was your sojourn in the Caribbean with that beautiful girl? What was her name, Aliena?”

  “Aliana,” Sam corrected him. “And it was great. But, now I’m here again, and that means it’s time to get back to work and solve this disaster – before hurricane season really takes off and it becomes a problem for all of us.”

  “Understood.”

  Sam looked around the otherwise empty mission room and asked, “Where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “Tom Bower.”

  “He’s still below on a dive – should be up soon.”

  “Good, get him back up here. I want him to bring me up to speed with our problem and what he’s done about it.” Sam looked at Matthew and said, “What have we got so far?”

  Matthew gave a quick whistle, and a man monitoring the dive gave the signal for Tom to return to ship.

  Matthew then turned on the overhead projector.

  “As you know, summer can be a tough time for many species in the Gulf of Mexico, when the combination of nutrient-rich river runoff and warm temperatures can rob coastal bottom waters of oxygen. Where that happens, shrimp, fish, and other creatures can be forced to flee to fresher waters, leaving a so-called ‘Dead Zone’ behind.”

  “I read the report. I’ve heard about them, but didn’t know a lot about those that affected the Gulf of Mexico. Here, the Dead Zones are caused by runoff from land rich in nutrients such as nitrogen and phosphorous. These elements aren't toxic, but they are potent fertilizers. In fact, in the Mississippi River, which drains about forty percent of the continental United States and most of its Midwestern farmland, agricultural fertilizers are the main source of these elements. Air pollution and urban development also increase nutrient runoff. When these nutrients find their way to the Gulf of Mexico they cause unnaturally large algal blooms. The algae then die and sink to the bottom, where they're decomposed by oxygen-consuming bacteria. During the warm summer months, when there is little mixing in the water column, the bottom water can stagnate and become hypoxic, or low in oxygen. If the hypoxia becomes severe enough, you have a Dead Zone.” Sam wasn’t reading from notes – he had a memory bordering on photographic. “So, what’s so different about it this time?”

  “Well, I’ll show you. See here? This is a normal graph of a typical summer Dead Zone. See the purple markings? They represent the Dead Zone for last year.”

  Sam followed the graph along the coastal region of up to two miles off shore from the numerous landfalls, which make up the Gulf of Mexico, “And this year?”

  “Check this out…”

  In front of him, the projector displayed an image of the entire Gulf of Mexico covered in red.

  There must be a mistake. If this is right, the world is in for serious trouble!

  “Are you sure that’s right?”

  “It’s right – and to make matters worse, normally this only affects ground feeding fish, such as shrimp, crustaceans, etc. But this year we’re talking about widespread devastation of sea life.”

  “And at the current rate, if we can’t stop the progression?”

  “The world’s oceans will be rendered inhospitable to all but the most resilient of sea creatures within two to three years.”

  “Do we have any idea what’s causing their demise?”

  “Yes, and no.” Matthew looked worried.

  Sam knew why. He was a kind boss, but he wanted answers, and had little time for people sitting on the fence. “All right, what do we know?”

  “Analysis of the dead sea creatures show that they have been affected with hydrogen cyanide.”

  “The Mexican silver mines?” Sam realized instantly.

  “Probably, but it will be hard to prove.”

  “Why? Where’s the primary source of the contamination?”

  “Tom’s managed to trace the source of their original contamination to a location below us – about three hundred feet to be exact.”

  “Someone’s been dumping something they shouldn’t?”

  “That’s what we thought at first, but not necessarily. It looks like something way more interesting than that.”

  “What is it?”

  “No, Tom would kill me if I took away all his thunder,” Matthew complained.

  “Forget Tom. I’m the one paying for this project.”

  “Who wants to forget me?” Tom said as he walked in, his dive suit still dripping wet.

  “I do, you tall bastard.”

  *

  Tom was stoked to see Sam again, and his big, cheeky grin beamed from ear to ear while he shook Sam’s hand. It was solid. Not the type of handshake where a man tries to impress another with the strength of his grip, but instead, simply the firm handshake of a man whose hands were as strong as a vice.

  It had only been a week, but the project just didn’t feel right without Sam. And then, after his most recent dive, he couldn’t believe his buddy missed it. Sam was going to be pissed when he discovered this was more than a simple case of someone dumping something they shouldn’t in an environment that couldn’t deal with it.

  His wetsuit was still dripping, having come straight up from the ship’s moon pool. When his boss said come now, he didn’t wait to get dry.

  “Good to see you, Sam,” he said, giving his friend a giant bear hug.

  “You too, Tom. Now, what have you got for me?”

  He expected such a reply from Sam – the man was focused when he started a new project.

  “You’re not going to believe what we’ve found.”

  “Try me.”

  “Okay, so the cause of this year’s apocalyptic Dead Zone was hydrogen cyanide…”

  “Yeah, yeah…” Sam interrupted his thunder. “Often used in mining, probably one of the local Mexican silver mines.”

  “Okay, so I see Matthew’s filled you in. But the next part is what you’re going to find really interesting, my friend.”

  “What?”

  “The sources of the contamination weren’t dumped here at all, as we expected. Instead, it came from an underwater tunnel, and guess who owned the tunnel?”

  “Michael Rodriguez, the owner of the closest silver mine?”

  “Good guess, but no. A man by the name of Ajtzak Wikea.”

  He waited for the name to ring a bell in Sam’s ear, but it didn’t.

  “Never heard of him. What does he do?”

  “Not what he does, but what he did.” Waiting for the words to sink in, Tom continued, “He lost the future hope of the Mayan empire, after losing its greatest weapon at the Ciudad Del Carmen in 1443 to an unknown enemy.”

  Sam’s eyes focused and his smile turned radiant, “The Ark of Light – I’ve read about it, and often wondered if there was any truth to the stories. Myth has it that it was a powerful scepter, covered with ornate jewels, and at the center a giant diamond, which had the ability to regulate the direction and intensity of the sun. Enough power to destroy ships with one shot – but it’s never been found, and neither has any evidence of its existence. Like all longstanding myths, I can imagine that its origins had some semblance of truth.”

  “That’s the one…”

  “What else do we know about Ciudad Del Carmen?”

  “Not a lot. So far, all we know is little more than what the tourist brochure says – that what was named “Ciudad Del Carmen” in the 16th century by the Spanish invaders, was a Mayan fortress dating back thousands of years that served as a trading outpost between the Aztec and Mayan civilizations.”

  “Do we have the archeological maps of the Mayan fortress?”

  “Sure do. It took some work, but we convinced someone from the Univers
ity of Mexico to email them to us.”

  “And what did they show?” Sam asked.

  “Nothing that would indicate an underground passage deep below the sea.”

  “So what we’ve found is an entirely new section of the building?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Okay, so how did our fifteenth century friend get involved in all this?” Sam asked, shaking his head.

  “That I don’t know. But the tunnel leads somewhere, and I think it’s time you and I find out where – so we can stop this before it destroys most of the planet’s sea life.”

  “Sounds like a plan. When do we dive?”

  “The Rock will be ready in two hours.”

  *

  A crooked smile crossed Sam’s face, as he thought about diving the unexplored, ancient Mayan tunnel.

  This was more like the environment he wanted to work in: dangerous, mysterious, and ancient. He went through the dive plan with Tom, and although he now took over the control of the mission, he was happy with the plan.

  They would use the dive bell to reach the seafloor, 300 feet below. The Maria Helena housed a technologically advanced dive bell. It was capable of supporting up to five divers at any one time for up to five days without shipside support, or indefinitely with a shipside tether.

  The Rock, as the bell was affectionately known, had a potential bottom depth range of 1000 feet, although Sam would be reluctant to attempt to work at such depths without the aid of a mechanical atmospheric dive suit. It was also equipped with a hyperbaric chamber, making rapid ascents possible, if required.

  Once on the seabed, Sam and Tom would set up for a deep dive and enter the tunnel. Wearing fully encapsulated diving helmets, the two men would be protected from the lethality of the hydrogen cyanide, which is most dangerous when breathed or ingested. At that depth, the two men would have a dive time of less than fifty minutes in which to locate the source of the cyanide contamination and seal it. Returning to the outer chamber of the Rock, the two men could then begin the decontamination process, which involved scrubbing each dive suit with a neutralizing agent before entering the dive bell and then having the dive suit washed again before the men removed the equipment and entered the main living area of the bell.

  Or that was how it was supposed to go.

  At the bottom of the seafloor Sam shook Tom, who, lying flat on his back in the relatively cramped space, was snoring soundly. It took more than a light shake to rouse the man, “Hey, we’re here. It’s time to get ready.”

  “What time is it?” Tom’s voice was groggy.

  “1410. The dive time is set to commence at 1430.” Shaking his head, Sam said, “We’re about to dive in 300 feet of water. Our bodies will be under 30 times their normal atmospheric pressure. As though that isn’t dangerous enough, we’re going to do so in the hope of sealing a catastrophic leak of hydrogen cyanide, in a tunnel that will compete with the extreme depth to kill us… and yet you sleep like a baby?”

  Tom shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve always been a good sleeper – you never know when you’ll need the extra energy later. You want an egg sandwich before we dive? I packed you one too,” he said casually, taking a bite.

  “I’ll be all right, but make it quick.”

  Sam put his legs through his dry suit and checked both of their twin dive tanks. By the time he looked up, he caught a glimpse of Tom shoving the remaining half of his sandwich in his mouth. His boyish grin was displayed behind the mouth full of food.

  Ordinarily, Sam would remain on the ship as the director of the operation. But when Tom had spoken of an ancient tunnel, he wouldn’t hear a word about missing out on it. Consequently, Matthew would take over his role. He had direct access with several doctors from the CDC, who could provide real time answers to any question Sam or Tom asked while they were in the tunnel.

  It took less than five minutes to lock their dive helmets and complete their checks on each other before they were ready to dive.

  “Maria Helena, Maria Helena, this is Reilly, how do you read?” Sam said through his push to talk (PTT) system.

  “Loud and clear.” It was Matthew’s voice that answered him.

  “Very good. Now that we’ve established the Rock’s relay communications are working, are we clear to dive?”

  “Weather up here is still good. You and Tom have a safe dive.”

  Sam looked at Tom, who nodded to show he was ready. And then, one after the other, they started to climb backwards down the steps into the moon pool below, and into another world.

  The water was dark, but the visibility with their flashlights excellent – at least fifty feet. Sam checked that the navigation beacon on board the Rock was working, and that his range finder could clearly see it. Reassured by the flashing bulb, he then held the electronic dive tablet in front of him, and hit Search.

  It flashed several times, sending ultrahigh frequency sound waves out in a 270-degree arc ahead of them. Immediately, the screen showed the flat surface of the seabed and the only obstacle for a hundred feet – the entrance to the tunnel.

  Sam pointed at his marking, and Tom responded, “That’s our cave.”

  “Copy that.” He marked the entrance to the tunnel with an asterisk, and like a GPS his tablet directed him precisely to the point.

  “Just wait till you see this thing, Sam…” Tom said.

  It was a short swim to the entrance of the tunnel. The surrounding area was noticeably devoid of any sea life.

  Sam looked up at the entrance in front of him.

  “Holy shit, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

  *

  Above him, the entrance to the tunnel stood at nearly forty feet. The outside was carved in ornate jade, intricately connected. Despite the buildup of sand and erosion of nearly six centuries, Sam had no doubt what he was looking at. His mind quickly referenced the little he knew about Mayan culture.

  This was no tunnel.

  It was something entirely different – the very top of a pyramid.

  At the opening stood a golden sculpture. The size of a large man, it held a spear pointing out towards a distant enemy. No light reached this spot, but as Sam focused his flashlight towards it, the spear glowed. Only it wasn’t a spear, at all.

  “Do you realize what that is?” Sam said, already kicking his fins towards the ancient artefact.

  “Like I said, The Ark of Light was real.”

  Sam was certain the second he saw it.

  A man who was quick to assess a situation, but slow and confident with a decision, he was used to being correct. It was because of this that the disappointment was so strong when he reached the structure and discovered it was nothing more than a sculpture, with a piece of glass at its center. Still doubting himself, Sam wondered if it was made of diamond, instead.

  “Sorry, Sam,” Tom said, “I thought I told you I’d already searched the entrance? Even I would have noticed if it were the real Ark of Light.”

  “It’s okay. I just got my hopes up.”

  “Do you think we’ll find what old Ajtzak did with the Ark of Light somewhere inside this tunnel?” Tom asked.

  “I’ve no idea, but I think this is the closest that mankind has come to discovering the weapon since it was lost in the fifteenth century.” Sam examined the structure of the entrance with admiration. “And something tells me this was never meant as a tunnel…”

  “What then?”

  “A tomb – Maybe Ajtzak’s final resting place? There was nothing in the history books about where they buried him, or even if he was given a King’s burial, as his bloodline suggested he should.”

  “You might just be on to something there.”

  “I’m certain of it,” Sam said. “What I can’t work out though, is how a fifteenth century civilization managed to build anything at a depth of 300 feet of water, especially something this intricate.”

  “Maybe they built it on land and then lowered it off a massive ship?”

  “No, even if they ha
d the means of carrying something this large on a ship, there’s no way they could have sunk it and had it land so perfectly.”

  “How then?”

  “Let’s go find out.”

  “Agreed.”

  They swam inside the entrance of the pyramid, which was much less elaborate than its outside. The tunnel could just have easily been a flooded subway in New York for all the similarities of appearance. They swam downwards nearly thirty feet and then found one long tunnel heading both west and east.

  “Diver Reilly, radio check Maria Helena?”

  “Hearing you a little weak, say again.”

  Sam stuck a relay transmitter and booster to the tunnel wall.

  “How do you read me now, Matthew?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Good. What we have here appears to be the top of an ancient pyramid, probably Mayan given its location. All we could see from the entrance was the very top, surrounded by sand. There’s no way to guess how much further down this may go. The water here has the highest concentrations of hydrogen cyanide, so at least we’re onto something with our first mission – to seal the leak and contain the contamination. We’re going to explore this tunnel and see what we find.”

  “Very good, keep us in communication range.”

  “Will do.”

  Sam looked at Tom, and said, “Let’s separate. You want to go east or west first?”

  “East.”

  “Okay, make certain you stay within radio range.”

  “Will do, boss – you just call when you need me to rescue your ass.”

  “You can count on it.”

  The tunnel went for approximately 80 feet from one end to the other. At each end, the tunnel submerged further in a steep downward direction, as though the top of the outside pyramid was just the tip of the iceberg, which extended deep into the seabed.