James Rollins - Deep Fathom

“Exactly.” Jack held the artifact up to the direct sunlight. Its facets burst with brilliance.

“Notice anything odd about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re holding it up with one hand.”

“Yeah, so.”

Karen pulled out a black handkerchief and tossed it over the crystal. Jack’s arm dropped. It was as if the handkerchief weighed ten pounds. “What the hell?”

“The crystal’s weight is dependant upon light exposure. The stronger the light, the less it weighs.”

Jack whisked off the bit of cloth, exposing the crystal again. It was lighter. “My God!”

Karen took the crystal and lowered it back into her satchel.

“My geologist would sell his soul to see this.”

“We’ve already arranged to have it studied. Next Monday, in fact, when the university’s geology staff returns. I’ll pass the data on to your friend.”

Jack knew this would hardly satisfy Charlie. He wished he had collected a sample of the crystal pillar himself.

“Now it’s your turn,” Karen said. “You said you would bring a copy of the obelisk’s inscription.”

He patted his own bag. “I have it.”

“May I see?”

Shrugging, Jack bent over and fished through his backpack for his notebook. Pulling it free, he handed it to her.

Karen opened the book. The first page was covered with the tiny hieroglyphics. A small gasp escaped her throat. “Rongorongo.”

“Excuse me?”

Karen flipped through the remainder of the notebook. There were forty pages of glyphs. The book trembled in her fingers as she mumbled, “There has never been a discovery of this length before.”

“Discovery of what?”

She closed the book and gave him a quick lesson on the history of the etchings found on Easter Island. “Over the centuries,” she finished, “no one has been able to translate them. This may hold the final clue.”

“I hope it helps,” Jack said lamely as his mind spun. If the language was from Easter Island, what was it doing inscribed on a crystal spire six hundred meters underwater? He struggled to incorporate this newest bit of information. Could this have anything to do with the crash of Air Force One?

Before flying here, he had not mentioned to Karen his own agenda in meeting with her — to tie the strange crystal to the downing of Air Force One. It seemed too far-fetched to admit to a stranger. “Do you think you’ll be able to translate what’s on the pillar?”

Karen clutched the notebook in her lap. She stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts. “I don’t know.”

Within a few minutes they reached her apartment: a second-floor town house, two bedrooms, neat and wonderfully cool. Karen apologized for the drab furnishings, all beige and browns. “It came prefurnished.”

But Jack noted small personal touches. On a mantel rested a collection of stone statues and fetishes from Micronesia. In a corner were four carefully tended bonsai plants. And stuck on the apartment’s refrigerator were scores of pictures — family, friends, old vacation photos — affixed by an equally colorful assortment of kitchen magnets.

Jack followed Karen toward the bedroom area. As his host passed the decorated refrigerator, all the magnets suddenly clattered to the floor, the pictures fluttering after them.

Startled, Karen jumped away.

Jack glanced from the refrigerator to Karen. She stood with the satchel clutched to her chest. “It think it’s the crystal. It’s demonstrated strange magnetic effects before.”

As proof, he waved her away. When she moved off a few steps, he collected one of the magnets and put it back on the refrigerator. It stuck again.

“That is so weird,” Karen said. “No wonder the looters thought the crystal was cursed.”

Jack frowned. “Cursed?”

She matched his frown with a nod to the single magnet. “It seems both of us have been holding back a little. Let’s get you settled and then head over to the lab. We have much to discuss.”

Jack slowly nodded.

He showered, shaved, and changed into a pair of loose khakis and a light short-sleeve shirt. He repacked his backpack: camera, notebooks, pens, cellular phone. He felt worlds better as he left Karen’s apartment. It was only a short walk to the university.

“I already called Miyuki,” Karen said. “She’s waiting for us at her lab.”

Jack nudged his pack higher on his shoulder. “You mean Professor Nakano?”

Karen nodded. “She has a program to decrypt the language.”

As they walked an awkward silence descended. Jack sought to break it. “So tell me where you found the crystal.”

Karen sighed. “That’s a long story.” But she gave Jack a quick sketch: the risen pyramids, the ambush, the escape through an underwater passage.

As the story unfolded, Jack’s respect for the two women grew. “And these looters were the same ones who broke into Professor Nakano’s office?”

Karen nodded.

“How could they possibly know about the crystal within the pyramid?”

“I’m not sure they did. They just know we found something . Something they think is cursed.”

Jack thought about the crash of Air Force One, wondering if these men’s warning might hold a kernel of truth. “Definitely strange,” he mumbled.

“Here we are,” Karen pointed to a building just ahead. She led the way. Inside, she flashed her credentials, and a guard escorted them to the elevators.

“The lifts are working again?” she asked as the doors opened.

The guard nodded. He joined them in the small space.

Karen caught Jack’s inquisitive look at their escort. “Pre-cautions because of the break-in last week.”

The elevator ascended swiftly. When the doors opened, Jack found a small Japanese woman waiting for them, pacing anxiously.

Stepping forward, Karen introduced them. Miyuki bowed slightly but offered no hand. Jack nodded in greeting. Asian customs involved little physical contact. “Professor Nakano, thank you for your help.”

“Please call me Miyuki,” she said shyly.

“Let’s go,” Karen said as the guard returned to the elevator. “I want to enter Jack’s data as soon as possible.” Karen hurried forward, waving for Jack and Miyuki to follow.

Jack leaned over to Miyuki. “Is she always like this?”

Miyuki rolled her eyes. “Always,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.

Once at the office, Miyuki stepped forward and keyed open the lock. Karen was first through the door. “Miyuki maintains a clean room for her computers,” she explained as Jack entered. She pointed to a row of starched coveralls hanging on the wall. “You’ll need to wear one of those.”

“I don’t know if I have a suit that’ll fit him,” Miyuki said. She sifted through the coveralls. “This might do.” She passed him a large suit.

Jack took it and placed his backpack on a bench by the wall.

Karen was already zipping into her own coverall. “Jack, while you dress, may I show Miyuki your notebook?”

He nodded and nudged his pack in her direction, then applied himself to forcing his large frame into the tight suit.

“Miyuki, come see this.” She tugged free his notebook. As she did, something tumbled from his backpack and rolled across the floor.

Miyuki bent to pick it up.

As Jack struggled to work both shoulders into the coveralls, he saw that Miyuki held David Spangler’s gift box, and an idea dawned on him. “Open it,” he said to Miyuki. “I could use your expert opinion.”

She pulled back the lid. Her eyes narrowed as she peered at its contents.

“What do you think it is?” Jack asked.

Miyuki leaned closer. “It’s an inexpensive switching circuit.” She closed the box with a snap. “Worthless really.”