James Rollins - Deep Fathom

“Already working on that. We’ve got the launch outfitted. Everyone is loaded up, except Robert and I. You almost missed us.”

“Get your asses out of there! Why did you even bother to call?”

“We were hoping you could talk us through defusing it?”

“Are you insane?”

“Hell, it’s the Fathom we’re talking about, Jack.”

Jack gripped the receiver tightly. “Listen to me—”

“Just a sec…”

Jack heard Charlie call out, then heard another voice, faintly in the background. It was Robert. “The light…it’s blinking more rapidly.”

Oh, God! Jack yelled into the phone. “Charlie! Get out of there!”

The receiver suddenly squelched with static, standing his small hairs on end — then the phone went ominously dead. “Charlie!” He clicked the receiver again and again. A dial tone returned. Savagely, he tapped in the code for the Deep Fathom again. “Goddamn it!”

Karen stood behind him. “Jack? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. He listened as the satellite connection fed through, but all he got as an answer was a screech of white noise. Then nothing again. He lowered the phone. He was numb all over, fearing the worst. He prayed it was just the connection frizzing out. But in his heart he knew he was wrong. He had heard the panic in Robert’s voice.

“Jack?” Karen placed a hand on his shoulder.

He slowly lowered the receiver into its cradle. “I…I think someone just blew up my ship.”

“It’s done,” Gregor Handel said. “I’m reading nothing from the Deep Fathom . Not even a mayday. She’s tits up, sir.”

“Perfect.” David lowered the headset from his ears. Earlier, Rolfe had succeeded in breaking the Fathom ’s Globalstar code, allowing them to tap into the transmitted call. Using the headphones, David had eavesdropped on the final phone conversation between Jack and his ship. He placed the headset on the table. “What could be better?” he said. “Jack knew it was me. He heard his fucking ship explode. And he knows his crew was still on board.”

Rolfe spoke from his station. “I’ve got the port authority of Kwajalein. Do you want me to send a helicopter to confirm?”

“Wait about an hour. Ideally, we don’t want any survivors.”

Handel made a scoffing noise. “With that much C-4, almost a pound, there’s a kill zone of a good hundred yards. Nothing could’ve survived.”

David’s grin grew wider. “Well done, men.” He reached under the table and pulled out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. He raised the bottle. “To the perfect execution of this mission.”

“Execution is right,” Rolfe said with a smirk of satisfaction.

David stood and twisted the cork free of the bottle. It popped and shot across the cabin. As the champagne frothed over the neck, he lifted the bottle high. “And this is only the first step in bringing Kirkland down.”

Karen sat in the spacious cabin of the private Learjet as it taxied across the tarmac of Pohnpei’s airport. Outside, a fine misty rain drizzled down, muting the views of the jungle-draped peaks of the South Pacific island. As the plane turned, the island’s most prominent feature came into view: Sokehs Rock, a towering volcanic plug overlooking Kolonia harbor, nicknamed the “Diamond Head of Micronesia.”

“It’s beautiful,” Miyuki said beside her, leaning closer. Her friend, clearly exhausted, had slept most of the way, only awakening as the plane began to land.

Karen, however, had not been able to sleep. Neither had Jack. She stared across the cabin. He still sat stiff in his seat, barely noticing the passing scenery. Mwahu sat slumped beside him, snoring.

Earlier, after boarding the plane, Jack had spent a few frantic hours trying to discover the fate of his ship. By the time he reached someone in authority who would listen, he was informed that a search helicopter had already been sent out to investigate. So they were forced to wait. Jack had paced up and down the cabin, clenching and unclenching his fists. When the report finally came in, it was not good.

Lit by a burning pool of oil, the debris from the ship had been easy to spot.

After the news, Jack had not spoken a word. He’d crossed to the cabin’s bar, poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey, downed it, and repeated it two more times until Karen coaxed him back to his seat. And there he had sat, just staring, unblinking. At first she had tried to engage him in conversation, but his only response was cold and savage: “I’m going to kill that bastard.” So she returned to her seat, watching the world pass beneath her.

It had been a monotonous journey until they reached their destination. Before landing, the jet circled the island. Pohnpei was roughly thirteen miles across, encircled by a protective ring of coral reefs, creating an island of lagoons and mangrove swamps. Inland, its mountainous interior was all rain forests, streams, waterfalls, and steep cliffs.

Studying the circular island from above, Karen had hoped to spot Pohnpei’s other well-known feature — the seaside ruins of Nan Madol — but the mists had been too thick on the southeast side of the island.

Miyuki settled back in her seat as the jet taxied toward the terminal. She nodded toward Jack. “Is he going to be okay?”

“It’ll take time, I think.” Karen knew Jack bore a lot of guilt. It was etched in the lines on his face and the hollowness in his eyes.

As the plane rolled to a stop, Miyuki unbuckled her seat belt. “Let’s get him moving. Try to get his mind off what happened.”

Karen nodded, though she doubted it would help. Jack’s brooding went beyond simple distraction.

Across the cabin, Mwahu stretched. “We here?”

“Yes,” Karen said, freeing herself from her seat. Jack had still not moved.

Fresh sunlight entered as the aft door cracked open. Karen crossed the cabin as Mwahu and Miyuki moved toward the exit. She sat down and touched Jack’s arm. “Are you all right?”

He remained silent for a few moments, then spoke, his voice numb: “It was all my fault…again. First the Atlantis , now the Fathom .”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “I should never have left. If I’d been there, I could’ve defused the bomb.”

“And maybe you would’ve been killed with them. Then this Spangler fellow would have truly won. If what you say is right — that he planted the bomb amidst the wreckage aboard the Gibraltar —then you’re the only one who knows the truth. All hope of exposing him would be lost if you were killed.”

“What does the truth matter? It’s not worth this cost.” Jack finally looked directly at her.

Karen was shocked at the pain in those blue eyes. She had an urge to pull him to her chest, to envelope him, to hold him until the pain went away, but knew any true solace could not come from her. He would have to find his own way past this tragedy. “If you want justice for your friends,” she said softly but firmly, “you’re gonna have to win it. You’re not gonna get it by killing Spangler.”

Rage flickered through his pain. “Then how?”

She faced his anger and matched it. “By exposing the goddamn bastard, Jack. That’s how you’ll win!” She touched his knee. “And I’ll help you. You’re not alone in this, Jack. You have to understand that.”

He closed his eyes, sighed, and after a few moments opened them again. The pain was still there, but it was not all-consuming anymore. She saw a glimmer of the Jack she had met in the Okinawa airport. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “There’s too much at stake. David needs to be brought down, but the only way to do it is to discover the truth about Air Force One. I won’t let him win.”