Clive Cussler - Lost Empire

“Between that and twelve hundred. Much bigger than the Speaker . The proximity of the Adelise coin and the bell is pure coincidence.”

WITH THE BELL no longer in danger of dropping into the channel, they disconnected and steered the Andreyale north a hundred yards, then eased their way through the inlet at the island’s ankle and emerged in the stiletto lagoon.

Only a half mile wide and long, the lagoon was actually a mangrove swamp. Jutting from the water were a couple dozen “floating islands”: mushroom caps of earth sitting atop buttresses of exposed, gnarled mangrove roots. Ranging in size from standing-room-only to a double garage, all were covered in thick weeds, and most supported miniature forests of scrub trees and bushes. At the southern end of the swamp was a narrow beach, and beyond that a copse of coconut palms. It was eerily quiet, the air dead still.“Now, this isn’t something you see every day,” Remi murmured.

“Any sign of the Mad Hatter or Alice?”

“No, knock wood.”

“Let’s get moving. Daylight’s burning.”

The made their way through the floating islands, dropped anchor just off the beach, and waded ashore.

“How many are we going to need?” Remi asked. With one hand she deftly curled her auburn hair off her neck and snapped a rubber band around it, making a neat topknot.

Sam smiled. “It’s like magic, how you do that.”

“We are a wondrous species,” Remi agreed with a smile and wrung the water from her shirttails. “So, how many?”

“Six. No, five.”

“And you’re sure we couldn’t get what we need in Stone Town and sneak back here?”

“You want to risk it? Something tells me that gunboat captain would be only too happy to arrest us. If he thinks we were lying to him . . .”

“True. Okay, Gilligan, let’s make your raft.”

THEY HAD NO TROUBLE finding plenty of downed trees but a harder time finding ones of a manageable size. Sam identified five candidates, all roughly eight feet long and about as big around as a telephone pole. He and Remi dragged each log down to the beach, where they arranged them in a row.

SAM WENT TO WORK. The construction was simple enough, Sam explained. He grabbed a nearby piece of driftwood and inscribed the plan in the sand:

“Not exactly the Queen Mary,” Remi observed with a smile.“For that,” Sam replied, “I’d need at least four more logs.”

“Why the protruding ends?”

“Two reasons: stability and leverage.”

“For what?”

“You’ll see. Right now I need some line-a few dozen six-foot lengths.”

Remi saluted. “As you command.”

AFTER AN HOUR’S WORK, Sam straightened up and stared at his creation. His narrowed eyes told Remi her husband was running equations in his head. After a minute of this, Sam nodded. “Okay. Should be buoyant enough,” he proclaimed. “With about twenty percent in reserve.”

WITH THE RAFT in tow, they slipped back through the inlet to the island’s western side and headed south along the coast until they were again over the bell’s resting place. Using the gaff hook, Sam maneuvered the raft around to the landward side of the Andreyale and secured it to the cleats.

“My gut tells me we’re due for another drive-by,” Sam said, sitting down in a deck chair. Remi joined him, and together they drank water and watched the water until, thirty minutes later, the Yulin appeared to the north, a half mile out.

“Good call,” Remi said.

The Yulin slowed to a walking pace, and from their afterdeck Sam and Remi could see a figure in a white uniform standing on its afterdeck. Sun glinted off binocular lenses.“Smile and wave,” Sam said.

Together they did just that until the figure lowered its binoculars and disappeared into the cabin. The Yulin came about and began heading north. Sam and Remi waited until it disappeared around the curve of the island, then went back to work.

With the already prepped anchor in one hand, Sam donned his fins and mask and rolled over the side. After a bit of wrangling, he centered the raft over the bell. He knotted the end of the anchor line to the far side of the raft, dove at an angle until the line was taut, then jammed the anchor’s flukes into the sand.

Back on the surface, he caught the line Remi tossed to him, then looped it over the raft’s center beam, dove down, and clamped the D ring onto the bell’s crown. A minute later he was back on the afterdeck, where he secured Remi’s line to both cleats.Hands on his hips, he appraised the setup.

Remi smiled sideways at him. “You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“You should be. My intrepid engineer.”

Sam clapped his hands together once. “Let’s do this.”

WITH REMI at the wheel, Sam called, “Slow ahead.”

“Slow ahead,” Remi repeated.

The water beneath the stern turned to froth, and the Andreyale eased forward a foot, then two. The cleated line began rising from the water. With a muffled squelch-pop, the rope cinched down on the raft’s crossbeam.“Looking good,” Sam called. “Keep going.”

The raft began moving, closing the distance to the stern.

“Come on,” Sam muttered. “Come on . . .”

On the far side of the raft the anchor line quivered with tension as it negated the Andreyale’s drag on the raft. Sam donned his mask, bent over the side, and stuck his face in the water. Twelve feet below, the bell was hovering a few inches off the bottom.Remi called, “How’re we doing?”

“A thing of beauty. Keep going.”

One careful foot at a time they lifted the bell until finally the crown broke the surface and thunked into the crossbeam.

“Slow to idle!” Sam ordered. “Just enough to hold position.”

“Idling!” Remi replied.

Sam grabbed the six-foot length of line from the deck and dove over the side. Three strokes brought him to the raft. Five loops through the bell’s crown and a bowline knot over the crossbeam, and the bell was secure. Sam lifted his hands triumphantly, like a cowboy who’d just roped a calf.“Done!” he called.

The Andreyale’s engines sputtered and went silent. Remi walked onto the afterdeck, smiled, and returned her husband’s thumbs-up.

“Congratulations, Fargo,” she called. “Now what?”

Sam’s smile dropped away. “Not sure. Still working it out.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?”

ZANZIBAR

IN TRUTH, THERE WAS NOTHING TO WORK OUT. THEY DIDN’T DARE tow the bell back up the coast to their bungalow. The needed a safe place to stash it while they made some decisions and arrangements.

While they both recognized their encounter with the Yulin might be a molehill they’d built into a mountain, they’d also come to trust their instincts, and on this issue Sam’s and Remi’s gut reactions were in agreement: Neither the Yulin’s initial visit nor its repeated appearances were happenstance. Also, her captain’s questions were variations on a theme: Were the Fargos looking for something specific? This suggested someone-perhaps the shadowy figure hiding in the Yulin’s cabin-was concerned that something of note was at risk of discovery. Was it the bell or the Adelise coin, or something else entirely?“The question is,” Sam said, “do we want to wait and see what they do or shake the tree a little bit?”