Gordon Korman - The Danger

“This is unreal!” Cutter exclaimed, more as a complaint than anything else. “I’m looking right at it, but I can’t believe my eyes.”

And then came a full view of what Deep Scout ’s occupants had seen before the accident. Far below the surface, lodged on a muddy shelf at 703 feet, the debris field came to an abrupt end in the remains of a ship.

To three trained treasure hunters, the sight was unmistakable. Even some of the wooden ribs of the old hull were visible, packed in the wet sand.

“ Another ship?” Reardon exclaimed in consternation. “That’s impossible!”

“Which one is Nuestra Señora ?” asked Cutter.

“Who cares?” snapped Marina. “The treasure’s not up on the reef. It stands to reason that it must be down there.”

Reardon stared at her. “Are you going to dive to seven hundred feet?”

“There are ways,” Marina reminded him.

“There’s a time factor here, too,” the team leader pointed out. “We’re just finding out about this. The kids have known for a week.”

“The kids wouldn’t dare,” said Reardon. “After what happened to them, they won’t even be stepping in puddles, let alone diving.”

“Maybe not,” said the team leader, “but they can still talk. Braden may be gone, but there are plenty of other people on this island who could find a use for a billion dollars.”

Marina hit STOP, and the screen went blank. “Speaking of poor Braden, some of the locals are putting on a memorial service on the beach tonight. We can’t miss it.”

Cutter turned pale. “Are you crazy? I can’t go to that! English thinks I killed the guy!”

“All the more reason why we have to be there,” she argued. “We’ve come so far, and we’re so close. Let’s not lose sight of the prize just when it’s in our reach.”

It was not yet dark, but the bonfire was flaming high into the dusky sky over the beach at Côte Saint-Luc. About forty people were in attendance when the three interns made their way in from the road, hanging back where the mangroves gave way to the flat sand.

Dante, whose color blindness also gave him excellent night vision, squinted at the crowd.

“Who’s there?” asked Adriana. “A lot of institute people?”

“All I see is English. He’s twice as big as everybody else. The second we get there, he’s going to give us the boot.”

“Gallagher?” asked Kaz.

“I don’t think so,” Dante reported.

“Jerk,” muttered Adriana. “He won’t come to pay his respects because fixing Deep Scout is going to cost Poseidon money.”

The crowd was mixed. There were sailors and scientists from the institute, and quite a few locals as well. The atmosphere was more subdued than a party, but it was no funeral, either. People talked quietly, sharing reminiscences of Braden Vanover, and adding mementos to a small table where pictures of the late captain were displayed. There was even occasional laughter, as the memories were often funny.

As the three teenagers joined the group, the first familiar face they encountered belonged to Marina Kappas.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” she greeted them. “It means a lot. What do you hear from Star?”

“She’s not good,” Dante admitted, dazzled by the dark-haired beauty. “They’ve got a physiotherapist working with her, but she’s still not walking. Mr. Ling wants to take her home to the States.”

“What a terrible accident.” Marina’s voice was warm with sympathy. “Braden gone, and Star—”

“Star will be just fine,” Adriana said curtly.

“Come on, Adriana—” Kaz began.

“No, you come on!” The girl had never been one to look for a fight. But right now she was picturing Star standing with them. Star had always been suspicious of Marina’s outward show of friendliness. Cutter and his crew were not their friends. Magazine-cover looks did not change that fact.

“Don’t pretend you care about Star,” Adriana told Marina bluntly. “Don’t pretend you care about any of us.” And she literally marched Kaz and Dante away from the Californian, past Cutter and Reardon, and over to the crackling bonfire.

“You’re right, you know,” Dante said to Adriana. “Star would have done the same thing.”

“Star would have bitten her head off,” Kaz amended with just a touch of pride. He added wistfully, “Star belongs here more than anybody. She was trying to save the captain when she got herself bent.”

The three interns were saying hello to Captain Janet Torrington when they suddenly found themselves in the company of English as well.

Adriana began stammering apologies. “We’re sorry, Mr. English. We know we’re not invited, but we just couldn’t miss this.”

“I must speak with you,” the big man said gravely. He pulled the three of them aside and walked them to the edge of the group.

The interns exchanged an uneasy glance.

Kaz found his courage. “We have every right to be here. The captain was our friend, too.”

English nodded. “ Certainement , you are right. I owe you this apologie , me. You were not to blame for Braden’s death. I know this. This is fact.”

Dante breathed a sigh of relief. “We thought you were going to kick us out.”

“There are many people here you do not know,” English told them. “Come. I will introduce.”

They were surprised to find that Star was famous among the oil-rig divers. Word had spread that the Antilles platform’s hospital was home to a young girl who had gotten the bends while attempting to save Captain Vanover. As Star’s friends, Kaz, Adriana, and Dante were famous as well.

“The bends,” groaned Henri Roux, Diver 2 on English’s team. “I see too many good guys retire into the wheelchair. You make your living at nine hundred feet, sooner or later, the bends gets you, too.”

Kaz whistled. “Nine hundred feet! English and I went a third that deep, and we had to carry a hundred pounds of tanks and hang off the line for two hours.”

“This is different kind of diving,” English explained. “Saturation diving with the hard hat — helmet. Very deep, very dangerous. No tanks. The breathing gas comes from the hose from topside. You decompress in the bell or a chamber, sometimes for many days.”

“How far down can you go?” asked Dante in awe.

English shrugged. “Me, the deepest, one thousand three hundred feet. But Tin Man, the one atmosphere suit, it goes deeper. Or the submersible—”

He fell silent. The mention of a submersible brought everyone back to the reason for this gathering.

English clapped two enormous hands together, and the assembly came to order. His voice resounded across the beach.

“We are all the friends of Braden, so you know he was a man of deeds, not words. And if you know me, you see I speak even less. So I just say merci .

“Maybe nobody tell you there is a hero in this sad story, a young American girl in the hospital on the main platform. She is sick because she tried to help Braden. If you work on the rig, visit her. She has much courage.

“ Merci also for the pictures and souvenirs. They will be sent to Braden’s family. Tomorrow in Florida they have the funeral. According to Braden’s last wishes, it will be a burial at sea.”

Kaz’s head snapped to attention. “At sea ?” he blurted in dismay. “We almost got ourselves killed getting him out of the sea!”

English caught his pop-eyed stare. The Caribbean dive guide and the Canadian hockey player shared a moment of exquisite humor, secure in the knowledge that the man they mourned would have been laughing, too.