Mosaic (Breakthrough Book 5)

by Michael C. Grumley

  A man, unfortunately so intent on strengthening his only son, he would never grasp the hardship he wreaked simultaneously. The near-blind obsession Tay would develop as a child trying to please him. And how all the years of struggle would also, ironically, leave Tay with one definable trait he would never shake. One that, in some ways, would both redeem his father and propel himself.

  Elgin Tay the boy, and Elgin Tay the man, were both stubborn.

  A thought leaving him now with a faint grimace as he sat in the water as if hearing a message from above.

  Tay turned his head slowly, feeling for any pain that might indicate a head injury. Maybe a concussion. And wondering which was responsible for the hallucinations, injury or despair.

  There was only one thing visible in the blackness, besides his own images––the same indiscernible glow he saw from above. It was soft and appeared higher now. But how far was it? It was either small and close, or larger and farther away. Big help that was.

  Reluctant to leave his new location, Tay closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. He tried to think…trying to gauge where on Earth he was in relation to the ship. And more importantly, how far away the glowing object might be.

  What was the calculation for an oblong? Similar to a rectangle––length and width. He concentrated harder, trying to see Borger’s monitor again in his head.

  An image slowly appeared behind his closed eyes. He fought to remain focused and tried to shut out the environment around him. Just long enough.

  He could see it. The shape in his memory looked rounded. Enough that its depth had to be close to its height.

  Maybe a thousand feet high. It couldn’t have been more than a thousand feet. So…less than a quarter mile, through the center.

  How far from the top were they drilling? Fifty. Maybe sixty feet. And how far had he just fallen? Or, more importantly, for how long? Five seconds? Ten? He could recall the calculation for falling…distance equals half of gravity’s acceleration multiplied by time squared. And the fall, he reasoned, would certainly have felt longer than it actually was. He settled on five seconds.

  0.5 x 32 ft/sec2 was 16. Times 5 squared, or 25. Which was what, a four-hundred-foot fall?

  He shook his head. It couldn’t have been that long. He’d be dead. Maybe three seconds then. Or two.

  Unfortunately, without knowing how far he’d fallen when first entering the ship, he couldn’t calculate how far down inside he was. And there was no way to know how deep the water went.

  He had to be conservative. If he assumed he was halfway down, whatever was glowing out in the darkness could be up to five hundred feet away if it was in the center. Just around a tenth of a mile.

  But what if it wasn’t in the middle? What if it was on the other side? On the opposite wall? That would be two-tenths of a mile. Or more. It didn’t sound like much, but a quarter-mile swim was no walk in the park. Especially in his condition.

  Tay took a deep breath. Even with his leg, he might be able to do one-tenth. Slowly. Very slowly.

  But even without the swim, Tay knew he had a much bigger problem–– finding his way back. For that, he needed a general bearing, which meant at least two points of reference besides himself. But all he had was one. Whatever that thing was in the distance.

  Tay had a thought and lifted his left arm out of the water, searching his wrist. Nothing. His dive watch was gone. With a frustrated sigh, he closed his eyes for several long minutes, thinking. Until he had something.

  He pushed himself up with his hands and immediately eased back into the water, where he kept hold of the ledge and attempted to measure it with his body. Just a little longer than he could reach with both arms.

  Tay eased away from the ledge, doing a gentle breaststroke along the wall and keeping it within reach using his left hand. If there were indeed more ledges, then the question was how far apart were they?

  It took almost twenty repetitions before he found it. Another ledge, almost at the same level below the water.

  He measured it with his arms. Virtually the same length. Excitedly, he pushed off and began swimming back, recounting his strokes. At twenty-one, he found his previous shelf.

  Now for the other side.

  Tay did the same thing in the opposite direction. Another twenty strokes revealed a third ledge, where he quickly pulled himself up. A desperate excitement was growing inside him. Not only were there other ledges out there in the dark, but the inside wall of the ship might actually be covered with them.

  ***

  When he got to the tenth shelf, he felt sure. If these things were everywhere, it wouldn’t matter which direction he swam back to if he got into trouble.

  The faint green glow in the distance was still there. Exactly as it had been. Just too far away to discern any detail. And yet, as faint as the object was, it was still bright enough for Tay to be sure of one thing. Well, two. First, it was not a hallucination. Second, and more importantly, it was not underwater!

  19

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  Alison’s face beamed. “John! My God, it’s so good to hear your voice. I miss you.”

  “I miss you. How are things?”

  Alison was standing on the Pathfinder’s main deck. Chris stood several feet away, looking down over the stern’s platform and watching several of Captain Emerson’s engineers work on the giant damaged drill. With its housing streaked and deeply marred, it looked as though someone had taken a baseball bat to the thing.

  “Um, I’m okay. How are you?”

  “Just okay?”

  She shrugged. “Things are still a little strange here. But Chris is back, so that’s good.”

  “Glad to hear it. How is Chris?”

  “Better. Still healing, but much better.”

  “And Dirk and Sally?”

  “They’re…good.”

  Clay caught something in Alison’s voice. “What does they’re good mean?”

  She couldn’t help but grin. She almost forgot who she was talking to––the man who noticed everything.

  “Uh, well…let’s just say there’s been some developments with the dolphins.”

  “Can you expand on that?” Clay teased.

  She chuckled. “Sorry. I’m just still trying to wrap my mind around everything. So is Chris. The dolphins are pressing me more on their request. Not Dirk and Sally so much as their elders. They seem very…intent, for some reason.”

  “Have you talked to anyone else yet?”

  “No. Just you and Chris. We’re still trying to figure out how to pull it off.”

  “I may have an idea.”

  “Really?”

  Standing outside the empty hospital wing, Clay turned and leaned against a nearby railing. He glanced up at the afternoon sun, hidden behind a dense layer of clouds lingering over the southern end of Trinidad Island. The air was warm and muggy, without even a whisper of a breeze. In the distance, he could see one of the island’s main roads, the Churchill Roosevelt Highway, and watched dozens of cars and trucks pass in both directions. Their passengers completely unaware of the events unfolding practically under their noses.

  “I’m sure you know about the Navy’s past and present use of trained dolphins.”

  She replied grimly. “Of course I do.”

  Alison was intimately aware of the operation. It was called the Navy Marine Mammal Program and was run out of San Diego, where a group of seventy-five highly-trained dolphins was used by the U.S. Navy. Publicly, the Navy characterized their use as helping to rescue lost naval swimmers or finding underwater mines. But privately, what they were really being used for was definitely more devious. And the U.S. was not alone. The Soviet Navy, for example, had gone so far as to train dolphins to kill. And in fact, had even been caught selling some of the animals to Iran in the early 2000s.

  Clay trod lightly, noting Alison’s change in tone. “As I understand it, the department does occasionally need to transport their dolphins�
�by air.”

  “Yes. I’ve heard that too.”

  “Well, I’ve asked around,” he said.

  Alison perked up, glancing at Chris as he turned back to look at her. “Really?”

  “Yep. And you do know who has authority over the entire Navy, don’t you?”

  “Secretary Miller?”

  “That’s right. Along with Admiral Langford.”

  “Oh my God,” Alison gasped. “Wouldn’t that just be perfect?!”

  “Not to mention a little ironic.”

  An excited Alison was now grinning from ear to ear. “And that is why I’m in love with you.”

  Clay laughed. “I thought it was my cooking.”

  She laughed with him, before suddenly stopping and almost staring into the phone. “Wait. You can cook?”

  “Very funny.”

  “I love your idea. Although in the meantime, there’s something else Chris and I need to figure out here.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a long story, but the dolphins may not be telling us everything. Especially the elders.”

  “That sounds mysterious.”

  She laughed and began to speak when something sounded from her vest.

  Alison.

  She looked down at the water to see Sally watching her.

  “Sally!”

  Alison had forgotten her vest was even on. She immediately caught herself. Oh no. Did her vest translate any of her conversation with John?!

  She watched Sally carefully but found the dolphin’s response showed no indication of it.

  You come now.

  Alison turned her attention back to the phone. “Uh, John–”

  Clay, who had been listening, grinned. “I think that’s my cue.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know. Have fun.”

  Alison ended the call and continued observing Sally. Normally, her excitement at an invitation was immediate. But this time she hesitated. She didn’t know what it was that was down there and it left her nervous. She trusted Dirk and Sally implicitly, but it was also clear they were now receiving instructions directly from their elders.

  And the elders seemed to be acting very differently.

  ***

  Chris waited until she was off the phone before approaching, putting his good arm on the rail next to hers. The ocean seemed to stretch out forever in front of them. Eventually, it touched the pale blue sky at the horizon, through a thin, wispy layer of gray cloud.

  Without a word, Chris reached out and carefully pressed the power button on Alison’s vest, turning it off.

  “Listen,” he said. “Since we’ve been catching each other up on everything…there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is DeeAnn still in Africa?”

  “Last I heard, yes.”

  Chris nodded. “Have you had any more conversations with her about that Big Brain Trio theory she told us about?”

  “No, why?”

  Chris shrugged. “It was pretty boring in that hospital while I was recovering, so I did a bunch of reading. To keep me distracted.”

  “On what?”

  “On a lot of things. Everything, really. So much has happened…” He turned back to the water. “One of the things I thought was most interesting was that big brain theory. It’s a very new theory and hasn’t gathered a lot of attention yet, but it’s true. The similarities between the three brains really are startling. She was certainly right about that.”

  “And?”

  “Look, I–” he paused. “I think the world of DeeAnn. You know that, right?”

  Alison eyed him, curiously. “What are you getting at, Chris?”

  “What I’m getting at is that…I…don't think,” he paused again. “What I’m trying to say, is I’m not sure if she’s been completely transparent with us.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t say that right. What I meant to say is that she might not have told us everything.”

  “DeeAnn?”

  “Yes, DeeAnn.”

  “As in DeeAnn Draper.”

  “Yes! DeeAnn Draper!” Chris said. “The only person we know named DeeAnn!”

  “Why don’t you think she told us everything?”

  “I don’t mean about everything. I just mean about the Big Brain Trio.”

  Alison looked confused. “This is starting to feel like an Abbott and Costello routine.”

  “Sorry. I’m not trying to drag this out. I’m just trying to be careful here,” Chris said. “Tell me what you remember of that theory. Of how DeeAnn explained it.”

  She stared briefly at him, trying to remember. “Well…the three species all have brains that are extremely similar. Too similar—both in their size and design—to be coincidental.”

  “That’s right. Three brains, all extremely similar and unlike any others, anywhere on the planet. And what were the three species?”

  Alison rolled her eyes. “Really, Chris. Is all this necessary?”

  “Just humor me.”

  She exhaled loudly. “It was humans, primates, and dolphins.”

  “Exactly!”

  “Which is why we’re finding so many links between us. Thanks to IMIS.”

  “That’s right. That’s exactly what I remember from what she told us.”

  “Fine. Great. We remember the same thing. Now tell me what this is all about.”

  “Okay. Here it is,” Chris said. “I told you I was doing some reading. It wasn’t like I was trying to fact check or anything. I was genuinely fascinated. So I studied up on all kinds of things, including the Big Brain Trio theory. But here’s the thing. What DeeAnn told us, is not what the theory says.”

  “What?”

  “It’s most of it. But not all.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying there’s more to it than that.”

  “How much more?”

  “Not a lot. But what was left out is significant. The three species are not humans, primates, and dolphins.”

  “So, what then? There’s four?”

  “No, no. There’s still only three, but humans and primates are not different species. They are both one species, together. So, it’s primates, dolphins, and another species.”

  Alison stared at Chris. “Humans and primates are the same?”

  “That’s right. The Big Brain Trio does not differentiate between them. So either DeeAnn mistakenly misremembered when she told us about it, or she intentionally left out the third species. For whatever reason.”

  Alison frowned. “I don’t think DeeAnn would lie to us.”

  “I didn’t think so either.”

  Alison stared at Chris for a long moment. The warm breeze gently rustled through her hair. “So, what is the third species?”

  At that, Chris grinned widely. “You might want to steady yourself because this is going to blow your mind!”

  20

  “Things are different now. Not like before.”

  DeeAnn Draper sat quietly in front of the young man, mulling over his words. His name was Anjan Rudambage, whose tall and thin frame sat erect––though still relaxed, in the booth across from her. His loose-fitting blue dress shirt helped to highlight his light brown skin, which was similar in color to that of Ethiopians and reflective of his Tutsi heritage. The dark, square-framed glasses and high hairline gave the man an almost studious appearance. A stark contrast to DeeAnn’s short, gray scattered hair and rumpled khaki pants, topped with a plain white T-shirt.

  But Rudambage was no student. He was in his mid-20’s and arguably one of the city of Kigali’s most respected journalists—even described by some as one of the best in all of Rwanda.

  “Since the genocide, we have worked very hard to reestablish trust. Both in our government and in our people.” He reached forward and took a sip of iced tea, before instinctively pushing his glasses higher onto his nose. “We are now the least co
rrupt of any East African nation. It’s been proven and documented.”

  DeeAnn grinned politely but remained quiet. She knew enough about Rwanda to know what documentation the young man was referring to––surveys done by an international watchdog group called Transparency International.

  “Some critics would claim that the reason your corruption is so low is because Rwanda has become more of a police state than anything else.”

  Rudambage nodded. “Yes. That is true. There are still many who fear the government, but that can be said for any country, can it not? Even America.”

  “Also true.”

  “Ms. Draper, please. My reputation is well known in Kigali. Something I suspect you are already aware of. I am trustworthy, regardless of what you might think of my country. Are there still corrupt individuals in our system? Yes. But they are also well known. And watched by many. I can assure you that we in Rwanda are far more concerned with re-establishing our integrity than our secrets.”

  DeeAnn studied Rudambage again before finally nodding. “I believe you. And you’re right, I have had some friends look into you. I suppose if I can’t trust you…”

  The confident journalist smiled sincerely. “Then you cannot trust anyone.”

  She smiled with him, revealing a softness in her brown eyes, matched by middle-aged and still attractive features. She then glanced out the café window, past the tiny parking lot, and to another gravel lot just beyond. There she could see the figure of Ronin standing beside their Jeep, waiting patiently. Sitting inside, both Dulce and Dexter munched contently on a meal of kale and celery. She almost giggled at the sight. Ronin, dressed in a long-sleeve orange T-shirt and tan shorts, managed to appear both natural and uncomfortable at the same time.

  She turned back to Rudambage who was waiting quietly. “How much do you know about Dian Fossey?”

  His brow raised with surprise. “Her research is well documented. And the Karisoke Research Center is not far from here. It is a very popular destination for many students in the surrounding area.”

  “I mean what do you know of her death?”

  “Oh,” the man paused. “Well, I know about her murder and that there was no conclusive evidence during the investigation. Is that what you mean?”