He smiled and checked the time again before an interruption from his phone.
“Clay here.”
“Hey, Clay. It’s me.”
“Morning, Will. What do you have for us?”
“We have a fix on Demos’ cell phone. Looks like he’s still at the university. On or around the History and Philosophy building which is due north from the center of campus. His office is on the second floor. Two fourteen.”
“Got it. Let me know if you see him leave.”
“Will do.”
Clay hung up. “He’s still there.”
“This should be fun,” Alison grinned. “Let’s just hope we don’t give him a heart attack or something.”
***
A well-dressed Demos was gathering his things when Clay and Alison knocked, easing open his office door before stepping inside. He looked up only briefly while sliding a laptop into his dark leather satchel.
Behind him was what seemed to Alison a perfect representation of what a history professor’s office would look like. Tall bookcases on each wall, even behind his desk, filled from top to bottom with thick books from places and periods all over the world. The only exceptions lay at the very top of the cases, holding dozens of small statues and pieces of art.
“Professor Demos?”
“Yes,” he replied in a thick accent. His eyes raised up again, this time moving from Alison to Clay. “Can I help you?”
Clay cracked a grin. “I sure hope so.”
“Excuse me?”
He looked at Alison. “I think we all look a little different without our masks.”
A flash of insolence passed over the man’s face, and he began to speak but abruptly stopped. Studying both of them with renewed interest, he recognized Alison’s eyes first, then gasped.
“I didn’t recognize you!” he blurted out, suddenly springing from his chair. He looked back and forth at them excitedly. “Both of you! You are here!”
Alison laughed in amusement. “How are you?”
Demos never heard the question. Instead he was staring at them, stunned. “How-how did you find me?”
“It’s kind of a long story. But the university made it easier in the end. With your picture on the website.”
Demos moved around the desk and hugged Alison, followed by an even stronger embrace of Clay. “I cannot believe you are here! It is an honor to see you both again!” He glanced thoughtfully around the room. “I…would not be here without you.”
“We were happy to help,” Clay shared with a shrug. “You and your family.”
Demos gazed at him with a look of sudden emotion. “Yes. My family. We are grateful. All of us.”
“Good,” Alison emphasized. “Because we’ve come to ask you about something.”
The man’s expression grew curious. “Yes. Yes, of course. What is it?”
“We need to talk to you about your trip.”
“More specifically, why you were there,” Clay added.
Demos’ eyes quickly changed, becoming serious. He glanced around and promptly pushed past them to the door, where he cracked it open further to peek outside, finally closing and locking it.
He turned to them inquisitively. “How many others know you are here?”
Clay and Alison looked at each other. “Just us and a few friends.”
“Good.”
“I take it no one else knows where you and your family were vacationing?”
“No,” Demos confirmed. “No one.”
“Because of what you were looking for.”
He stared at Clay. “Correct.”
“What can you tell us about the shipwreck?”
Demos paused, as if still momentarily surprised, before easing closer and lowering his tone. “You saved me,” he said slowly. “You saved my son. And my family. For that, I will tell you what I know. Of that, I owe you.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I was searching for the Terra Firma Fleet. For a Spanish galleon.”
“A single ship?”
The professor shook his head in affirmation. “One of two ships. Lost at sea while traveling a secret route back to Spain.”
“And did you find anything? Before we came along?”
“No. But it is there. I am sure.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I have spent my whole life researching this. And no matter what the logs say, it is there.”
“Logs?”
“The archives. From the rest of the fleet. They are protected now in museums, but I have copies. What they claim is untrue.”
“You believe the logs were changed?” Clay asked.
“I know they were changed. The Spanish changed many of their records, not just naval logs. To deceive the spies.”
“Spies?”
“Many spies,” Demos replied staunchly, “attempted to embezzle treasures brought back to Spain. Including those from the Americas.”
“What kind of treasures?” asked Alison.
“Gold, silver, and emeralds, mostly. From the mines in Peru and Columbia.”
“How much are we talking about?”
Demos shrugged. “Millions of euros worth today. Maybe tens of millions. It was said that the Spanish mines in Peru alone were producing more silver than all other mines combined.”
“Wow.”
“And the Spanish needed the treasure badly. For the war, with the Dutch.”
Clay tilted his head. “The Dutch?”
“Yes. The Eighty Years’ War.”
Clay peered at Alison.
“The Eighty Years’ War. And when was that again?”
“1568 to 1648,” Demos replied, studying Clay through his glasses. “You have found one of the ships. That is why you are here. Yes?”
“Actually…I’m not so sure.”
Now Alison looked confused.
“When were those Terra Firma ships lost?”
“They perished in 1605. The two ships were sent on a secret route, south of the Caribbean islands. They were the last fleet to use such a route.”
“The last fleet?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“What is it?”
Clay caught Alison’s eye before answering. “We’re looking for a younger ship.”
“A younger ship?”
Clay nodded. “More recent.”
“Of Spanish origin?”
“That’s the theory.”
Demos shook his head. “As I said, those were the last. It was far too dangerous. No others attempted that route.”
Clay studied Demos, who was waiting almost expectantly. Something was not adding up.
“You’re sure they never tried the route again?”
“Yes. I am positive.”
“Dr. Demos,” he said, deciding to abandon the indirect approach. “What do you know about El Fantasma Del Rey?”
It was a simple, direct question. One that neither Clay nor Alison were expecting to affect Demos quite the way it did. His reaction was powerful and immediate––a gasp followed by the blood draining from the man’s face.
158
“El Fantasma,” Demos eased back, sizing them both up before shaking his head, “is a myth.”
“A myth?”
The older man searched for the right word in English. “A hoax,” he explained. “Born from deceit.”
“What does that mean?”
“It is a hoax,” Demos repeated in a sharp tone. “Created from the embers of a failing empire. And a king desperate to retain his crown.”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost us.”
Demos stared at Alison before taking another step back and leaning against his desk, covered with papers and books. “El Fantasma Del Rey, or the King’s Ghost, was a rumor that originated at the end of the Spanish Succession. The war that pitted all of Europe against each other, triggered by the death of Charles II of Spain in the year 1700. He was the last Habsburg ruler of the Spanish Empire and died childless with no heir, plunging Europe into war over co
ntrol of his throne. A throne willed to Philip of Anjou, who the British and Dutch insisted abdicate. The whole thing lasted from 1700 to 1714.”
“What does that have to do with the King’s Ghost?”
“The King’s Ghost,” Demos said, “was a rumor. That is all. It was a desperate attempt to bluff the enemies of Spain, France, and Austria. To threaten them by claiming the Spanish had found something in the Americas of extreme power and importance. A discovery that would supposedly allow the three countries to emerge victoriously, vanquishing the British and Dutch coalition.”
Alison raised her eyebrows. “Did the bluff work?”
“Some believe it did. Peace talks had stalled, but a new effort emerged again, rather suddenly. The war ended in 1714 with the Treaties of Rastatt and Baden, before the Spanish ships were reportedly able to return from South America.”
“But they didn’t return.”
Demos shook his head. “No. The entire treasure fleet perished in a terrible hurricane, resulting in the loss of all twelve ships. It was the largest loss of both ships and spoils for the Spanish Crown in more than three hundred years of treasure fleet sailings.”
The professor turned to Clay, who had been watching him quietly.
“Then there was no thirteenth ship?” Clay questioned.
“There was no thirteenth Ghost ship. It was a political masquerade.”
“And what you were searching for was the Terra Firma Fleet from a hundred years earlier.”
“That is correct.”
“Interesting,” Clay said, carefully scrutinizing the man. “Tell me, Dr. Demos, have you ever heard of the Nautical Excavation and Maritime Organization?”
The professor shook his head. “No.”
Clay appeared to be taken aback by his answer. “Never?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“That’s surprising since they’re one of the largest private maritime recovery organizations in the world. More commonly known as treasure hunters.”
“There are many such organizations, I’m afraid. I am not familiar with all of them.”
“I’m sure,” Clay conceded. “Still, surprising that you haven’t heard of them considering how close their acronyms are to your own name. But more than that, the organization, run by a man named Houten, found one of your Terra Firma wreckages last year.”
There was a slight stutter in Demos’ reply. “I…had not heard that.”
“Surprising again,” Clay said.
“I will have to look into that. But many hunters find wrecks different than what they are looking for.”
Clay grinned at the man’s attempt to dissuade. “They’re sure they have the right ship. They apparently recovered the anchor, which had the name etched into it.”
“Well, I…will have to investigate.”
Clay nodded thoughtfully. “Are you aware that you’ve been blinking a lot?”
“What?”
“You’ve been blinking a lot. Which is a common sign of distress. Are you distressed, professor?”
Demos did not reply immediately. Instead he gazed silently at Clay. “You did catch me at the end of my day. So, yes, I am rather taxed. And I was not expecting you.”
“I wonder.”
“Pardon?”
“I said, I wonder,” Clay repeated, “if you were genuinely not expecting us.”
The professor smirked. “How on Earth would I know that you’d be coming to see me?”
“I don’t mean today,” Clay said. “I have no doubt you were startled by our arrival today. But I don’t believe you’re all that shocked that we showed up looking for you.”
“I assure you I did not–”
Clay interrupted him by stepping closer, his eyes still fixed on Demos. “I think you’ve been expecting us. Or at least someone. Eventually. To ask you what you were doing out there in the Caribbean. Just you and your family. All by yourselves.”
“I told you. I was searching for–”
“For ships from the Terra Firma Fleet,” Clay finished. “Which is also interesting considering that Houten and his team found one of your ships hundreds of miles farther north. A discovery you claim to be completely unaware of.”
“What are you saying?” scoffed Demos. “I fail to understand how my not hearing about a discovery has to do with anything.”
“Because, doctor,” Clay said flatly, “I find it very hard to believe you did not know about Houten’s find. Almost as hard as your fierce denial of the possibility that Spain attempted to use their secret southern route again. Even with the strong possibility that Spain had something in their possession, too valuable to fall into British or Dutch hands.”
Clay studied Demos, who was now standing with his arms folded. “Do you know how many times you’ve crossed your arms while we’ve been talking?”
Demos did not reply.
“Eleven.”
Next to him, Alison stared intently at the professor.
“I think,” Clay said, “the longer I stand here, the more convinced I am becoming that you were not looking for the Terra Firma Fleet when we responded to your distress call. I think you were searching for something else. Something far more important, that very few people either know about or believe in. Something valuable enough that it would have been worth the Spanish attempting to sneak out again through their secret route, directly back to Barcelona.” Clay lowered his gaze. “I think it’s time you start telling us the truth.”
159
Dressed in a pressed white uniform, Captain Emerson opened the metal door and stepped into the cool interior of the Pathfinder’s bridge. Several feet away, Executive Officer Harris was waiting, holding the ship’s phone in his right hand. When the captain approached, Harris reached out and handed him the receiver.
“Who is it?”
“It’s John Clay.”
Emerson frowned and took the phone. “Go ahead, Clay.”
Harris waited quietly, with both hands behind his back, as the captain listened. After two full minutes, Emerson’s gray eyes finally looked back at his XO.
“You don’t say.”
***
Not more than ten minutes later, Clay’s phone rang. He answered from the back of another taxicab.
“Go ahead.”
“Hey, John. It’s Steve. What’s the word? I hear the Pathfinder is preparing to weigh anchor.”
“That didn’t take long,” Alison joked.
“Who do you have with you, Steve?”
In Neely’s lab, Caesare looked up, waving Chris and Lee into the room.
“I have Neely, Will, and now Chris and Lee. What’s going on?”
“We were right about our friend Demos. He was looking for the Fantasma. After trying to insist otherwise.”
“Did he find it?”
“I don’t think so. But I’m guessing he was close. I’ve already talked to Emerson, and he’s preparing to move the ship to investigate. We’re heading to the coordinates where we found Demos, which isn’t far.”
“Excellent. Did you get anything else from him?”
“He doesn’t know what was supposedly on the galleon if that’s what you mean. But he believes the rumor was true. That the Spanish had something of extraordinary importance. Though no one seems to have any idea what it might have been. But the general belief, of those who believe the story, is that the Spanish conquistadors found something in the Americas. A discovery that took them some time to finally bring back.”
“Right on,” Caesare said. “When will you two be back?”
“Actually, we were planning to head back tomorrow. We thought we’d get a nice room to–”
Clay didn’t have time to finish before a shocked Alison dropped her jaw, slapping him forcefully and causing Clay to stifle a laugh. “Fine. We’re on our way back to the airport now.”
Caesare peered at the others in the room. “You know, I hate to be a stick in the mud here, but how exactly are we going to search for something when we don’t
even know what it is? I mean, if we’re doing this on the sly, that isn’t going to give us a lot of time. Canvassing a large area with a submersible at depth can take an awful long time.”
“Then I guess we have about twelve hours to figure it out. Anything else?”
Kenwood spoke up. “Yeah, Mr. Clay, it’s Lee. Is, uh, Alison on the call?”
“One sec.”
In the cab, Clay held the phone out between them and put it on speaker.
“Lee?”
“Hey, Ali. Listen, um, Chris and I just ran in from the communication room. I think we found something interesting.”
“What is it?”
“Well, we’ve been going back and reapplying IMIS’s new words to old translations, and we got to thinking. So just for grins, we ran a search on the word vize. The name for our special dolphin.”
“And?”
“As far as we can tell, it looks like IMIS is referencing a word from a different language. Which frankly I don’t really understand yet. But we don’t think it’s a name. We think it may be a description.”
“What do you mean?”
“The language IMIS linked this word to is old. Really old. As in ancient Sanskrit. Where vize is a partial of the word viseSa. Which means special.”
The phone was quiet. Lee and Chris looked at the others as the room tipped slightly from a gentle swell rolling beneath the ship.
“So,” Alison finally replied, “it’s not his name. But what he is?”
“That’s our guess.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, we think they are literally telling us he is special.”
Listening next to Lee, Chris suddenly froze. “Wait a minute. Alison!”
“What?”
“The dolphins! We can use the dolphins to help us look for the shipwreck.” He turned and looked at Caesare. “We did it before––with Sally, Dirk, and the rover that you and Clay were looking for.”
“That’s true?” Caesare shrugged. “Alison?”
“We can ask,” she said. “But back then we knew what we were looking for. And were able to give them a basic description.”
“Right.”
Mosaic (Breakthrough Book 5) Page 48
