“Let’s try your com system, Regan,” Gordon Murdock said through her headphones.
“Regan here, over.”
“You’re coming in loud and clear. There may be some interference once you’re submerged. We’ve not tried the systems inside a structure yet.”
“I’m glad to help you break new ground.” Did her voice sound as nervous to him as it did to her? Shutting her eyes for a moment, she consciously sought to slow her breathing.
She braced her hand on the wall that angled down into the opening and stepped into the water. The double eighty scuba tanks threw off her balance. Her fingers gripped a small handhold keeping her from pitching backward. The dive light looped around her wrist struck the stone and skittered along it. Damn!
Bracing her feet, she stabilized her position. She adjusted the pony bottle of emergency gas against her chest and took another step down. The bag of tools hanging at her waist swung against her thigh. Her flippers slid on the silt-covered stairs.
So as not to stir the debris, she bent her knees and fell face down into the opening. Gray-green water covered her facemask and, for a moment, she experienced the sensation of swimming inside a glass bottle.
Projecting the dive light’s illumination onto the stone stairs, she adopted the frog-like kick utilized by cave divers to keep from stirring up the muck and followed the steps downward.
Her gear, weighing nearly fifty pounds, hung buoyant in the water. The sound of her respiration whispered past her ear.
She was where she needed to be, in this time and place. She swam where Coira had stood, and worshipped. Would she offer up her secrets or would she make her dig for them? For the first time since she’d begun diving, calm descended over her.
Regan released air from the bladder-like buoyancy compensators so she could hover over the bottom with less effort. She shined the light as far as its glow could reach. Rubble lay against the base of the walls. A déjà vu moment struck, and she captured an image of a table set against one wall. Shelves rested against two walls, layered with herbs, dried plants, and pottery sealed with bits of cloth. Was she projecting what she wanted to find? Or was she truly experiencing some ancient memory imprinted in her DNA?
The sunlight penetrating from the opening above shone down on the stairs. Regan studied their structure. The gray-black color of the stone set them apart. They weren’t hewn from the same igneous rock as the cave. She itched to explore them further, but forced her attention back to the task at hand. “I’m at the bottom of the stairs. The room appears empty except for a small amount of debris close to each wall.”
Dr. Arturo swam to her side, touched her shoulder, and pointed upward. “They’re going to launch the RV.”
Regan signaled thumbs up, and they swam out of Noggie’s dive path. The ROV hit the water with a splash as they launched him into the chamber.
“We’ll record the dimensions of the room first.” Arturo handed Regan the end of a tape measure and motioned her to the south side of the room while he took the north. Recording the dimensions of the chamber on a wrist tablet with a grease pencil took her only a few moments. The room appeared to be a little less than eight meters long and nearly seven meters wide. The ceiling hung three meters above them. Dr. Arturo read the dimensions into the recorded record.
With Dr. Arturo’s warnings fresh in her mind, Regan quelled the urge to go directly to the shiny object captured on the Noggie’s video. Was it a shard of glass deposited there somehow from more recent times? Or had she truly seen a crystal? Dr. Fraser had given her permission to search for it if they had time. She’d get to it soon enough.
“I’m taking the pictures of the wall now,” she announced.
“Roger, Regan.”
She retrieved an underwater camera from Noggie’s storage compartment and approached the wall. Dr. Arturo began taking samples from the debris against the west wall.
Taking the pictures took only a few moments. “I’m finished with the pictures and will be taking samples now.” She removed some specimen jars from the RV’s storage compartment. She took random samples from the upper layer of some of the refuse deposited against two walls. She measured from the corner of the room to each area and recorded the reference point on each bottle with her grease pencil. She filled two plastic containers with water and gently scooped two of the clay pots, stuffed with debris, into them. After sealing them, she wrote their location on the exterior of the container.
Twenty sample containers lined Noggie’s interior before she and Dr. Arturo moved to the east wall. The stone and mortar structure looked solid, but Regan avoided touching it. Arturo swam to the ceiling at one end, while she kicked toward the other. Noggie focused his lights on the surface. “We will be taking specimens from the wall,” Arturo announced.
She aimed her dive light at one small section at a time to study the strength of the mortar. The material looked dark, waterlogged. She withdrew a dentist pick from the bag hanging from her waist and scraped at a small section at the top. A thick paste the consistency of butter came away in a strip. Poking it in a small sample jar with the surrounding water, she sealed it and placed it in Noggie’s storage compartment. She continued the study, taking random samples of the mortar. The water grew increasingly milky with silt stirred up by their movements.
Dr. Fraser’s voice came over the COM system. “There’s a wee storm moving in. You need to surface.”
Arturo signaled and said, “Five minutes.” Regan gave him a thumbs up. She looked down the length of the wall as far as she could and attempted a visual judgment of the distance she’d traveled. Was she parallel to the object in the video? Water distorted perceptions of space and distance. Noggie buzzed by, the camera focused on Arturo.
Reaching the bottom of the wall, Regan ran her dive light carefully over the ground. No light reflected from any object, though several raised areas looked promising. Where was it? Careful not to lay a hand on the bottom, she searched for any depression or rise within the silt-like mud making up the floor of the room. A small hill a foot away from the wall looked promising. She fanned away the debris in the area, displacing it, and a glassy shine appeared. She increased the speed of the movement and an oblong object poked through, about five inches long.
Noggie eased in close, the remote vehicle settling close to the bottom. A cloud of brownish silt puffed up around it. Damn it. What were they doing? They’d worked hard not to stir the mud any more than they had to. Regan shook her head and waved at the camera. “Keep the RV off the floor, you’re kicking up mud.” The RV rose and weaved backward.
*****
Quinn paced back and forth in front of the hatch. His gaze fastened on the digital clock mounted above the COM system. Anxiety tightened his stomach muscles and restricted his breathing. What was keeping Logan? It was time
The handle twisted and the door released with a thump. Logan poked his head around the four-inch metal hatch. “How’s the hand?”
“It hurts like bloody hell.” Quinn raised his arm offering him a look. His hand was blue and purple, the fingers swollen.
Logan grimaced. “Bugger. Dr. Murphy is up at the conservation lab seeing patients. The x-ray equipment up there works just as well as that at hospital. He’s waiting for you.”
Quinn stepped out of the pot and drew a deep breath of surface air. “Is Regan about?”
“She’s up at the site. She’s taking some measurements and collecting some samples. Dr. Arturo is working with her.”
With the vision just past still fresh in his mind, Quinn’s stomach grew hollow with worry. “I’ll wander by on my way to the lab.”
Logan frowned. “You need to get the hand looked at first. What is it about the lass that has you so worked up, Quinn? I’ve never known you to—fixate on a woman like this.”
Quinn shrugged one shoulder. How could he explain to his brother his feelings for her? It wasn’t their way to get sentimental. If he attempted to explain what he and Regan were going through, Logan wou
ld call an ambulance to have him transported to the first psychiatric ward available.
Logan’s gaze probed his expression. “You can’t control the risks she takes. You can’t bail her out every time she gets into trouble.”
“No, I can’t.” But he wanted to. It drove him sodding daft knowing she would put herself at risk for a job. Knowing why she was so driven to discover the answers made it no easier. Had she been the same in the past?
The question jolted him. Was that perhaps the key? What mistake had they made in the past that demanded resolution? And if they figured that out, how would they rectify it to change things in the future, their future? Or could they? And were they to have a future together?
Quinn shook his head as he followed Logan aft to the railing. He wasn’t ready to contemplate that question. “I can drive the skiff m’self. You need to stay here and monitor the pot.”
“Aye. Go get the hand x-rayed first. By the time you’ve taken care of it, Regan will be through, and you can have a meal together.”
Despite the uneasiness gnawing at his gut, Quinn smiled. ”Aye, Mum.”
Logan narrowed his eyes and punched him in the arm.
Twenty minutes later, Quinn strode down the path from the laboratory, his feet pumping with rage. Damn her for not telling him she was diving. Damn her! He should have gone to the site first, and he’d have known. Goddamn it, he should have known anyway. Gravel crunched beneath his steps. Anger so intense it nearly choked him blended with a sense of panic as he eyed the dark clouds rolling in.
Dr. Murphy’s examination had stirred up the injury to his hand. Damn him. His hand throbbed in furious agreement with his racing heartbeat. How could a hairline fracture hurt this bad? The sling he wore should have minimized the jolt of each step, but it didn’t. He tucked his hand inside his shirt against his body and lengthened his stride. The medication he’d taken would soon kick in, and the pain would ease. He needed to check on Regan.
The vision he’d experienced of Coira trapped beneath the water careened through his thoughts and pushed his pulse to a swifter pace. He hadn’t warned her. He should have, but there hadn’t been any way they could speak about the visions he had experienced while in the pot.
They needed to talk without having to censor everything they said to one another. And he’d, by God, find a time for them to do just that as soon as she was safe out of the water.
Hadn’t she learned anything since the bizarre accident that had happened to her when first they’d met? Hadn’t she understood anything he’d been trying to tell her when he’d shared what had happened to his mum and da?
Had she blacked out during that first dive, or had something else been at work? What if it happened again? And why couldn’t she trust him with what she’d experienced? Perhaps they could piece together what was going on now— if she’d just trust him.
He halted at the base of the hill in an attempt to catch his breath and curb his anger.
A canvas awning had been erected to cover the electronic gear. Dr. Fraser and Gordon Murdock, one of his divers, sat at the table. Andrew Argus and Dr. Woo stood close behind them. All the men focused on the computer monitors before them. Rick Rogers and Henry Travis stood by the RV recovery rig stationed over the opening in the ground. Wind buffeted him and a rumble of thunder drew Quinn’s attention upward.
Anxiety tightened his chest again and he continued down the path. Dr. Woo, the site supervisor, looked up from the console to give him a nod of acknowledgement then went back to studying the monitor. Dr. Fraser left the table and extended a hand. “Quinn we’re glad to have you back among the landlocked. How’s the hand?”
Quinn forced a note of calm into his voice he didn’t feel. “It’s severely bruised but not broken. ‘Twill heal soon. How’s Regan doing? When will they be surfacing?”
“She’s very good. She barely stirs the water as she moves. Visibility is still pretty good though they’ve been taking samples. She and Dr. Arturo should be surfacing any moment.”
Quinn smiled as relief eased over him. “Good.”
Fraser returned to his seat at the table. Dr. Woo and Argus nodded in acknowledgement as Quinn moved to stand beside them behind the other men at the console.
On the screen, Regan moved her hand in a fanning motion. Silt stirred from around a shiny object on the floor of the chamber.
Argus leaned forward just over Gordon’s shoulder like a crow about to perch. “What is she doing?”
“There was an artifact partially exposed close to the wall. She must have found it,” Fraser explained. “Take the RV closer to what she’s doing.”
The picture shifted as the vehicle moved in close. The camera zoomed in on the object. A sudden crash sounded from the opening. The pulley system they had rigged to recover Noggie collapsed to one side. Henry stumbled backward under the weight and hit Argus. Andrew Argus, shoved forward from behind, hit Gordon’s arm.
“Watch it.” Gordon’s exclamation seemed to underline the jerking of the camera as the RV collided with something with a solid rap.
“Jesus.” Quinn’s heartbeat spiked as a cloud of silt filtered down from somewhere above. “What have you hit?”
*****
Regan’s head jerked up at the heavy sound of the RV striking the wall. A row of seven stones, pushed back from the pressure, created a meter-long depression. A stone fell back out of sight, then another, and another, until a wide hole appeared. “The RV’s hit the wall.”
“Get out of the way, Regan,” Arturo yelled. Regan looked up. With a groan, the top of the wall bowed forward.
Regan scrambled for purchase in the slimy silt and tried to push off. Adrenaline shot through her like an electric current. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
The wall collapsed. A foot long stone struck her calf. A strangled yelp escaped her. Her hand sank into the muck. Her fingers closed around the artifact and she jerked it free of the mud. Several rocks struck the wire panel protecting Noggie’s camera lens. The clanging sound of the blows beat against her ears. The RV shot forward past her and Regan caught the edge of the frame with her fingertips. The dive light, dangling around her wrist, spun crazily. She blinked against the strobe-like effect. The remote vehicle towed her away from the wall. Silt billowed up in the water. The lights of the RV bounced back, their glare disorienting.
Through the misty clouds puffed up from the disturbed debris, she caught a glimpse of Dr. Arturo’s arm as he was jerked downward, the movement abrupt. She released the RV’s frame. Gordon’s voice yelled into her headphones. Her calf ached as she jackknifed back the other direction and swam forward fast.
“Dr. Arturo’s down. He’s half buried with the stones from the wall.” Arturo lay on his back, stones covering his body from mid chest down. Regan stuffed the artifact into the dry suit pocket on her sleeve and laid the dive light next to him. She cupped his head, seeking any injury he may have sustained. Air bubbles flowed from his regulator and spiraled upward. He was breathing on his own. His eyes opened and he signaled he was okay. He looked pasty in the dive light. “He’s breathing on his own. I’m digging him out.”
She gripped the heavy blocks one after another and rolled them off him. Arturo attempted to help, his movements kicking up mud. Her arms shaking, she pushed the last one from his leg. He twisted free and his hand went to his side, his body bowed forward in obvious pain. “I think my ribs may be broken.”
Regan grasped his arm, fearful of losing him in the haze. She gripped the dive light and turned it toward where the stairs might be. The beam bounced back at her. They’d have to follow the walls around the chamber to find the steps and the entrance. She turned her air gauge up to check it, then Arturo’s. Her heartbeat shot into a gallop. The accident had taken up too much of their reserve. He only had a few minutes of air left. “I’m using the walls to find my way to the opening. Our air reserve is down, but we’ll make it.”
Regan tugged at Arturo’s arm. He continued to keep the other locked tightl
y against his side. Every movement he made seemed careful and slow. With the dive light out in front of her, she towed him forward. The beam skimmed the surface of the constructed wall as a guide to the corner of the chamber.
Was she moving away from the stairs or toward them?
Stay calm. The chamber wasn’t that big. They’d reach the opening. A fish fanned the gray, brown murk, the movement quick and startling. Regan jerked and her breathing hiccupped. Stay calm. The dive light’s illumination bounced back at her blinding her and she clinched her eyes shut then opened them.
“What is it, Regan?” Dr. Arturo signaled to her, his movements conveying a question.
“Nothing. We’re almost there.” She kicked forward, following the glimpses of sunlight filtering through the mist, turning the water a pale gray-green. The roughly hewn stairs rose up before her. ”We’re at the stairs and are surfacing.” She fed more air into her buoyancy compensators to help her pull Arturo upward. He kicked one leg, his movements weak.
Was he running out of air? She sidestroked harder toward the surface. She stopped as shock ratcheted through her system. The four steel poles and the sidebars that held the recovery system together lay tilted to one side onto the steps and Noggie’s basket blocked the chamber exit like a strainer fitted to the hole. Gordon’s voice in her ear, quiet, calm, spouted reassurances. It didn’t help.
CHAPTER 25
Lightning ripped across the sky splitting the heavens in two. Quinn ducked along with the other men on the scaffold. Workers from all over the dig fled down the planking to take cover.
Shite! The sodding stones were going to kill the both of them. If the lightning didn’t first.
Quinn ran down the scaffold to the dock, his heart pumping like a compressor. He leaped to the bank and with his good hand grabbed one of the metal pipes stored there by the drilling company resetting the stones. It would be like running with a lightning rod in his hand, but they needed a lever. He slid the pipe free of the straps binding them in a cluster. His bruised hand throbbed as he grasped it and shoved it up on the dock, then another. He climbed back up and bent to pick them up.
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