“Emily Durand. So, you three came from that gorgeous ship the Apollo, yeah? Spiffy yacht, that!”
Nicholas was back on his game. “Thank you. I had a lot of input on her design. The ships of the Pantheon line are based on a lengthening of a mega-yacht built for a sheikh in the United Arab Emirates.”
“A shipshape ship for a sheikh,” Em blurted. Nicholas blinked and Emily smiled, removing her large sunglasses. “Sorry, Nicholas, but you set me up so brilliantly. But in all seriousness, that is probably the most beautiful ship I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Thank you. I’d be happy to offer you a tour…”
Calypso hefted her bag and offered it to Boone. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. You need to see our dive cards and logs, right?”
“Yes,” Boone said, taking the bag and stepping over with it, turning back to offer his hand. After he helped her across, he did the same for Lyra.
“Thank you, Boone,” she said, holding on to his hand a bit longer than was strictly necessary before releasing it and taking her gear to a bench. Boone glanced back to the pier to find Emily looking at him. She gave him a wink and turned back to Nicholas.
“A tour would be lovely, thank you Nicholas.”
“Wonderful,” he said, taking out a sleek card case and extracting a business card. “Feel free to call me when you return, and we’ll set it up. We’re only here two more days before we head out on the second leg for Grand Cayman.”
Emily slipped the card into a front pocket of her white shorts. “Will do!”
As Em popped her ever-present sunglasses onto her face and boarded the Lunasea, Nicholas turned for shore, retrieving his phone once more.
“So, you have any specific requests as far as dive sites?” Boone asked. Emily began to cast off and Ricardo pulsed the engine, in preparation to navigate their way out of the marina.
“Yes!” Lyra said. “I want to dive The Devil’s Throat!”
“Uh…” Boone hesitated. Both Lyra and Callie had advanced certification, but their dive logs made it clear they were intermittent divers at best, and the dive she had requested was not for the faint of heart… or the claustrophobic.
Devil’s Throat was a bucket-list dive for many, much like the Great Blue Hole in Belize—and like the Blue Hole, it was a deep dive that required pushing the recreational depth limits. The “throat” was a steeply descending swim-through, the entrance of which was located at an already-deep 83 feet. Swimming down into darkness, the divers would eventually emerge at 135 feet, the wall dropping off into the abyss, with no bottom in sight.
“We’d never take a client there on our first day with them,” Emily said. “It’s a very advanced dive.”
Lyra looked like she was about to protest, but Boone held up a hand. “We’d need to do a couple dives with you first. We could take you there tomorrow morning, if the current is cooperative.”
Lyra shrugged. “I was planning on asking to dive with you again tomorrow anyway, so this is acceptable.”
“How about we take you to Palancar Caves?” Boone suggested. “There are a lotta swim-throughs and mini-caverns there… maybe whet your appetite for Devil’s Throat. Then we can hit Chankanbaab or Tormentos for the shallower dive.”
“I leave myself in your capable hands,” Lyra said, which elicited a derisive snort from Callie.
Emily grabbed the double-sided whiteboard to apply her artistic talents in her favorite medium —multi-colored markers—while Boone climbed up to the flybridge to give Ricardo their destination.
Lyra followed Boone up and sat on the starboard bench. “We are going to one of the southern dive sites, yes? We have some time?”
“Uh, yeah, probably twenty minutes.”
“Good,” Lyra said, slipping out of the kimono to reveal the coral-colored bikini. “I would like to feel a little sun and spray.” She held the folded garment, looking around as if some place to put it would magically appear.
“Here,” Boone offered, taking the silk wrapping. “Looks pretty lightweight and we’ll be going at a fair clip.” He gave it a quick fold and placed it in one of the glove boxes alongside the wheel as Ricardo exited the marina and turned to port.
Lyra tilted back her head and smiled up at the blue sky, her sunglasses already receiving droplets as the Lunasea picked up speed. Her black hair fluttering and shining in the sunlight, she sighed with pleasure. “This is not something one can feel on the big ships.”
“Once the Apollo gets up to speed, I imagine it’s quite nice out on those balconies I saw.”
“Oh, you’ve had a look at our ship?” Lyra asked, all innocence.
“You know I have,” Boone replied with a friendly smile.
Lyra laughed. “Yes, I suppose I do.” She lapsed into silence for a moment, basking in the sun. “Your boat’s name, Lunasea… I like that. You are very clever.”
“I’ve never been accused of being clever,” Boone said, eyes on the horizon. “But I’ll let Emily know. That name was hers. Though I did talk her out of the first one she came up with.”
“Which was?”
“Quit Looking At My Stern.”
Lyra laughed.
“Yeah, I kinda liked it but didn’t relish painting that many words. Or explaining it to anyone who didn’t get it.”
“On your site, it says this is a fast-boat? But it doesn’t look like most of the ones on Cozumel that say that.”
Boone didn’t want to go into detail about why the Lunasea was fast, so he simply said, “The previous owners made some modifications, and she can pour it on when she needs to. How fast can your ship go?”
Lyra shrugged a tanned shoulder, biting her lip in embarrassment. “I really should know things like that. That’s the sort of thing Nicholas could tell you. Oh, and I must apologize for my brother. He has always been a bit awkward around people. The way he was staring at your partner… your business partner, I mean…”
“Oh, I didn’t mind.” Emily’s voice came from below as she ascended the ladder. “Bit of a boffin, in’t he?”
Lyra tilted her head. “I don’t know that word.”
“Oh, you know…nerd, brain box… bit of an egghead, yeah? I mean that in the best possible way. Smart guys are sexy, right Boone?”
“Don’t ask me, I’m just a good ol’ boy deck monkey.”
“Opposable thumbs, too!” Emily came over to him and rose up on her toes to plant a playful kiss on his cheek before turning back to Lyra. “I’m looking forward to my tour of your ship! It really has a helicopter?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you keep it?” Emily asked. “I didn’t see it when your ship passed by.”
“Oh, it probably came in early to the airport. Nicholas likes to send a party in ahead of the ship. There is a landing pad aft of the bridge and a hangar they can store it in.” Lyra pointed up into the sky. “Maybe Nicholas can take you for a ride.”
When Boone bit his lip, Emily swatted him on the stomach without even looking. She turned back to him. “I want to get started drawing the other dive site on the board. Are you leaning toward one or the other?”
Boone chewed his lip, looking south. “I’d say Tormentos, if it’s clear. We can keep Chankanaab in the back pocket.”
“What, you don’t want to go diving with the submarine?” Emily teased.
“I’ve had my fill of submarines… let’s shoot for Tormentos.”
“Right-o.” Em disappeared down the ladder.
Lyra watched her go, then removed her sunglasses. “Submarine?”
“Cozumel has an Atlantis tourist sub that dives Chankanaab in the mornings.” Boone thought back to the first time the submersible had come up alongside them, triggering memories of the narco sub they’d encountered in Bonaire.
“Ah, yes… they have one in Barbados,” Lyra said. “One of our other
ships visited there and I took a ride on it.”
“We’ve come across her a few times—kinda fun to wave at the people in the windows.” He barked a laugh and shook his head.
Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Yes…?”
“Emily… she keeps threatening to put on a Bigfoot costume under her scuba gear and lie in wait for it.”
Lyra smiled thoughtfully, then swung her long legs up onto the bench and draped an arm over the starboard rail. “So, Boone… tell me something about yourself.”
Boone pondered the question. The events of the past few years could fill a novel. Maybe two or three. He decided for the simple route. “Not much to tell. I’m from the States. Moved to Curaçao and started divemastering there. Moved to Bonaire, met Emily… then we hit a few other islands and started our own business.”
“You enjoy travel, then. As do I.”
“Where all have you been?”
Lyra laughed. “You said it would only take twenty minutes to get to this dive, so I will just say many, many places. I have been all over the United States, too. Where are you from?”
“Tennessee.”
“Ah, Nashville country music… Dolly Parton.” She squinted at him. “You don’t sound like you are from there.”
“Stick a few beers in me and I do, but my dad was Dutch. I think his accent hit my mom’s and sorta smashed it flat.”
Lyra gave a radiant smile. “That is a clever way of putting it. You are not just a… what did you say? Deck monkey?”
Boone shrugged. “I’ve been known to enjoy a banana now and then. How ’bout you? Where you from? I’ve been trying to place the accent.”
“I grew up in Greece along with my elder brother. We lived outside Athens until I was ten. Then my father remarried and moved to America, where my other brother Nicholas was born. My sister Callie was born the following year.”
“Ah… that explains why Callie and Nicholas don’t sound like you do.”
“They have spent most of their lives in the United States, although Nicholas was schooled in England, and often travels to Europe to meet with naval architects and visit the shipyards.” Lyra shifted on the bench. “My accent is not so strong, is it?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean to suggest…” Boone smiled. “I like the way you speak. It’s very musical.”
Lyra opened her mouth to say something, blushed, then stood. “I suppose I should put on my wetsuit.”
“Yeah, we’ll be there before you know it. Trust me, you’re gonna love this dive!”
Finishing her safety stop at the end of the dive, Emily floated just below the surface, watching as Lyra’s long legs mounted the ladder at the swim platform, the shorty wetsuit clinging to her every curve. Boone would be waiting above to assist. Em turned around in the water column to spot her remaining charge and found Callie observing her, bobbing up and down in her safety stop.
Emily raised an “ok” sign in question. Callie looked at her computer, then responded in kind before tossing off a perfunctory thumbs-up, indicating she was going to surface. She kicked for the ladder and Emily followed.
“How was it for you?” Boone asked as he took Emily’s fins.
“Turtle city!”
“Yeah. I counted thirteen.”
They had just completed their second dive at Tormentos. The first dive at Palancar Caves had been rife with turtles as well, and an enormous school of horse-eye jacks had been waiting for them in one of the first sand-bottomed canyons. A pair of eagle rays, three nurse sharks, and a free-swimming green moray as long as Boone was tall had made for a spectacular dive.
Emily boarded the boat and tucked her gear under the nearest bench. Chartering for just two divers sure cuts back on the clutter, she thought. “Where’s Lyra?”
“She already went up top.” Boone started stripping off his wetsuit. “You want to take us back in?”
“Nah, Ric’s got it.” Emily unzipped the top of her wetsuit and went to the Igloo to grab a soda. Calypso was rummaging through the rapidly melting ice. They’d eaten lunch during the surface interval between dives, but neither sister appeared to be big eaters. More for Ricardo and family, Em thought.
“You sure got a lot of food. Bit of an overkill for just Lyra and me,” Calypso remarked. She raised a dripping bottle of tan liquid. “What’s this ‘Lift’ drink?”
“Oh, Manzana Lift. It’s apple soda, made by Coca-Cola. Never had it ‘til I came here. Pretty scrummy!”
“I’m guessing ‘scrummy’ is ‘yummy’ with other letters,” Calypso remarked as she returned the bottle to the ice, coming back up with a bottle of San Pellegrino. “So… tell me about this ‘Devil’s Throat.’ Is it dangerous?”
“Well… it’s a very deep dive and the swim-through can be quite claustrophobic. We just need to be sure we don’t have any nervous nellie newbies when we try it, yeah?”
Callie looked at her a moment, taking a sip of the sparkling water. “Do you really talk like that, or do you put it on a bit?”
Emily blinked. “How’d’ya mean?”
“Your accent, for one.”
“Oh. I’m from South London, and we—”
“I’ve met plenty of people from London, but your accent is pretty strong,” Calypso interrupted. “And you seem so cheery and clever all the time. Your entire dive briefing was like a stand-up routine. Makes me curious if you’re compensating for something.” She held Emily’s eyes, waiting for a response.
What is her deal? Is she goading me? Em tamped down her annoyance. “I… it’s just how I talk… I don’t ‘switch it on’ or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” Then she lifted her chin. “Are you taking the piss?”
Calypso suddenly smiled. “Yes, just kidding. I’m sorry. My father always says I’m a bit of an instigator.”
“Oh… okay.”
“And your dive briefing was very amusing. I liked the funny pictures. The little turtles were particularly nice.”
“Um… thank you.”
“Yes, it brought back memories. I used to draw pictures like that when I was a child.”
“Hey, Callie?” Boone called from up top. “Lyra would like to join the night dive tonight. You interested?”
Calypso turned her head partway toward Boone, still looking at Emily. “I’ll pass. I’ve got plans this evening. Thanks for asking, though.” She tossed her half-finished Pellegrino into the cooler and went up the ladder, leaving Emily alone on the deck below.
“Bit of a twat, that one…” she muttered to herself.
An hour before sunset, the Kansas group was loading their gear aboard the Lunasea at the Dive Paradise pier, alongside the Hotel Barracuda. Two of their number had bowed out after going overboard on the margaritas at La Mission the night before. Greg and Cecilia were near the stern and the other couple, Bill and Cindy, sat across.
“Whoa…” Greg murmured under his breath.
Boone raised his head and followed Greg’s goggle-eyed gaze toward shore, expecting to see Lyra. He did. But she wasn’t alone.
“I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” Nicholas said as he reached the Lunasea, carrying a gear bag and a small, black hard case. “Callie suggested I should take a break from work.” Nicholas was already in his wetsuit, the shorty cut revealing the prosthesis.
“Not a problem, welcome aboard.” Boone took the brother and sister’s gear and then reached out to help them across. Nicholas ignored his hand, grabbing a rung and stepping across with his good leg, swinging the prosthetic one after. Boone couldn’t help notice a slight wince.
“I know what you’re thinking, with my leg…” Nicholas began. “But I have the same advanced certification as Lyra, and probably more dives than her under my belt.”
“No worries. We’ve had a group called suds charter dives with us several times. They help disabled veterans experience scuba diving—o
r reexperience in many cases, since a lot of vets were divers before their injuries. Besides, this being a night dive, we’ll be going at a leisurely pace.”
Nicholas smiled and sat on the nearest bench. “Well, on this dive… you may have to try and keep up with me.” He patted the hard case. “I’ve been meaning to try this out.” He popped the latches and swung the lid open.
Inside was a black object that looked a bit like a drone. Nicholas lifted it out and pivoted a couple appendages into place. A pair of housed propellers were on the underbelly, one on either side. Two grips were set into the top, and Boone could see thumb-activated controls on each.
“Whoa, what is that space-agey thingie?” Emily asked, joining them.
“It’s some kind of scooter,” Boone surmised.
Nicholas gave a dismissive laugh. “That rather minimizes its capabilities. But yes… a scooter of sorts. I call it the Underwater Personal Conveyor, or upc. I designed it myself. It’s constructed of lightweight composites so it floats, but there’s a trigger here that can flood an interior chamber with water to bring it closer to neutral buoyancy, depending on the depth. It can be purged at the surface to return to flotation.” He turned the leading edge to face them. “It has a high-def underwater camera with low-light settings, high intensity underwater light…” He turned it around. “In the back I’ve got a variable intensity strobe and an integrated distress beacon. A rigid antenna can be extended three feet for surface operation, and I’ve got a sixty-foot antenna on a spool for subsurface signal. I wanted it longer but there was only so much I could cram in and still keep it compact.”
“How fast can it go?” Boone asked.
“The two propellers provide enough thrust to achieve four and a half knots on the turbo setting, although that would drain the battery very quickly. At two knots, a full charge can provide nearly two hours of operation.” He held the grips and used the thumb controls to pivot the ring-shaped housings right and left, pulsing the propellers a few times for effect.
“That’s incredible!” Emily said. “I’m guessing that viewscreen is for the camera, yeah? But what goes in there?” She tapped the top, where there was a clear, watertight compartment alongside the viewscreen.
Deep Devil (The Deep Book 4) Page 6
