Deep Devil (The Deep Book 4)

by Nick Sullivan

  “Ah, I planned to allow for a cellphone to be put in there, but I haven’t gotten around to integrating that port with the underwater antenna. If you had a full-face mask, you would be able to make and receive calls. I’ve designed software to facilitate hands-free activation of various apps as well.”

  Emily smacked Boone in the arm. “Told you he looked smart.”

  Lyra put a hand on Nicholas’s back. “Nicky is the clever one in our family.”

  It was a simple, sweet compliment, but Boone saw something dark cross Nicholas’s face. And did he tense when she touched him?

  “Thank you, Lyra. I’m glad somebody thinks so.”

  “What’s that?” Greg asked. The Kansans had gathered to admire the tech and Greg was pointing into the hard case. A foam-lined compartment to the side held a small device. “Looks like a remote control for a drone.”

  “That’s exactly what it is. The Apollo has several quadcopters with excellent optics that we use to shoot promotional footage for the cruise line. I’ve just taken one of their spare controllers and adapted it to use with the upc. This viewscreen here is tied to the camera in front. I can use it as a remote submersible.”

  Boone looked up. The sun was nearing the end of its journey toward the horizon and a fiery orange glow was spreading out across the sky. “We’d better get going.”

  “On it!” Emily scrambled to the bow line, calling up to the flybridge. “Ricardo! Start ‘er up!”

  Boone went to the stern line, reaching across to free it from the piling. “All right, folks! We’re going to Paraiso, also known as Paradise.” He nodded toward the Kansans. “Some of you have been there before, but let’s see if we can find you some free-swimming splendid toads!”

  In minutes, the Lunasea was on station above the dive site. Just to the north, the Hygge Cruises Nordic Starr was still docked at the southern flank of Puerta Maya, backlit by the bright lights of the cruise ship pier.

  While Emily gave a dive briefing, Boone checked the current. Typically, this site had very little, but as it was tucked in near the massive piers, every once in a while, the flow of the water could surprise you. Tonight, no surprises. He could see Em looking over at him as she spoke, no doubt waiting for his go-ahead. He raised his fingers in an “ok” sign and chopped his flattened palm toward the north.

  “Right-o, we’ve got minimal current running south to north, so we can take it nice ’n’ easy. Be on the lookout for free-swimming morays, lobsters, crabs, and maybe an octopus or two. Keep your eyes peeled for splendid toads; they start croaking a lot at night and we may catch one on the hunt. And don’t forget to check the water column for my personal favorite, Caribbean reef squid! If you’re lucky, a few of them might come and have a chat with your dive light!”

  “Everyone’s got a good dive light, right?” Boone asked. “And if you need a secondary backup light, we’ve got some extras on board.”

  “And just a reminder,” Emily added. “I started the briefing with this night dive etiquette and I’m gonna end with it: don’t shine your light directly at another diver’s face… annnnnnd… Cecilia?”

  “Don’t shine it on the fish… shine it near them or on the coral.”

  “Because… Gregory?”

  “It’ll blind them, and spotlight them for predator fish that might dash in and eat them.”

  “Excellent! Gold stars all around.”

  “All right, folks, let’s get wet!” Boone called out. “Em’s in the lead and I’ll be bringing up the rear. We’ll have little green strobes hooked to our vests if you need to find us. Pool’s open!”

  “Nicholas, do you need some help?” Lyra asked her brother.

  “No, I’m fine,” he replied.

  Boone watched as the young man detached his prosthetic leg—the stump extended just past the short pantleg of the wetsuit. His eyes caught Boone’s.

  “Do you have somewhere to store this where it won’t roll around?”

  “Uh, sure. I can secure it below.”

  Nicholas handed the leg to him. “They make fins for amputees, and there are even prosthetics designed for diving, but I want to test a single fin with this, see if it streamlines my steering.”

  “Is this the first time you’ve used the scooter?”

  Nicholas sighed. “The upc? In open water, yes, but I tested it extensively onboard the Apollo in the ship’s pool.”

  “Uh…”

  “It’s a substantial pool,” Nicholas said, strapping a sizeable swim fin onto his booted foot.

  Boone shrugged. This dive site had a maximum depth of fifty feet and Nicholas seemed competent. Emily was already in the water with the Kansas divers hot on her fins. Boone went down to the forepeak and placed the prosthesis into a storage compartment alongside the head. Returning, he found Nicholas seated on the swim platform, Lyra alongside him.

  “Look at that sunset,” she breathed. “Magnificent.” She looked back over the shoulder of her sleeveless wetsuit. “Are you coming, Boone?”

  “Right behind you,” he said, quickly slipping into his gear. He reached back to give the little plastic strobe a twist and the light began to flash in two-second intervals. Off the stern, he could see Emily’s greenish strobe pulsing below the surface. The lights of the other divers swept to and fro.

  Nicholas slid over to the edge and grabbed hold of the ladder. Waving off Lyra’s offer to assist, he lowered himself into the water. “Mr. Fischer, would you hand the upc down to me?”

  “Sure.”

  Boone picked up the device; it wasn’t exactly light but not overly heavy, either. He handed it down to Nicholas, who popped his regulator into his mouth before taking the upc from him.

  “See you below,” Lyra said, slipping beneath the darkening waves.

  Boone watched as Nicholas set the device in the water and flipped a few switches as it bobbed on the surface. A bright dive light came on and a cascade of bubbles streamed from the side. Must be that buoyancy trick he was talking about. Finally, a strobe similar to but brighter than Boone’s own winked on and Nicholas angled the upc down and dove toward the bottom. After a moment, the strobe dimmed as Nicholas dialed down the luminosity.

  “You good, Ricardo?” Boone called up to the flybridge. When he heard an affirmative shout from above, Boone took a giant stride and joined the dive. It wasn’t full dark yet, so he could see all the divers and he did a quick head count. Four Kansans, Lyra and Nicholas, and Emily strobing away in the distance. All good. He switched on his dive light, a seac r30, and adjusted it to the lower setting.

  Ahead, Nicholas was engrossed in the controls for his device and Boone decided he’d better stick close. As he approached, he observed how the man had braced his leg over the stump, creating a central fin. Nicholas raised his head, spotted Boone, and flashed an “ok” sign, then gave a little wave and throttled up. The propellers spun in their housings and he shot forward, reducing speed as he neared the other divers.

  Lyra gave Boone a wave and kicked hard to follow her brother. In short order, the divers were spread out, shining their lights in various nooks and crannies. Boone spotted an octopus pulling itself along the flank of a coral head and gently circled his light around it to draw attention to the creature. Lyra moved in closer and the octopus came to a halt, its brownish coloration suddenly flashing to a powder blue. Boone could hear Lyra’s delighted exclamation through the water. Greg and Cecilia came over to view the creature and Boone looked around for Nicholas.

  Spotting him, he swam over in his direction. He was stationary, pivoting the upc in an arc, its light illuminating a free-swimming spotted moray that was on the hunt at the edge of the corals. Eyes on the viewscreen atop the scooter, he was clearly filming.

  Boone glanced to the north and spotted Emily’s strobe, her dive light tracing a circle in the coral. He waited for Nicholas to finish filming, then caught his eye and
pointed north. He nodded and they headed toward a cluster of divers who were looking for whatever Emily had spotted. To his right, Lyra moved toward him, and he indicated Emily’s circling light to her as well.

  In moments, Boone knew what she’d found. A guttural croaking sound was easily audible in the water, short bursts of grunts in clusters of four to seven croaks, the odd noises sounding very similar to a cellphone on vibrate if it had been left on the table. A splendid toadfish singing his throaty song. Boone could make out answering grunts from nearby, likely from other splendids in their lairs, calling out to potential mates or warning away rivals. Emily’s circle had moved as she tracked something, so he guessed she’d spotted one out-and-about.

  Sure enough, as he reached her, a good-sized specimen was making its way across the coral, its purple hues and yellow fins vibrant in the dive lights. He was pleased to see no one was spending too much time with their lights shining directly on it.

  Boone caught Emily’s eye and pumped an “ok” sign three times at her. Nicely done. She mimed a curtsy. A gentle thrumming sound came from behind Boone as Nicholas maneuvered his conveyor closer to get some footage. He lined up the nose with the toadfish and looked down at the viewscreen.

  And that’s when something went wrong.

  All of a sudden, the bright light on the nose of the upc winked off. The gentle hum of its propulsion suddenly crescendoed to a whine and Boone watched as the device and its rider spun hard to the left and accelerated sharply. He could see from Nicholas’s body language that this was not something he had initiated, and the man was frantically punching controls. Boone reached out a long arm and made a frantic grab for Nicholas’s fin as he flashed by, winding up with a fistful of bubbles.

  Boone began finning after Nicholas, twisting around as he did so to quickly signal to Emily. He tapped the sides of his index fingers together, then pointed his palms at her, then pointed down at the bottom: Buddy up. Stop and stay here.

  Turning fully to face his quarry, Boone poured on the speed. The strobe on the back of the upc was visible in the distance. It’s heading straight out into the channel, Boone thought frantically. The Cozumel Channel plunged to a depth of a quarter mile and the current there could sweep a diver up into the Gulf of Mexico.

  Swimming perpendicular into the northward current, he could feel himself being nudged to his right. He remembered Nicholas saying the device could reach four and a half knots, which was just over five miles per hour. I’ll never catch him, he thought. The Olympic swimmer, Michael Phelps, had a top speed of six miles per hour. Boone was an exceptional swimmer, and with his long legs and arms, lanky frame, and sporting a pair of fins, he could match that. But not while wearing scuba gear and tank, he thought. Come on, Nicholas, just let go!

  Boone had seen divers so intent on saving an expensive underwater camera that they’d nearly drowned themselves. If Boone were any judge of character, Nicholas was a stubborn, confident young man; he’d likely believe he could fix the problem and wouldn’t want to lose his toy. Won’t do you much good if you get swept into the Gulf. Although he did say it had an emergency beacon. Though the sun had set some time ago, there was sufficient moon and starlight to make out his target, so Boone tucked his dive light into his vest—keeping it in hand would be an unnecessary drag on his speed.

  Boone’s great stamina had its limits, and he could feel his sprint losing steam. And yet… I’m gaining on him. Gaining quickly. As he drew nearer, Boone could see why: Nicholas had fanned his single fin down to create drag and act as a brake. At least he’s maintained depth—

  As if it heard his thoughts, the upc’s housings suddenly pivoted up, propelling the device down as it reached the drop-off. They’d been at a relatively shallow depth, but Nicholas descended to nearly seventy feet before he hauled up on the handles, forcing the nose up, struggling to maintain depth, still intent on saving the device, his fingers locked onto the control handles in a death-grip. Their overall speed faltered.

  Now or never. Boone dug deep and found a final burst of momentum, purging air from his lungs to boost the speed of his descent. He came down atop Nicholas, grabbing one of the man’s hands and tearing it from the scooter’s grip. Just before Boone could pull him completely free, Nicholas frantically stabbed at a switch near the back of the unit. The flashing strobe at the upc’s rear illuminated a long, thin tendril that unspooled from the back. In the gloom, Boone could just make out a float on the tip, pulling the antenna up toward the surface.

  Both men sagged in unison, their muscles exhausted as the upc shot away from them. As Boone guided Nicholas toward a shallower depth, he glanced back over his shoulder. The strobing light abruptly turned ninety degrees, heading north.

  Emily did her best to remain calm. She and Boone had had more than their share of brushes with danger, and in the grand scheme of things, this situation didn’t hold a candle to many of them.

  When Boone shot after Nicholas, Em had quickly gathered the divers together, signaling them to stay and flashing plenty of “ok” signs all around, before moving alongside Lyra. She had placed a gentle hand on her bare arm and given a squeeze—partly to reassure her, and partly to have a grip on her if the woman decided to go after her brother.

  In the distance, she had watched the two strobing lights—one at the trailing edge of Boone’s vest, the other on the upc. They’d winked on and off in the darkness, heading out to sea. Emily was well aware that to the west lay the channel and a precipitous drop-off. The lights had grown fainter and fainter before disappearing from sight—whether due to distance, or from being obscured by the edge of the drop-off, Emily couldn’t be sure.

  Boone had been gone for several minutes now. Emily checked her gauges, glowing green in the shadows. This being a shallow dive with minimal current, they still had plenty of air. In the water around them, she could hear the gentle thrum of the Lunasea’s engines as Ricardo held position above and behind the divers. He would be keeping an eye on their lights, and probably wondering why most of them were stationary. He might have seen Boone’s dive light, partially obscured and tucked into his vest, as it headed west. If so, he might have radioed for help.

  Another minute passed, and as Emily reached out to reassure Lyra once more, the woman looked at her, fear in the eyes behind her dive mask. Abruptly, she turned and started kicking toward the channel and Emily quickly overtook her with powerful kicks of her own. With her tiny stature, she didn’t have the reach that Boone’s physique gave him, but she was no slouch when it came to speed. Her legs, well-sculpted with muscle, pumped like pistons. She put a hand on Lyra’s shoulder, arresting her advance.

  Lyra looked at her in a panic, started to move around her.

  Em reached out with a fingernail and gave Lyra’s mask two sharp taps. Lyra blinked. Emily held up a hand, palm facing Lyra, then pointed two fingers at her own mask before tapping herself on the chest.

  Stop. Look at me.

  When she had Lyra’s attention, she held up her gauge, indicating the psi in the tanks, which was still above 2,000, plenty of air for their shallow depth. She pointed out to sea, then back at her gauge, then pumped an “ok” sign.

  Plenty of air. Them too. It’s okay.

  Lyra seemed to calm ever so slightly, then suddenly her eyes grew wide and she pointed westward.

  Emily turned. A dive light. And from the brightness of the beam, she knew it was Boone’s, switched to its higher setting. A smaller light winked on beside it, likely Nicholas’s secondary light. Both lights were aimed her way. Relief washed over Emily, and she felt almost giddy as the tightly coiled tension left her body. She signaled Lyra to wait there, then kicked a few fin strokes back toward the group.

  Emily knew they had plenty of air to continue the dive, but who knew what condition Boone and Nicholas would be in? Best to abort and issue a refund. She shined a light on her fist, pulsed a thumbs-up, then aimed her dive light skyward and tra
ced circles on the surface of the water, reminding them to do that as they ascended so that Ricardo would know where they were coming up. He would maneuver around the circling lights, putting the boat on the down-current side of the group, so no one would have to fight the current getting to the ladder.

  As they drew nearer, Emily could see that the malfunctioning scooter was gone. Nicholas was moving at a good clip, pumping his single fin with strong strokes. Lyra kicked forward and Emily let her go. She went to Nicholas, reaching out to him, but her brother shook her off, looking at the ascending Kansas divers and angling toward them, heading for the surface.

  Emily flashed a questioning “ok” sign to Boone and he replied with the same signal, then followed it up with an unofficial hand gesture, miming the wiping of sweat from his forehead. Emily laughed into her regulator, then flicked her fins in a double kick to close with Boone, clamping her arms around the young man in a relieved hug. He returned her embrace.

  Em broke free and jerked a thumb up. The pair rose to join the others, floating at fifteen feet below the surface. After three minutes, Emily went to the swim ladder to assist with the loading of the divers. Reaching the well-lit ladder, she noticed Lyra was climbing up it and Nicholas was no longer in the water. Swimming around the Kansans who were lining up to board, Emily grabbed hold of the swim platform and shrugged out of her vest and tank. Pushing her gear onto the platform, she pulled herself up after it, looking for Nicholas. She spotted him right away, seated on the starboard bench and frantically digging the remote control out of the hard case that sat beside him. Lyra stood close by, looking on with concern. Emily could just make out her words.

  “Calm, brother… it’s just a toy.”

  Nicholas shot her a furious look, then raised the controller and powered it on.

  Emily assisted Cecilia out of the water, then spotted Boone coming up. “Boone, can you take over here?”