Order of the Black Sun Box Set 7
Page 32
19
The First Quest
After bidding Hannah and Peter farewell at the port of Almería, the Cóndor and her crew bore back toward the east to return to the site of the gruesome collision hoping to resume the excursion that been had interrupted. It had been several days since reports of the crash had been broadcast on news channels all across the globe. By now it was old news that a billionaire and a journalist had perished in a maritime disaster off the coast of Spain. The heat wave had subsided somewhat over land, and on the Mediterranean Sea the squalls had grown more frequent, making the prospective dive dangerous for the explorers.
Purdue and Sam enjoyed a less threatening form of hospitality from Vincent and his crew since the skipper of the Cóndor had been offered a deal. An accord was established, fixed by contract, saying that Purdue was to fund all the Cóndor’s endeavors pertaining to what was mutually referred to now as the ‘Grave Dive’. Since the curious aspect of the wreck discovery was not what treasures it held in its bowels, but the peculiar presence of human remains, Purdue opted to buy his way into a partnership with Vincent Nazquez for the benefit of Vincent’s prophetic passion and his own curiosity.
“Today, we lift the lid properly,” Vincent declared proudly. His wild black and gray hair whipped madly at his face in the cool morning air of the pre-dawn Mediterranean, while he nursed a cup of black coffee. “I can’t tell you how long I have waited for this day, David.” He looked up at the towering Purdue, his face beaming with contentment, contrasting with his bestial appearance. “Thank you. I know your funding is mostly for your own gain, but if it were not for your financial backing and resources made available to us, this excursion would take me months to complete.”
“You’re welcome, my friend,” Purdue replied, keeping his hands lodged in his coat pockets as he contemplated the cold abyss he soon had to brave. “But don’t thank me yet. Our permit is only valid for three days. That means we have to work hard and fast.”
“No problem,” Vincent replied confidently. “Is Sam diving with us? Is his equipment waterproof?”
“It is, yes,” Purdue answered. “But I don’t think we will need him to dive. Once you and I establish the perimeters of the dive and get the men to bring up what we assign to them for recovery, Sam will get footage of the inventory, whatever it is.”
“Good, good,” the skipper agreed. “It will go faster with fewer divers, at least until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“Rather a sinister stance,” Purdue jested.
Vincent chuckled and dramatically lent Purdue a big-eyed glare. “I find the prospect of a hundred dead mariners quite sinister, don’t you? Who knows, truly, what we are dealing with? I ask you.”
Purdue suddenly felt the excitement of the exploration overwhelm him. It was indeed a macabre matter, but that only increased the probability of it being of historical magnitude. Right up his alley. There had to be some profound story behind such a scene, and that was what had spurred him to toss in his lot with the men of the salvage trawler, Cóndor. Their connection to the lore and heritage of the South American natives was pivotal and fascinating to Purdue. The links they held, by blood and tradition, to the legendary City of Gold, was no doubt rich, if puns were to be flitted about. In fact, Purdue envied them their exquisite cultural connection.
“Good morning, sunshine,” the blue-eyed captain suddenly roared, starling Purdue from his contemplative veneration. He turned to find a disheveled Sam Cleave, wrapped in an army blanket, leering at them as if their sanity had abandoned them.
“What is so goddamn good about it?” Sam complained. “Do you people ever sleep?”
“It’s the excitement of the day, Sam.” Purdue smiled and breathed in the warming air. “Can’t you feel it?”
“All I feel is a lack of caffeine in my system,” Sam replied casually, instantly provoking the skipper’s generosity. He shoved the coffee mug, still half full, in Sam’s hands. “Ah, God bless you,” Sam said happily and took a sip. “Jesus, man, what’s in this?”
Vincent looked at Sam with surprise. “You wanted caffeine. That is caffeine, not that dog piss you Europeans label caffeine just because it is a diluted remnant of the coffee bean.”
Purdue laughed, hoping he would not have to partake of what had made Sam pull the most hideous face. “That is sure to wake him up for a bloody week!” Vincent laughed with Purdue.
“What is this, really?” Sam asked, smacking his lips to find the flavor in the bitterness that assaulted his tongue.
Purdue kept laughing at Sam’s expressions. “Didn’t you learn your lesson with the Arak and the Peruvian Death Pepper snack Vincent has already tormented you with, Sam?”
“Hey, at least he makes an effort to join in the culture,” Vincent said, defending the flabbergasted journalist. “I would love to serve you some of this good shit, David, but alas, you are not a sport of Sam’s caliber, eh?” He winked at Sam.
“You know, I’ve never been one to fold to peer pressure,” Purdue retorted with a happy smirk as his pale blue eyes examined the beauty of the silver breakers that pulsed repetitively under the birth of the sun.
Overhead the banner of the Children of the Sun rapidly licked the wind as if it could feel the impending unveiling of a secret, the imminent revelation of a supernatural myth and its origins.
By 11a.m., all aspects of the first dive had been facilitated successfully. Purdue, Vincent, and two professional divers from the Cóndor were busy zipping up their diving suits, engaging in small talk about the weather and water. Sam felt strange being on the very geographical spot where he’d almost died a few days before. Like his personal Bermuda Triangle, it seemed to beckon him, but he busied himself with filming preparations instead, choosing to silence the voices of doom that threatened to attack his psyche. Apparently he was not completely over the horror of what had befallen him and the subliminal trauma came and went like the tides. Sam was very aware of this temporary psychological impairment, but he elected to think of it is a twisted form of nostalgia instead.
“Ready?” he called out to the four men in their diving suits. They turned and gave Sam a collective thumbs-up for a still photograph he took with his Canon long lens.
“With a bit of luck with the weather and the currents we’ll soon have more than a salute for your pictures, Sam!” Purdue cried. Vincent gave an approving crude roar before it turned into elated laughter. Sam smiled, but inside he genuinely hoped that the men would be safe. Perhaps he bought into the ludicrous legends of the doomed waters of the Alboran Sea because he’d almost fallen prey to its inexplicable madness himself, but he was deeply concerned for what was at play under the meters of water that surrounded the wreck. In his mind, thoughts and reminiscences of the tales told a few nights before prevailed. Could there really have been two German ships, unregistered, and equally doomed to sink at the same time? If so, what was it that had pulled them asunder?
The journalist shook his macabre musings off as the men fell backwards into the heaving seas, one by one. Sam’s thumb and index fingers cradled his stubble-ridden chin, pinching the thickening beard he was cultivating as he watched the four men sink beneath the white foam.
Under the waves, the world changed completely. For Purdue, Vincent, and the two crewmen, the environment was welcoming and quiet. Only the sound of their breathing apparatuses disturbed the silence of the swaying water, and its beauty was unparalleled by few reefs, even those found in the southern tropics. They’d expected the netherworld of the sea to be a tad murkier, especially on a day like this, where the air was cool and the wind strong enough to stir up the waves.
As they gently descended toward the blurry image of the resting hulk beneath, Purdue gave Vincent a favorable gesture. The tips of his thumb and index finger meeting and three fingers extended conveyed his appreciation of the stunning submarine topography. Gradually the wreck became clearer as they neared it. As Vincent had reported, it was indeed a German war ship, practically an exact
replica of the infamous Admiral Graf Spee, one of a collection of armored ships commissioned by the Kriegsmarine of Nazi Germany.
The ship itself, or what was left of it after decades in the salt, stretched out over about 500 ft. in length, dependent on its decay. It would take a lot of time to even just scout the drowned vessel, but thanks to Purdue’s unique technology, they were able to determine the mineral values of each section. He led them straight to where the readings were highest, the screen of the locator device citing‘17: Au’ lit in red. It indicated the symbol and atomic number of the gold hidden from sight exactly where Purdue’s previous prying methods had yielded him the doubloon he’d brought to his yacht.
Pointing toward a hole in the starboard hull just below the main deck, Purdue made his way to the tear in the metal to guide the others in. In the back of his mind, the billionaire had no still harbored a wariness for the men of the Cóndor. He never lost sight of the fact that they could easily dispatch him under the water and make it look like a shark attack, even if they were timid enough to bother hiding his murder. Sam would be easy pickings up on the trawler, alone with a whole crew of foes.
Luckily Purdue’s scientific gadget had more than one colorful function. One of its settings was that of a laser beam strong enough to make popcorn in a man’s skull at close range. What masqueraded as antennae to track mineral values with, were in fact casings to accommodate laser propagation under water. The feature had been installed purely for cutting purposes should Purdue have to make incisions in metal while diving, but the other, less friendly, function would be an asset to any outnumbered man.
Into the wet darkness they floated, each one in turn switching on his flashlight. Apart from the occasional sea creature darting past them in startling detail, they were alone in the black cavern of steel and bone. Purdue tracked his previous way to where he had discovered the golden coins.
As he had explained to Vincent before, they were not accompanied by some king’s ransom. When he had retrieved the doubloon he had with him, he’d seen barely a handful more. But Vincent Nazquez was not impressed by ancient gold coins half as much as he would be if he could find the rest of the relic he already possessed—the prayer stick containing the incantations to unlock the gates of El Dorado.
In essence, both men were taking part in some quest into the past to still a hunger each of them had to know.
20
Mummy Dive
The divers slid through the seemingly endless dark. Around them, the interior of the ship’s engine room was unrecognizable as such. After so many years, it in no way resembled a man-made structure anymore. Pipes had become conduits of minor currents, cramped havens for shy octopuses to ambush their prey from, while steel dials, generators, and large ducts had become shapeless thrones of gloom. In some places the divers found themselves doing a double take on the algae structures, often resembling men. It was an unusual presumption for the party of four seasoned divers, but they all felt the macabre semblance eerie.
Purdue halted and pointed to a hatch under them, easy to open. He reached down and pulled the hatch upward. Its rubber skirting and wedge bar had long been eaten away by time and tide. Their faces contorted in horror as the rushing water, sucked through by the opening hatch vacuum, caused the most awful howl. Reminiscent of a bear’s growl, it filled with a torrent of bubbles that glimmered in the beams of their torches.
Purdue himself bolted backwards at the vocal sound released by the captive water under the hatch. A numbing fear momentarily gripped him, sending numerous Lovecraftian images through his head before he realized that it was merely the sound of the water through the mouth of the hatch.
Relieved, they finally followed the billionaire explorer through the large steel aperture. Below, they found what would make any treasure hunter fume in frustration. But these were not just treasure hunters. These were not men fueled by greed or monetary gain. Half-ransacked trunks, once carrying substantial riches in gems, silver jewelry, and gold, lined the one side of steel wall. They were distorted by the sea’s offspring claiming them, but what was left inside was still evident.
Even though the trunks had practically been emptied by previous visitors, they were heavy enough to constitute a pulley system to be recovered. Purdue and one of Vincent’s men took to measuring the dimensions of the large wood and iron boxes appearing to hail from the eighteenth century by design and material. Vincent took his time to scrutinize the contents of the first trunk. After a while he moved on to the second one, unsatisfied. They contained gold and gems like the others, but that was not what Vincent was seeking.
After all eight of the boxes had been measured, Purdue and Vincent recorded the dimensions at 2.2 meters in length, 2.8 meters in width, and their height at 1.3 meters. Vincent was getting impatient by the time he reached the seventh trunk and still had not found what he was looking for. His heart sank in despair when he completed his investigation of the eighth and found only the doubloons and jewels. He knew he had to be grateful for the immense bounty he they’d found, but there was little satisfaction in caviar when all you want is a beer.
Purdue motioned that he was going on to look for the bone locker his scanner had picked up when he was still lazing on his deceased yacht. Vincent nodded, and gestured for his two men to surface and rig up the pulleys. He was adamant to accompany Purdue to see what morose prizes the rich rewarded themselves with.
Through the intricate iron works of the bridge the two men went. They had no need for much paddling as a strong current carried them along until Purdue’s scanner lit up in bright red once more. It read as expected, combining symbols P and CO with the highest composition of the Ca symbol and the atomic number 20, making up the definitive chemical combination he was looking for.
Bone.
Purdue grabbed onto a thick post to his right and Vincent’s fleeting body was anchored by his grasp. Holding on to the skipper until he had secured his own place, Purdue waited for the scanner to read again before choosing the way down as indicated. By the looks of the cascading hollow, it was once a stairwell down to the sleeping quarters. Bunks were stacked one above the other in pairs, now the playground of nocturnal and shy specimens.
Ahead of them there were more of the crates they’d found the gold in above on the upper level, but these had been empty before the ocean’s children had taken them over and revamped them into shelter. Suddenly, Vincent urgently grabbed onto Purdue’s arm. Quickly, as if by reflex, the wealthy inventor had his laser device readily in his grasp, but what he mistook for an attack was just an observation to be shared.
Vincent pointed to the long sheets of rusted floor under them, lighting the area. Purdue looked down to find a whole trail of golden doubloons and assorted jewelry lying about, scattered like the entrails of a gutted treasure vault. Astonished at the sight, Purdue descended to the floor to clarify the nature of the sporadic glitters the coins gave off in the light of the flashlights. As he dusted the sediment that had settled on the floor, the particles ascended in a delayed slow motion allowing his fingers to reveal the strewn treasures.
They followed the trail of the glimmering valuables, picking up some of the coins as they went. Both men noticed that the doubloons were all marked with a peculiar symbol, much like the one Purdue had collected on his initial dive. In no way did they resemble typical Spanish coins, but Purdue thought to investigate their origin later. Vincent and Purdue reached another hatch entrance, but it did not lead to another section on the current level; it led to the floor below, deeper into the living quarters of the men.
Aside from the wreck’s outward appearance being that of German World War II battleship, there were no telltale signs or insignias irrefutably proving it to be a Nazi vessel. Thus far, Purdue and his accomplice could find no trace of identification on the ship, which was highly unusual, especially in a military environment. The hatch refused to move, and after some time the men realized that it was not rust causing the lock to jam, but water pressure.
The scanner in Purdue’s belt indicated that they had reached the site successfully, but the painfully neat galley they climbed up into through the floor baffled them. It was too unassuming. But they found their answer soon enough when they opened the pantry doors. Purdue and Vincent could not believe their eyes. Piled upon one another like sardines in a matchbox were a good number of bodies, still dressed in tattered uniforms. Sure enough, the emblems on their clothing bore the Swastika and other SS-insignias.
Inside the dry chamber, the men momentarily removed their mouthpieces to speak.
“Keep your oxygen on. You never know when a freak current will swell up and flood this galley,” Vincent instructed Purdue.
“I know,” Purdue answered, “but then again, if it hasn’t flooded in so many decades . . .”
“Look at this,” Vincent remarked, kneeling next to the corpses. “More piled behind these. There must be over a hundred bodies here!”
“More like the entire crew and officers,” Purdue speculated. “Good God, here are more! Look inside the ovens and cupboards.” He peered further in, past the sickening dust and putrefaction that salt and humidity had caused to the corpses. “The back of these storage compartments have been removed, Vincent. It looks like they lead to one of the boiler rooms.”
“Can you get through?” Vincent asked, wincing at the ghastly sight all around them.
“Do I have to?” Purdue asked, rather uncharacteristically.