by Nick Cook
‘You’re telling us it was here all this time?’ Tom asked.
‘Yes, we always have a memory stick on dives and Maricela made a point of copying the files off the underwater camera onto this as back-up,’ Carlos replied. ‘The whale song Raúl captured is on there; I hope it’s useful to you.’ He handed it to me.
‘Thank you so much, Carlos,’ I said, taking it from him.
I opened the rubber panel that covered the ports of my Sky Wire and with a sense of anticipation, I slipped the memory stick into the device. At once a folder opened up on the screen filled with hundreds of video and photo folders.
Carlos’s face became drawn. ‘I’m sorry, the last photos of Maricela and Raúl are on there and it still breaks my heart to see them. You will need to look at them by yourselves.’
Glenn met his gaze. ‘I’m so deeply sorry for your loss.’
The old man nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then turned and headed towards the end of the quay to stare out at the tranquil sea.
‘God, that poor guy,’ I said.
‘I know and I hope you meant it when you said you’ll do whatever it takes to find their bodies, Tom,’ Glenn said. ‘The death ritual is an important part of the grieving process on Cuba.’
‘We certainly will try to do our best,’ Tom replied.
‘Good, because if we can help him achieve closure in any small way, it certainly gets my vote,’ I said.
Glenn gave me an appraising look. ‘You, Lauren, have got a good heart.’
‘I try to,’ I said.
Ruby gestured to the memory stick. ‘Guys, I hate to drag us back to the mission, but we need to see what’s on that thing and get out of here sooner rather than later.’
‘Yes, sorry, you’re right, Ruby,’ I replied.
‘Don’t sweat it and I didn’t mean to bust your balls, Lauren. But we may be about to discover something crucial here.’
‘You’re right. Let’s see what we have.’
I began to examine the folders, pulling up the video folder to start with. In it were lots of files that seemed to span a two-year period. I selected the very last one and opened it. Immediately, a video of a guy in an old-fashioned diving suit made from faded brown fabric with a brass collar plate, appeared. The young man was sitting on the bow of the boat and was well tanned. He also had similar, distinct facial features to Carlos.
‘That has to be Raúl, because he’s the spitting image of his dad,’ Ruby whispered so Carlos wouldn’t hear.
I nodded as a beautiful Latino woman with dark eyes and long hair appeared and picked up another camera that had been filming the scene. She had to be Maricela. We watched her carry the camera towards a copper diving helmet and mount it inside of it before closing the faceplate. Then she picked the helmet up, with the camera inside now filming out of the faceplate, towards her brother.
‘Wow, talk about being your double with her long flowing locks, Lauren,’ Ruby blurted out. ‘No wonder you reminded Carlos of her.’
I noticed the old man’s back stiffen. ‘Oh great, let’s just twist the emotional knife, why don’t we?’ I said in a hushed voice as we all returned our attention to the video.
Maricela was now lowering the helmet over Raúl’s head. Then she began to lock it into place with metal clips.
‘I’ve done a bit of diving, but that suit looks seriously heavy to me,’ I said.
‘Eighty-six kilograms, you have to have the strength of a bull to move it even a fraction on land,’ Carlos said, without looking round at us. ‘I should know because that’s my old diving suit. Raúl always loved the sea and begged me to let him use it. His mother and I always joked that our children were born half-fish…’ His words trailed away as he blinked hard, fighting back the tears.
In that moment I became determined to make good on our promise to Carlos about recovering their bodies, impossible promise or not.
On the video, Maricela was pivoting a boom with two ropes towards Raúl. She hooked the carabiners at the end of the rope onto two eyelets on top of the metal collar of the suit. That was followed by an air hose, which spooled out from a long reel on the deck and connected to the top of Raúl’s helmet.
Now, with Maricela in frame and Raúl suspended like a marionette from his harness, he was swung out over the water. His sister pressed a button and the winch began to lower him into the waves. The clear blue sky and gentle lapping disappeared and then suddenly, we had an underwater view through his faceplate of the sea stretching away around us.
A gurgling sound came from a valve in the helmet as Raúl breathed in and out. He glanced down into the murky gloom and then he began to descend towards it.
Whatever Raúl had heard on the day of that dive, hopefully any moment now we’d hear it for ourselves. The question was, would it give us the answer we were looking for?
Raúl glanced back up towards the surface where the old trawler sat, the winch cable to the suit taut, the air hose snaking down alongside it.
As he was slowly descending into the depths, the ocean grew steadily more gloomy around him. Raúl’s arm came up into view and on his diving watch it showed a depth of four hundred feet.
‘Bloody hell, the deepest I’ve ever managed on a scuba dive is thirty metres,’ I said.
‘Yes, my son was pushing the suit to its maximum depth of six hundred feet at that site,’ Carlos said, again not looking round. ‘I suppose I should tell you the truth about the wreck that my children were searching for.’
My gaze tightened on his back. ‘The cargo boat you mentioned?’
He sighed. ‘That was just a cover story that we all came up with to hide what they were really looking for, something that both myself and my father before me had also searched for. I had to be sure that you weren’t just rival treasure hunters trying to discover information that could lead you to the wreck.’
‘Treasure?’ Ruby asked, her eyes widening.
Carlos turned round to face us, tears streaming down. ‘Yes, but none of that matters to me now that I’ve lost my children. So, I may as well tell you the truth. You see, they had unearthed a clue that led them to the location that they were diving at. My children became convinced that the site was the location of the sunken ship of Bartolomeu, a famous Portuguese buccaneer. The rumours were that Bartolomeu had managed to capture a treasure galleon bound from Cartagena to Havana, but the ship foundered in a hurricane on the rocks of the Jardines de la Reina. Raúl and Maricela, following the family obsession, tried to find that wreck, an obsession that ultimately cost them their lives.’
Glenn raised his eyebrows at us and then joined the old man at the end of quay, draping a companionable arm around his shoulders as Carlos hung his head.
My thoughts were whirling with the revelation that we’d just heard. We were actually talking about a real life search for pirate treasure here.
The video was still playing as I returned my attention to it, even more intrigued about what we might be about to see. On it the gloom was pressing in on every side as we listened to Raúl’s breathing deepen.
It was at that moment that I was struck by the strong analogy between Raúl and his air line, and an astronaut doing a spacewalk back in the sixties in the Mercury programme. Rather than the self-contained modern spacesuits used by astronauts now, back then they’d had an air line that connected to their capsule, supplying oxygen to keep them alive. In so many ways, Raúl and those brave astronauts who put their lives on the line were cut from the same cloth.
Fine particles were drifting past the faceplate of the helmet as the darkness started to deepen even more around Raúl. Then his gloved hands were fumbling with something; a beam of light lanced out from the torch that he was holding. He angled it downwards, illuminating the ocean beneath him, where there were small boulders and little else. A moment later, like someone on a very slow motion parachute jump, Raúl touched down on the seabed.
I noted how regular his breathing still was. I knew in his situation I would have been h
yperventilating by that point. A dive to thirty metres was scary enough with the water pressing in on you, but at this depth I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like.
With a gurgle of bubbles from the helmet’s valve, Raúl set forward, each slow footstep in the dirt sending up a billow of mud.
‘Vamos, belleza mía, dónde estás?’ we heard Raúl whisper.
Come on, my beauty, where are you? my earbud translated.
Then Raúl then let out a sharp breath. ‘Shit!’ he said in English.
Something was glowing in the distance and growing bigger fast. Too quick to make out, the thing rushed past him at high speed, the wake behind it powerful enough to knock Raúl off his feet. He sprawled backwards and then suddenly we were looking up at the surface.
‘What’s the hell was that thing?’ Ruby asked, staring at the screen.
But before I could answer, the mic picked up a distant echoey cry like haunting whale song. It made the hairs on my neck stand up.
On the video, Raúl, who’d now slowly pushed himself back to his feet, was also looking everywhere for the source of the sound. From his rapid breath it was obvious the guy was rattled – who wouldn’t be by whatever it was that he’d just witnessed?
His hand rose up and tugged hard on his tether. A moment later Raúl was rising from the seabed, his breath thundering inside the confines of the helmet. The point of light was already becoming a fading ember as it sped away into the ocean, the whale song growing quieter with it.
None of us said a thing as we continued watching until Raúl at last broke the surface. Maricela was staring down at her brother from the railing of the boat as he frantically gestured to her to get him back aboard. A few seconds later the video ended.
‘Was that thing a micro mind zooming around the ocean like it owned the place?’ Ruby asked.
‘I didn’t get a good enough look at it, but it certainly could have been,’ I replied. ‘But I think we should upload this footage for Lucy to analyse and tell us what she thinks.’
Tom nodded and then turned towards Carlos. ‘I don’t remember seeing any report of a glowing underwater object in that news article?’
‘That’s because we didn’t tell them anything about it,’ Carlos said. ‘Apart from anything else, Raúl didn’t want to tip anyone off about why he and Maricela were in that particular location.’
‘But he obviously still told them about the strange whale song,’ I said.
’He did, but only to see if anyone knew what it might be. But nobody did. So, they went back time and again to the same spot but they never saw the glowing light again. Sadly they didn’t find Captain Bartolomeu’s ship either. And then one day, on a blue sky day just like today, my son and daughter didn’t come back home. Despite numerous searches their boat was never found. A few items that had been on the deck of the boat were washed up on Juventud, but that was all.
‘I’m guessing you don’t believe the story that their boat may have been hit by a whale then?’ I asked.
Carlos shook his head. ‘Far more likely that rival treasure hunters got wind of what they were up to and murdered my children trying to discover the whereabouts of Bartolomeu’s sunken ship. They probably thought they were onto something because, well - do you know what the original name for Isla de la Juventud was?’
’No idea – please enlighten us,’ Tom said.
’It was called Treasure Island.’
We all gawped at him.
‘You’ve got to be shitting me?’ Ruby said.
‘Not at all. It’s rumoured that the famous book was actually inspired by that very island. Which isn’t surprising, because this whole region was once a haven for pirates.’
‘Pirates of the Caribbean?’ I said, grinning.
‘The very same,’ Carlos replied.
‘Well then,’ Tom said. ‘Sounds like our next step is to investigate that area for ourselves.’
I nodded. ‘Apart from anything else, we may be able to turn up some evidence of what happened to your children, Carlos, and if the worst case is true and they are dead, recover their bodies if the wreck of their boat is at the bottom of the ocean.’
His eyes met mine. ‘You would do this for me, Lauren?’
‘Of course I would,’ I replied. And I meant it. The old man’s plight had really got to me and had been made even realer by seeing his children alive and full of life on the video.
Tom nodded. ‘We have someone arriving tomorrow on an exploration ship with a submersible. We will make locating Raúl and Maricela’s boat an absolute priority. However, to help our search, could you provide us with the coordinates of their last known position?’
‘Yes, Raúl wrote down all their dive site locations in a journal that he kept under the counter in the shop. I can supply you with the GPS coordinates from that.’ He gave Tom a wistful look. ‘A submersible you say?’
‘Yes, a state-of-the-art one that can get down to extraordinary depths,’ Tom replied.
‘Oh how I would love to experience a ride down into the ocean on it,’ Carlos said.
I glanced at Tom. ‘Is there any reason that Carlos shouldn’t join us on this voyage, even if he just tags along as a spectator? After all, we are talking about the fate of his children here.’
Tom made a sucking sound between his teeth. ‘If I was being hard-headed, I’d say no…’
I opened my mouth to object, but Tom had already held up his hand to stop me.
‘Before you launch into a blistering tirade about what we should do in this particular instant, I didn’t say I was hard-hearted. Besides, from a practical point of view it would be useful to have local knowledge about the currents in that area when we go diving. And as we agreed already, this is your mission and you’re calling the shots, Lauren.’
I smiled. ‘Thank you. In that case, we’re doing this.’ I turned to Carlos. ‘So what do you say? Would you like to accompany us on the voyage of a lifetime and try to achieve some closure about what happened to Maricela and Raúl?’
The old man stepped forward, reached out, and clasped both of my hands in his. ‘Of course I would. Thank you so much, Lauren. Even though what we may discover may break my heart.’
‘You’ll be our honoured guest.’ I glanced up at the sky, where I knew high above us Ruby’s WASP drone was hovering out of sight somewhere. I was increasingly, painfully aware that if we stayed here longer than we had to, it might make it more likely that another agent would follow through to find out what had happened to their comrade. But for Carlos’s benefit I put a slightly different spin on it.
‘I think in light of the break-in and especially if a rival treasure hunter group is trying to muscle in on what your children were searching for, maybe it would be a good idea if you stayed somewhere else tonight.’
Glenn nodded. ‘I absolutely agree with Lauren; in fact you should all stay with me. I have more than enough rooms for everyone and they have incredible views of the ocean.’
’That’s very kind of you, but then I must insist on paying for my keep by supplying the rum,’ Carlos said. ‘I have a few rather special bottles put aside and I would like to toast our new friendship and our success in this endeavour.’
‘If that includes a good mojito, then I’m all in,’ I said.
Glenn thumped his chest. ‘I make the best mojitos.’
‘Then I’d better contact Jack and Mike, because apart from getting up to speed with how they’ve been getting on, we need to tell them to get ready for some real Cuban hospitality.’
‘You better believe it,’ Glenn said with a beaming smile.
Chapter Eight
The surf rolled in gently on the beach in a rhythmic beating of white lines over the coral sands. Now joined by Jack, Mike, and Glenn’s son Antonio, we all sat on a large deck area built to face out to the sea, lit by flaming lanterns that framed the view on either side. Behind us, across a wide lawn edged with palm trees, stood Glenn’s crumbling stone mansion, complete with arched window
s.
We were all grabbing a chance to mellow out, as the next day promised to be a hectic one. But for now I allowed myself to kick back and soak in some of the magical Cuban atmosphere.
Whilst Carlos and Glenn had been in the house sorting the first round of drinks, Tom, Ruby and I had briefed Jack and Mike on our fun-filled day. But unfortunately our host had returned with Carlos before we’d had a chance to hear how the others had got on, and although I was keen to be as open as possible with Carlos, there were still some things that it was probably better not to discuss in front of him.
I took a sip of my very excellent mojito, which almost tasted of the sunset we were all being treated to. Everyone else was sipping Carlos’s special rum and making appreciative noises.
‘Of all the places I visualised you living before we arrived in Cuba, Glenn, I have to say it was nowhere like this,’ Tom said.
‘Ah, the decaying luxury of the past,’ Glenn replied. ‘But there are mansions like this dotted all over the island. They were built by the Americans who came over in the fifties and made Cuba their decadent playground before they were thrown out - or fled – during the revolution. Of course, I barely have enough money to maintain it, but I think all the cracked plasterwork and rampant vegetation running all over it sort of add to the place’s character.’
‘Shabby chic, hey?’ I said.
Glenn smiled. ‘Pretty much, Lauren.’ He held up his glass towards Carlos. ‘Anyway, I’d like to propose a toast to Carlos for supplying us with this fantastic rum.’
We all raised our glasses to the old man.
He smiled. ‘You’re very welcome, my friends.’
Ruby took a long drag of her cigar and blew out a perfectly formed smoke ring. ‘And here’s to you Glenn for sharing with me some of the best damned cigars I’ve ever tried in my life.’
He winked at her. ‘Then I’ll have to make sure you’re supplied with a box before you leave Cuba.’
‘Oh now that I can drink to,’ she said, clinking her glass against his before draining it.
Glenn peered at the empty bottle. ‘Ah, looks like we need another refill. Carlos, would you like to accompany me to my cellar and choose an appropriate rum? I’ve quite a collection.’
