The Minoan Cipher (A Matinicus “Matt” Hawkins Adventure Book 2) (6 page)

Her eyes lit up. “I’ll make it myself.”

“Even better. You’ve got a deal.”

“Thank you, Matt. Your involvement was crucial to move this project forward. The Spaniards initially refused a permit. They changed their minds only after I told them a respected Woods Hole scientist was joining the expedition.”

“You took a chance. I might have said
ohi
.”

Kalliste made a dismissive flick with her fingers. “I saw your excitement when you worked on the Kolumbo crater project.”

“Got me pegged, Kalliste.” He liked designing undersea vehicles, but he got his biggest kick by using them to probe the mysteries of the deep. “Glad I could help with the permit.”

“It wasn’t a clear cut approval. Even with you on board they imposed conditions,” she said. “The wreck is in Spanish territorial waters, and they didn’t want the Greeks to get all the glory. I will be the sole Greek representative. The site cannot be disturbed in any way. Findings must be kept confidential until they give the word. Also, they want a Spanish observer on board.”

“I can live with that if you can, Kalliste.”

“Wonderful. When can you join us?”

“If the Navy gives me the preliminary go-ahead, I’ll join you in a few days. Send me your schedule and I’ll get back to you with my travel arrangements.”

She blew him an air kiss, and the Skype image disappeared.

Hawkins pondered the implications of the discovery. A Minoan ship intact was the Holy Grail of nautical archaeology. The contents in the ship’s hold would tell where the ship traded, and with whom. This discovery had the potential to rip the cover off mysteries the world didn’t even know existed.

The ding of an e-mail brought him back to reality. Good news. The team had approved his computations. The Navy would want simulated dives, then actual field tests, but that was in the future. He’d have plenty of time to zip across the Atlantic.

Hawkins shut down his computer and left his office. He went around to the other side of the research vessel dock where the Oceanographic stored some of its larger hardware.

Housed in a shed was the
Deepwater Challenger
, the amazing submersible that
Titanic
movie director James Cameron used in a record-breaking dive to the bottom of the Mariana Trench. Nearby, was the passenger sphere from the Challenger and the titanium globe from the original deep-diving vehicle known as,
Alvin
.

He strolled over to a vehicle that looked like globs of Play-Doh wrapped around a fish bowl. He called the manned submersible he’d designed,
Falstaff
, after the rotund Shakespearean character.

The vehicle was seven feet long, six feet tall and wide. Cylindrical thrusters sprouted from each side. A smaller section containing the motors sat on the battery compartment. All this was wrapped around a transparent globe that served as the cockpit for the pilot and passenger. A hatch on top of the sphere provided access. Printed on the battery compartment was the name: SeaBot.

When he’d built the submersible, Hawkins hadn’t gone the usual Woods Hole route of seeking Navy financing. He didn’t want to deal with the government red tape. Congress had cut back on Navy research and the competition for money was fierce. And there was his lack of trust in the government, going back to Afghanistan. He had pulled together a package of loans, mortgaged himself to the hilt, and intended to pay for the expensive investment by farming
Falstaff
out for high-paying expeditions. He had at least one dive scheduled with the institution’s Deep Submergence Laboratory.

Problem one. How to get
Falstaff
to Spain. Air-freighting the two-passenger vehicle to Cadiz could be complicated and expensive.

Hawkins locked up his office and biked back to his house. Climbing the stairs to the second floor office, he sat behind his desk, surrounded by his collection of antique dive gear and diving history books. He picked up the phone and punched out a number he hadn’t used for months.

A woman’s voice answered. “How do you do it, Matt?”

“Do what?” he said.

“Not call in months, only to snag me at the precise moment Global Logistics Technologies is in full freak-out mode.”

“Sorry, Abby. I can call back later.”

The crisp tone melted. “For heaven’s sakes, Matt, don’t be sorry. You’re an island of sanity in a sea of crazy.”

Hawkins was glad his ex-wife couldn’t see his smile. His erratic behavior after he left the Navy with a psychiatric discharge had pushed their marriage over the brink.

“What’s going on with GLT?”

“Landed a huge contract with Department of Defense, so I’m busier than a one-armed juggler. Pay no attention to my whining, it’s all good, Matt. Okay, I’m through. Your turn to vent.”

“No complaints here, Abby. I’m wrapping up the ocean glider project for the Navy.”

“I’ve been reading about it on the WHOI website. Congratulations. Let me know when you can take a break. Maybe we can do something together.”

“I’d like that Abby, but I’m jumping onto a project in Spain. Which is why I called. I need your help to move the submersible to Cadiz.”

If Abby had been disappointed by his failure to follow up on her indirect invitation, she didn’t show it.

“Let me check,” she said, returning to business-mode. He could hear the clicking of a computer keyboard. “You’re in luck, Matt. There’s a cargo 747 leaving New York tomorrow night for Frankfurt. I can arrange an air freight transfer to Cadiz from there. Can you and the sub get to JFK by tomorrow afternoon?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll call a trucking company I’ve worked with before.”

“Done. Why are you going to Spain?”

“Can’t say, Abby. I’ve promised to keep the details secret for now.”

“You know I can weasel it out of you. You’re easy. I can get you to tell me everything in less time than a coffee break lasts.”

“Idle threats don’t scare me, Abby.”

“You know I don’t make idle threats, Matt.”

“Don’t I ever. Okay, here’s what I can tell you. I’m going off to find the Holy Grail of archaeology.”

“Damn you, Hawkins! Now you’ve
really
got my curiosity up.”

“Sorry, but here’s the deal. The scientist I’m working for is worried about site contamination. She asked me to keep this close to my vest.”

“She?”

“Kalliste Kalchis. A highly-respected archeologist I worked with in Greece a couple of years ago. That’s all I can say.”

“That’s all the information I need. Someone will call you. Got to tend to business. Bye.”

Hawkins clicked off the phone, then walked to the picture window that took up one wall of his home office. He gazed out at the harbor, thinking about his turbulent relationship with Abby, picturing her lovely face framed by hair the color of claret. She was one of the most elegant and graceful women he had ever met. Her Annapolis training and Navy service had given her a wealth of self-assurance and confidence, qualities that made her an effective CEO.

By contrast, in his Navy days Hawkins had been impulsive and dashing, traits that she loved. Then he came back from Afghanistan with a head full of crazy thoughts. Since then they had managed to set aside some of the misunderstandings that had plagued them after their messy divorce. Several months earlier, they even had a fling off Matinicus, the rugged Maine island that was his namesake. The encounter had been pleasant, but it confused rather than clarified their relationship.

His head would start spinning if he thought about Abby for too long. So he was glad when his phone chirped and the male voice on the other end spoke, “I’m with GLT. I understand we’re moving a big load to Spain.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Cadiz, Spain, One Day Later

The office that took up the entire top floor of the thirty-six story Auroch Industries tower was a unique space. Instead of tinted glass windows offering a spectacular view of the city and the river Manzanares below, the walls were solid. Every square inch was covered with a wrap-around panoramic photograph of soaring earthen terraces. Anyone sitting in the office would have the uneasy feeling of being stuck at the bottom of an open-pit mining operation.

The effect was exactly what Viktor Salazar had intended. As Auroch’s Chief Executive Officer, Salazar wanted subordinates and visitors who entered his domain to be reminded that the company’s wealth and power rested on its ability to remove vast amounts of solid and liquid material from the untouched locations on Earth. Auroch had grown into a conglomerate that made it one of the biggest players in the fossil fuel industry, but the company’s roots were in mining.

Photographs from one Auroch mining operation were spread out on his large steel-top desk. The photos, taken from different angles—at ground level and from the air—showed a village, or what was left of it. Most of the corrugated metal houses were at the bottom of an enormous sink hole. Twenty-three people had been killed when the mining operation had weakened the ground under the village to the point of collapse.

Salazar was on the phone with Jared Spaulding, chairman of a consortium of environmental and humanitarian groups that had banded together, forming an international organization after a series of highly-publicized disasters near Auroch mines. The corporate public relations department had folded under the weight of wide-spread criticism. Auroch had come under increased media scrutiny. No such company with a worldwide reach can remain invisible, but Salazar preferred a low profile. When the coalition’s president asked to talk to him directly, he agreed.

The conversation had been one-sided, with Salazar listening to Spaulding lay out in detail the damage done to people and planet from Auroch’s undertakings.

“I understand your concern,” Salazar said when Spaulding had paused for a breath. With his large bald head and wide shoulders, Salazar looked like a Turkish wrestler, but he spoke in a mellifluous alto voice that was surprisingly high for a man of his size. “I take full responsibility for everything, good and bad, that this company does.”

“That’s certainly a refreshing admission of culpability,” Spaulding remarked.

“We are painfully aware of the unfortunate side effects that come with providing fuel for power plants that benefit millions of people, and minerals for our machines and electronic devices.”

“Those villagers might object to being labeled as unfortunate side effects, Mr. Salazar.”

“Of course, which is why we have provided restitution to the villagers and will help them rebuild their houses. Furthermore,” Salazar said, “if you have suggestions as to anything else Auroch can do to make amends and prevent further disasters, I’d be glad to listen.”

Spaulding presented Salazar with a list.

Salazar’s reaction was amiable. “Nothing you have asked for is unreasonable,” he said. “A huge corporation is always in danger of being unmindful of the hazardous, but unintended consequences of its work. If you present your points in writing, I will attend to them personally and assign staff to carry out my wishes. You can be assured of that.”

Spaulding said, “Also, we’d like your cooperation in providing access to information about your mining operations.”

It was a clever strategy, even if somewhat disingenuous, Salazar thought. They would make sure his acquiescence went public, thereby putting pressure on him. “Yes, of course. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now.” Spaulding chuckled. “You’re not exactly what I had expected.”

“And what did you expect?”

“That you’d deny having anything to do with the disaster. Instead, you’ve been quite accommodating. More like someone’s uncle than a callous businessman.”

“I am happy to have broken the stereotype. Please give my assistant all the contact information we will need. We’ll get in touch with you in, say, a week. If you have any problem, you will have a direct line to me. The advantage of being head of a large corporation means that, while you are blamed when things go wrong, you also possess the tools to put the pieces back together. Let’s talk again.”

He hung up. As his gaze fell on the photographic walls, the genial smile faded from his lips. The greenish-yellow eyes under the prominent brow glowed with anger. The muscles hidden under the dark blue suit seemed to ripple as he picked up the photos and tore them to shreds.

“Fool,” he muttered.

He would keep his promise. The company staff would carry out his wishes. There would be no restitution or cooperation. He had another plan for the coalition that had already been set in motion.

The phone on Salazar’s desk blinked; he picked up the handset.

“You had a call while you were in conference,” a voice said. “It’s from our friend in the government. He said his superiors are going to allow the expedition to proceed.”

“Impossible! He told us that the government had denied the permit.”

“They changed their minds at the higher level after they learned that the American had agreed to join the project.”