“It doesn’t work for any standard application,” Captain Haynes explained.
“So why are we talking about it?”
Admiral Sienna took over. “Because, Senhor Austin, what you and your friend may have discovered is a superconducting alloy that works at almost room temperature.”
Now it made sense. No samples. No close approaches. The Portuguese sailors that had been placed on the Argo, the patrol boat that had shadowed the site since they returned.
“If that’s what we have down there,” Captain Haynes explained, “it could be worth hundreds of billions once it is analyzed and synthesized and mass-produced.”
That made sense to Kurt, but even a superconductor had to have a source of power. “So where does the juice come from?” he asked.
“This is a former volcanic archipelago,” Admiral Sienna reminded everyone. “You must realize, there could be a trillion metric tons of magma oozing around underneath the caldera — some of which may be comprised of liquid metal — and such movement can create a magnetic field of its own. Our experts assure us that it’s possible for such forces to be quite large.”
“And you’re thinking the magnetism pulled these ships and airplanes to the bottom of the sea?” Kurt asked.
“In truth, we don’t know,” the admiral said. “These waters have quite a reputation, similar to your Bermuda Triangle. We don’t know what has occurred here, but the theory we’re going with is that the ships and containers and aircraft you see went down in the waters to the northwest of the caldera. There is a strong current that funnels along a diagonal route between two low chains of submerged mountains. As the funnel tightens, the strength of the current increases, right up until it drops over the edge of the caldera.”
Everything they’d seen on the bottom — the sunken ships, the aircraft, the containers and other junk — all of it lay on the northwest side of the rock tower.
“So you’re saying, add the current and the magnetism together and you have enough power to pull the junk in?”
The admiral nodded, and Kurt found himself thinking that it might almost make sense. “So what do you want from us?”
“Well,” Admiral Sienna said, “we are in a rather difficult situation. These waters are disputed between my country and Spain. They have been contested since the time of Columbus, over five hundred years. Since the caldera is more than twelve miles from the closest Azorean landmass, it falls into this disputed zone. For the most part, fishing and other things are regulated under a patchwork of different agreements. We even have one that covers the discovery of any oil.”
Kurt did not like where this was heading.
“But there is nothing to cover underwater mining or the discovery of new alloys,” the admiral added.
“So you’re arguing over it already,” he said.
“We are… discussing,” the admiral said. “But my nation is inclined to send one of its finest warships — the Corte Real, a Vasco da Gama — class frigate — to this very spot. The Spanish want to send a ship of their own. Perhaps not as nice or as impressive, but a presence nevertheless. You see where this will go.”
“Okay, so we’ll clear out,” Kurt said. “Let me know when you’ve figured out the details. I’m sure you’ll be able to reach me at the retirement home by then.”
The admiral looked upset.
“Tiburones, ” Joe reminded him under his breath.
“Yes,” the admiral said, “it will probably devolve into some type of litigation. Unless…”
Kurt took a deep breath. “Unless what?”
“Unless a neutral organization of world renown would be willing to watch over the site and coordinate preliminary research while we discuss the details amongst ourselves.”
Kurt looked at Captain Haynes, who nodded. “I already ran it by the Director. He’s in agreement.”
“There are many parties who want to see this site,” the admiral said. “Already I have a stack of petitions from scientists who want to come and study it. But rules must be established and followed. If you would help us put them in place…”
Kurt turned to Haynes. “Captain, that’s up to you and Dirk. Not us. We do what we’re told.”
“You are the discoverers,” Admiral Sienna said. “And you are well known for other things you have found, including the statue the Navigator, and for your part in learning the truth about the blue medusa and stopping the plague that threatened the world last year. It would be good for you to be here. All sides would respect your presence.”
“You want us to be administrators,” Kurt said, unable to hide his disdain for this plan.
“The other officers and I will handle the paperwork and logistics,” Captain Haynes said. “You and Joe will be on point, keeping everyone in line out there.”
“You want us to be the disciplinarians?” Kurt asked.
The captain smiled. “Turnabout, if ever I’ve seen it.”
Kurt glanced at the map on the wall. Five hundred miles to the east of their position, the Trouts were getting ready to dive on the Kinjara Maru. Her sinking continued to monopolize his thoughts during any downtime, and with his and Joe’s early exit from the contest, he’d hoped to return and take part in that dive. It seemed events would not allow it.
They were stuck here, he knew that. And if that was the case, he figured it was better to be running the show and dishing out the red tape than trying to cut through it.
He turned to Joe. “Mr. Zavala?”
“You know I’m always at your back,” Joe said.
If Joe was in and Captain Haynes was on board, at least Kurt knew he wasn’t going it alone. “All right,” he said. “I’m game.”
15
Moscow, Russia, June 21
KATARINA LUSKAYA CLIMBED THE STEPS fronting the Science Ministry’s building after returning from lunch in one of Moscow’s magnificent parks. On a sunny June day, it was 82 degrees, not very humid at all, and absolutely beautiful in the great city.
It seemed hard to believe that in three months the first snows would be falling, and, six weeks after that, it would be twenty below and dangerous to walk around outside.
Savor it while you can, she told herself.
Fit and athletic, Katarina had a warm smile but a relatively plain look about her. Her short mahogany hair was cut in an attractive style that angled along her chin line. At times, her bangs fell across her face, hiding her eyes. She was not the kind of woman who would stir up attention by walking into a room, but after being there for a while she might have a crowd around her, drawn to her energy and laughter and spirit over the perhaps more superficial charms of others.
Thirty-one years old, Katarina had just recently completed her doctorate in advanced energy systems and was now a full-fledged member of the Science Directorate. Her unit was charged with figuring out what Russia should do if it ever ran out of oil and natural gas. Current estimates had that occurring in fifty to a hundred years, so every member of the team knew their work was not exactly aimed at a pressing need.
In a way, that made it better. No one bothered them, no one interfered. They were one of the few groups in the Science Directorate allowed to practice unadulterated research, done for no other reason than for the sake of the science itself.
Katarina enjoyed that. She did not build weapons. She did not pollute the sky or the water or the land. She did not work for a corporation that would take what she had done, earn billions from it, and give little back.
There was freedom in such a setup, a sense of purity. And yet, if she were honest, she felt restless more often than not. Enough so that on such a gorgeous day, she didn’t relish going back to work.
That feeling multiplied the instant she reached her office.