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“You know the plan, Annja.”
“Yes, but this is something you should look into. If there is a shark hunting through the dive site, then maybe you can figure out why it’s there and why it’s attacked a diver already. That research could prove just as useful as what you’re doing here.”
“I’ve always tried to keep my business investments separate from my love of the ocean.”
“Not always possible,” Annja said.
Cole nodded. “I’ve been somewhat idealistic in that regard.” He smirked. “Possibly naïve as well.”
Sandy got up from the table. “I can make the flight arrangements if you’d like. Get you up there for first thing tomorrow.”
Cole glanced at Tom. “Interested in coming along for the ride?”
Tom fixed him with a gaze. “Now, why would you even ask that question? Of course I am.”
Cole smiled. “I don’t like to assume things.”
“Yeah, well assume all you want. I’m not going to miss the chance to see what’s going on up there.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s a hunt for treasure. What guy didn’t dream of doing that when he first heard about Treasure Island?”
Cole turned to Annja. “I know you’ve got plans to fly out soon, so I won’t bother asking—”
Annja held up her hand. “The dive site actually sounds like something I’d enjoy. And like Tom said, it does involve the search for relics and treasure. That’s something I’m always interested in, in case you didn’t know.”
Cole looked at Sandy. “Flight arrangements for three, if you please.”
Sandy nodded and left the room. Cole watched her go for a moment and then, noticing the silence that hung in the room, turned back. “She’s a good worker. Knows everything I need to keep up with.”
Annja eyed him. “She didn’t seem too thrilled with me being around here.”
“Ah, that’s just Sandy. She’s had a thing for me ever since she started working here.”
“That’s awfully modest of you,” Annja said with a laugh. She took a sip of her coffee and put her cup back down on the table. “Clearly, she thinks I’m a threat. Just make sure she doesn’t throw me overboard to the shark.”
“Sure thing.” He looked at Tom. “I suppose we’d better get the charts out and study up on the site if we’re going to be a de facto replacement crew.”
Tom walked to the nearby metal file cabinets and yanked one of the drawers open. With a sheaf of charts and papers, he laid them out on the table and spread them around. Annja could make out pictures of the ship itself, lists of what its inventory was rumored to have been, and even notes form an old journal.
“Where’s it supposed to have gone down?”
Cole sighed. “That was always the problem. The ship sank near Prospect, but attempts to find it so far have proven futile. It was 1814, after all, so maybe the location was wrong. Back then there was no Coast Guard to help fix a position. It always amazes me to think of what people must have thought about when they cast off from dock. There was no guarantee that you’d ever make it home alive. Between storms, dangerous shoals, prowling marauders, you had a slim chance of completing a journey.”
“And yet they did it,” Annja said. “And they opened up the world to exploration.”
Cole jabbed his finger at the east coast of Nova Scotia. “Hunter always thought the ship went down here. In about a hundred feet of water. But the currents are strong and there’s no telling where the remains of the ship might have been dragged to since that time.”
“Almost two hundred years have passed,” said Tom. “That ship could be scattered halfway between Nova Scotia and Greenland.”
Cole frowned. “Hunter has always based his hunts largely on his intuition. Until he learned to trust it, he never hit it big. The first time he went with his gut, he struck gold, literally. It’s something he tries to abide by to this day. And he seemed pretty convinced he knew where he’d find the wreck.”
“You believe him?” Annja asked.
“I’d better,” Cole said. “I’m sinking two million dollars into the hunt for the Fantome. I expect to make that back and then some. The treasure on board would be worth tens of millions of dollars.”
“If not more,” said Tom. “Remember that a lot of it was taken right form the White House. There’d be gifts and such from all the powerful world leaders at the time in the wake of the Revolutionary War. That stuff today would be an incredible draw for collectors.”
“Good point.” Cole studied the maps. “I wonder where Hunter is right now and whether he thinks that he knows where he’ll find the largest stock of loot.”
Annja studied a picture of the Fantome. “So this is the ship?”
“Loaded down with all that booty, she must have weighed tons,” Cole said. “Imagine setting off bound for England and running into the storm they took the brunt of? No thanks.”
“After weathering the strong ocean today en route to the sharks, I don’t even want to think about that,” Annja said. “I doubt I would have been a very good sailor.”
“You get used to it,” said Tom. “But even still, there’s nothing like a strong storm at sea to turn anyone into a true believer in the power of Mother Nature.”
Annja pored over the pictures and notes. “And to think, now there might be a prowling shark in their midst.”
“Nothing like the promise of death in an already dangerous job,” Cole said. “I’m sure Hunter is stalking around his boat furious at the sea for the delay this is causing.”
“What about the body?” Annja asked. “Are they flying it home?”
“It was a local guy,” Sandy said coming back into the room. “Luckily, they didn’t have far to transport him. Although, with the ceremony being a closed casket, I’m not so sure those he left behind wouldn’t just as soon see him buried at sea.”
Annja looked up at her. Sandy’s expression didn’t betray a hint of emotion. But she locked eyes with Annja and then broke away long enough to look at Cole. “You’re all set for departure tomorrow morning.”
Then she glanced back at Annja. “Have a safe trip.”
4
Annja, Cole, and Tom flew into Halifax International Airport the next morning. Annja hadn’t slept much the night before, trying to use her laptop to dig up information on the infamous Megalodon that Cole raved about. What she found didn’t cheer her up much. With teeth the better part of six inches long, Meg, as it was more affectionately know, could chomp through whales with ease. And humans were much softer than whales.
But most scientists agreed the species was long extinct.
Except for Cole.
A couple of authors had written some novels about a few remaining species swimming in the vast depths of the oceans, but otherwise, there’d been nothing to ever confirm or even hint at the suggestion there might be others still lurking in the waves.
She’d eventually fallen asleep with images of giant teeth running through her head.
Storm clouds blew in as they were making their final approach to the airport and the plane jumped a few times before its wheels finally gripped the tarmac. Annja gave a silent prayer of thanks for having her feet back on terra firma.
In the terminal, she saw a man standing by himself wearing a Dive the Marianas Trench T-shirt. She elbowed Cole. “That him?”
Cole smirked. “He always did have a twisted sense of humor.”
“At least he doesn’t free swim with great whites, huh?”
“Annja—”
The man came over and hugged Cole. Annja looked him up and down. He was a few inches taller than Cole and maybe a few pounds lighter. His lean build started with his close-cropped hair and chiseled face that bore a few interesting scars.
“Hey, bro.”
Cole hugged him back. “When Sandy told me—”
Hunter nodded. “Yeah, I know, man. But I’m still here. Don’t have any plans of shoving off any time soon, either.” He turned and faced Annja. “Hi. I’m Hunter.”
“Annja.”
He shook her hand and Annja felt the rough sandpaper texture of it. Hunter was used to working hard. “Nice to meet you.”
Hunter shook hands with Tom. “I see my brother’s still got you working for him, huh?”
“At least until that other job offer comes through.”
“Yeah, right.” Hunter led them across the terminal. “We’ll get your bags and then head down. I’ll fill you in on the way. Less chance of being heard, if you catch my meaning.”
Annja frowned. How come Hunter didn’t want to talk about the attack now? She assumed the local media would have the story all over the wires now. A shark attack in Nova Scotia was a rare thing indeed.
At the baggage terminal, they got their gear and checked through the customs line quickly. The customs official gave Annja’s passport a whistle as he flipped through it. “You’re quite the world traveler, Miss.”
Annja smiled at him. “Sometimes, I don’t even know what day it is.”
Hunter guided them outside and Annja found the temperature pleasant with a warm breeze blowing in. In the parking lot, she spotted a van and Hunter pointed. “That’s our ride. We shouldn’t be on the road all that long.”
“How far’s Prospect from here?” Cole asked.
“About twenty three kilometers to the southwest. We’ll just hop on the 333 and be there in no time. If the traffic’s decent.”
Tom stowed the gear in back and then they all climbed aboard. Cole took shotgun and Annja and Tom slid into the back. Annja leaned forward as Hunter eased the van out of the parking space. “You mind me asking why you wanted to wait until we’re outside before we started talking about the shark attack?’
Hunter shrugged. “No surprise. But we managed to keep the attack out of the local media.”
“How the hell did you manage that?” Cole asked.
“I paid off the local police chief.” He glanced at Cole. “By the way, bro, I’m going to need some more money.”
“What a surprise.”
“You paid off the local police chief? To do what?”
“To say that the death was an accident.”
“But why?”
Hunter put his hands on the wheel and steered them on to the highway. “Look, the thing is, we know where the wreck is. If we all of a sudden start blabbering about shark attacks, then the place will start crawling with media and fishermen, and even rival treasure hunters. That’s a lot of publicity that we don’t need right now. If we can get in, do our thing and then get gone, we’ll be so much the better.”
“And if it turns out there really is a shark up here?”
Hunter grinned. “Oh, there’s definitely a shark in the water. I have no doubt of that. Even saw the damned thing register on the sonar.”
Cole looked at him. “How big?”
“Big. Like, real big. Over thirty feet.”
Annja put a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Don’t get your hopes up about a Meg. What if it’s a basking shark?”
Hunter laughed. “I’ve seen basking sharks before. Plankton eaters like the whale shark. Let me tell you something: this was no plankton eater did that to my man. Chomped him into two pieces and then some.”
“A great white of that size would be an enormous specimen,” Cole said. “I’d need to document it.”
“Document it all you want, bro,” Hunter said. “Just keep everything under wraps until we’re done here.”
“And how long will that take?”
Hunter shrugged. “Could take us two weeks to excavate everything from the site. Maybe longer if the currents have strewn it all over the place.”
“You found the main wreck site?”
Hunter nodded. “Hull’s intact. Parts of the ship aren’t there, but the main hold is. I think we’ve got a big one here, bro.”
“Why’s that?”
Hunter shrugged. “A lot of people over the years claimed that the Fantome wasn’t carrying loot from the White House simply because it wasn’t involved in the raid on Washington. Some thought it might just be carrying goods from parts of Maine that the British controlled to Nova Scotia. But if that was the case, then why was it in convoy? A simple customs run wouldn’t dictate such elaborate security.”
“You never bought into that theory?” Annja asked.
“Nope. The Fantome was originally a French privateer that the British took possession of in 1810 and commissioned directly into the British Navy as a brig sloop with eighteen guns on her. She had a good kick in terms of firepower and she had a hold that could handle a large quantity of booty.” He shook his head. “Nah, she was hauling some serious stuff when she went down.”
“And it’s off Prospect as the records claim?”
Hunter nodded. “That was the benefit of survivors from the wreck. They were able to confirm where they went down. Of course, that was over two hundred years ago, and the shifting tide can change things a lot underwater.”
“Not exactly easy to explore when there’s a shark cruising nearby,” Annja said. “Why don’t you tell us about what happened?”
Hunter nodded. “Yeah, sure. We were out just the other day. Good day for salvage work. Sunny, not strong surf. We made it out to the next grid on our search string and one of my guys, by the name of Jock, went down to lead the way for the rest of the team.”
“He always go first?” Cole asked.
“Yeah, kinda like that. He’s from the UK, former Special Forces guy. They lead that way, you know. Likes to be in the water and all that stuff.”
“So, he went down…”
Hunter shrugged. “The rest of us were a little slow getting into wet suits. I was nursing an awful headache that I woke up with and the team was a bit slow. All of a sudden, the captain calls me on to the bridge and jabs a finger at the sonar. I thought it was a submarine at first, you know? This big thing just moving along.”
“You think about radioing down to Jock?” Cole asked.
“Would have if he’d gone down with a radio unit. But Jock didn’t like them. Said they didn’t allow him the freedom he liked underwater. He used to rely on hand signals only.”
