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Regardless of the timing of the ascent, there was always a small residue of nitrogen still in the body. Twelve hours was the rule of thumb between dives more than a couple of atmospheres down.
“We know our numbers,” Bobo said.
A
“Did you know there were bodies down there?” Jon asked as A
“Yeah,” A
“They’re weird-looking,” Jon said. “Like wax.”
“The corpses are saponified,” A
For divers accustomed to the sometimes centuries-old wooden-hulled vessels in the Caribbean, the preservation of Superior’s treasures often surprised them. Geology and geography conspired to entomb the ships in an almost ageless death. In the deep, still, cold, freshwater canyons beneath the lake’s surface no coral could grow, no surf could batter.
“Everything on the ship is like that-in a time warp,” Jon went on. “We must’ve seen a hundred pairs of shoes. They looked like if you dried them out you could wear them home.”
“Did you try them on?” A
Both divers looked offended. “We did not try them on,” Bobo said with cold dignity.
“Just asking.” Taking artifacts from shipwrecks was a sport-a business for some. Before Isle Royale was made a national park in 1940, it wasn’t illegal. By the time most of the wrecks were protected a lot of their scientific and historical value had been destroyed by treasure hunters. As had some of the joy of discovery for the divers who came after the depredations were committed. Vandalism and theft continued to be a problem. The Kamloops, so inaccessible, so long lost, was like a time capsule. The Park Service hoped to keep her that way.
“One of the bodies was incredible,” Jon said. “He looked like he’d drowned yesterday. Clothes like new, hair-everything was still perfect.”
A
“Mmm,” she murmured, willing them to take their permit and go away.
“The other five were a little the worse for wear, eh?” Jon said.
“There’s just the five,” A
“No,” Bobo returned, sounding pleased to correct her. “There are six.”
“Did you manage to open the stern room?” A
“This was the engine room,” Bobo said, his tone daring her to challenge his knowledge of anything underwater.
“Six?” A
Her agreeing without believing stung Bobo. “You wait,” he commanded and trotted out the door. Jon shrugged his heavy shoulders in a gesture that was so French as to be a parody.
A
Bobo came back with an underwater videocamera. He pushed the machine at A
She pressed her eye to the viewfinder until black clouds troubled her vision. Then she set the camera carefully on the desk. “I’m going to need this tape,” she said. She reached over the desk and lifted the permit from Jon’s fingers. “And I’m going to have to ask that you do not dive the Emperor tomorrow morning, that you remain here. I’m sure the Chief Ranger will have some questions to ask you.”
Again she lifted the camera and pressed her eye to the viewfinder. Number six was indeed well preserved. Though the clothing was right for a sea captain of the early part of the twentieth century, it looked new. Shadows hid most of the face but the lips and chin were sharply defined and a cloud of light-colored hair floated out from beneath the cap the figure wore.
Number six had not gone down in the storm of 1927.
FIVE
Like I said, I couldn’t tell who it was-or supposed to be,“ A
Lucas didn’t say anything. He and A
A
“I couldn’t tell who it was either-or if it was an effigy,” Vega said finally. “And I’d hate to guess at this stage of the game. I expect it’s a hoax. Martini’s Law taking effect. A lot of these guys have a sense of humor that’s not of this world. The ecstasy of the deep? Too much weightlessness?”
A