Deep Fathom

“I don’t know….” Karen studied the stone. Something didn’t sit right with her. Then it struck her. She recalled the symmetry and balance of the Chatan pyramids. The yin and the yang. “Of course!”

“What?” Jack moved to her side.

“It’s not darkness we need!” She waved Miyuki away from the stone. Her friend’s umbrella had been casting a shadow over the crystal. As Miyuki stepped back, raw sunlight bathed the crystal. The star burst with radiant brilliance. “It’s light!”

A loud crack sounded from the stone. The others moved back a few steps but Karen stood her ground.

A hidden seam appeared around the solid block. It outlined a four-inch-thick lid resting squarely atop the stone block.

Karen stepped forward.

“Be careful,” Jack warned.

She touched the block’s lid and pushed. The slab of basalt shifted, moving as easily as if it were Styrofoam. “It hardly weighs a thing!”

Jack moved beside her, his gaze fixed on the crystal star. He shadowed his hand over it. “Try pushing now.”

She did. The lid wouldn’t budge.

Jack removed his hand, exposing the crystal to sunlight again, and using a single finger, he moved the slab of stone to the side. “The star has somehow extended its weight-altering properties to the basalt.”

Karen was stu

“It looks downright magical enough to me, that’s for damn sure.”

Miyuki, beside them, pointed into the block’s interior.

Karen leaned over as Jack pushed the stone lid back farther.

Inside the altar there was a carved alcove, lined by a shiny metal. Karen touched it. “Platinum.”

Jack nodded. “Like your story. The platinum coffins the Japanese divers discovered underwater during World War Two.”

Karen nodded. “But this coffin isn’t empty.”

Resting inside were the bones of a human skeleton.

Mwahu spoke at Karen’s shoulder, a whisper. “Horon-ko.”

Karen studied the remains. Clinging to the bones were a few scraps of dusty cloth, but what had captured her eye was a book, bound in platinum, clutched in the bony grip of the coffin’s occupant.

Carefully, she reached inside.

“No!” Mwahu cried.

Karen could not resist. She gripped the book and lifted it.

Disturbed, the bones of the fingers fell away to dust. Then, like toppling dominoes, the degradation of the bones spread. The rib cage collapsed, the femurs and pelvis disintegrated, the skull caved in. Soon the form was no longer recognizable.

“Ashes to ashes,” Jack mumbled.

Karen held the platinum book in her fingers, stu

Mwahu began to weep behind her. “Doomed,” he moaned.

As if hearing him, the first bullet struck the basalt altar, stinging Karen’s face with a spray of rocky shards.

Admiral Mark Houston climbed the five levels to the bridge of the USS Gibraltar. They were under full steam from Guam, where two days ago they had offloaded the civilian NTSB team along with the crated wreckage of Air Force One. In Guam, the Gibraltar had also reacquired its normal complement of aircraft — forty-two helicopters, both Sea Knights and Cobras, and five Harrier II fighter/bombers — along with its usual complement of LCAC amphibious landing craft. All to land the ship’s Marine detachment safely on Okinawa and bolster the island’s defense.

Reports coming from the region were growing worse by the hour. Apparently, the Chinese naval and air forces were merciless in their determination not to surrender Taiwan.

Passing through a cipher-locked hatch, Houston shook his head. It’s folly. Let the Chinese have the damn island. He had read the intelligence reports on the agreement signed between the leaders in Taipei and Beijing. It was not all that different from China’s assumption of control in Hong Kong and Macau. It would be business as usual. As they did in Hong Kong, the Chinese had no intention of weakening Taiwan’s economic base.

Still, he could understand the administration’s position. President Bishop had been murdered. Whether the upper levels in Beijing knew of the plot or not, the crime could not go unanswered.

Upon hearing of the escalating conflict, Houston had offered his services to remain on board and proceed to the beleaguered front. Calmer heads were needed out there. He was to oversee the situation and report his recommendations to the Joint Chiefs.

He climbed the last ladder, his knees protesting, and entered the bridge of the Gibraltar. The navigational equipment, map table, and communication station were all ma

“Admiral on the bridge!” an ensign called out.

All eyes turned in his direction. He waved them back to their duties. A groggy-eyed Captain Bre

“I apologize for disturbing you. Just coming topside to stretch my legs. How are things faring?”

“Fine, sir. We’re thirty-six hours out and ready.”

“Very good.”

The C.O. nodded aft. “Sir, the Marine commander is over in debark control. I can let him know you’re here.”

“No need.” Houston stared out the green-tinted windows of the bridge. Rain sluiced across the glass. All day long a thin rain had been falling and a misty haze obscured the horizon. Having been holed up in his cabin since morning, conferring with Washington, he had primarily come up here to see the sun. He had thought a climb up to the bridge would do him some good, cheer him up. But instead he felt a heaviness grow in his chest. How many would die these next few days?

At the communication station, a lieutenant pulled headphones from his ears and turned to his captain. “Sir, I have an encrypted call from the Pentagon. They’re asking for Admiral Houston.”

Captain Bre

Houston shook his head. “That’s no longer my place, Captain. I’ll take it out here.” He crossed and picked up a handset. “Admiral Houston here.”

As he listened, the cold of the island’s superstructure crept into his bones. He could not believe what he was hearing, but he had no choice. “Yes. I understand.” He handed the receiver back to the lieutenant.

The others must have sensed his dismay. The bridge grew quiet.

“Sir?” Captain Bre

Houston blinked a few times, stu

Once inside, he closed the door and turned to the C.O. “John, I’ve just received new orders and a new objective.”

“Where do they want us to go?”

“Taiwan.”

The captain blanched.

“Word has come down from the Hill,” Houston finished. “We’re officially at war with China.”

16

Cat and Mouse

“Get down!” Jack yelled. He pulled Karen to her knees. Bullets sprayed the courtyard. Jack quickly assessed the situation as the four of them took shelter behind the basalt crypt. Rifle fire. From two locations. He tried to spot the snipers along the walls, but the suppressing gunfire was too intense.

He studied the others. Blood dribbled down Karen’s cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Eyes wide, she nodded, then touched her cheek. “Rock shards.” The momentary shock faded from her eyes. She crammed the crypt’s platinum book into her pack.

Jack, suspicious, eyed Mwahu. “Do you know anything about this?”