Jack sobered, sensing an undercurrent of tension. “Who’s calling?”
A long pause. “Admiral Mark Houston.”
Jack felt as if he’d been slugged in the stomach. His former naval commander. “Wh-What? Why?” He had hoped never to hear that name again. He had put that life behind him.
“He’s ordered us to a set of coordinates. About four hundred nautical miles from here, and—”
Jack clenched his fists, interrupting. “Ordered us? Tell him to take his order and shove it up—”
Now George interrupted. “There’s been a plane crash. A rescue operation is being gathered.”
Jack bit his lip. It was the Navy’s right to ask for his aid. The Deep Fathom was a registered salvage ship. Still, Jack found his hands trembling.
Old memories and emotions flared brighter. He remembered his awe at seeing the shuttle Atlantis shining brightly in the Florida sunshine, and the pride he felt upon learning he would be the first Navy SEAL to fly in that bird. But shadowing these pleasant memories were darker ones: flames, searing pain…a gloved hand reaching for him, voices screaming…slipping, tumbling…an endless fall.
Seated in the Nautilus, Jack felt as if he were still falling.
“Did you hear me, Jack?”
Shaking, he could not breathe, let alone answer.
“Jack, the plane that crashed…it’s Air Force One.”
2
Dragons of Okinawa
July 25, 6:30 A.M.
Naha City, Island of Okinawa, Japan
Crouching behind an alley trash bin, Karen Grace tried her best to avoid the military patrol. As she hid, two armed servicemen sauntered into view, flashlights in hand. One of them stopped to light a cigarette. Holding her breath, Karen prayed for them to pass. In the light of the match, she noticed the insignia on a sleeve. U.S. NAVY.
After yesterday’s earthquakes, a state of martial law had been declared throughout the prefectures of Japan, including the southern island chain of Okinawa. Looters had been plaguing the city and outlying areas. The island leaders, overwhelmed by the level of destruction and chaos, had requested support from the local American military bases, to aid in clean-up, rescue, and protection of the damaged city.
The city’s leaders had set a curfew for Naha from dusk to dawn, and Karen was breaking that new law. The sun was still a half hour from rising.
Move…keep walking, she silently urged them.
As if hearing her, one of the men raised his flashlight and shone it down the alley. Karen froze, closing her eyes, afraid any movement would draw his attention. She wore an embroidered dark jacket and black slacks, but she wished she had thought to cover her blond hair. She felt exposed, sure the two servicemen would spot her. At last the light vanished.
Karen opened her eyes. A mumble followed by a bark of laughter echoed back to her. A crude joke. The pair continued on their patrol. Relieved, she sagged against the metal Dumpster.
From deeper in the shadows a voice whispered at her, “Are they gone?”
Karen pushed up from her knees. “Yeah, but that was too close.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” her accomplice hissed, climbing out of the shadows.
Karen helped Miyuki Nakano up. Her friend swore under her breath, convincingly, considering English was Miyuki’s second language. On leave from her Japanese university professorship, Miyuki had worked for two years at a Palo Alto Internet firm and had grown fluent in English. But the petite teacher was clearly out of place here as she crawled from under a pile of old newspapers and rotted vegetables. Miyuki seldom left her pristine computer lab at Ryukyu University, and was rarely spotted without her starched and pressed lab coat.
But not this morning.
Miyuki wore a dark red blouse and black jeans, both now prominently stained. Her ebony hair was tied back into a conservative ponytail. She plucked a spinach leaf from her blouse and flung it away in disgust. “If you weren’t my best friend—”
“I know…and I apologize for the hundredth time.” Karen turned away. “But, Miyuki, you didn’t have to come along.”
“And leave you to venture through Naha alone, meeting with who knows what manner of scoundrel? It’s just not safe.”
Karen nodded. At least this last statement was true. Sirens echoed throughout the ravaged city. Searchlights from temporary camps cast beacons into the night skies. Though the curfew had been ordered, shouts and gunfire could be heard all around. Karen had not expected to find the city in such chaos.
Miyuki continued to complain about their predicament. “Who knows what type of men will be waiting for us? White slavers? Drug smugglers?”
“It’s only one of the local fishermen. Samo vouched for the man.”
“And you trust a senile janitor’s word?”
Karen rolled her eyes. Miyuki could worry a hole through tempered steel. “Samo is anything but senile. If he says this fisherman can take us to see the Dragons, then I trust him.” She lifted the edge of her jacket to reveal a black leather shoulder harness. “And besides, I have this.” The .38 automatic fit snugly under her arm.
Miyuki’s eyes widened. Her skin lost a touch of its rich complexion. “Carrying a gun is against Japanese law. Where did you—”
“At times like this, a girl needs a little extra protection.” Karen crept to the alley’s entrance. She glanced down the street. “It’s all clear.”
Miyuki slid beside her, hiding in her shadow.
“C’mon.” Karen led the way, excited and anxious at the same time. She glanced to the skies. True dawn was still about an hour away. Time was running short. Curfew or not, she was determined not to miss the rendezvous. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Three years ago she had traveled all the way from British Columbia to study at Ryukyu University and complete her doctoral thesis on Micronesian cultures, searching for clues to the origins and migration patterns of the early Polynesians. While studying here, Karen heard tales of the Dragons of Okinawa, a pair of submerged pyramids discovered in 1991 off the island’s coast by a geology professor at Ryukyu, Kimura Masaaki. He had compared the pyramids to those found at ancient Mayan sites in Central America.
Karen had been skeptical—until she saw the photographs: two stepped pyramids with terraced tops rising twenty meters from the sandy sea floor. She was instantly captivated. Was there some ancient connection between the Mayans and the Polynesians? Throughout the last decade new, submerged structures continued to be discovered in the waters off neighboring islands, trailing as far south as Taiwan. Soon it became hard to separate fact from fiction, natural topography from man-made structure.