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When they arrived at the bay, a different truck was parked near the sand and only three men waited beneath one of the swaying palm trees, watching the SUV approach. A single boat was tethered to a tree trunk, floating lazily, in the strengthening sun.
After a scan of the shore to ensure no further crocodiles were lurking in the brush, Sam and Remi donned their wet suits and climbed into the boat, followed by the rest of the men. The old outboard sputtered to life with a throaty cough and they were skimming across the bay, Leonid directing the captain with the aid of a handheld GPS.
When they reached the coordinates, the captain kept the motor idling while Sam and Remi finished their preparations. Leonid regarded them in their masks, regulators in their mouths, and offered a halfhearted
grin.
“Bottom’s at around eighty feet. Visibility should be pretty good, from what the divers said. The water’s usually exceptionally clear.”
Sam spat his regulator out. “Except for the storm runoff yesterday. Still, it is what it is. Should be interesting.”
Remi dropped backward off the side of the skiff while Sam lowered himself down a metal dive ladder that one of the men had attached to the stern. Once in the water, he was glad to discover that the temperature was almost bathlike. He slipped below the surface and spotted Remi ten feet away, waiting for him. He gave her a thumbs-up that she returned, and then they began their slow descent to the bottom, which was barely visible from their vantage point.
At the fifty-foot mark, the contours of the mounds drifted up to meet them from the reef. Sam tapped Remi on the shoulder and pointed to their right, where a large, hulking shape rose from the sea bottom. As they approached, it became obvious that they were looking at something man-made. The jutting rise was almost entirely encrusted with sea life, but the shape and symmetry were unmistakable—it was part of a building.
When they arrived within arm’s length, Sam felt for the handle of the dive knife he’d strapped to his leg and freed it. Remi watched as he scraped away at the barnacles. After a few moments, he stopped and pushed himself back so Remi could see.
It was a seam. A joint between two blocks. Any doubts about the origin of the protrusions were now put to rest. These were indeed ruins of buildings, albeit submerged ones.
A shadow drifted across the bottom and they froze. Sam turned and looked up to see the long shape of a shark. Not a great white, but, still, at least nine feet of marine predator.
The shark orbited their position and then seemed to lose interest in them as it continued on its way. Remi’s eyes had gone wide in her mask, and Sam kept control of his breathing as his heart rate settled back to normal. If they’d required any evidence of their completely exposed state, the close encounter had been sufficient, and, after a quick swim through the ruins, they ascended, pausing for a decompression stop, eyes roving the water for more uninvited guests.
Once back in the boat, they stripped off their buoyancy compensator vests and peeled off the wet suits. The tropical sun was blistering even near the cool surface of the water.
“Well?” Leonid asked expectantly.
“It’s definitely some kind of a compound. And old. That’s obvious.”
“How can you be so sure after only one look around?”
Remi explained about the block construction, and Leonid nodded. “Then you’re certain?”
“It’s exactly what we suspected—a sunken complex of buildings.”
“You don’t dive?” Sam asked Leonid.
The Russian shook his head. “Never learned.”
“You should take a crash course while we’re waiting for the dive boat to arrive. You can’t very well head up an aquatic expedition if you don’t go in the water.”
“I’m not sure at my age this old dog has many new tricks left in him,” Leonid said.
“Nonsense. We’ll find an instructor. What else do you have to do over the next few days?”
Leonid looked unconvinced. “Are you sure? I haven’t exactly kept this”—he gestured at his body—“in athletic shape.”
“It mainly involves floating around, Leonid. Jacques Cousteau was doing it at twice your age. Come on. Live a little,” Sam teased.
The captain returned the boat to the shore and they disembarked onto the hot sand. Remi gazed down the beach to the grove where the crocodile had attacked and she nudged Sam.
“What happened to our big friend?” she asked in a low voice.
“The locals probably overcame their fear of the area to drag it off. The hide’s worth a small fortune,” Leonid said. He turned to the islanders. “Can you make it tomorrow?”
The captain and his crew exchanged worried glances and then the old man shook his head. “No. This is a bad place,” he said, his accent so thick his words were almost unintelligible.
“Come on. Nothing happened. Easiest money you ever made.”
