“Sam and Remi,” Sam replied. “So where’s this vessel of yours?”
“Right there,” Delgado said, pointing toward the end of the closest dock.
Remi was pleased to see a fairly new catamaran research vessel. “That should do nicely.” But he continued past the gleaming forty-eight-foot boat, not stopping until they reached a dilapidated forty-two-foot fishing charter, its faded green hull having seen better days probably decades ago. “That’s the . . . Golfinho?”
The man grinned, his teeth yellowed from tobacco. “A bit rusty around the edges, but very seaworthy.”
Sam eyed the vessel. “You’re sure about that?”
“A good boat. Fast. Pirates, they leave us alone. No money, right?” He laughed.
Remi and Sam laughed with him, but with less enthusiasm. Remi, recalling António’s warning, asked, “Are there many pirates around here?”
“Some. But we have guns. We protect you.” He nodded to his men to gather the Fargo gear. “If you are ready, we load up your things and get started. We want to be on our way back tomorrow before the rain starts.”
At the second mention of weather, Remi accessed her phone just to make sure the chance of light showers hadn’t been upgraded. The symbol now showed a lightning bolt through it. Even so, it still wasn’t expected to hit until later the next evening. If they didn’t find what they were looking for tomorrow, they’d have to come back after the rain.
Once they were in deep water, Remi let her fears about the weather and the boat’s storm-worthiness rest. Aside from the occasional creaking and moaning of the ship’s hull as they cruised toward Snake Island, towing a fairly new-looking Zodiac behind them, nothing seemed amiss. Selma had vetted the captain, his crew, and his references and had assured Remi that they were reliable. Besides, António had mentioned that his uncle spoke highly of the Golfinho’s captain. That had to mean something, even though Captain Delgado and three of his four crew members looked more like pirates than fishermen. The fourth and youngest, Nuno, reminded her a bit of António, both in age and build. Unlike António, he seemed nervous, glancing over at her, then looking away whenever she made eye contact.
Remi couldn’t decide if it was her presence on board or something else bothering him and so she did her best not to look at him.
Sam noticed also, moving beside her and whispering, “Quite the motley crew, eh?”
“I’ll say. As long as the Golfinho gets us there and back in one piece, I’ll have nothing to complain about.”
As they neared the island that evening, the captain turned the helm over to one of his older crew members, then walked back toward Sam and Remi, leaning over the side next to Sam. “What brings you to the Ilha da Queimada Grande?”
“Looking for evidence of a shipwreck,” Sam said.
“Treasure?” The captain smiled. “I hear that is your specialty.”
“In this case, no. We’re here to document possible artifacts.”
“You are braver than I,” the captain said. “Too many snakes.”
“Lucky for us,” Sam said, “we only need to search the water.”
“Good thing. They could have the winning Mega-Sena lottery ticket on that rock and I would not go. Better to die an old pauper than a rich snakebite victim.”
His smile sent a shiver down Remi’s spine, and she was glad when they were interrupted by the call to dinner. She and Sam took seats near Nuno, but when Remi tried to engage him in conversation, he politely excused himself and left the table.
The weather held up that night, and they slept peaceably, awaking early the next morning to begin the dive.
Sam suggested that they suit up and do a final check of their equipment. The captain asked if they needed help with anything, which they politely declined, and he returned to the helm.
The Golfinho eventually anchored well off the southern tip of the island—far enough away from the very rocks responsible for sending many a ship to the depths over the past few centuries. Whether one of those ships was the vessel they were searching for remained to be seen, Remi thought, watching as they readied the fifteen-foot Zodiac SeaRider.
Nuno climbed down the ladder, secured their gear in the boat, including the large case with the portable side-scan sonar unit. He helped Sam in first, and Sam, in turn, helped Remi. The young man still had difficulty making eye contact, but he seemed polite and willing to help. Soon they were speeding toward Ilha da Queimada Grande. The beauty of the island grew as they neared, the treacherous rocky shore giving way to lush jungle that climbed to a steep peak. Had it been anywhere else, Remi would have enjoyed hiking up to the top to look out over the water. Just thinking about the snakes made her very glad for the large body of water between her and them.
Sam set up the side-scan sonar unit, then directed Nuno on the speed and direction to achieve the best scan of the ocean floor while he monitored the screen. At the moment, the water was fairly calm, but with the predicted rain later, that could change. Much depended on luck and the accuracy of their instruments for locating the wreck—and hoping it was the right one—or they’d be repeating the entire operation when the weather cleared.
If they were lucky, they’d find what they were looking for—not that she was naive enough to think they’d stumble across the actual cipher wheel. A lot of factors came into play when it came to salvaging wrecks, and quite often the contents of a ship weren’t always found in the immediate area where it went down—never mind the possibility that the cipher wheel had already been recovered and was lying in some private collection, its owner none the wiser as to its true purpose and worth.
Right now, all they needed was enough wreckage to figure out what sort of ship went down. That thought sent her gaze to the deadly island, wondering what it must have been like for the survivors, if there were any, thinking they could swim to shore and safety. Assuming they could avoid being smashed against the rocks in the storm-tossed waters and they managed to make it onto the island . . .
Sam sensed her concern and glanced up from the sonar screen. “Something wrong?”
“I was thinking about the shipwreck. Imagine being that close to land, thinking you were safe . . .”
His gaze followed hers to the island. “I think I’d prefer drowning over death by pit viper venom.”
“I’d prefer neither.”
He drew her toward him. “I can use your sharp eye,” he said.
They sat next to each other, and Remi tried to concentrate on the sonar readings, feeling as if they’d been out there all day with nothing to show for it. Eventually the wind picked up and, with it, the water got rougher. She was about to suggest they call it a day when Sam pointed to the screen. “I think we’ve found it.”
Sixteen
The area Sam had indicated looked like the remnants of a rockslide, as though some long-ago earthquake had turned the rocky southern end of the island into a pile of rubble that had swept down to the ocean floor. A few feet away was another long, narrow stretch of rubble that seemed far too neat to have been caused by any landslide. Undoubtedly ballast from a ship. The fact it wasn’t scattered meant the ship went down right there either because it was too badly damaged or it was scuttled to prevent it from being captured.
Remi leaned in closer for a better look. “Do you think the rockslide came after the wreck?”
“Possibly,” Sam replied. “Either way, that vessel was too close to navigate safely. Too many underwater rocks that could have done it in, especially in a storm.”
“Maybe they did it on purpose. Keep it from falling into the wrong hands.”
“Makes you wonder what that cipher wheel leads to.”
After final instructions to Nuno, they gathered their metal detectors, put on their diving gear, and dropped into the water.
They descended into the depths. As always, the tranquillity and beauty of the sea amazed Remi.
It didn’t matter how many dives they made, each one was like a new world to be discovered, as the tropical fish scurried away and the bright colors muted into blues and greens the farther down they went.
The ballast pile she’d seen in the monitor seemed to be all that was left to indicate that a ship once rested there, a mere twenty-five feet below the surface, most of it having disintegrated long ago.
Before they explored what was left of the wreck, they scanned the water around them. The coast of Brazil was known for its higher-than-average fatal shark attacks. Granted, the majority occurred in the northeast coastal region around Recife. But the state of São Paolo due west of them had the second-highest concentration. For the most part, the victims had been swimmers and surfers, probably attacked by the aggressive bull sharks known to frequent the shallower waters off the beaches and estuaries. But the warmer equatorial coastal waters were also home to the equally dangerous and much larger tiger shark, but not as likely—Remi hoped—here in the shallows off Snake Island.
As she and Sam circled about back-to-back, they saw several barracuda, but no sharks, and so they started at the far end of the ballast pile, working their way inland toward the rockslide, moving their metal detectors along the ocean floor. Neither expected to find anything—although there was always hope—and the silence of their equipment confirmed their suspicions. The wreck’s location was well documented and had undoubtedly been searched numerous times. Even so, as Remi and Sam well knew, the ocean floor was constantly shifting, revealing secrets one day, hiding them the next.
They examined the ballast stones. Sam moved a few, tossing them aside, each one raising a cloud of silt as it landed. The next one he picked up was different. Sharp, triangular, and yellow. He shined his light on the stones, and she saw more of the same. Broken pieces of yellow brick. Not your typical ballast. Maybe something that could be traced. She held open the dive bag, he dropped the piece in, and they continued their search.
After several minutes, he tapped her shoulder, pointing to his right, where a moray eel slithered out of its home in the rocks. For a moment, she thought he was teasing her about it being a seafaring pit viper, but then he shook his head and pointed back toward the dark enclosure where the sea snake had emerged in a cloud of silt and shined his light across the space. It was several seconds before the silt settled, but then she saw what caught his attention. Whether it was the way those large rocks landed or the eel that had enhanced the opening for a home, there was a shallow hollowing beneath it. Sam swam over and used his hand to fan the silt, revealing a barnacle-encrusted rib from the ship on the ocean floor that hadn’t been visible before.
That confirmed that the rockslide had probably occurred after the ship went down, possibly covering part of the wreck.
Which meant that there could very well be something beneath those rocks. He signaled for her to check. She inserted her metal detector into the space, hearing nothing near the entrance, but a definite ping as she moved it farther in. She handed the metal detector to him, then aimed her light into the space, waving her hand over the floor, lifting the silt.
Something dark showed in the light a moment before the sand settled over it. She scooped her hand into the sand and pulled it out. At first she thought it was a coin, heavy and crudely stamped. A small tab jutting from one side almost made it look like a pendant from a necklace. On closer examination, she realized it was a lead seal, often used to secure bolts of fabric carried on merchant ships.
Sam photographed the front and back. Remi dropped it into her bag, then looked at her dive watch to make sure they hadn’t lost track of time. But no, they had at least twenty more minutes, and so she and Sam continued their exploration. He pointed toward a shark swimming at the outer edge of their dive zone. The flat, edgy snout and stripes along its side told her it was a juvenile tiger shark. It looked about seven feet, and she nodded that she saw it, watching for a bit. The shark seemed uninterested in them, swimming calmly, apparently content from feeding elsewhere.
Sam swam over the top of the rockslide, getting a reading from his metal detector somewhere in the rock pile. It turned out to be a fishing weight. He changed his direction, swimming along the edge of the rocks.
Remi hadn’t finished exploring the shallow rock cave and decided she’d better take advantage before the eel returned. Her metal detector pinged on the left side, toward the back, and she reached in, brushed at the sand, but didn’t find anything. Something was in there, enough to send a strong signal.
Sam indicated that it was time to leave. Figuring it was probably some fishhook, she was about to give up, but then shined her light between the rocks on the left side, brushed at the sand, scooping it out of the cave mouth, excited when she felt something smooth beneath her gloved hand.
She waved Sam over, pointing down into the rocks.
Sam stopped her, pointing upward, clearly worried that if they weren’t careful, they might possibly trigger a small landslide on their own. She nodded her understanding. She’d be careful. If she could just move a few of those rocks, she could get to the artifact. She managed to pull out one rock, moving it to the side. And then another, which rolled down to the bottom of the pile. Several rocks slid out beneath it but didn’t seem to move anywhere else. When she turned on her light and aimed it into the area she’d been working, she saw it. A small cannonball. Disappointed, she reached down, picked it up.
She felt a slight punch on the back of her thigh and spun around—Sam was teasing her about her great find.
But it wasn’t Sam.
A larger tiger shark circled around, this one about eight feet. It dropped to the ocean floor, zigzagging, turning from graceful swimmer to aggressive predator as it shot toward her.
Remi fell back toward the rocks, kicking out with her fins, striking the shark on its snout with her metal detector. It turned, then darted toward her again. She held the cannonball, hoping to smash it against the shark’s face as it came at her. It hit the beast’s flesh, then fell from her grasp. She kicked back, up against the rocks, sending several down the pile. The rocks beneath her shifted, then tumbled down, one after another, turning the clear water opaque.
Remi, lost in a cloud of silt and sand, kicked away from the rocks as she slid down, worried when she couldn’t see the shark.
Heart pounding, she turned about, swinging her metal detector frantically. A dark form swam toward her. She gripped the metal detector, ready to ram it, when Sam emerged from the cloud of silt.
She reached out, grasped his hand, relief flooding through her as he pointed to the shark swimming off in search of easier prey.
They’d have to come back tomorrow and try again. She turned to survey the damage the rocks had done to what was left of the wreck site.
As the water cleared, her gaze lit on a dark circle about the size of a saucer. It was half buried in the silt and precariously positioned partway beneath the rocks and sand.
Sam saw it, too. He eyed the rocks, undoubtedly worrying that the slightest of movement could send them down farther, and he motioned for Remi to keep watch as he slowly worked the sand beneath the object until he was able to slip it out, the rock pile remaining intact.
He handed her the disk, and her thrill of excitement that it might be the missing cipher wheel died at the realization it was only a small tin plate. Sam photographed the front and back. She dropped it into the dive bag, then glanced at her watch. They were on the last few minutes of air. They needed to end the dive. He gave her a thumbs-up and they began their ascent.
As soon as they broke through to the surface, she pulled her mouthpiece out, turning to Sam. “Not bad, Fargo!”
Sam looked anything but excited.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Get behind me,” he said, then nodded toward the boat.
When she turned, she saw Nuno leaning over the side, a gun in his hand. And it was pointe
d at them.
Seventeen
Hand it over.” The young man’s dark eyes bored into Sam as he treaded water near the boat. “Now.”
“Nuno,” Sam said. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Yes. I do.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. Hand it to me.”
“And what?”
“And you die a quick death instead of a slow one.”
“Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.”
Nuno hesitated, his gaze moving from Sam to Remi, then back. “You do not understand. They have already killed Captain Delgado. They will kill my family if I do not do this.”
Remi, disregarding Sam’s advice to stay behind him, tried to swim closer.
Sam grabbed her arm, stopping her. “They’ll murder you, too,” he said to Nuno. “These men are cold-blooded killers.”
“It is my family. Please . . . forgive me.” He waved the revolver at them, his dark eyes shimmering as he recited something in Portuguese. A prayer, Sam thought.
Not a good sign.
“They watch even now,” Nuno said. “To see that I kill you. Please. I do not want my family to die.”
“Remi,” Sam said. “Hand me the bag and swim away.”
“I’m not leaving you, Sam.”
“Yes. You are. Once my wife is safe, I’ll give you the bag.”
Nuno shoved the gun forward. “No! I do not trust you. You!” he said, pointing the gun at Remi. “You give it to me. Not him!”
“Remi . . .” Sam held tight to her arm.
“Now!” Nuno cried.
Remi smiled at Sam. “He’s protecting his family.”
Which is what made him so dangerous. The last thing he needed right now was to stir up any more anger and he reluctantly let go of Remi.