20 |

Off the coast of Pico Island, Azores

 

Hugh Reading had opted for the cheaper dive suits—the ones without the built-in communications gear. They were just too damned expensive, and he wasn’t raking in the dough like his friends, though he supposed neither were they. They just had a monster nest egg sitting there thanks to Laura’s late brother, and her wise handling of the money after she inherited it. When the dive shop had quoted him the prices, it had made him once again appreciate how much his friends did for him. They had flown him and his son down here, they had put them up in the hotel, and they were paying for all their expenses while here. He was determined to at least work in a dinner on him, just to make himself feel better, but as he had long realized, a vacation to them was a coffee to him, and he wouldn’t hesitate to buy them a coffee.

To be rich!

One of the things he liked about his two friends was that they didn’t flaunt it. There were no Rolexes or thousand dollar sunglasses. These weren’t the Kardashians of the archaeology world, even though they could be. Reading suddenly had a mental image of Acton bent over provocatively with an erupting bottle of champagne, filling a glass perched ever so delicately on his oiled ass. He laughed, nearly spitting out his regulator.

Talk about breaking the Internet.

His son waved at him, about ten feet below, then pointed. He looked and sucked in a quick breath. It was a set of columns, thrusting out of the ocean floor, on an angle that matched the side of the volcanic island that extended out of sight to his right. He kicked hard toward the ruins, thankful for his parents having introduced him to scuba diving during their family trips to Estartit in Spain. He had always been comfortable in the water—after all, he was a Brit—but had also never feared going deep, and a quick glance at his depth gauge told him they were now 180 feet below the surface.

As he entered the ruins, it was clear this was what his friends had been excited about, and he could understand why they might lose track of time. He made as quick a circuit as he could around the periphery, not spotting them, but instead finding several pieces of very modern gear, some of which appeared to be cameras. Someone had been here, and he was confident it was his friends, though where they were now, he had no clue. The fact their equipment seemed intact and functional, suggested this could simply be a matter of bad timing. They might have passed each other on the road here, and could be back at the hotel, waiting for them.

He motioned toward his son then pointed up, beginning the slow ascent. As his mind raced with the possibilities, he inevitably thought of worst-case scenarios, and came to the decision that if he didn’t have a message waiting for him on his phone when they reached the surface, he’d ask the dive shops if they had seen them. They would have rented equipment from somewhere, and it was likely from one of the several lining the beach, tourism in the Azores apparently a booming industry.

They surfaced, and Spencer was first in their small boat, hauling Reading in after him. Reading removed his headgear and sucked in several lungsful of fresh sea air.

“That was sooo cool!”

Reading regarded his son. “Now, mum’s the word, right? Nobody can know what we saw.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idget.”

“You sound like one when you say it like that.”

Spencer gave him a look. “Haha.” He started up the engine, pointing them toward the shore. “So, do you think that was their equipment?”

Reading nodded. “Probably. I doubt anybody else would have had the time to piggyback on their discovery.”

Spencer pointed to a large boat far to their right. “They look well-equipped.”

Reading glanced over his shoulder to see a large vessel with a boom lifting a submersible from the water, and suddenly felt inexplicably uneasy. “They’re a pretty good distance away from the ruins. I should think that if they had been exploring them, they would have been directly over them like we were.”

Spencer shrugged. “We had GPS coordinates to work from, maybe they didn’t.”

“Well, if they are exploring it, I’m sure Jim and Laura know about it.”

Spencer brought them up to the dock and Reading stepped from the boat, tying them off. Spencer handed their gear up to one of the dive shop employees manning the dock, then they both headed for the rental shop.

“Back so soon?” asked the owner, a man they had learned earlier was named Baltasar.

“Not much time, unfortunately. Listen, we had two friends that should have been diving here yesterday and earlier today. Jim Acton and Laura Palmer. He’s mid-forties—”

“Yeah, I know them. They rented a bunch of equipment from us yesterday.” He wagged a finger at Reading. “I don’t like to speak ill of people, but we had to go out and retrieve their boat. They just abandoned it out there when they left.”

Reading tensed as his eyebrows rose. “Wait, you saw them leave?”

“Yeah, they came back on another boat with two others, then left.”

“When was this?”

Baltasar shrugged. “A few hours ago, I guess.”

“Any idea where they went?”

“No idea, just that they went that way.” Baltasar pointed down the road, leading toward Sao Roque and the hotel.

“Did you find anything in their boat?”

Baltasar shook his head. “No. I hope they left their valuables in the car, because the boat looked like it was picked clean when we found it.”

Reading frowned. “Picked clean?”

“Well, there was nothing on board except some of our tanks. None of their personal stuff.”

“And they took their car?”

“Yes.”

Reading frowned, then handed him a card. “If you think of anything else, call me. My cell number is on the back.”

The man took the card, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Interpol! Are they in some kind of trouble?”

Reading frowned. “I hope not.”