Depth Charge by Jason Heaton (carter reed .txt) 📗

“British engineering at its finest, eh?” Tusker laughed. Sam smiled back behind her aviators.

She opened the tailgate. In the back was a faded mesh duffel full of diving gear. He walked over to give her a hand. “Thathi told me about Ian. That’s rough. We’ve had a handful of guys get slightly bent on the Hermes, but it sounds like he’s got it bad.” She shouldered the duffel and handed a pair of fins to Tusker.

“We dove a similar profile, but he really got hit hard,” Tusker said. He mentally debated how to tell her he was going to dive the Vampire.

“Well, let’s be careful today, yeah?” Sam said. She had on a pair of cutoff denim jeans and a faded t-shirt from the University of New South Wales. He could see the tied strap of a bikini top poking out of the neckline.

They walked through the workshop, where Tusker picked up his gear, then down the sandy path through the screw pine to the beach where the skiff was pulled up. There, they heaped the gear into the boat and turned back. Tusker was already sweating profusely. Stay hydrated, he told himself, remembering that one of the contributing factors of decompression sickness is dehydration.

“I assume we’re diving air at the bottom and 50 percent nitrox for deco?” Sam asked as they walked back to the workshop.

“I’m thinking of breathing something a little more… exotic,” Tusker said.

“Why?” Sam shot back. “This wreck is what, 55, 60 meters?”

“I might want to explore something a little deeper and a helium blend might be a nice cushion,” Tusker said casually. He was going to have to tell her. She stopped walking and put her hands on her hips.

“Look, man, I’m up for anything, but you have to give me a little more detail. None of this cowboy diving shit.” Her accent got more clipped and the Australian came through.

Tusker lowered his voice and glanced around for Sebastian. He caught sight of him talking to the Russians in the dining area. “Mind if we go back to my room?”

“Well, you don’t waste time, do you?” she smirked. “I said I was up for anything, but we only just met.”

Tusker laughed. “I just want to show you something. Then you can decide what you’re up for.”

They walked back to Room 4 and slipped in, hoping Sebastian wouldn’t see them. Tusker felt like a guilty teenager. The room was still dark and cool and he didn’t switch on the light. He pulled out Upali’s laptop and Sam sat down next to him on the bed and leaned in close to the screen. Her hair brushed his arm. She smelled of sandalwood.

Tusker showed her the video clips from the Vampire, from the very beginning right up to the yellow diving helmet. She drew in her breath when it came onto the screen, then sat back and looked at him.

“See, this is why I need to get down there,” he said. “Something is not right here.”

The last clip was paused showing the yellow helmet. Sam pointed at the corner of the screen, where the ROV’s digital statistics were overlaid. “There’s a reason whoever was down there had a diving helmet. 100 meters is saturation diving territory.”

“Well, it looks like that didn’t go so well for them, doesn’t it?” He tapped the helmet on the screen. “I know right where to look. If I can just get a few more clips on a GoPro, I’ll have definitive proof to take to the police, or the navy. I’m thinking ten minutes on the bottom, no more.”

Sam leaned back on the bed, resting on her elbows. “What’s the deco time for a dive that deep for that long?”

“Just shy of three hours. We can take sling bottles of nitrox for deco and hang a couple of 100 percent O2 tanks from the skiff at ten feet. This all assumes Roland is up for it.” He suddenly realized he’d included her in this plan. “That is, only if you’re comfortable with it. You could stay shallower and be my safety diver…”

“I’m game,” she interrupted. “I’ve been to 75 meters on a wreck in Aussie. What is that in old currency… 230 feet? We dove trimix for that. If we stick to a plan and keep an eye on each other, we can do this.”

Tusker had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss her hard on the mouth. Something about the impending risk of the dive and her willingness to go along with it sent a palpable charge fizzing through the dark room. Did she sense it too? Sam sat up quickly and got to her feet. “Alright, let’s see what Thathi’s got for helium in the shop. He usually keeps some to blend for the rebreather divers.”

“Oh, there’s one more thing,” Tusker said before she got to the door. “Your father said he won’t allow this and doesn’t want you to go. I told him we’re sticking to the Taprobane.”

She grinned mischievously. “This feels like school days. I used to meet this guy…” She paused. “Oh, never mind. I won’t tell him if you don’t.” She walked out and left the door open.

Two hours later, they were motoring out of the lagoon. The skiff was badly overloaded with tanks and Roland had to carefully maneuver it through the shallows. The midday heat was already bringing the steady offshore breeze, and outside the shelter of the lagoon, swells were kicking up, sending spray into the boat.

“It’s going to be harder to find that buoy in these waves,” Roland shouted above the noise of the under-matched outboard.

Tusker looked at Sam, then back to Roland. “We’re going somewhere different today, if you don’t mind,” he shouted. “It’s only a bit further north. I’ve got the GPS coordinates. I’ll tell you when we’re close.”

Roland frowned but didn’t reply. Tusker pulled out a small handheld GPS unit. It was an old Garmin he’d used since grad