“Best we can say for sure is that it was centered in the underwater installation,” Austin said.
He gave Austin a blank look.
“We’ll explain later.” Austin surveyed the yellowed cliffs. “The explosion shook the slide loose.”
Contos furrowed his brow. “Hey,” he said as a thought struck him. “What did you do with the Brogan?”
Austin and Zavala looked at each other like guilty children who had broken the cookie jar. Austin was beginning to wonder if he were a Jonah, the name mariners give a seaman who attracts calamity. This was the second craft he had lost in as many days.
“We lost her,” Austin said. “Sorry. It couldn’t be helped. Juan and Pedro here hauled us out of the water.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Contos said to the smiling fishermen. “Not much we can do about it now. NUMA will simply have to build me a new one.”
Austin swept his eyes over the tilted hull of the Sea Robin. “Your vessel has quite a list. Are you in any danger of sinking?”
“I think we’ll be okay. No leaks detected so far. We’ll see what happens once we get under way. Most of the damage is to the deck and superstructure. The cranes are useless, as you can see. The forklift can move the big stuff. We haven’t called for help because we don’t want to have to explain what we’re doing in Mexican waters.”
“Do we have time to check out the cove?”
Contos looked over his shoulder at the rubble still to be removed. “Be my guest. We’ll get under way as soon as we’re able.”
Zavala asked the fishermen to take them back to the inlet. The request started an animated argument between the brothers. Pedro had had enough of the cursed place with its strange explosions and stranger mermen popping out of the sea. He clearly wanted to go home, but his brother prevailed.
The boat made its way around the headland. As they entered the cove they could see smoke coming from the tortilla factory. Like the cliff above the Sea Robin, the sheer face behind the factory was layered yellow where the outer rock cover had been dislodged by the explosion. The rock slide had taken with it all traces of the monorail elevator.
The fishing boat cut a path through the debris and dead fish that covered the surface of the inlet. Using a bucket, Austin and Zavala scooped pieces of melted plastic and charred paper from the water. Remembering how a tiny piece of metal had helped track down the source of the TWA jet explosion over Lockerbee, Scotland, Austin figured even the tiniest fragment might be of use.
The work was painstaking, but their persistence paid off. Zavala snagged a metal cylinder bobbing in the water. It was about two feet long and six inches in diameter. Austin found a serial number and the name of its manufacturer etched into the metal.
Joe called his attention to movement at the top of the cliffs. Human specks could be seen lining the bluff. Austin didn’t feel like answering questions for the local authorities. The fishermen were happy to head back to the ship. The deck was practically clear as they pulled up next to the Sea Robin. The ship was close to its normal pitch. Austin borrowed some money from Contos and tried to pay the fishermen for their services, but the brothers refused the cash. Juan explained through Zavala that showing them the hole in the fence was a service for which he would accept payment, but saving men from the sea was a moral duty. Austin thought about it, then persuaded the fishermen to accept a gift of friendship. After discussing it with Contos, they presented the happy fishermen with an outboard motor soon to be retired from service but in excellent shape.
The engines were started, and the ship slowly headed for open water. No leaks were detected. Contos set a course north. They left just in time. As they cruised along, a dark green helicopter appeared out of nowhere, circled the inlet several times, then dashed off to the north as quickly as it had come. They mingled with the boat traffic around Ensenada, where they spotted a Mexican coast guard boat steaming at full speed in the opposite direction. With the Sea Robin safely on its way, the NUMA men hit the showers and got into dry clothes. They rejoined Contos on the bridge. He had a fresh pot of coffee waiting.
“Okay, gentlemen,” he said, pouring two hot steaming mugs. “As skipper of this vessel, which you commandeered for what turned out to be a commando mission, I’d appreciate it if you would fill me in.”
Austin took a sip of the high-octane brew and decided he had never tasted anything more delicious.
“The explosion was a surprise to us,” he said. “Our basic mission was pretty simple. We wanted to check out the source of the heat that may have killed those whales. We think we found it.” He described the underwater structure as they first saw it, filling Contos in on the approach, the fake hazard buoys, the fishing net, and the high water temperature. Then he turned the narrative over to Joe.
Putting himself back underwater in the moments before the explosion, Zavala curled his hands as if he were clutching an invisible steering wheel.
“Everything’s fine. We figure the high temperature readings are coming from the installation. You set off for a closer look, and I put the sub on the bottom to wait. The temps start to go off the charts, and I suggest you get back to the Brogan.”
Austin reached into his memory. “I had just looked through a skylight on the top of the structure when I got your call. There were people and machinery inside. I headed back to the sub. Then boom!”
“You said the structure was full of piping,” Zavala said. “Some of it would have been high-pressure conduits, hence the potential for explosion.”
“I don’t know. There could have been a flaw in the piping, but this was a sophisticated operation. They would have had layers of safety valves and shutoffs to prevent a pressure buildup. From what I could see there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nobody was rushing around in a panic. No indication of anything wrong.”
“What about the water temperature buildup?”
“Good question, although the satellite photos indicate this isn’t the first time there has been a high-temperature water discharge into the cove, so it probably didn’t have a direct link to the explosion.” Austin had brought a plastic bag with him. He opened it and produced the metal cylinder. “We found this floating in the cove. Any idea what it is?”
Contos examined the object and shook his head. “I’ll try to track down the manufacturer when we get back to Washington.”
“Guess your instincts were right, Kurt. Remember, back at Hussong’s, when you said you had the feeling a big bad-assed something was watching us.”
Austin’s coral eyes hardened. “If you’ll remember, I made another astute observation.”