“Apparently it’s rush hour,” Kurt replied. “Let’s hope they’re not here on our account.”
As the vehicles pulled up in front of the bluff, the quiet desert filled with commotion. The headlights blazed and the dust swirled and voices rose through it, not arguing but discussing something tersely in Arabic. Armed men appeared from the mouth of a cave and walked out to greet the newcomers.
On the bluff above, the helicopter was shutting down. Two men climbed out and made their way toward the side of the cliff, disappearing into what looked like a hole cut out of the rock. Kurt guessed it was some kind of tunnel or hidden entrance.
“Come on,” he said, “while the valet’s busy with all those cars.”
Kurt backed down the sand dune for a few paces and began to scamper along it. Joe followed, trying to catch up.
“What are we going to do?” Joe asked. “Walk right in and pretend we’re with the band?”
“No,” Kurt said. “We make our way around the back by that landing pad. I saw the passengers from that chopper disappear without climbing down. Somewhere on top there must be a way in. All we have to do is find it.”
CHAPTER 19
OUT OVER THE INDIAN OCEAN, MARCHETTI HAD PUT THE airship into a slight climb, brought it up to an altitude of a hundred feet and slowed it considerably. To make the design as sleek as it was required some compromises, one of which meant the craft didn’t have quite enough buoyancy to float without some forward motion providing lift.
As the engine cut out and they started drifting, the passengers grew nervous.
“We’re still sinking,” Gamay said. Seventy feet below the sea was calm and dark. If she was right and that darkness was related to the microbots swarming beneath the surface, she had no desire to land on it.
“Just a second,” Marchetti said.
He threw a lever, and compartments at either end of the airship sprang open like he’d popped the trunk and hood of his car at the same moment. The hissing of high-pressure gas followed, and two additional balloons sprang forth from the hatches. They floated upward, quickly filling to capacity with helium and snapping their tether lines taut. As they inflated, the sinking slowed and then stopped.
“I call them air anchors,” Marchetti said proudly. “We’ll deflate them once we get moving again. But in the meantime, they keep us from ending up in the drink.”
Gamay was relieved to hear that. Around her, Leilani and Paul both exhaled.
“I guess we should break out the sampling kit,” Paul said.
The airship stabilized at forty feet. By releasing small amounts of helium, Marchetti coaxed it down to five feet and then set its buoyancy at neutral.
“Close enough?” he asked.
Paul nodded as he climbed toward the aft platform with the telescoping sample collector.
“Be careful,” Leilani said, looking as if she didn’t want to go anywhere near the edge.
“I second that,” Gamay added. “It’s taken me years to train you. I’d hate to start over with a new husband.”
Paul chuckled. “And chances are, you’d never find one as handsome and debonair as me.”
Gamay smiled. She’d never find one she loved as much as him, that was for sure.
As Paul reached the edge, Gamay moved up beside him. Knowing what lay below, she wanted to strap him in like a lookout at the top of the crow’s nest, but there was no way to do it, and no real need.
They were in the gyre of the Indian Ocean, near its center, a spot sort of like the eye of a hurricane. Under normal conditions it was “the doldrums,” with no wind or waves to speak of.
The sea below looked oily and flat, the sun blazed down from behind them. It was remarkably calm. Only the slightest of breezes could even be felt, not enough to worry about as they drifted a few feet above the water.
Paul extended the pole and dipped the vial in the water, scooping up a sample. He pulled the vial free
and held it over the water, allowing the excess to drip off before reeling it in.
Wearing thick plastic gloves, Gamay took the sample and wiped the outside of the vial with a specially charged microfiber towel that Marchetti said would attract and trap any microbots that might be present.
She didn’t see any residue, but the little suckers were small. A hundred could fit on the head of a pin.