“All right, Logan, we’re coming,” Ron said.
The men followed Logan to the deck room that housed the scientific equipment. Ajax padded close behind. The room reeked of electronics and new plastic from the meteorological and oceanographic equipment that crowded the space. Banks of computerized equipment lined the room—from bathymetric equipment like shallow-and deepwater echo sounders to multiple computer stations used to collate the data. The men stepped to the swath bathymetric sonar system. The system was capable of hydrographic charting and seafloor acoustic backscatter imaging in water depths of 50 to 20,000 meters. It was Bane’s own design, and he grew fonder of the device on every mission. There was something sexy about a machine that performed perfectly and had great graphics.
“Look here.” Logan jabbed a finger at the image on the computer screen. “There’s something under where we found the plane. Could be a rock formation, but it’s too symmetrical. I think it’s a sunken ship.”
Bane sat at the computer and transferred the data so it showed up as an oblique view of colored bathymetry, a 3-D image that allowed him to assess the area, though not with the detail of the equipment he’d been testing. “Looks promising,” he said.
Reeking of peanuts, Ron leaned over his shoulder and pointed. “That looks like it could be a fallen mast.”
In the old days, the only way to find a sunken ship was to stumble onto it in a dive, which was about as likely as a New Yorker stumbling across a mermaid. Now sophisticated sonar could pinpoint likely spots in living color. The truth of the matter still required visual confirmation, and Bane’s adrenaline surged at the thought. “It might be just a rock formation, but there’s only one way to find out. We’ll have to go down and take a look.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got another couple of hours of daylight. Let’s get suited up.”
“You were down twice today, bailed from a plane crash, and lost a friend,” Ron observed. “We’ve only got a little daylight left. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
Bane glanced at his watch. Nearly five. Was it only early this morning he’d arrived on Moloka’i? The day’s events had piled onto each other. “I’m fine.” Ron’s reminder brought the aches and pains in his back and legs into focus. Bane felt like an old man, but he was intrigued by what he saw on the screen. And his mind kept going back to Candace’s fearful confessions about the future. He owed it to Tony to do what he could for his widow.
“I’ll go with you.” Ron followed him to the deck, and they both pulled on wet suits. Ajax nosed Bane’s gear and barked. “You want to go, boy?” The dog barked again, and Bane opened his bag and grabbed the dog’s snuba gear: a specially made harness with hose and enclosed bubble around his head.
Ron’s mouth gaped. “You’re kidding me, right? He doesn’t really dive.”
“He loves it. He can go down around twelve feet or so.” Bane finished fastening Ajax’s vest. “Watch.” The dog took a flying leap off the end of the boat and into the water. He disappeared from view moments later.
“And I thought I’d seen everything.” Ron shook his head. A boatswain helped them into their air tanks, and they jumped into the water.
Bane was too tired to enjoy the colorful show this time. He finned his way down, using a portable GPS device to pinpoint the exact location of the image on his equipment. Ajax joined him, paddling his big paws and looking around with a doggy smile. Bane’s fatigue lifted just watching the dog, and he refocused on the job at hand. Bane paused when he realized the site was the same one he and Leia had explored while looking for Tony’s weight belt. Coral often grew on a shipwreck, creating a seemingly natural reef that was hard to detect as artificial. This particular bed spread out over the area, stopping at a blue hole that dropped off into the abyss.