Karen nodded. “Ryukyu University…?”
“It’s already cleared out.” The man waved them down the dock as more makeshift crafts drifted in. “Good luck.”
Jack led Karen and Mwahu toward the shore and the city. Mwahu’s two men remained with the sampan. Karen moved up next to Jack. “What if Miyuki is already gone?” she asked.
“She’ll be there. I can’t imagine her leaving her lab unless they dragged her out kicking and screaming.”
She smiled at that. Without thinking, Jack put his arm around her. Karen leaned in to him, tucking herself against his side.
No words were spoken. With Mwahu following, they moved on through the earthquake-ravaged city to where a bus still serviced the university area. It was a short ride to Ryukyu, and a quiet walk to the computer facility.
Once at the steps, Karen pointed toward the fifth floor. There were no lights on. Then they discovered that the door to the building was locked and the lobby dark. “Hello!” she called out, knocking.
A guard appeared around a corner, his flashlight’s beam washing across the three of them and settling on Karen.
“Professor Grace,” he said with clear relief. He climbed the stairs, passing Mwahu with a suspicious glance. With a jangle of keys, he moved to the door. “Professor Nakano refused to leave until you returned.”
“Is she in her lab?”
“No, she’s in my office. We’ve locked down all the upper floors.”
He opened the door and led them into the lobby, guiding them with his flashlight through the dark interior. From under a door ahead, light glowed. The guard knocked, then pushed the door open.
Miyuki was sitting at a desk, the thick briefcase open before her containing a portable computer. At the sight of them, she burst to her feet. “Thank God you’re okay!”
“We’re fine,” Karen said, hugging her reassuringly. “What about you?”
“Shaken up. Lots of fireworks.”
Karen noticed the portable computer. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I couldn’t risk losing all our work. So I diverted Gabriel into moving all our research off site and backed up everything onto this computer, just in case. I also revamped the portable unit to accommodate Gabriel.” Miyuki reached out and touched a key.
A familiar disembodied voice arose from the tiny speakers. “Good evening, Professor Nakano. I will continue troubleshooting our connections and interfaces to make certain all is in order.”
“Thank you, Gabriel.”
Behind Jack, the South Pacific islander pushed into the room, glancing with suspicion toward the computer. Miyuki noticed him and jerked back.
Karen put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll explain it all later.”
Keeping a watch on the tattooed stranger, Miyuki snapped the computer case closed. She unhooked the cables and wound them up. “We need to leave.”
“I heard about the evacuation. Do you have the crystal?”
Miyuki frowned at her, then tilted her head toward Mwahu.
“It really is okay,” she said. “He’s here to help us now.”
Miyuki hardly looked convinced. Jack moved beside her. “And if it helps, he’s alone and unarmed.”
She studied Jack for a breath, then seemed to sag. “The star’s in my luggage.” She nodded toward a wheeled suitcase behind the desk. “I also went to your flat and collected everything I could see that you might want…including Jack’s stuff.” She pointed to a second suitcase.
“We could’ve done it ourselves,” Karen said.
“Not if you want to catch a flight off this island. My cousin pilots a small private jet, a charter service. He’s agreed to get us out, but we have to leave—” She glanced at her watch. “—in thirty minutes.”
Jack frowned. Everything was moving too fast. “Where to? Tokyo?”
Miyuki bit her lip. “No. I thought it best if we leave the area entirely.”
“Then where?” Karen asked.
“I asked him to take us to Pohnpei Island.” Miyuki looked from one of them to the other. “I thought if we had to go somewhere, why not follow the one clue in the transcription? To the ruins at Nan Madol.”
Karen laughed. “Fantastic. I knew you were an adventurer at heart.”
“It’s not a bad plan,” Jack said. “We can search for additional clues without being in the middle of a war zone. But I’ll need to contact my ship first, let them know the change in plans.”
“Oh God, in all the craziness, I forgot. Just before I left Karen’s apartment, I received a call from your boat. A Charles Molder.”
“Charlie Mollier?”
“Right. He seemed anxious to speak to you.”
“When did he call?”
“About half an hour ago.”
“Is there a working phone around here?”
Miyuki nodded. “The line I was using for the computer should still be okay.” She hooked up a small desk phone and passed him the receiver.
He crouched over the desk and tapped in the Deep Fathom’s satellite number. A short burst of static briefly turned into Charlie’s voice.
“Jack? Is that you?”
“Yeah, what’s up? All hell’s breaking loose out here and I’m heading to Pohnpei.”
“In Micronesia?”
“Yeah, it’s too long a story. You still near Kwajalein?”
“Yeah, but—”
“It’s not that far from Pohnpei. Can you meet us there?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Good. I’ll keep you post—”
“Goddamn it, Jack!” Charlie burst in. “Listen to me.”
“What?” Jack realized he hadn’t asked Charlie why he’d called.
“We’ve got a bomb on board here.”
It took Jack a few moments to understand. “A bomb?”
“A goddamn bomb. As in big fucking explosion.”
“How…? Who…?”
“It was planted in the radio room.”
“Get rid of it!”
“Oh jeez, mon, why didn’t I think of that? I may not know much about explosive devices, but this baby looks booby-trapped and has an electronic receiver. I ain’t touching it.”
As his shock bled away, Jack suspected that David Spangler was the culprit behind the bomb. He remembered the little gift of Chinese electronics. “Spangler,” he hissed.
“What?”
“One of Spangler’s men must have planted it.” In the back of his mind he wondered if this act of sabotage was simply revenge on David’s part, or if David had suspected that he was on to something. “Listen, Charlie, I don’t know what you’re still doing on the Fathom, but get everyone off and alert the authorities.”
“Already working on that. We’ve got the launch outfitted. Everyone is loaded up, except Robert and I. You almost missed us.”
“Get your asses out of there! Why did you even bother to call?”
“We were hoping you could talk us through defusing it?”
“Are you insane?”
“Hell, it’s the Fathom we’re talking about, Jack.”
Jack gripped the receiver tightly. “Listen to me—”
“Just a sec…”
Jack heard Charlie call out, then heard another voice, faintly in the background. It was Robert. “The light…it’s blinking more rapidly.”
Oh, God! Jack yelled into the phone. “Charlie! Get out of there!”
The receiver suddenly squelched with static, standing his small hairs on end—then the phone went ominously dead. “Charlie!” He clicked the receiver again and again. A dial tone returned. Savagely, he tapped in the code for the Deep Fathom again. “Goddamn it!”
Karen stood behind him. “Jack? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer. He listened as the satellite connection fed through, but all he got as an answer was a screech of white noise. Then nothing again. He lowered the phone. He was numb all over, fearing the worst. He prayed it was just the connection frizzing out. But in his heart he knew he was wrong. He had heard the panic in Robert’s voice.
“Jack?” Karen placed a hand on his shoulder.
He slowly lowered the receiver into its cradle. “I…I think someone just blew up my ship.”
10:55 P.M., aboard the Maggie Chouest, Central Pacific
“It’s done,” Gregor Handel said. “I’m reading nothing from the Deep Fathom. Not even a mayday. She’s tits up, sir.”
“Perfect.” David lowered the headset from his ears. Earlier, Rolfe had succeeded in breaking the Fathom’s Globalstar code, allowing them to tap into the transmitted call. Using the headphones, David had eavesdropped on the final phone conversation between Jack and his ship. He placed the headset on the table. “What could be better?” he said. “Jack knew it was me. He heard his fucking ship explode. And he knows his crew was still on board.”
Rolfe spoke from his station. “I’ve got the port authority of Kwajalein. Do you want me to send a helicopter to confirm?”
“Wait about an hour. Ideally, we don’t want any survivors.”
Handel made a scoffing noise. “With that much C-4, almost a pound, there’s a kill zone of a good hundred yards. Nothing could’ve survived.”
David’s grin grew wider. “Well done, men.” He reached under the table and pulled out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. He raised the bottle. “To the perfect execution of this mission.”
“Execution is right,” Rolfe said with a smirk of satisfaction.
David stood and twisted the cork free of the bottle. It popped and shot across the cabin. As the champagne frothed over the neck, he lifted the bottle high. “And this is only the first step in bringing Kirkland down.”