Deep Fathom by James Rollins Page B

engage as he descended, but he never saw it.
    Darkness finally claimed him.
    Â 
    Jack fell all the way back to Earth, back to his own bed aboard the Deep Fathom . With a jolt, his eyelids popped open. Too bright. It took him a second to recall where he was. He struggled to sit up, his robe soaked with sweat. He shivered and shrugged out of the garment. Half naked, he stood on wobbly feet.
    He shuddered again and crossed to the wall safe. He thumbed the combination and pulled open the door. Amid the ship’s papers and a few thousand dollars in American currency lay a crumpled glove. Jack pulled it out. The fingers and edges were scorched, but he had not been able to part with it. No matter how much he wanted to forget the past. He couldn’t.
    â€œI’m sorry, Jennifer,” he whispered, pressing it to his lips. When the rescue crew had found Jack’s unconscious body amid the billowing parachutes, they had found this glove still clutched in his hand. He had been the only survivor. Even now he could still feel Jennifer’s frightened and panicked grip on his hand.
    Behind him a rapid knocking shook his cabin door.
    Jack returned the glove slowly to the safe, his eyes closed against the tears. “What?” he growled irritably.
    â€œJust thought you should know, Jack. We’re about to reach the rendezvous point.”
    He recognized the marine biologist’s voice and glanced to his clock. Three hours had passed. “All right, Robert. I’ll be up in a moment.”
    Crossing to his room’s head, Jack splashed cold water on his face. As he straightened, he stared up at his reflection. Water dripped off his hard features and strong chin. His black hair, though still dark, was now dusted with gray at the temples. He wore it long, to his shoulders. No longer the military crew cut. He shoved the damp hair behind his ears and toweled off his sun-bronzed skin. He turned away, unable to face his own reflection.
    Tuned to his ship, Jack recognized the slight change in the engines’ constant rumble. They were slowing down. Hurrying, he slipped into a loose shirt, left it unbuttoned, and crossed barefoot to the door. As he exited he found Robert Bonaczek still waiting for him.
    The marine biologist seemed nervous, shifting his feet, unable to meet Jack’s eyes. Robert Bonaczek was only twenty years old, the youngest on the crew, but also the most serious and dour. He seldom smiled. He had graduated witha master’s degree in marine sciences at the tender age of eighteen and had been on board the last two years, working toward his doctorate. Lisa called him “an old soul trapped in a young body.” This assessment was compounded by the fact that the man’s thin blond hair was already balding.
    â€œWhat is it, Robert?”
    The biologist shook his head. “You need to see it for yourself.” The young man turned and headed for the door to the open deck.
    Jack followed, shoving through the door after the biologist.
    The sun, now lower in the sky, blinded Jack. He blinked against the glare and raised a hand to shield his eyes. The other members of the team were all on deck, except for the geologist, Charlie Mollier. Jack spotted his large frame behind the windows of the pilothouse. Charlie gave him a short wave.
    Jack joined the others at the rail; Robert, on one side, Lisa on his other. “How’d you sleep?” the doctor asked.
    â€œYou slipped me something, didn’t you?”
    She shrugged. “You needed sleep.”
    He thought to reprimand her. What right did she have to treat him like a child? He was the goddamn captain of this boat. But instead his eyes were drawn forward.
    Ahead, the normally empty stretch of ocean was crowded with ships: fishing trawlers, cargo ships, military cutters. Flags from various countries flapped above the ships. Overhead, a pair of Jayhawk helicopters buzzed by. Jack followed their path, guessing they had been sent