Water clapped against the side of the hull as the Dawn Maiden idled in the rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean. Barry threw the anchor over the side of the boat while Keith and Nick zipped up their wet suits, checked the regulators on their tanks, and strapped on their weight belts.
Keith held out a receiver to Nick. “When this blinks—”
“Yeah, I get it—you’ve located the ship.”
Keith lodged a glare at him. “Remember who you’re doing this for. If you can’t find the balls to steal a multi-million dollar statue for the money alone, then don’t forget what that money will buy.”
A punch of guilt hit Nick square in the gut. Keith knew how to deliver them better than anyone. He knew Matt desperately needed another plastic surgery to fix the warped, melted skin of his face where the fireworks had exploded, and he knew Nick would do anything to make it happen, because primarily, this operation had begun for just that reason. Recovering artifacts was Nick’s idea. He was the one who had discovered the El Oro Señora , ‘The Gold Lady’, and the one funding the explorations with equipment he had from years in the oceanography business. Keith was only the guts of the deal, the means to exchange the statue and other treasures for cold cash. Keith needed him more than Nick needed Keith, but he would never see it that way.
“I’m well aware of what money can buy and also what it can’t.” Like morals, Nick thought. He moved from the helm so Barry could take over.
“Both of you just focus on the job,” Barry said. “If another body washes ashore, we’ll be done for.” He cracked open a can of Rolling Rock.
“Same goes for you,” Keith said, gesturing to his beer. “If another body washes ashore, it won’t be because of my fucking noodle brain.”
“If another body washes ashore, it won’t be because of either,” Nick said.
Keith eyed him for a moment, perplexed.
Barry smacked him lightly across the arm. “The curse.”
“Oh, right,” Keith said with a sharp tone of sarcasm. “The dreaded curse.”
“There may be some weight to the curse,” Nick said.
“And I might be Gandhi incarnate.” Keith and Barry laughed him off.
But Nick knew a trail of death followed that statue. He had done the research on the 16 th century El Oro Señora and how it came into possession of the statue. Descendants in the Spanish empire made a statue of the Goddess Rán for the wife of Philip IV of Spain, Elisabeth, but she died, along with many of her children. Philip’s second wife, Marianna, also lost most of her children, and the decline of Spain fell on Philip as he lost successive battles. The statue disappeared on a voyage with Jesuit missionaries—a voyage believed to have been on one of the Manila Galleon fleets—and hadn’t been seen since. Nick couldn’t help but question that even if they did find it, how many more people would die? Maybe some things should stay buried.
“C’mon, let’s do this,” Keith said with renewed seriousness. Determination shimmered in his eyes like dark waves beneath moonlight.
“Now or never,” Nick replied, mirroring his disposition. He sat down along the bench of the boat at the stern and stuffed a netted bag into his belt that he would use to carry artifacts to the surface.
Keith took a seat next to him. His flippers squeaked as he pulled them over his heels. “Take what you can. We can always make another trip tonight if we need to.”
“Whatever it takes,” Nick said before tugging his mask over his face. His heart pounded faster than normal. He worked to block out the voices ranting in his head, those of Keith, Matt, and the last words spoken by Jim: See you on the other side . He hadn’t meant in death—he used the phrase to refer to the world beneath water. In the end, it was essentially just that.
Keith secured his mask and scooted back to the edge of the bench. Both men gave a “thumbs-up” to Barry and fell over backwards.
Once in the
Keith held out a receiver to Nick. “When this blinks—”
“Yeah, I get it—you’ve located the ship.”
Keith lodged a glare at him. “Remember who you’re doing this for. If you can’t find the balls to steal a multi-million dollar statue for the money alone, then don’t forget what that money will buy.”
A punch of guilt hit Nick square in the gut. Keith knew how to deliver them better than anyone. He knew Matt desperately needed another plastic surgery to fix the warped, melted skin of his face where the fireworks had exploded, and he knew Nick would do anything to make it happen, because primarily, this operation had begun for just that reason. Recovering artifacts was Nick’s idea. He was the one who had discovered the El Oro Señora , ‘The Gold Lady’, and the one funding the explorations with equipment he had from years in the oceanography business. Keith was only the guts of the deal, the means to exchange the statue and other treasures for cold cash. Keith needed him more than Nick needed Keith, but he would never see it that way.
“I’m well aware of what money can buy and also what it can’t.” Like morals, Nick thought. He moved from the helm so Barry could take over.
“Both of you just focus on the job,” Barry said. “If another body washes ashore, we’ll be done for.” He cracked open a can of Rolling Rock.
“Same goes for you,” Keith said, gesturing to his beer. “If another body washes ashore, it won’t be because of my fucking noodle brain.”
“If another body washes ashore, it won’t be because of either,” Nick said.
Keith eyed him for a moment, perplexed.
Barry smacked him lightly across the arm. “The curse.”
“Oh, right,” Keith said with a sharp tone of sarcasm. “The dreaded curse.”
“There may be some weight to the curse,” Nick said.
“And I might be Gandhi incarnate.” Keith and Barry laughed him off.
But Nick knew a trail of death followed that statue. He had done the research on the 16 th century El Oro Señora and how it came into possession of the statue. Descendants in the Spanish empire made a statue of the Goddess Rán for the wife of Philip IV of Spain, Elisabeth, but she died, along with many of her children. Philip’s second wife, Marianna, also lost most of her children, and the decline of Spain fell on Philip as he lost successive battles. The statue disappeared on a voyage with Jesuit missionaries—a voyage believed to have been on one of the Manila Galleon fleets—and hadn’t been seen since. Nick couldn’t help but question that even if they did find it, how many more people would die? Maybe some things should stay buried.
“C’mon, let’s do this,” Keith said with renewed seriousness. Determination shimmered in his eyes like dark waves beneath moonlight.
“Now or never,” Nick replied, mirroring his disposition. He sat down along the bench of the boat at the stern and stuffed a netted bag into his belt that he would use to carry artifacts to the surface.
Keith took a seat next to him. His flippers squeaked as he pulled them over his heels. “Take what you can. We can always make another trip tonight if we need to.”
“Whatever it takes,” Nick said before tugging his mask over his face. His heart pounded faster than normal. He worked to block out the voices ranting in his head, those of Keith, Matt, and the last words spoken by Jim: See you on the other side . He hadn’t meant in death—he used the phrase to refer to the world beneath water. In the end, it was essentially just that.
Keith secured his mask and scooted back to the edge of the bench. Both men gave a “thumbs-up” to Barry and fell over backwards.
Once in the
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