Read Online Deep Fathom by James Rollins - Free Book Online Page B

toward the open window nearby. Behind him, Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A Major wafted gently from aSony CD player. This was all he wanted: the open sea and a handsome ship to travel her.
    But that was not to be. Not today.
    Jack glanced at the reading from the Northstar 800 GPS. At their current cruising speed they should arrive at their destination in another three hours.
    Exhaling out a stream of smoke, he stared out the windows across the upper deck of his salvage ship. He understood why his ship had been summoned to aid the search for the wreckage of Air Force One. The Fathom was the closest salvager with a deep-sea submersible on hand, and they were contractually obligated to lend the sub’s services during an emergency.
    Still, though he knew his duty, he did not have to like it. He spit out his cigar and ground its fiery end into the ash tray. This was his ship.
    Twelve years ago, using money from his settlement against General Dynamics after the shuttle accident, Jack had purchased the Deep Fathom from a shipyard auction house. The eighty-foot Fathom had originally been built as a research ship for the Woods Hole Institute back in 1973. In addition to the purchase price, he had been forced to take out a large loan to convert the aged research vessel into a modern salvage ship: adding a hydraulic cargo crane, upgrading to a five-ton capacity A-frame, and overhauling the Caterpillar marine diesel engine. He had also updated the navigation equipment and outfitted it so the Fathom could operate without outside assistance for weeks at a time. He added Naiad stabilizers, a Bauer diving compressor, and Village Marine water makers.
    It had cost him his entire savings, but eventually the Fathom had become his home, his world. Over the years, he had gathered a team of scientists and fellow treasure hunters to his side. They became his new family.
    Now, after twelve years, he was being called back to the world he had left behind.
    The door to the pilothouse squeaked open behind him and a fresh cross-breeze blew in. “Jack, what are you stilldoing here?” It was Lisa. The doctor from UCLA scowled at him as she entered. In shorts and a bikini top, she did not look the part of an experienced medical researcher. Her limbs were deeply tanned, and her long blond hair had been bleached white by the months under the sun. She looked like she belonged on a beach, hanging on the arm of a muscled surfer. But Jack knew better. There was no sharper doctor on the high seas.
    Lisa held open the door to let in another member of the crew. A lanky German shepherd loped inside the cabin and crossed to Jack’s side for a scratch behind the ear. The dog had been born aboard the Fathom , from a litter whelped during a storm in the South China Sea. Underweight and sickly, the pup had been abandoned by the bitch, and Jack took him in, nursing the pup back to health. That had been almost nine years ago.
    â€œElvis here was worried about you,” Lisa said. She sidled to the chair next to him, shoving Jack’s feet off.
    Jack patted the large dog’s side and pointed to the cedar pillow in the corner. “Bed,” he ordered. The old dog crossed and collapsed into the thick pillow with a long sigh.
    â€œSpeaking of bed,” Lisa said, “I thought you were supposed to be relieved at sunrise. Shouldn’t you be trying to catch a nap?”
    â€œCouldn’t sleep. Thought I might as well be useful.”
    Lisa pushed away the ashtray to make room for the mug she brought in with her. She glanced at the navigation array. After five years on and off the Fathom , she had become a fairly skilled pilot herself. “Looks like we’ll be at the rendezvous site in less than three hours.” She faced Jack. “Maybe you should try to get some sleep. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”
    â€œI’ve still got to—”
    â€œGet some sleep,” she finished with a frown. She shoved her mug