In Too Deep (20 page)

J
osh stepped delicately through Gracia’s basement as if discovering an exciting, unexpected, and ultimately terrifying new world. He spun as he moved, taking it all in. What little light there was came from a string of butterfly-shaped LEDs tucked up against the ceiling on the far wall. He stopped dead in his tracks—I thought he was going to fall to his knees in prayer—when he saw the size of her HD screen.

“What is this place?” he whispered.

“This,” Gracia said, flipping the light switch, “is the Lion’s Den.”

I laughed. “You touch anything, and mama lion gives you a mauling.”

Gracia sat on the couch and plugged a cable into the back of her laptop. She tapped out a few keystrokes, and the huge plasma screen came to life. On it was a picture of a kitten in full Princess Leia costume—robe and side buns—pointing a laser gun at the camera.

“That’s quite the desktop background,” Josh said. “Do you think I could—”

“Don’t even think about it.” Gracia was hammering away on the keyboard, but her voice was icy cold. “If you mention a single word of this place to anybody at school, I
will
come after you. We’re talking blog posts. Photoshopped pictures. Total cyber-destruction. It will get nasty for you and your very public family, and it
will get nasty in a hurry.”

Josh looked around uncertainly. “I was just going to ask where the bathroom was.”

“Oh. Through that door.” She gestured with her head while her fingers danced across the keys. An application window opened over Leia kitty, a blue screen with some kind of computer code scrolling down the screen.

When the bathroom door closed behind him, I collapsed next to Gracia and said, “The Lion’s Den? Where did that come from?”

“Every superhero’s headquarters has an awesome name. Zorro has the Lair of the Fox. Superman has the Fortress of Solitude. Even Batman has the Batcave—”

“We’re not superheroes.”

“Aim high, Annie.”

“That’s the Air Force.”

“Okay, here goes.” An American Express online-account page covered half the screen. Gracia scrolled down from the top. “I’m showing purchases on Molokai, Cozumel—”

“He’s been around the whole time,” I said. “I bet he’s the mastermind. I wonder what his lair is called.”

“Whatever it’s called, I don’t think he’s going to be hanging out there much. Not for a while, at least. Look at these purchases only today: dive shop, salvage shop, gas station, adult video store—”

“Really?”

“Just kidding,” she said. “But the other stuff is true. He’s spent a whole lot of money in a very short period of time.”

My stomach disappeared on me, and I started to get a little light-headed as I realized what it all meant. “He’s going after it.”

“Oh, new activity. Just now. A charge from Dana Point Marina LLC. Let’s see what it’s—”

“A boat. He rented a boat.”

“Yep,” Gracia said. She navigated from the account to the specific receipt and then opened another window showing a picture of the boat in question. “A big one, too. Fifty-nine feet.
Aquatic Diamond
—who names these things?”

“We don’t have much time. Whatever they found in the cavern pointed them back here. I bet they’re going out there tomorrow.”

Gracia pointed to the screen. “Uh-oh.”

I followed her gaze. “Uh-oh.”

The sound of water rushing through the pipes, and then Josh came out. “Wha-oh?”

“Our guy here isn’t a registered sex offender,” Gracia said. On-screen was a three-foot mug shot of a scowling Anthony Snow. “But he is a convicted felon. Spent three years in prison for aggravated assault, attempted robbery, wow. You name it, he’s been accused of it. Except for the touchy-touchy.”

“We have to go up against that guy?” Josh said.

“My dad said treasure hunting was nasty business,” I said. “No more sword fights—pirates have guns.”

“What did Alvarez get himself into?”

“He’s not our problem anymore,” Gracia said. “Not getting killed by that dude is our problem.”

I went closer to the TV and pointed to the credit-card-account window. “Can you keep that active? We need to know what they’re going to do as soon as they decide to do it.”

“No problem. I can create a permanent link to the server, using an elegant little worm that—” Gracia looked at me and Josh and rolled her eyes. “Why don’t I just do a lot of cool stuff that you won’t understand?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“So, great,” Josh said. “We have his credit-card activity. But we can’t just sit back and watch them go after the Jaguar.”

“I have an idea, but I don’t know if you’re going to like it.” I smiled apologetically at Gracia. “I think it’s time we broke in the Lion’s Den.”

Mimi was first to arrive. “This better be important,” she said.

“Thanks for coming,” I said, motioning to the couch. “I’ll explain everything in just a sec.”

“FYI, Josh,” Mimi said, “my publicist arranged an interview with
OK! Magazine
. Don’t worry, our plan is to ‘no comment’ anything related to the Rebstocks. We’ll make sure to give the impression that there’s nothing there.”

Josh looked puzzled. “But there
is
nothing there.”

“That’s what I’m saying. It’s all about maintaining an image.”

“I do love me some Mimi Soto.” Gracia laughed and pointed at her with a wink. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Mimi shook her head. “As much as I enjoy getting the group together, I enjoy not bombing the English exam tomorrow morning even more.”

“It’s going to be worth it,” Josh said.

I checked my watch. “Should be any minute now.”

The doorbell rang, and Gracia went upstairs to answer. Seconds later, Nate and Katy Sugar walked down the stairs as if every step was against their collective will.

Mimi let a snort escape. “What is
she
doing here?”

Ladies and gentlemen, we had ourselves a dismissive-off, and Katy was winning; she rolled her eyes without saying anything, as if Mimi wasn’t even worth responding to. She was very, very, good.

“So,” Nate said, “now you have us in your basement.”

“Don’t touch anything or your face will explode.” Josh laughed.

Katy’s disinterest seemed to be thrown off when her eyes landed on all the electronics on Gracia’s desk. “You like computers?”

I motioned for everyone to gather around the coffee table. There were now six of us: Gracia in her recliner, Mimi and Nate on the sofa with Josh sitting on one armrest. Katy stood across the table from Mimi, and I rolled over on Gracia’s desk chair.

“You sure you don’t want to get Baldwin in on this?” I said.

“I knew it!” Mimi said. “I knew there was something going on with you! Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Baldwin doesn’t want to ruin his rep,” I said.

“Ruin
his
rep?”

I nodded. “It’s complicated.”

Gracia opened her laptop. “I’m not sure he’s ready to see me like this, anyway. Last night I was
this close
to blurting out the solution to a bug he was trying to fix, and I almost had to come clean. I don’t think he could handle knowing that I am part of a treasure hunting team, too.”

“What do you mean, treasure hunting team?” Mimi said.

“Um,” Nate said, shooting a glance at Katy, “I’m not sure that really worked out too well last time.”

I cleared my throat and nodded to Gracia. The TV sprang to life. The disk looked gorgeous on the big screen, my pictures tiled across to show all the different shots of both sides.

The Lion’s Den was silent for at least a minute until Mimi yelped and covered her mouth in astonishment. “Is that your room, Annie?”

“May I?” Gracia pressed her keyboard without waiting for my answer, and the other two pictures I’d taken appeared on-screen. My little thumbs-up grin looked even lamer than I’d remembered.

“Gracia,” I said.

“Sorry.” She typed again, and now Snow’s mug shot covered one half of the screen. The other half included pictures of the Golden Jaguar, a map of the coast near Dana Point, a picture of Snow’s rental boat, and the credit-card account.

I told them everything, filling in the Cozumel blanks for Nate and Katy, and dumping a ton of new information on Mimi, who was clearly struggling to process it all. I talked about Wayo and Alvarez and their connection to a convicted felon, and I came clean about the real reason we’d needed Mimi as a diversion at the airport. After I’d brought everyone up to speed, I outlined my plan for what to do next.

There was silence when I finished. Snow’s gnarled face growled down at us.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to help,” I said. “I wouldn’t want him coming after me, either.”

More silence.

Mimi finally broke it. “What do you need?”

“That depends on—”

“Don’t give me that. You know exactly what you need, and everyone here knows you know. In a perfect world, if you could have it all, what would it be?”

“A perfect world?” I said. “Okay, a perfect world. If we’re going to do it right, we’d need at least two rebreathers, for the silence and lack of bubbles that would give us away. Plus, we get extended bottom time and don’t have to worry about tanks. I’d want computer-integrated masks so we keep our hands free. We’d need a way to communicate fast underwater—no writing on dive slates this time—so I’d want full-color wrist-mounted HD touch screens for text messaging. And there’s a company that just came out with a wetsuit/dry-suit hybrid with Yamamoto Geoprene.…” I trailed off, and they must have read the concern on my face.

“What?” Gracia said.

I shook my head. “All that stuff’s way expensive.”

Mimi’s hand came down on the table with a slap. She removed it, and there on the table was a black American Express card with her name on it. “My grandfather gave me this. For emergencies only, no questions asked. I think this counts?”

I had to admit that sometimes going to school with spectacularly rich people had its advantages. Like, for example, if you happened to find yourself needing fifty thousand dollars’ worth of dive gear and equipment.

“You’re going to need to reschedule that English exam tomorrow,” Josh said.

Mimi laughed. “Let’s call this experiential education.”

“We can use our family’s boat,” Katy said. “It’ll be perfect. We’ll do the old drunk-kids-on-daddy’s-yacht maneuver.”

“There’s already a name for that?” I said.

“Duh.”

Josh nodded to Nate. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle your part?”

Nate’s only response was an eye roll, so Josh took two steps toward him. The next thing I knew, Josh was on the floor, gasping for breath. Nate stood above him, one foot on Josh’s chest, pulling with both hands on Josh’s wrist, which was bent at the strangest and most painful-looking angle. There’d been some punches, I think. And maybe a kick or two, but Nate didn’t look like he’d exerted any effort at all.

“Any more questions?” Nate said.

Josh wheezed through clenched teeth. “I’m good.”

Nate released him and pulled him to his feet.

“Belt test went well, I take it?” Josh said.

“Okay, then.” My limbs were starting to feel all tingly as the anticipation of what we were about to do took hold. “Now the only question is, can we get all the gear we need before it’s too late?”

The five of them passed around an annoyingly knowing glance. I was the only one not smiling; yet again, one of these things is not like the others. “What?”

“You’re so cute,” Mimi said. She picked up the card and tossed it into my lap. It was a tiny bit thicker than a normal credit card, and it didn’t bend at all. “That card is made out of titanium, silly. We can have everything here in an hour.”

W
e pushed off from Marina del Rey early the next morning in the Sugars’ boat,
Constant
Bliss
. The marine-layer clouds were a thin mist in the predawn glow. It was a Tuesday, a school day. I had never ditched a single class before, let alone an entire day of them. Even the simple lie I’d told my dad when Gracia picked me up so early—that she and I were going to a coffee shop to work on an English presentation—was enough to get my heart racing.

At fifty feet long, the
Constant Bliss
was the biggest boat I had ever been on. The forward deck stretched twenty-five feet, and even without the sails up, the rigging formed a complex web of ropes and pulleys. Behind the cockpit was a ten-foot deck and a small dinghy with an outboard motor hanging off the stern. It wasn’t quite to the level of the Rebstocks’ private jet, but it was definitely nice.

Even so, Nate had acted apologetic when we’d arrived at the marina with all our gear. “Sorry it’s not bigger.”

“It’s the motion of the ocean,” Mimi had responded with a smile. “Not the size of the waves.”

“You were way funnier on TV.”

“I know,” she’d said. “Better writers.”

We left the sails in their blue sleeves and headed south under engine power, sitting cross-legged on the forward deck, our coffees offering a barrier against the predawn chill. Nate and Katy wore matching tracksuits over the outfits they’d need when we got there. Josh, Mimi, Gracia, and I would change when the time came.

Whether it was due to the sense of entitlement fostered so heavily by the Pinedale Academy or from some other mystical treasure-hunting source, the six of us felt empowered enough to take matters into our own hands. We knew it was dangerous, but we also knew we were special; we’d been told as much every single school day.

Nevertheless, I felt a burden growing gradually, inexorably, over the two-hour trip to Dana Point. I quietly left the others up top and went down into the main cabin.

Seeing all our new equipment laid out neatly on the floor—the rebreathers, the masks, the dive computers and wetsuits—I couldn’t help wondering if I had given myself too much credit. I wasn’t a Navy SEAL, wasn’t a grizzled veteran of treasure hunts near and far. I was, after all, just a fifteen-year-old girl whose dad had once taught how to use a metal detector.

The HD color screen of my new wrist-mounted computer was the size of a deck of cards. I turned it on and scrolled through the images I’d uploaded earlier that morning: sixteenth-century maps of the Dana Point coastline, a few pictures of the statue of Salento, shots of Cortés’s crest, and finally the disk. I paused the screen on a close-up of the non-Molokai side. The formation looked like a tunnel I would have made out of Play-Doh when I was little. Wide at the bottom, narrowing toward the top, like a poorly drawn triangle.

I wanted so desperately to see the real thing that I’d almost convinced myself it was below the surface.

But what if it wasn’t? Or what if what we found was just another clue, which led to another clue, and another? Or even worse, what if there was no Golden Jaguar at all? What if it was all a wild-goose chase designed by Cortés to keep his enemies spending money and manpower? What would I tell everyone?

The possibility—inevitability?—of failure was paralyzing, and I hadn’t even allowed myself to fully contemplate what might happen if Wayo got the chance to finish the job he’d started in Cozumel.

“You doing okay?” Gracia said. She braced herself in the doorway, clutching a to-go cup in one hand and the railing in the other.

“Sure,” I said. “Just a little seasick.”

“You”—she came down the short flight of stairs and sat across the small table from me—“are pretty much the worst liar I know.”

I swallowed. I turned off the screen and laid the computer next to me on the bench seat.

“Out with it,” she said. “We don’t have all day. Literally.”

“Fine. I’m scared.” Now that I’d said the words out loud, I felt tears welling up in my eyes no matter how hard I tried to force them down—and I tried
hard
. I motioned upstairs. “Terrified is more like it, and everyone up there is counting on me. What if we don’t find anything? What if I screw up? What if…?” That last one didn’t need to be completed.

Gracia leaned forward, her elbows on the table and her coffee in both hands. “Let me tell you something. My dad runs a ‘reality’ show in a bio-dome where even the thunderstorms are scripted. Mimi spent ten years pretending to be the daughter of a bar owner. Josh’s mom gets on the cover of magazines because she’s good at make-believe.”

“What about the Sugars?”

“Who the hell knows about those freaks?” She laughed and continued. “My point is that we’re here because we’re sick of make-believe. We’re here because day after day, class after class, test after test, everything we do is geared toward positioning ourselves for the future, which means that even the parts of our lives that
aren’t
built on fantasy have nothing to do with today—with right now.”

She picked up a wetsuit and tossed it onto the table. “This is as close as any of us are ever going to get to something special. Something real. We’re here because we believe in you. And we want what you’re giving us the chance to experience.”

“But—”

She brushed the words away before I could get them out. “And if you fail, you fail. We fail. It’s worth it. Conversation over.”

I nodded, more to myself than to her, and then I took a deep breath. “You’re not going to tell the others, are you?”

“What, that you’re mentally weak? That you’re about to have a nervous breakdown?”

“That’s enough—”

“No way; my lips are sealed on that one.”

A distant
BOOM
drifted through the open cabin door, and Gracia and I turned toward the sound. “Was that an explosion?”

A couple of seconds later, we heard the sound again, but this time in a rapid succession of three. We jumped from our seats and were on deck before the noise of the last explosion had dissipated.

It was considerably lighter outside, the morning sun having crested the shoreline horizon, and the marine layer was almost a memory. Nate trained his binoculars toward the distance. The explosions were getting louder now, punctuating the constant low rumble of our engines like timpani drums. He dropped his binoculars and turned to us. “That’s cannon fire.”

“Cannon fire?” I said. “As in the Spanish Armada?”

“Check for yourself.” He handed me the binoculars and pointed to a cliff-walled promontory jutting out over the water. “That’s the Dana Point headlands right there. Now look just offshore.”

I gasped the moment I put the binoculars to my eyes. Just visible through the fog in the distance was a ship like something straight out of a pirate movie. Two huge masts with four rectangular sails on each, and three triangular sails from a mast pointing straight out from the bow. A plume of smoke shot out from the side, with the accompanying boom coming a full three seconds later.

“It’s the Tall Ships Festival,” Nate said. “Goes on all week.”

“Oh, god,” Katy said with an eye roll. “Our dad used to make us come every year. They re-create old naval battles or something.”

“It was fun,” Nate said, offended. “We got to tour the ships.”

“If your idea of fun is shuffling behind hundreds of people through stuffy, BO-filled enclosed spaces, then yes, it was absolute—”

“Guys!” Josh said.

“They stage the battles in pretty tight quarters,” Nate said. “So unless Wayo is right in the middle of it all, we shouldn’t have to get too close.”

Josh grabbed the binoculars and looked for himself.

I said, “This could be good. Everyone’s going to be paying attention to the battle, so we’ll be able to do what we need to.”

There was another burst of cannon fire. Josh pointed to the tip of the headlands. “That’s the statue, right there.”

“Go,” Nate said. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Katy immediately stepped behind the wheel. Nate grabbed the binoculars from Josh and scrambled through the rigging up toward the bow, and without another word, the rest of us went below.

We made Josh change in the bathroom, which was fair based on the numbers but still unfortunate for him. Every two or three seconds, we’d hear a bump followed immediately by a groan or a shout.

“No, no, no,” Gracia said when she saw the suit I was wearing. “Not the sensible one-piece.”

Mimi sighed. “I thought we were past this.”

“It’s my lucky suit,” I said, admiring the faded stretch-challenged black material, the tiny hole above my right hip bone.

“This is the last time,” Gracia said as she threw a wetsuit at me. “You have to promise.”

“Cross my heart.”

The wetsuits were unlike anything I had ever worn; no wonder they were so expensive. They were thin and smooth inside, with integrated booties and watertight seals at the neck and wrists. A single waterproof zipper spanned diagonally left to right across the front, so we had to step into the legs and pull the upper bodies over our heads. The design was even an aqua-camouflage pattern: dark blue and dark green interspersed with lighter blue and gray. I squeezed my little silver turtle for good luck before I zipped the suit closed.

“These things are amazing,” Gracia said.

“I don’t know what Geoprene is,” I said, “but it beats the heck out of neoprene. It’s supposed to—”

“Do something awesome and technical?” Mimi said. “We heard.”

Josh knocked from inside the bathroom. “Are you decent?”

“Better than decent,” Gracia said, admiring herself in the mirror. “That means you can come out now.”

Josh strode into the room. His wetsuit accentuated his shoulders and biceps and came in tight around the waist; it fit him perfectly. It might as well have been a superhero uniform.

“What?” he said.

Gracia slapped me on the shoulder with the back of her hand, and I realized that I’d been staring. “Do the booties fit?” I managed.

Mimi stifled a giggle.

Now Gracia slapped her on the shoulder.

Mimi and Gracia put their clothes—long-sleeved shirts and sweatpants—back on over their wetsuits for just in case, and they fastened their HD computers to their wrists like oversize watches. I gave them a quick tutorial.

“Do these come with unlimited diver-to-diver?” Mimi said, keeping things light.

I wrapped a dive knife with a six-inch blade to the outside of my right calf and handed one to Josh. “It’s for the kelp,” I said in response to the concerned look on his face. “I’m not planning on an underwater knife fight.”

The rebreathers were essentially BCs with hard-shell backpacks that carried two small tanks—one air and one 100 percent oxygen that would be blended to exactly the right mix depending on our depth. The shells had been custom-painted deep green, thanks to the all-powerful Black Card. Unlike on a traditional regulator, the mouthpiece stuck out from a thick hose that went around my neck like a hands-free harmonica. I’d breathe in from it and out to the constant circulation of computer-blended air.

It was lighter than a conventional BC and tank, but the rebreather was still about thirty-five pounds even before I slid the weights into the integrated side pockets, so I had to hold on to the table for stability as the boat rocked back and forth in the waves.

Josh and I pulled on matching Geoprene hoods and affixed our HD computers on our right wrists. The rebreathers had small monitoring screens we strapped on our left wrists. Then came gloves, and finally we were fully equipped.

“You guys look like cyborgs,” Gracia said.

Mimi laughed. “Are they setting off your geek-dar?”

“There it is,” Nate called down. “The
Aquatic
Diamond
. Katy, kill the engine.”

The silence that enveloped the boat was as disconcerting as it was sudden. Nate said, “I see someone at the helm, and two people on the top deck, getting gear together. One of them is Wayo, I think.”

“Does the other guy look like a bulldog that got shot in the face with a shotgun?” Gracia said.

“That’s not really—Wait, yeah. He kind of does,” Nate said.

It was Snow. He and Wayo were about to get in the water. My stomach clenched. “What about Alvarez?” I said.

“Nope,” Nate said. “I don’t see him. He must not have made the trip.”

“Let us know if anyone else comes up from below.”

Josh pulled his mask down and said, “Let’s do this.”

“You’re going to be okay.” Gracia squeezed my shoulder. She looked me up and down and said, “And I take back everything I ever said about you and buried treasure. You are officially a badass.”