“No idea,” I say.
The salty air now tastes sour.
Nothing screams emergency like a huge vessel planted on your doorstep.
The locals are going to have a field day.
Scott and I are waiting at the docks for Nathan. Today’s his first dive to see the blue hole. We’re not going in, of course.
The blue hole. Carter’s Drop.
Nathan knew it was there long before there was any physical proof. Everyone who’s heard of him knows of his genius. But what most people aren’t aware of is his faith. Faith in his ideas. In himself. In the truth of something that can be studied and understood before it’s ever seen.
He’d spent his entire life poring over scholarly and field material on the myth of Atlantis. Once, I’d asked him what made him latch on to that story at such a young age and then stick with it throughout his academic career.
His answer wasn’t what I expected.
“I’m not particularly interested in Atlantis,” he’d said.
“Uh?” I looked at him like he’d turned into an elephant.
“Do you remember who’s credited for the scientific method?”
I’d thought about it for a moment. “Sir Francis Bacon? I think?”
“Yes.” He leaned in and kissed me quickly. “But so much of the groundwork was laid by Aristotle’s formalization of logic.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with your fondness for poetry? I feel like you’re about to recite me something.”
He’d laughed. “No. When I was a boy, I wanted the legend to be true. Badly. As I learned more, I wanted to understand what the legend was based on. Because it was based on something.”
“The hubris of man?” I asked.
Surprise flashed across his face, and he nodded. He was always so proud when I solved one of his puzzles.
“When technological power exceeds moral restraint, collapse follows.”
“That’s a bit grim. What does this have to do with your research, sailor?” Sometimes he could get lost in his head.
“By sticking to logic and not myth, I’m on the brink of finding the truth that inspired the myth. Right here in Maverick Key.”
I didn’t doubt him.
A few months after he told me he would, he discovered the blue hole. Then, seven months later, he was gone.
Now here we are, years later, still looking for answers.
“What the hell, Finn?” Scott asks as Finn reaches us.
“It’s my research lab,” Finn answers as he walks up the pier, carrying a huge metal box and his briefcase. “Want to come on board? I’m heading over there right now.”
“Who’s paying for that monstrosity?”
“There are private investors.”
“Has the Coast Guard cleared it?” Scott asks.
“Not quite yet. It just arrived.”
