Free Deep Fathom by James Rollins Page A

spiked the tea with Halcyon before climbing up here. Jack needed to sleep, and the sleeping pill hidden in her elixir should help him relax.
    At least, she hoped. She had never seen Jack this bad before. He was normally outgoing, quick to smile and joke, full of an energy that shone from his skin. But there had been times in the past when he would sink into a funk, drift away from the others, hole up in his cabin or pilothouse.They had all learned to give Jack the space he needed during these times. But the past twenty-four hours had been his worst.
    The door on the opposite side of the pilothouse suddenly crashed open. Lisa jumped at the noise, caught off guard by her reverie. From his corner, Elvis let out a warning bark.
    Lisa swung around as two people shoved their way inside, still in mid-argument.
    Charlie Mollier’s face was darker than its usual Jamaican mocha. The geologist’s eyes were lit with an inner fire. “You can’t be serious, Kendall. Those gold bars weigh fifty stone each. They’re worth a half-million U.S. easy.”
    Kendall McMillan simply shrugged, unimpressed by the larger man’s tirade. McMillan was an accountant from Chase Manhattan Bank, assigned to be present here when the wealth of the Kochi Maru was brought to the surface, to watch after the bank’s investment. “Perhaps, Mr. Mollier, but as your laboratory results proved, the bullion is full of impurities. Not even sixteen carat. The bank has offered a good deal.”
    â€œYou’re a bloody thief!” Charlie sputtered angrily. The geologist finally seemed to see Lisa. “Can you believe this mon ?”
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    â€œWhere’s Jack?” Charlie answered. “I thought he was up here.”
    â€œGone down below.”
    â€œWhere?” Charlie crossed to the opposite door. “I need to tell him—”
    â€œNo, you don’t, Charlie. The captain has enough on his plate right now. Let him be.” Lisa glanced at McMillan.
    Where Charlie was dressed in his usual deckwear—a baggy set of trunks hanging down to his knees with a floral Jamaican shirt—McMillan wore Sperry deck shoes, khaki slacks, and a smart shirt buttoned to the top. The middle-aged accountant had been on board the Fathom for almost two months now, but he had yet to relax into the casual routine of the ship. Even his red hair was carefully trimmed andcombed.
    â€œWhat’s this all about?” Lisa asked.
    McMillan drew himself straighter under her gaze. “As I was explaining to Mr. Mollier after reviewing his laboratory analysis, there is no way the bank will pay current market price for the gold. The old bullion is full of impurities. I’ve used the satellite phone to confirm my own estimates with the bank’s experts.”
    Charlie threw his hands in the air. “It’s high seas piracy.”
    McMillan’s face tightened. “I take affront at your allegation that I’d—”
    â€œI can’t believe you two,” Lisa finally interrupted. “The entire Pacific Rim is trying to recover from a day of horrible disasters, and you two are arguing over pennies and percentages. Can’t this wait?”
    Both men hung their heads. McMillan pointed toward Charlie. “He started it. I just gave him my numbers.”
    â€œIf he hadn’t—”
    â€œEnough! Both of you get out of here! And if I hear that you dump any of this on Jack, you’ll be sorry you ever stepped on board the Fathom .”
    â€œI’m already sorry,” McMillan grumbled under his breath.
    â€œWhat was that?” Lisa asked fiercely.
    The accountant backed up a step. “Nothing.”
    â€œGet off my bridge,” she demanded, pointing toward the door.
    Both men retreated quickly.
    Quiet returned to the pilothouse. The German shepherd settled back to his bed, eyes closing. Soft classical music returned to fill the space. Lisa combed her