Chapter 9
"Obviously, the guy’s extremely paranoid, traveling under an alias," I said.
"You have any idea what he's been working on for the last decade?"
"No,” Isabella said. “I can't find anything, and trust me, I've looked.”
"What was he doing in Coconut Key?”
"He didn't have a phone in his name, and he never used a burner from his off-grid compound. If he was communicating with someone in Coconut Key, he was very clever about it. He could have been using a remote terminal, an encrypted email, a burner phone away from his compound, who knows?”
“I found a phone on him. It’s at the department. The IT guys are trying to get into it. They’ve made a clone of the device.”
“If you give me the IMEI number, I can link it to a cell number and check the history. Should be able to get that information from the SIM card or it could be printed on the battery compartment or the battery itself.”
“I’m on it.”
“I'll keep digging into this. I'm intrigued."
"Thank you. I appreciate that.”
"I take it you didn't get into the case yet?”
"No, but I stashed it someplace safe for the time being."
"Be careful. Nathan Mercer was a brilliant man by all accounts. Judging by the heat around this thing, he was onto something game-changing.”
"Believe me, I will remain on high alert.”
"Alright. Talk to you later."
I thanked her again, ended the call, then I called the IT guys. They had already pulled the IMEI number, and I sent it to Isabella.
Flynn and JD were on the sky deck when I returned to the Avventura, sipping a cocktail. I poured myself a glass of whiskey and joined them. I filled JD in regarding my phone call with Isabella.
Flynn lifted his glass to toast. "To new adventures.”
"To new adventures," JD and I said in unison, clinking glasses.
We sipped whiskey, told stories, and had a low-key night. We both wished Flynn well on his adventure, eager to hear the tales he'd return with.
The next morning, I woke with the sunrise, pulled myself out of bed, and stumbled down to the galley to fix breakfast.
Flynn was up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for the day.
By the time I finished cooking breakfast, Jack had stumbled into the galley.
When the food was done, we dished up plates and feasted at the breakfast nook on ham and cheese omelettes, hashbrowns, French toast, pancakes, waffles, and crispy bacon. We washed it all down with hot coffee.
It was a breakfast fit for a king. There was no telling what kind of food Flynn would be eating for the next three weeks. Mostly prepackaged freeze-dried fare. Nothing luxurious or extravagant. Stuff that would meet the basic calorie requirements and keep you alive. Certainly not comfort food.
For the next 21 days, he'd be an aquanaut aboard a subsea habitat that would serve as an analog for a mission to Mars.
Funded and designed by the billionaire, Tristan Hawke, the goal was to simulate a contained environment while performing basic tasks similar to what astronauts would encounter on the journey to Mars.
It was the best way to simulate the intense pressure and danger of a space environment. One mistake could mean death.
A manned spaceflight to Mars was no walk in the park.
It was decades away, but Tristan Hawke was blazing forward, full steam ahead.
This simulation aboard the Oceanus was the first step in an ambitious undertaking with a tight timeline.
The exercise would prove invaluable in learning how to deal with extended mission times and creating self-sustaining environments in space.
Tristan had planned a return to the moon.
His goal was to build a moon base that would ultimately serve as a platform for the launch of the mission to Mars.
Without Earth's gravity, launching from the moon would reduce several significant hurdles.
It wasn't an easy task by any stretch of the imagination, but in Tristan’s mind, it was doable.
Tristan was a savvy marketer. He knew how to sell projects and build enthusiasm.
With a celebrity like Flynn McQueen on board, at least for the training portion, it would ensure news coverage.
Of course, there were plenty of critics, but Tristan didn't seem to care. Any publicity was good publicity.
Flynn was right. This was an adventure of a lifetime. Dangerous and demanding, it would be something for the history books. The possibility of setting foot on the moon was too good to pass up. It was ripe with the potential for a Hollywood blockbuster.
There were video cameras all throughout the habitat, and Flynn would make daily vlogs.
The whole thing would be recorded for posterity.
It was a win-win for all involved as long as nothing went wrong.
A failure during one of these training missions could scuttle the whole project or delay the timeline.
The flatscreen in the galley droned with the morning news.
A cute brunette financial anchor said, “Novenergy Petroleum’s stock skyrocketed today after CEO Jordan Bingham announced an exclusive development deal in San Montego.
With an estimated 300 billion barrels in reserves, it’s a boon for the company.
Here with us now is Jordan Bingham.” The anchor smiled and said, “Thank you for being with us today.”
“My pleasure. I’m happy to be here.” Jordan was late 30s, with wavy sandy-blond hair, a narrow face, and powder blue eyes. “This is a win-win for everybody. As we develop the area, we’re estimating 1 to 2 million barrels a day.”
“How did you manage to pull this deal off when everyone else failed?”
Jordan smiled. “A lot of hard work and schmoozing. And, of course, a generous profit participation deal with the local government. Like I said, it’s a win-win.”
They chatted for a bit, and the anchor wrapped up the segment.
“Thank you, Jordan. Up next, we have a man with his sights set on the stars. But to get there, he’s focusing his efforts in the opposite direction.
Here to tell us about his deep-sea habitat, Oceanus, is Tristan Hawke, founder of Stellar X. ”
Flynn howled with glee.
The interview cut to a remote feed with Tristan Hawke. The anchor welcomed him to the show. “You’ve been all over the news lately, doing a non-stop press tour. You must be very excited.”
“I am over the moon, as they say,” Tristan said with a chuckle.
“There have been other subsea habitats, but nothing like this. At some point, we hope to have aquanauts living full-time on Oceanus, developing the biosphere, growing their own food. It’s part training mission, part experiment in self-sustainability. ”
“It sounds extremely dangerous. And you will have a notable celebrity on board.”
“Safety is our primary concern. Space is perhaps the most dangerous environment, and there is no margin for error. That’s what makes Oceanus a great proving ground.
Whether we have a celebrity on board or not is irrelevant.
Every life is precious. If we are to survive as a species, we must become multi-planetary. ”
“My man,” Flynn said. “He’s got vision.”
“Do you have any concerns about Tropical Storm Adrianna? Current projections have it making landfall near Coconut Key.”
“Oceanus is 300 feet below the surface and fully self-sustaining. They have more than enough supplies to weather the storm. If the storm gets bad, our support vessel will return to base in Coconut Key or ride the storm out elsewhere. I’m not concerned.
There will always be challenges to face.
But I can assure you, nothing is going to stop this mission. ”
After breakfast, Flynn gathered his things. A horde of paparazzi gathered on the dock as we left the Avventura. Cameras closed in, and fluffy boom mics hovered overhead. Paris Delaney and her crew were on the scene. They all shouted questions as we escorted the movie star through the crowd.
"Flynn, are you nervous?"
"What do you think life will be like the next 21 days?
"Are you really planning to go on one of the manned missions to the moon?"
Flynn just smiled and said, "I'm just riding the wave, going with the flow."
The line was always a crowd-pleaser.
We climbed into the Wild Fury van, and Jack drove us across town to Salt Point Harbor.
The horde of media followed.
Jack found a place to park, and we hopped out and hustled down the dock to the DSV Curiosity. The support vessel would take Flynn and the rest of the crew out to the dive site. A pressurized bell would take them down to the habitat, where they would remain for the next 21 days at saturation.
It was a commitment.
Once at that depth, they would need four to five days of decompression upon return.
Any break in protocol could result in death.
In an emergency situation, you were on your own.
You had to rely on your crew members and the preparedness of the habitat.
It wasn't like EMTs were going to come and save your ass.
Flynn gave us a bro hug on the dock before boarding the Curiosity. "I expect a helluva party when I come back."
"Stay safe, brother," I said.
"You know it.”
JD and I stood on the dock and watched Flynn cross the gangway along with several other crew members.
I saw someone I did not expect. In hindsight, it wasn't all that surprising.