CursedLaird (3 page)

Chapter Two

With Trimix tanks ready, Caledonia slipped on her drysuit.
She’d calculated the depth and knew they needed the special mixture these tanks
provided and their rebreathers to reach bottom. Carefully, she cleaned the most
important part of their antiquated sonar equipment, the towfish. She planned to
drop it over the side and guide it directly into the deepest spot of the loch.
Usually, they simply towed it behind the boat, but not today. She needed it set
in a specific location in case they ran out of time before finding anything.

An early-morning rainstorm had passed through and darkened
the usually blue waters with a murky hue. She and Abel lowered the towfish over
the side. Slow and steady, they released the cable until it struck bottom.

“You should probably wait a day for the water to settle,”
Poppa said as she checked her gear, calculated her air and set the timer on her
watch.

“We won’t be long, Poppa. I promise.” She nodded at Percy.
“You ready?”

“Aye,” Percy replied.

Poppa helped her with her scuba tank. “I’ll be waiting. No
need to fish today. Nothing biting with the water stirred into a soupy mess.”

“You never know. It might be the perfect day to catch
Devil’s Disciple.” She winked at him right before she situated her mask and
adjusted her regulator.

Poppa’s harrumph followed her over the side. “Me and every
other fisherman’s been chasing that salmon for years. He’s a smart one, he is.
Besides, no one fishes on a day like today. Water’s too murky.”

Floating in the water, she asked right before she situated
the regulator in her mouth, “Think maybe he hasn’t been caught because no one’s
tried on a murky madness day?”

He handed her the underwater camera, which she clipped to
her equipment belt. She lived for her time beneath the water. Peace bloomed
below the surface and opened a world of possibilities. She took the lead. In
slow, solid strokes, she cut through the murk, following the anchor chain to
the floor. Every few feet, she attached a glow stick to light their return
path. The closer she got to the bottom, the less murky it appeared.

A euphoric sensation gloved her. The beat of her heart
increased with anticipation of what she might find. The water underworld loved
her and she it. Slow and steady, she descended, equalizing with each new depth.
At thirty meters, she rested, allowing her system to adjust. Fish swam past.
Percy pointed to a trophy-sized salmon that skirted within a foot of them,
causing her to smile inwardly and think of Poppa’s reaction if he’d reeled that
one in.

Underwater nothing bothered her. Peace filled her soul and
guided her toward the bottom. Meter by meter, she swam, taking in everything
the scenery provided. A multitude of fish varieties entertained while she
searched for the ledge. Fifty meters put them within arm’s length of the floor.
If they didn’t each have a light, decent visibility wouldn’t exist. Even with
the flashlights, eyesight fell to within a few feet. Temperatures dropped.
Thank goodness they wore drysuits or hypothermia would set in and cut their
exploration time in half.

She planted a glow stick at the base of the anchor chain.
Percy attached a line to the towfish. Side by side, they pushed off in the
direction she needed to head. Slow, methodical strokes had her hovering at the
ledge within minutes. Caledonia positioned her light and scanned the darkness.
Nothing significant appeared. Then again, she doubted it would. Not at this
depth. According to her calculations, the bottom of this pit in the floor
equaled Loch Tay’s deepest point, which was close to five hundred feet—her
maximum diving depth.

A sense of pride welled within her from knowing she was one
of an elite circle of women to have accomplished such a feat. It had taken both
Percy and her several years of training to qualify as technical divers, which
allowed them to reach greater depths than recreational divers.

Excitement coursed through her as she eased over the ledge.
With the help of the light and the telephoto lens, maybe she’d get some sort of
pictures. With the towfish attached to the utility line of his belt, it
followed Percy into the pit.

Together, they did a slow decline. Depth by depth she rested
to adjust and equalize to the pressure. She knew her limits and didn’t plan to
push it. Slowly and surely, they lowered into the darkness, until the cable
connecting the towfish to the boat ran taut. They were out of line, which meant
they’d reached approximately four hundred feet. A glance at her watch confirmed
the depth.

She attached two glow sticks to the base of the towfish.
Then clipped the end of the retractable utility line from her belt to the
towfish cable as an added measure of security for finding their way back if
they got lost. Camera in hand, she maneuvered lower and directed the light
straight down. Caledonia snapped pictures in multiple directions. She strained
to see through the camera, but nothing came into clear focus. An oddly shaped object
resting in the shadows of the loch teased her optic perception. She blinked and
it disappeared.

But had she truly seen it? She motioned to Percy, who then
dove lower. She followed.

Anticipation sizzled in her gut. Her chest tightened.
Caledonia moved in the direction she thought she saw something. Lower and lower
she sank. Icy coldness cut her to the bone even through her drysuit. Her watch
flashed the depth as four hundred fifty feet. Pressure pounded in her ears as
her heartbeat increased. It was close. She felt it. Something sat on the outer
edge of her visual perception.

Go deeper. Save him.
The words echoed inside her
head. Caledonia hurriedly glanced from side to side in search of the sound she
swore she heard. No one other than Percy swam near. At this depth, she knew
they were alone. Few divers went beyond recreational limits unless specifically
trained for extreme conditions. Caledonia remained buoyant and still, forcing
her thoughts and breathing to calm. Rapid breaths wasted air, which was foolish.

She closed her eyes and let the peace of the surroundings
wash over her. Once she calmed her system, she opened her eyes and read the
concern in Percy’s eyes as he hovered directly in front of her. When she gave
the signal she was fine, they continued.

Within a short distance, she saw an obscure semicircle. As
she got closer, she noted the remnants normally associated with a crannog were
not discernable. There were no wooden pilings or rocks piled as the crannog’s
base. Instead it appeared as if this abode were built differently, like a round
sort of boat that floated into this area. From its condition and the amount of
underwater life and vegetation surrounding it, this sank many years ago.

Carefully she studied what was left of the wall. On one
section of a wooden plank she found loops from a chain. She glanced at her
watch to gain her bearings, then noted its depth and direction. If memory
served her, this side faced one of the crannogs known to have existed near the
southern shore. Was this proof from the poem? If she followed a straight line
from here to the shore, would she find more of this chain? Would it have been
attached to that crannog? Was her theory correct?

Chained within the center floats thy fourth

The words teased her senses. The sound of blood pumping
whooshed through her ears and again she had to calm herself and focus on
keeping her breathing slow.
Don’t waste air. Remain calm.
If she got too
excited, Percy would make her surface and she wasn’t ready. Caledonia crossed
the remains of the wall and flashed the light into the center.

My god, what was that?

Was it a man? Scanning the light over it, she couldn’t
believe what she thought she saw. She swam closer. It didn’t move. And for good
reason. She realized it was a statue. Caledonia circled the solid slab. In
painstakingly slow movements, she gently removed vegetation and silt from the
face of the statue. While Percy held their lights focused on it, she took
pictures from every angle. No one was going to believe this find without picture
proof.

A closer inspection of the statue’s face made her heart skip
a beat. He was handsome in every aspect, strong chin and jawline, but his eyes
held her mesmerized. If they were real, she swore they’d show a world of
emotion. The look upon his face was a mixture of sadness, surprise and anger.
Lowering her gaze, she noted his hand upon the hilt of a partially drawn sword.
His stance was that of a man about to lunge into battle.

Percy tapped her shoulder and motioned to his wrist then
gave her the signal it was time to ascend. A check of her gauge reiterated it.
An ache grew inside her. She didn’t want to leave. Yet she knew she had no
choice. Years of dive training forced her to follow the rules—rise slow and
steady from extreme depths, exhale evenly, stop every few meters to equalize.

Caledonia felt compelled to touch his face. She cupped his
cheek and wished he were real. Shocked at herself, Caledonia pushed away from
her find. Great. She should have known the perfect man existed only in statue
form. Turning, she scanned the area with the light and noted the wooden wall
was in a rounded shape, enclosing the statue like a protective barrier. It was
smaller in size than any of the other crannogs. Maybe it was specifically built
to house this statue in some sort of houseboat-type structure. But why?

Had they actually floated a crannog to the center of the
loch? If she proved this theory, it would add another vital page of information
in the history of crannogs and Loch Tay. Caledonia smiled inwardly. Was this
the break her company desperately needed?

The discovery of one simple artifact would lift their
small-time salvage operation up from the dredges of the unknown and catapult
them onto the front page of
Archeology Today
. Her accomplishments had
been on the front page of that magazine more than once. Each article belittled
her involvement in the discoveries of several substantial shipwrecks, and gave
the glory to her ex-husband, Kip. The mere image of his boyish good looks
flashed behind her eyes, causing her teeth to grind against the regulator.

Thief. The man was nothing more than a pompous,
self-absorbed thief. Claimed every discovery as his. Hell! He didn’t even like
to dive past recreational limits. Heat boiled in her gut as she closed her eyes
and forced the rising anger to subside.
Don’t waste air. Remain calm.
Besides, it wouldn’t do to dwell in the past. Nothing good ever came of it.

Caledonia shook her head as she followed Percy and the
towfish cable out of the dark crevice, leaving the statue behind. As she
reached the ledge, she glanced back in the direction of the perfect man.
Unwarranted sadness filled her soul because she had to leave. Every ounce of
her wanted to stay and explore the ruined abode and study her latest find.

At the top of the pit, she released the towfish cable they’d
used as a guideline. The pale-green light of the glow sticks led them to the
anchor chain. A muffled clank broke the silence of the water. Chin tilted, she
spotted the murky shadow of the large cowbell Poppa used to notify her of
problems on the surface. One clank equaled visitors. Two notified her of
equipment issues that required her to return to the boat.

Since another clank didn’t immediately follow, Caledonia
focused on the surface. They ascended as fast as feasibly possible. Percy
pointed out the hazy shape of a boat’s bottom floating alongside the
Marcail
Struana
. Not large. An outboard motor positioned at the rear hinted of a
fishing boat.

Caledonia took no chances. She attached the camera to the
anchor chain out of sight of the surface. Not sure who visited, good or bad,
she decided to keep the evidence of their exploits secret. Breaching the water
as if nothing were amiss, Caledonia signaled to Poppa they’d arisen. He
scurried to her assistance, taking the scuba tanks and fins. She grabbed the
ladder and made her way onboard, followed by Percy.

The moment she gained her balance, the hairs on the back of
her neck stood on end. She crossed the deck to where Abel stood as if he
guarded against invasion. She looked over the side. Kip sat in a fishing boat,
smiling at her.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“You.” His one-word answer and the smug,
I’m-too-sexy-for-myself look on his face turned her stomach. Today’s eye
color—aqua.