With a hollow feeling in his chest, he considered his options. He could sell the house, clear his debts, and walk out with a couple of hundred K in his pocket. But that felt cheap, like losing Natalie and his life all over again, so the question remained: what was he going to do?

Remembering Uncle Frank’s email, he plugged in the laptop. His screen saver was a shot of Natalie, taken on their wedding day after the guests had gone home. She was sitting on the deck, slightly tipsy, one tanned leg up, arms around her knee, just looking at him. The nakedness of her joy had always confronted him, even when she was alive. Some part of him couldn’t quite believe that he could have had that effect on someone.

The enormity of her loss threatened to derail him, and he opened the mail browser to escape her gaze. There were hundreds of emails. He found Douglas’s and opened it.

SUBJECT: You won’t believe this!

Rob,

Mate, do you ever check your phone? A TV outfit wants to shoot a major doco in a cave you’re very familiar with. Still hush-hush, but they’ve got the funding, chopper, boat, but they need a pro to lead the penetration! Your gear, your call, all expenses paid and a healthy fee to be negotiated!

Could be just what you need.

Get in touch ASAP!

Frank

Nash was struck by a word that Natalie sometimes used: kismet. Surely Douglas had to be talking about the Kaiserin Grotto?

Opening Google Earth, Nash clicked on the red place-mark pinpointing its location in the foothills of the Star Mountains, Papua New Guinea. Five years ago, he had mapped over three kilometres of submerged caves down to depths of 185 metres, before diminishing funds halted proceedings. He recalled soaring on his underwater scooter through a lost gallery of hauntingly beautiful calcite columns, towering like organ pipes in some vast cathedral. A product of ten metres of annual rainfall, the underground river ran on and on . . .

Nash sat back in his chair. Expeditions like this easily ran into the millions and took years to set up. By any measure, this was an incredible opportunity.

A familiar spark of energy flickered within him. The sensation was a precursor to that irresistible moment when the compulsion to seek and discover burst into a bright and implacable flame. A flame which could only be quenched by nothing less than all-out commitment to the pursuit and realisation of the goal.

Abruptly the spark sputtered and went out. Confused, Nash found himself staring blankly at the screen.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Kebayoran Baru, Jakarta, Indonesia, three months previously