I thought he was making fun of me.

The boat was nothing like the Nautilus of Jules Verne I had imagined in my brief childhood. In fact, once we were down the ladder from the conning tower, there was very little seafaring-looking about the bridge. Three crew members sat on ergonomic chairs at sleek Lucite desks. A large transparent display in the center of the room showed a nautical chart of Biscayne Bay. Monitors lined the walls, flashing graphs and charts.

“Looks like an insurance office,” I said.

“Really?” Sill sounded disappointed.

“Well, it doesn’t much look like Das Boot or Run Silent, Run Deep or The Enemy Below or even Hunt for Red October.”

“I get it. Everyone’s a critic. Would you have me hang hams and large cheese wheels from the pipes?”

“I guess not,” I said as I looked at the ceiling and saw no pipes, no valves, levers, or wheels.

Sill clapped his hands. “Where are my manners? Everyone, this is Professor Wala Kitu. He’ll be with us for this little outing, perhaps for a while. I’ll have you know he’s a genius. I don’t know if you can tell by looking at him, but he is. He’s not a snappy dresser, but he is a fucking genius.”

The crew nodded hello.

“How deep will it go?” I asked.

“Not it, she.”

“Sorry.”

“Two hundred meters.”

That information didn’t mean anything to me. I was simply trying to make conversation. “And how fast will she go?”

“That’s the fun part. This boat can achieve seventy-five knots submerged.”

I stared at him. “That’s almost ninety miles per hour.”

“Eighty-six and change,” Sill said. “Do you find that hard to believe? So does the DEA. I like to take the girl out just to fuck with them and the Coast Guard. Shall we?” Sill didn’t wait for an answer. “Make ready the boat,” he said.

The crew at their desks, two woman and one man, to be precise, didn’t seem to do much. The order was repeated by a woman with an enormous afro. They pushed a couple of buttons, the monitors changed, a few electronic tones rang out. Sill sat in a throne-ish chair midroom and sank into it. I could see that he was driving the boat with a stick, not unlike the joystick of an old airplane.

I stood beside him. “I assume there are other crew about the boat.”

“Yes.”

The vessel rocked gently. It was a nice feeling.

“Dive the boat,” Sill said. He looked at me. “I love saying that.”

Again the order was repeated by the same woman. She caught me looking at her and smiled.

“Make our depth twenty-five meters. Make heading one-eight-zero. Ahead one-third.” Sill beamed.

The woman with the afro repeated the orders without taking her eyes from mine. I looked away. I looked at the screen in front of Sill, which showed a forward view of our movement.

“We’ll clear the bay and open her up,” Sill said. “Then the fun starts. Would you like something? A cookie, some water, milk? Tea? Is the coffee made?”