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find of the century, or the biggest waste of time you ever saw. Whatever, a magnetometer oughta tell us just what the hell we’ve got out there.”

CHAPTER 4
    Saturday, 13 October 2001
Offshore, Jacksonville Beach, Florida
    To Matt, the day couldn’t have been more perfect. Sunlight danced off the water with a dazzling brilliance. A slight onshore breeze lent a linen-touch freshness to the air, and the swell was hypnotic in its gentle roll. To the east spread the wide expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. Less than three miles to the west lay the northeast Florida coast, the whites and pastels of hotels and condominiums stair-stepping their way above the sands of Jacksonville Beach.
    With no other boats on the horizon and two orange buoys marking the location of the sunken barge dead ahead at less than 2000 yards,
Native Diver
moved on a southerly course, paralleling the coast. Matt eyeballed the dive boat’s compass, taking continuous bearings on the town’s water tower and the end of the Jacksonville Beach pier, or what was left of it from the earlier storm. At the same time, Park eased the wheel slightly to the left, his attention glued to the small radarscope’s distance indicator.
    “Almost there,” Matt called out. “If the distance is right, shut her down right now, and you’ll be set to make the first run.”
    Park slipped the throttle into neutral and allowed
Native Diver
to gradually settle in the water. “If you’ll put out the cable, I’ll try to keep her in position.”
    Matt nodded and climbed down to the open stern of the dive boat. After checking the coil of black insulated cable to make sure it was laid out properly to unravel without kinking, he examined the magnetometer’s yellow, squash-shaped, fiberglass casing to ensure its water-tight integrity at the cable and antenna connections. He couldn’t afford to allow water into the near-foot-and-a-half-long casing which housed the magnetometer’s sensor. Satisfied that the stability wings protruding from two sides of the casing’s narrow neck were firmly secured, he chuckled to himself when he turned the casing over and saw the name
Tommy Towfish
painted in black.
    “Chart shows only forty-five to fifty feet of water in this area, so I’m only putting out thirty-five feet,” Matt called over his shoulder as he dropped the sensor over the side and paid out the cable before clamping it off to prevent more from running out. “If you’ll hold her at three to four knots on the first run, the catenary oughta keep little Tommy Towfish a good twenty feet off the bottom and clear the top of the sunken barge.”
    “North-south, east-west?” Park asked. “Understand the accuracy and strength of the signal on those things depend a lot on the magnetic field and what direction you’re going.”
    “That’s the old solenoid sensors. Guy over at Aqua Explorers says this is the latest. A toroidal sensor. You can stand on your head, and it’ll still give you a good signal.” Matt punched the
ready
button on the magnetometer’s display unit and said, “Trial run. Do a ten-minute north-south track.”
    “Got it,” Park answered as he eased the boat forward.
    Hoping to see a steady line indicating a large metal object, Matt watched only small blips appear on the magnetometer’s onboard display screen. “Nothing but beer cans and metal stuff somebody’s tossed overboard. Thought we’d at least pick up part of the barge.”
    At the end of ten minutes, Park asked, “What now?”
    “Do a slow one-eighty and make another run, but a little farther to the east.”
    “On the way.”
    With the turn completed, Matt kept his eyes glued to the display unit. “Got something. Strong signal. Probably the barge. Let’s keep running this pattern, back and forth, north-south, a little to the east each time, and see what we get.”
    “What’s it look like?” Park asked.
    “A line. That’s all. A single line on each run is all we’ll get as long as we’re