Blue Warrior

She arrived in Ecuador under one of her many false identities, in this case a Swiss passport, and paid for everything in cash, including the hotel where she was staying, the air flight out to the islands, and the private Galápagos snorkeling tour — item number one on her list.

* * *

The October water around the archipelago was brisk but more than manageable in her wet suit. She had snorkeled and dived on numerous occasions in Hawaii, the Caribbean, and Fiji, but these ancient, pristine islands in the middle of the vast Pacific held a particular allure for her, thanks to Darwin. In her mind, this place was the origin of species. That wasn’t true, but no matter. It was her dream, and she was finally here.

Jasmine knew all about the wide variety of marine species she was likely to encounter. Seafaring iguanas, gentle whale sharks, and eagle rays were particularly interesting to her, but she was most excited about the sea turtles. She had a lifelong love of the magnificent, gentle creatures. She had swum with green turtles all over the world, and had recently donated a large monetary gift to a Florida turtle habitat — anonymously, of course. Swimming with the turtles in the Galápagos would be the ultimate experience.

Her private guide boat took her out to a favorite turtle haunt off of Roca Redonda, one of the smallest islands that made up the volcanic archipelago. The tiny western island was actually the top of a volcano. Deepwater marine life as well as mammals flourished in the nutrient-dense dark blue waters on this side of the archipelago thanks to the Humboldt Current. Captain Girondo — a young, muscular Argentine — would remain on the yacht to fix a gourmet lunch and, if her plans worked out, take a deep plunging dive into her unexplored regions later in the afternoon. There was one other boat in the area. Captain Girondo said it was a research vessel. No fishermen were allowed in these waters.

Today she decided to free dive without benefit of tanks. She’d take more time tomorrow and go deep. Thirty minutes into her paddling Bath managed to encounter several schools of harlequin wrasse, steel pompanos, bumpheads, surgeonfish, and sea horses among the coral. She swam with a red-mottled underwater iguana for a while and watched a yellow-bellied sea snake swim past. A dozen dolphins rocketed by her, and two curious sea lions came right up to her and played with her for a while. She’d read that the animals in these waters had no genetic memory of humans and were naturally fearless of visitors like her. She was utterly delighted. But she was also growing disappointed. Where were the turtles?

She continued swimming in lazy circles, bobbing on the surface until something caught her eye. In the distant murkiness of the deeper waters to the north she saw a cluster of movement, slow and deliberate. She took a deep breath in her snorkel and dived deep into the water to get a better view. She felt her ears pop as she descended twelve feet or so. No question. A bale of green sea turtles was stroking its way in her direction. She was thrilled. They were moving deceptively fast. They were less than three hundred feet away. She was tempted to surface again and catch another deep breath, but she was afraid her movements might be too jerky and send them off in another direction. She decided to sit tight and remain motionless, knowing she could easily hold her breath for another thirty seconds. On their current path they would swim right past her. With any luck, she’d be in the middle of them. Maybe even catch a ride.

The first great parrot-faced turtle approached. It cast a wary eye at her but decided she was no threat and swam past. A strong eddy brushed against her from the force of his powerful flippers.

A wall of enormous green turtles zoomed in right behind the first, dropping below her feet, merging to either side of her, skimming above her head, flippers stroking. Glorious.

The largest turtle of the bale approached, probably the oldest, she guessed, certainly the most graceful. As it pushed gently by, Bath reached out and grasped the top ridge of its shell, near the neck. Her air was thin and her lungs burned a little, but she didn’t dare let go. She couldn’t believe how swiftly and smoothly the big animal moved in the water. The ancient turtle clearly sensed she was holding on to him and it seemed to paddle faster, either to compensate for her weight or to shake her off. But it swam straight and didn’t seem distressed, so she held on. She felt such freedom. It was a dream come true, the chance to be at one with the—

Pain stabbed her ankle, like a knife cut. She wanted to scream but resisted, lest she drown. She released her grip on the turtle’s shell. Twisted around to see what had struck her.

It was another turtle, its beak clamped around her bleeding ankle. She couldn’t believe it.

But this turtle was different. The colors were right. So was the size. But the eyes.

Lifeless glass.

It wasn’t a turtle.