The 4,000-Meter Door: A Saturation Diver Uncovers His Cult-Leader Father's Abyssal Vault
Armed with the knowledge of Jeremiah’s ancient scam, Nora Vance wasted no time. She traced the technical blueprints for the hyperbaric bunker, cross-referencing them with marine engineering firms.
Her search led her to Dr. Aris Thorne, the chief oceanographic engineer, at a private marina in Anacortes. He was overseeing what looked like a frantic loading of equipment onto a small support vessel.
Thorne, a gaunt man with anxious eyes, looked harried. His hands trembled slightly as he fumbled with a clipboard.
Nora approached him, a practiced smile on her face. “Dr. Thorne? Nora Vance, Oceanic Integrity Group. We’re doing a routine safety compliance check on your deep-sea habitat project.”
Thorne visibly stiffened, then relaxed, apparently mistaking her for an insurance adjuster. He seemed eager to offload his anxieties.
“Oh, yes, the habitat,” he mumbled, running a hand through his thinning hair. “It’s… challenging. Jeremiah refuses standard maintenance.”
He began to complain, his voice rising in pitch. “The nitrogen-oxygen scrubbing logs for Sector 4 in the canyon show critical CO2 spikes. Dangerous levels.”
Nora kept her expression neutral, her phone discreetly recording in her pocket.
“I’ve warned him,” Thorne continued, his voice cracking, “but he insists on his ‘sacred timetable.’ Says the ‘Rebirth’ cannot be disturbed. But these scrubbers… they’ll fail completely in 36 hours, Ms. Vance. Not ‘spikes,’ outright failure. The system won’t hold.”
The engineer wrung his hands, his face pale. “After that, it’s total atmospheric collapse. Nobody could survive.”
Nora felt a cold jolt. Thirty-six hours. That was the window. Not just “spikes,” but a ticking clock to mass asphyxiation.
She gave Thorne a reassuring nod, her mind already racing. This wasn’t just proof of human life, it was proof of imminent death.
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