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Dawn was breaking through the overcast as the storm moved off to
Martinique and points east. Captain Bourassa and the skeleton crew aboard the
Adventurer set about repairing the ship’s fried electrical systems.
Star paced the deck like a caged tiger, her limp barely noticeable because of
her speed and grim tension. It had been four hours since they had last been able
to speak to the bell. And then the divers had been involved in a life-and-death
struggle against an adversary in a half-ton suit.
“How soon till we get comms. back up?” she asked for the fifth time that
hour.
Henri had the console open and was soldering burned wire. “No sooner for
the asking so much,” he replied, and added kindly, “English, he is the best. If
anyone can bring home your friends — ”
That was the problem, Star thought. English was a great diver, but he wasn’t
all-powerful.
If anything’s happened to them, I’ll never forgive myself for surviving!
What a weird twist — that getting bent might have saved her life.
She bit back her impatience, and frowned as the Ponce de Léon approached
out of the morning mist, and began to draw alongside. Through the haze, she
could make out both Cutter and Reardon on deck.
A deep resentment welled up inside Star. Cutter had been the enemy from
the beginning. Why trust him now? True, he had warned them about Marina. But
what if that was a trick? A lift basket stuffed with a fortune hung dead in the
water, somewhere below the Adventurer, waiting for power to be restored to the
winch. Any piece of that load could be used as evidence in court for a treasure
hunter to claim the wreck as his own.
At that moment, Star didn’t know what ordeal her friends might have been
through, or even if they were alive or dead. But she could be certain of this:
They would never forgive her if she allowed their find to fall into the greedy