CHAPTER 28

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Tony Cruze circled the cage, inspecting its intersecting bars, its door and its punctured pontoons. This trap, identical to the one they found off Paradise Island, still sported the round sign on the side of the structure. And in his professional opinion, the insignia or logo matched the fragment taken to Sea Lab for closer inspection. Only this one was in perfect condition. The cage lay at a thirty-degree angle on the other side of the coral reef. Tony swiped a six-inch blade from his utility belt and sliced the zip ties, holding it in place.

He flipped the plastic plate over in his hands, scrutinizing it. White paint lined the outer rim with a blue cresting wave covering the heart of the object. Beneath the wave, it read Ocean Blue. He mouthed the words to himself. The name sounded familiar. A company logo maybe? Tony dropped the discovery into a waterproof bag on his waist and sealed it up.

Sarah's voice exploded in his ears. A cry for Jake.

Adrenaline and instinct drove him into action. Like an Olympic swimmer, he raced in Sarah's direction. When he arced over the ridge, he caught sight of a frantic wash of water and the tail of a fish protruding toward the surface.

Sarah sped toward the creature. "Help. Tony. Kevin. Hurry."

The fish crunched down on Jake's air tank, trapping him against the seabed, driving his mask into the sand. His arms stretched out from his body, his legs crooked at the knees.

Twenty yards ahead of Tony, Sarah cut through the water, legs swishing like a mermaid. A mermaid with a speargun.

He'd never seen her move with such determination.

His own scissor kicks became more urgent. Without conscious thought, he positioned his weapon over his forearm in a seamless motion as he neared Jake's position, still behind Sarah. Silvery scales reflected sunlight from above. Mottled spots dotted the length of its slender yet powerful frame. Tony knew Jake was being attacked by a barracuda-like fish similar to the specimen they encountered in The Bahamas.

As the creature shook him with violent thrashes of its body, Tony brought the weapon to bear on its form. The range of the spear-gun maxed out at thirty-five feet. If he didn't get close enough, the sharpened spear tip wouldn't penetrate the fish. Or the added distance might cause the trajectory to waver. In such a case, he might hit Jake, or even Sarah, instead. He fought back the urge to fire prematurely.

A few more feet. He kicked forward.

Steady... almost there.

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