Sarah stretched her arms toward the dying light, her legs extended forward, floating in zero gravity. A strange numbness traveled the length of her body and stopped at the base of her neck. Deprived blood vessels in her brain tingled from lack of oxygen. Diagnosis: cerebral hypoxia. This realization seemed distant and covered in blackness, as if shades covered her eyes. Sarah resisted the impulse to gasp for air, assisted by a strange hand blocking water from entering her mouth. But she possessed no power to stop her mind from shutting down like lights in a house, cutting off one room at a time.
The hand moved and a wave of energy rushed through her body, her lungs inhaling to capacity, grasping a life giving force. As blood vessels worked to reverse the hypoxia, Sarah's thoughts switched on like reset circuit breakers. She realized her surroundings in seconds. Her teeth bit down on a breathing regulator, supplying the air she needed, and her vision returned, revealing the faintness of the setting sun. Moments later, the water turned dark as night settled over Nassau.
Whoever dragged Sarah into the depths spun her around. At first, she thought a sea creature had snatched her, but now she recognized the outline of a man. The dark confines of the sea concealed his identity, but a noticeable shape covered his face.
A dive mask.
The fog in her head cleared. He raised a hand to signal her, barely visible through the eye-burning salt water.
Sarah pulled the regulator out and gave it to him. After a quick inhalation, the man returned the mouthpiece to her. They stayed underwater for ten to fifteen minutes, taking turns breathing. The diver breathed for five to ten seconds compared to her twenty to thirty seconds. He seemed more concerned about restoring oxygen to her brain than he was about his own comfort.
He led her to the surface once it became clear the attackers had given up pursuit and fled the scene. They floated in silence, relieved to be alive, relishing the fresh air. Then Sarah's rescuer spoke, a familiar edge to his voice.
"Can you swim?"
"I think so."
He paused, scanning the water. The surface rose and sank, leaving them in a bowl before it swelled and lifted them to its apex. He pointed to the coast where the Paradise Island Resort lit up the horizon like a small city.
"Our boat is that way," he said. "It's the Saint Charles. It won't take long to reach it."
"Thanks for saving me." Sarah strained to make out the details of his face in the dark.
"Don't mention it."
Sarah winced at the sound of his voice. It couldn't be. She wanted to ask his name, but they needed to get to the boat. After a few minutes of arduous swimming, a light became visible, bobbing like a buoy. By the time they reached the vessel, she felt weak and thought she might sink if he let go of her waist.
The diver stopped their advance when the form of another man appeared inside the wheelhouse.
"I have a friend with me," he said. "I need to make sure he's the one on the boat."
Sarah couldn't take it any longer. Her mind pieced together the puzzle of his identity in the dark. She opened her mouth to ask his name.
"Quiet," he said. "Listen."
An individual leaned over the starboard side of the boat and swore as he scoured the black sea.
"That's him. Hey," the diver yelled, "over here."
No immediate response came, except the hollow thumps of feet and pats of hands, the man fumbling around on the rear deck. Then a blinding light pierced the darkness and illuminated a circle around them.
"I was worried sick," the man said, his eyes locking onto Sarah. "I see you got her."
"Alive and in one piece, I think."
"Tony Cruze and you..." Sarah pushed away from Jake. "I told you I never wanted to see you again."
"What happened to being thankful for saving your life?"
"I would rather drown than have your arms around me."
"I hate to break up this joyful reunion," Tony extended a hand, "but I think we should get you guys out of the water before those maniacs return."
Jake pointed to the boat, but glanced away with a clear look of annoyance. "There's the ladder."
Tony helped Sarah aboard while Jake removed his fins, then followed her up and disappeared into the lighted cabin. He returned a few moments later minus the wet suit, stretching a tee shirt over his head, a small cross dangling from his neck.
"Tony, thanks for fishing me out of that cage? I never had a chance to say thank you. You saved my hide."
"You would've done the same for me."
Sarah's memory flashed. "My field assistant, they shot him. He could still be alive."
She bolted into the wheelhouse and performed a hasty inspection on the pilot console. All the gauges seemed intact and operable. She remembered when the sleek craft blazed by the fishing boat earlier. This was that boat. She put everything together and realized Jake and Tony had been in the water during the attack. That's why their vessel went unscathed.
Jake approached in her peripheral vision. She knew he would try to take control of the situation, so she made the first move.
Sarah started the Saint Charles and cut the wheel sharply to the right, spinning the boat around in a tight turn. "Why are you in The Bahamas, Jake?"
"To look out for you," he replied, a hand on a countertop for balance.
"I don't need you to protect me. You lost that right when you slept with Rachel." She glared at him and could see the resignation on his face.
"Tell her everything, Tony."
Tony explained why they were there and even touched on Jake's rescue from the cage trap.
"Well," Sarah said, "you did a fine job watching out for me and Ben. You were diving when they attacked us."
"I saved you, didn't I?"
"But what about Ben? You didn't save him." She scowled, knowing she'd gotten the better of him. He stood there, unable to explain himself like the day he cheated on her.
With the throttle pegged out, they made the trip to the speedboat in minutes. As they approached, Sarah couldn't make out any sign of life in the darkness. The small craft bobbed in the choppy water like a desolate piece of driftwood, held in place by its anchor.
"I'll take the wheel from here." Jake cut in front of her. She didn't resist him because of her focus on what lay ahead.
"Get ready to tie to her," he said to Tony as they slid along the vessel's starboard side.
As soon as Jake positioned the Saint Charles, holding the boat steady, Tony swung a rope over the side rail and climbed up on the edge. He took his time, easing over the side and into the speedboat. He found his sea legs and then secured the rope to a portion of the railing.
Sarah lingered near the entryway of the wheelhouse until a hand nudged her shoulder. Jake nodded toward the stern, his lips tight together, countenance dead serious, not uttering a word. She shied away from his touch and moved to the starboard side. With Tony's help, she stepped down to the speedboat. Her bare feet touched the floor, and almost lost traction on the wet surface, cool to her heels.
A thin profile of Ben's face came into view. He lay on his back behind the pilot's seat, unmoving. Jake eased by Tony and Sarah and walked straight for the young man. He glanced back at them, sending a silent signal.
Tony wrapped an arm around Sarah.
Jake straddled a pool of blood, then reached over and checked Ben's neck for a pulse. After a brief pause, he wiped his hand over her field assistant's eyes.
He looked up and shook his head.
"Why would someone want to kill us?" Sarah said. "We're just scientists. I don't understand."
"I don't know," Jake said. "But somehow, someway, we're going to find out."
Sarah saw the fire in his eyes and heard the determination in his voice. She knew he meant business, but she couldn't bring herself to hold his gaze. She edged toward the rear of the boat, past him, keeping her balance over the rocking deck. She sat on her knees beside Ben, staring at a face once full of life. He was an excellent coworker and a friend of late. A good friend. He didn't deserve this. Sadness and disbelief constricted her throat, made it hard to breathe.
Sarah looked away, remembering their time together in The Bahamas, and in the moment of reflection, realized something else.
Ben's laptop was gone, which meant all the dive data they collected over the last three days had been stolen. Their investigation found no evidence of wrongdoing to this point, but the attacks proved something important. These people were willing to go to great lengths, even murder, to cover up something sinister.