The discovery sent a wave of adrenaline through her body. In fact she felt positively rapturous. “Let’s see if there is a way to get inside.”
They glided across the top of the structure, with one eye on the sharks, then they dropped down on the other side.
Danielle arrived at the bottom, beside a hollow-looking area in the web of coral. She aimed her flashlight inside.
“A tunnel.”
It was narrow and cramped with jagged outcroppings of coral growing along the walls, but she felt it was worth a try.
Hawker grabbed her arm. “You’ll fit but your tanks won’t.”
In her excitement she’d almost forgotten. The double tanks on her back were bulky and their cross section was actually wider than her hips. She slipped them off.
“Don’t,” Hawker said.
“I’m just taking a look.”
She disconnected her regulator, dropped her tanks, and kicked her way forward. After easing into the tunnel for fifteen feet or so it began to narrow around her. She moved back outside and connected to the regulator for a moment.
Hawker was staring at her as if she were crazy.
“Relax,” she said, confidently. “I’m skinny and you’re worrying for nothing.”
She took a series of deep breaths, trying to hyperoxygenate her body as free divers do. With a little luck she’d have three or four minutes of air. It was a risk, but she felt certain that what they were looking for was right around the corner. McCarter’s translation and calculations, Yuri’s reaction, the sharks—it all made sense. The second stone was inside. It had to be there. And she had the power to go get it.
She disconnected the regulator for a second time and swam back into the tunnel. Kicking her legs smoothly, she followed the tunnel down to the spot where it narrowed. Bits of coral stuck out on one side but she squirmed past.
“Be careful,” Hawker warned.
She couldn’t reply, because it would use up her air, but she wondered when he’d become such a nag.
And then the coral snagged her in the ribs. She tried to pull away from it but there was no room in the tunnel and she began to be concerned. Time to back out.
Using her hands she pushed, but the wedges of coral that had let her slip forward now jammed into her back. She couldn’t turn around and she couldn’t back up. She twisted and pushed harder. She felt her heart pounding, heard the coral snapping off as she writhed against it.
“Hold on,” Hawker said.
She glanced back, hearing a sudden rush of bubbles as he disconnected his tanks and came in after her. She felt a hand on her leg, pulling her, but the coral was gouging her now; she could feel it cutting her skin.
“Wait!” she grunted.
Her head was spinning. She wanted him to pull her free but the coral would surely cut her and blood in the water would be the end of them both.
She twisted over, looking upward now. Her chest felt as if it were being crushed from the outside and exploding from inside all at the same time.
Hawker had her leg again, his hands gripping her calf.
She exhaled a small amount to let some of the pressure off and the bubbles raced upward … and then popped.
Hawker pulled and she slid backward a few feet.
“Let go,” she said, barely getting the words out.
“No!”
“Please, let go.” The words squeaked from her throat. She had no more air, she was close to blacking out, but she had realized something: Safety lay ahead and not behind.
She kicked him and kicked again, felt her foot slamming into his chest. She pulled free of his grasp, and then pushed upward to where she’d seen the bubbles burst. But before she could reach the spot, her eyes rolled and all she found was blackness.
Hawker fell backward through the water, one of Danielle’s fins in his hand. He tossed it aside and tried to move forward, but his weight belt snagged on something. He broke it free but he could go no farther; his own lungs were screaming. He stretched his arms forward into the darkness, grabbing blindly for her.
Finding nothing, he pushed back out of the cave, grabbed Danielle’s tanks, and snapped the regulator into place on his mask. He took deep, fast breaths and then swam back into the cave, pushing the tanks ahead of him. They jammed on something and he pulled them back and slammed them forward angrily, using them like a battering ram, breaking off large chunks of coral on both sides.
“Danielle!” he shouted into the radio. “Can you hear me?”
He took a deep breath, pulled the knife from its sheath on his leg, and cut the air hose. An explosion of bubbles burst forth and Hawker pushed the tanks forward, past the downslope and through to the far side. They settled to the bottom of the tunnel, bubbles flowing up toward the roof of the tunnel, where Danielle had disappeared.
He had no doubts as to Danielle’s consciousness, but without her tanks, her vest gave her positive buoyancy. She would float upward, rolling over to be faceup like a person in a life vest and banging against the ceiling of the cave, however high above her it was.
Hawker couldn’t hope to get to her quickly, and unconscious she couldn’t attach her regulator, but if she was lucky, the air pouring from the ruptured hose would fill the highest point of the cave. It would create an air pocket that she could breathe in, granting her life until he could smash his way through the tunnel and reach her.
He found himself getting light-headed, backed out, and grabbed his own tanks again. Then he swam back and attacked the coral with his knife.
Large chunks broke away beneath his assault and soon he could fit through to the bottom of the tunnel where it bent upward again.
He swam down and found Danielle’s tanks still venting gas from the ruptured hose.
He passed through them and swam upward, feeling around for Danielle in the darkness. He broke into the air pocket he’d created and frantically reached in all directions. His hands found the ceiling and the walls on every side.
It was impossible. Danielle wasn’t there.
CHAPTER 31
The dockside agent for Gulf Boat Rental had his feet up, radio on, and the brim of his baseball hat tilted just enough to keep the sun out of his eyes. He heard the sound of people walking toward him on the wooden dock and looked up.
To his surprise he saw several Chinese men in slacks and dark shirts. They didn’t look dressed for a fishing trip.
“Hola,” he said.
The largest of the three men pushed his way into the small booth. The rest of the group stood out in a defensive formation.
“You rented a boat earlier,” the Chinese man said to him. “To some Americans.”
“We rent out to many Americans,” the agent replied.
“You’d remember these ones,” he was told. “Two men, one white and one black. Plus a beautiful woman and a young boy who doesn’t look like he belongs to them.”
“Right.” The agent nodded.
The questioner seemed surprised but pleased. He produced a wad of bills, handing a couple of twenties to the agent.
“Do you know if they had any weapons with them?”
“Maybe a speargun or two,” the agent said.
“Where did they go?”
“Fishing for wahoo,” he told them, repeating what the woman had said to him. “But they did have diving equipment with them.”
This time a hundred came his way. He began to see how it worked.
“Do you have any way to track them?”
The agent shook his head. “I have only the deposit, in case they don’t bring the boat back. But they only have enough fuel for about fifty miles. Where could they go? We would just call the other docks.”
“Which direction?” The Chinese man said, clarifing his interest.
“Due north, once they left the harbor.”