by Rachel Grant
Parker was suited up and ready to swim, but he was really there to provide support for Ray on the boat. They hadn’t needed backup on the first dive because it hadn’t been a Navy-sanctioned and Navy-funded undertaking. It had been two private citizens chartering a dive boat. This was different, but even so, they were skirting the regs a bit.
Parker untied the lines while Ray took the helm, and they set out. Undine stepped down into the cabin to change into her new, used wetsuit. She was sort of in love with the thing and grateful to have it, even if it meant borrowing money from Luke. She would be far more comfortable in the water today.
Luke entered the cabin. She slid the curtain aside as she zipped the suit at her neckline.
“Need help with that?” he asked with a blatant leer.
“I think I can handle it.” She scanned him from head to toe. Once again he’d only pulled his wetsuit over his hips, leaving his bare chest on full display. “What’s the matter, Sevick? Forgot how to dress yourself?”
“And let you miss an opportunity to check out my guns?” He flexed as he turned, and damn if his lats and delts didn’t dance.
She rolled her eyes. “Suit up. Like lousy sex, I want to get this dive over with and move on.”
His brow furrowed with confusion. “I wouldn’t even know what that means.”
She snorted. The sad part was, he probably didn’t. At least, based on her limited experience of him.
She returned to the upper deck. Parker was on the back deck above the dive platform, inspecting the oxygen tanks to be used for the decompression stop. She dropped onto the bench seat next to Ray at the helm as he guided the boat to the coordinates of the wreck. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of cigarette smoke on his clothes, but could hardly complain. It was his boat; he could smoke if he wanted—as long as he didn’t light up near the oxygen. “Do you dive, Ray, or just captain the boat?”
“Just captain. I used to dive, but years ago, I was diving with a friend and…things…went wrong. Bad air in his tank. I just…I never could stomach the deep after that. I snorkel sometimes, but no scuba.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Is that why Luke asked you to skipper for us?”
“I don’t know. But it is why I said yes. You were smart to get back in the water again as soon as you could. Sometimes we need to face our demons head-on.”
They reached the coordinates, and he hit the button to drop the anchor. After it reached bottom, he put the engine in idle and let the boat drift with the current, setting the anchor and pulling the line taut. “Strong chop today. You’re going to have to fight your way down.”
“Luke said the same thing.”
“That’s because I’m always right, honeycakes.”
She turned to see Luke. “Keep that up and I’ll end up with an injury from too much eye rolling.”
Ray laughed.
“Ready?” Luke asked.
She nodded and left the helm to finish donning her dive gear.
“The radios don’t work from deck to the bottom—it’s too far,” Luke said to Parker. “If we need you, we’ll swim up until we’re in range, which is probably five to ten meters below the decompression stop.”
Parker nodded. No one expected him to have to get in the water. He fulfilled a checkbox on a form, nothing more.
The wind rippled across the water as she secured her tank on her back and cinched her weight belt. Luke checked her tank, hoses, and regulator. “You’re all set.”
She performed the same service for him, pausing to admire his body encased in neoprene. He looked like a superhero. He’d be called Scubaman, or maybe Ichthyotor.
“Whatcha doing there, Gray? Can’t get enough of my ass?”
She’d roll her eyes again, except it was true. “If I hadn’t seen your chest bare, I’d think you’re wearing a superhero costume with built-in muscles.”
“Careful, or you’re going to swell my ego.”
She circled to his front and let her gaze slide down his body. “Impossible. Your ego is already mammoth.”
He slipped a hand behind her neck and pulled her close, but stopped short of kissing her. He chuckled. “You noticed. But then, of course you did.”
She shook her head and pushed at his chest, wishing her heart hadn’t raced with anticipation for the kiss that didn’t happen. “Please. I get more satisfaction from my shower massager.”
He laughed and pulled on his mask. “Time to get wet, then,” he said and slipped into the Salish Sea.
She followed and cursed as the icy water filled her wetsuit. At least the new suit would warm quickly and stay warmer at depth.
She swam to the anchor line and grabbed on. For this dive, they’d descend as quickly as possible by climbing down the line hand over hand. They hadn’t bothered with that on the first dive, because then, there’d been no hurry. It hadn’t been a job, it had simply been an exercise to get her back in the water, plus they’d gone slower to ensure her ears would clear. But this time she was diving with a purpose and would need every minute she could get at the bottom, which meant as fast a descent as possible.
Bubbles skimmed along her body as she breathed in a slow, steady rhythm following Luke down the line. The world closed above her, reducing the scope of her realm to the only thing she could see with any clarity: Luke. He moved smoothly, his muscles working as he pulled himself ever downward. He made it look easy. Graceful. For her, it was damn hard work. Her biceps burned with the effort to keep up with his pace.
“How are your ears, Gray?” he asked.
“Clearing fine.”
They’d planned their underwater exploration carefully last night, to maximize the area they would cover. She had her premeasured leash line encased in the mesh bag at her hip. The rope was much longer than before, so they’d be able to view a larger area as long as they moved quickly.
They reached the bottom, and Undine used the carabiner to hook on to the anchor line. She scanned the seafloor, searching for landmarks that would tell her how far they were from the site of their first dive. She spotted what she suspected was the excavation trench in the distance. “To the east,” she said to Luke.
His nod was barely perceptible in the large dive mask. “I’ll follow your lead,” he said.
She swam to the cleared area. Four knots on the leash. “Damn, Ray’s good. We’re only twenty meters from our target.”
“He’s the best,” Luke said.
The storm had churned the sediment. Only a faint trace of the trench berm remained. There was no chance she’d find tracks from the trenching robot here. Discouraged that they wouldn’t easily be able to document the disturbance to the site, she released another ten meters of line, extending the radius of the survey circle. She and Luke would swim in a circle around the anchor line, but at different radii. He was at twenty-five, while she was at thirty. From there, they’d leapfrog down the line, each taking the next five-meter interval knot away from the center.
She was on her second circuit, a full twenty meters out from her starting point, when she saw a furrow indicating another excavation trench. It too had been dug before the storm, with only a faint berm of the trench remaining. “Luke, I’ve got something.”
“On my way.”
He swam up the rope to her side, his light growing brighter in the dark water even at that short distance. She dropped the leash so she could photograph the ridges of sediment, then swam to the center of the excavation and probed the soft floor with a telescoping ruler. She hit something solid eight centimeters down and cleared an area with her hand. The loose sediment moved easily but clouded the water. Luke joined her, his spotlight piercing the haze and revealing a swath of encrusted metal.
With a flick of her wrist, she fanned the sediment to the side. The ease with which it moved argued that a trencher had blown through recently, but it was possible storm currents had churned the sediment. The exposed curve of the large sheet of metal hinted at one thing. “This could be Wrasse’s hull.”
>
“Looks like it,” Luke said.
She swam forward, fanning with her hand. The contour of the metal was narrowing to a point. “Holy shit. Luke, look at this.”
She’d kicked up too much sediment, and they had to wait for it to clear before what she’d glimpsed was again visible. “There’s a wrinkle there and there. And the nose is crushed.”
“Wrasse crashed into something before she went down,” Luke said.
Undine’s light swept through the cloudy water. She’d seen the charts. All large rocks and other hazards that projected from the sea floor in this part of the strait had been mapped. There was nothing this far from shore that should have threatened the Wrasse. Not at periscope depth.
“Yeah, but what did it hit?” she asked.
Together they cleared more of the nose, then waited for the sediment to settle so Undine could photograph it. Luke swam the perimeter of the cleared area, measuring the length using the knots on the leash. They had enough time to document this and explore to the east, but it was clear they’d need several dives to scan the full extent of the wreck. Luke was beginning to wonder if the four to five dive estimate was too low, given they didn’t have mixed gases and were forced to do short bounce dives.
The Navy work order authorized as many dives as needed to document the SMCA violation, which Undine had explained was the primary reason the Navy was expending the funds. With Petrel’s sinking having been ruled an accident, they weren’t officially diving to investigate that wreck, even though the explosion was both his and Undine’s motivation for being here. Finding out why someone had uncovered Wrasse’s nose could potentially explain why someone had blown up Petrel.
But the wreck was too deep to stay at depth for long. With more than a little dread, Luke wondered if Undine should—or even could—convince her dad to bring Nereid to the strait. The dive boat was an update of Cousteau’s Calypso, and would have everything they’d need to safely explore the sunken submarine, including a remote-controlled unmanned submersible. There was something going on here, and quick bounce dives weren’t going to cut it for long.
He pulled the leash taut to measure the excavation, when the line in his hand went slack. He tugged on the line, and it came to him without resistance. He glanced toward Undine, who was photographing the wrinkles in the sub nose. He pressed the button on his mask to speak. “’Deen, the leash came unhooked.”
“Not possible. I used a carabiner.”
“Then the carabiner came untied.”
“No way. I tied it myself last night. I’m queen of knots.”
She certainly had him in knots, but that probably wasn’t what she meant. “We need to head to the anchor. We’re low on time anyway.” He swam, following the yellow line that lay on the sea floor. He’d gather it when they reached the anchor. A check of his dive computer indicated they had three minutes before they needed to ascend.
He reached the anchor and stopped short at what he didn’t see. “Aww fuck.” Probably good that he didn’t hit the radio button for that, Undine would be freaked out enough. He turned to face her and grabbed her gloved hand, then hit the button for the radio. “We have a problem.”
She looked down at the anchor, then over his shoulder to where the line should be. She hit her radio button. “The boat lost the anchor. We have no line to follow up.”
Chapter Fourteen
Undine was trying really hard not to hyperventilate. No anchor line. Nothing to hold on to during the decompression stop in a strong current. Would the boat even be there when they surfaced?
“Slow breaths, Undine.” Luke’s voice was calm. Controlled. He showed no hint of stress. “You can do this. You’ve had to do decompression without a line to hold on to before. That’s why we have dive computers.”
She nodded and focused on her breathing.
“Decompression will take longer without pure oxygen from the boat. We need to go now. Okay?” His calm, reassuring voice penetrated the fog of panic.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I can do this.”
“I know you can, honey, or I never would have agreed to this.” He used his dive knife to cut the leash line a meter from the end carabiner and clipped it to his belt. “Hold the line and my hand. We’ll stay together. I’ll set the pace. Remember, we want to stay behind our bubbles.” He gently pushed off the bottom, and she followed.
Slowly they rose. “What…what do you think happened? To the boat?” she said.
“I’m sure the anchor line was frayed, and it snapped due to the current. Ray’ll drop another anchor. He’ll have drifted, but he won’t be far when we surface.”
She needed to hold on to that belief. “With Petrel, the first thing that happened was the anchor line broke.” The dark waters above her head offered no hint of what awaited them at the surface.
“I know, honey. But this isn’t Petrel. You’re going to be fine. I won’t let you get bent again. I promise.”
She almost would have expected—and even welcomed—the cocky bastard with the huge ego, but Luke was all business. Calm, confident, and competent, the three characteristics she needed most. “I’m considering upgrading you from ‘decent’ to ‘heroic,’” she said.
He chuckled, the sound distorted and breathy coming through the mask. “Let’s wait until I’ve earned it. Right now, focus on your breathing and rate of ascent.”
She focused, as instructed, on swimming, with just the slightest flick of her fins pushing her up and into the current. Occasionally she rose ahead of her air bubbles, but he slowed her with a tug on her hand.
He studied his dive computer. “We’re drifting too far. We need to swim into the current a little harder. More horizontal than vertical.”
If they got too far off, they might not find the boat when they surfaced, especially if the surf was high. Her breath came in rapid pants.
“Slow your breathing, Undine. You’re doing fine.”
She took a slow, deep breath, making sure there was no pause in her breathing either before or after. Skip breathing, or anything that required breath holding, was dangerous in scuba, and she wasn’t a novice, even if she seemed like one in her panic.
God, Luke must think she was an idiot and be wondering why the Navy had ever given her permission to dive in the first place. “I’m not usually this…easily freaked out.”
“At sixteen, you were one of the best divers I’d ever swam with, and you’re even more experienced now. You got bent through no fault of your own, and you’re scared because of what happened with Petrel. It’s normal. Expected.”
“We’re going to be okay,” she said, testing out the words.
“Yes. We will.” His conviction was soothing.
It took forever to reach the decompression stop, but that was when things got even harder, making her wonder why she’d been eager to get there to begin with. They needed to maintain a constant depth while battling the current. They had weight belts to bring them down, and buoyancy compensator vests to float them, but nothing to keep them at that place in between except swimming into the current.
They both tried to remain as horizontal as possible so the pressure was equal across their bodies, and Luke tracked their depth and time with his dive computer. The computer gauged how long they needed to maintain their depth, but the numbers shifted as they fought the current.
Panic nipped at her fins. She couldn’t see a shadow of the boat on the surface, and now that they were in range, they should be able to raise Ray on the radio. But he didn’t respond to their hails.
“What do you usually do during decompression?” Luke asked.
“You mean aside from trying not to die?” Did her voice have an edge of hysteria? Probably.
“Yes,” Luke said, with no hint of irony. “Aside from that.”
“Read.”
“What do you read?”
She knew what he was doing, and she wanted to resist. She wanted to give in to the fear that had her whole body shaking, and either sink or surfac
e. Because she was pretty sure her muscles were about to seize.
“You can do this, sweetheart. I know you can. Fifteen more minutes and we’ll know what’s going on at the surface. But right now, there’s nothing—absolutely nothing—we can do about it. We must stay here. You are not getting bent on my watch.”
She tightened her fingers around his wrist. She was probably cutting off his circulation, but she needed to feel him, which was hard through the neoprene gloves. “I like romance, usually with suspense.” She braced herself for him to denigrate her choice of fiction. Maybe if she got a righteous anger going, she might forget about the arterial gas embolism that was in her immediate future.
“I’ve never read any romance. Who are your favorite authors?”
“There’s one—Toni Anderson—who’s a marine biologist. You’d like her.”
“I’ll check her out.”
He was probably just humoring her, but she was okay with that. “What do you like to read?” she asked.
“Nonfiction mostly. But when I’m looking for a break, science fiction and fantasy.”
A shadow passed overhead, and she looked up to see a large salmon, swimming in the current like a torpedo. Pure grace and speed. “Did you see that?” she asked Luke.
“Yeah. That’s always been one of my favorite parts about decompressing. Being forced to just be in the water. Watching a salmon in the wild is nothing like seeing one in an aquarium.”
“You don’t read when decompressing?”
“Nope. Too much to see. Even in dark-as-hell water, there’s always something.”
Her teeth began to chatter, and she had to work to keep from floating up.
Luke rubbed her arm. “Dump some air from your BC.”
She raised the hose, and bubbles escaped, and she settled without having to fight the rise.
His hand moved to her hip. “You got this, Undine. You’re doing great.”
“Liar. I’m within two heartbeats of losing it.”
