Tusker straightened his mask and managed to clear the water by exhaling through his nose and lifting the bottom skirt. Nearly blinded from the salt and the silt, he swam towards the vague glow and saw a silhouette climbing up the inside of the hull. As he neared it, the bright yellow of the lift bag caught his eye. The bomb. It was floating near the exit, neutrally buoyant. Tusker swam up, up, up to Murray and, just as the big man reached the opening, grabbed a D-ring on the back of Murray’s tool belt and pulled on it, hard. Murray lost his balance and teetered backwards. In a single, swift motion, Tusker clipped Murray’s D-ring to the lift bag’s carabiner and ripped the balloon’s deflation cord.

Murray, suddenly attached to a 1,400-pound bulb of lead and uranium, fell off the hull like a stone and disappeared into the black hold of the Vampire, his helmet torch a wild, spinning beam. The tremendous weight and momentum sent him crashing through the remains of cargo, which fell on top of him, trapping him, weighted and buried in the 75-year old detritus of the dead British war machine. For a moment his umbilical was stretched taut, connecting Murray inside the wreck to the bell, and to the Depth Charge above. Then it gave way like a whip in a roar of bubbles.

Tusker turned away and found the cut in the hull outlined by the glow of the bell’s flood lights. He kicked over to the opening. His breathing gas supply was near zero and the bailout bottles he’d stashed earlier were too rich a mixture for this depth. He had to get to the bell. As he exited the wreck he saw the heavy hook from the Depth Charge’s hoist lying on the muddy bottom. He swam cautiously towards the suspended bell. With his two divers dead and no bomb, why would Rausing bother to even hoist him to the surface, much less keep him under pressure long enough to decompress? He would have to negotiate. But what leverage did he have, alone and 350 feet deep? It would be just as easy for Rausing to flood the bell and kill him. No one would be the wiser.

Tusker crept up alongside the bell. He couldn’t be sure what the gas mix was inside. But he had to take that chance. His pressure gauges were nearing zero. He climbed up into the bell and took the regulator out of his mouth. It was strange to suddenly be standing dry and breathing without a mouthpiece. He took a few cautious breaths. The helium mix in the bell was similar to what he’d been breathing in his tanks. A camera was suspended in the corner. There was nowhere to hide now. Everyone, including Rausing, knew he was in the bell.

As if in answer, a voice came over the intercom.