“You’re out of options, Mr. Tusk.” It was Rausing. He paused. “Except one.”

“Go to hell,” Tusker said, staring at the camera, his voice distorted by the helium.

“We have the girl,” Rausing said, this time more sternly.

Sam! Was he bluffing? Tusker thought of her, swimming back to the skiff in the darkness after he descended. She could have easily been spotted, captured, maybe even killed already. And what about Sebastian?

“Bring me the bomb and then we can talk about your future.” Rausing remained calm, a Human Resources manager talking to an employee.

“If you have her, put her on the radio,” Tusker said. There was a long pause. Was Rausing stalling? Tusker considered his options. Think of Sam, do what Rausing asked and hope to foil their plans later, aboard the Depth Charge? He knew there was a slim possibility he’d be kept alive after a ride to the surface, much less hours of decompression aboard the ship. Rausing would no doubt find some creative and painful way to kill him. He loved Sam, but this was bigger than all of that. Much bigger. He had to return to the wreck and destroy the bomb, even if it killed him and Sam.

“Tusker?” Just as he’d made up his mind, Sam’s voice came on the intercom. He closed his eyes, imagining her dark eyes, her glossy hair. “Tusker, look, I can take care of myself up here. You just finish what you started.” She almost sounded cheery. “Besides, this asshole doesn’t scare me.” Then, a sharp noise, and silence. Tusker clenched his jaw. Damn it!

“Consider my offer, Mr. Tusk,” Rausing’s voice again. “Finish the job and we’ll bring you to the surface. We’ll lock Ms. de Silva in the hyperbaric chamber. You can join her there and decompress… together.” There was a smirk in the voice.

Tusker looked around the bell for anything of use. There was a dive helmet, a cutting torch, some coiled umbilical. Nothing to aid in his escape. He had to cooperate. They had no doubt pressurized the chamber now, with Sam in it, effectively trapping her at the same depth as he was.

“My offer expires in ten seconds, Mr. Tusk,” Rausing said, impatient. “Then we’ll flood the bell and decompress the chamber with Ms. de Silva in it. Have you ever seen what happens to a body under rapid decompression, Mr. Tusk?”

The water below the hatch started to rise, bubbling into the bell. It swirled around his ankles. They had started decompressing the bell, allowing the sea to fill it up. He would either be decompressed too quickly, or drown. He wasn’t sure which would happen first.

“You win, Rausing,” he shouted. “I’ll go hook the bomb.”