On board the DSV Depth Charge, eight nautical miles east of Batticaloa. Ten minutes later.

Through the tiny porthole in the diving bell, Tusker could see the floodlit moon pool of the Depth Charge. Water cascaded off the flanks of the bell as it swayed, suspended above the ship’s aft deck. Why should Rausing even bother to keep him alive at this point? Why didn’t he flood the bell instead of hoisting him topside?

He squinted through the thick Perspex. Near the transom, a hoist was spooling up the cable attached to the bomb. Four men were laboring there, making sure it didn’t foul on the pulley as it came up. Would they keep him suspended here until the bomb was unloaded? They would surely see the limpet mine under the diver’s corpse and kill him and Sam immediately. How long until the mine would explode? Another ten minutes? Fifteen? And would it be enough to trigger the bomb? Either way, Tusker had resigned himself to an agonizing and fast death. His body had been absorbing breathing gas at ten times the pressure at sea level for over an hour. He would need days to decompress before safely emerging from a bell or hyperbaric chamber. His only hope was to get Sam off the ship before all hell broke loose. But how?

Finally, the bell started to move. It was swung out of the moon pool and lowered onto its trunk for passage into the ship’s hyperbaric chamber. He guessed Rausing simply wanted to observe their gruesome death through rapid decompression. Sick bastard. At least death would come quickly.

The bell clunked onto the chamber’s trunk and a green light in the bell flickered on. A sign next to it read EQUALIZED. Tusker stared at the sign for a moment. Then he cautiously bent over and gripped the locking wheel on the hatch in the floor of the bell, unconsciously holding his breath. This could be it. With a small hiss, the hatch unsealed and he spun the wheel until it was unlocked. He exhaled. He lifted it out of the way and shimmied down the ladder into the hyperbaric chamber. When he got the bottom and turned around, there was Sam.

“Boy, am I glad to see you!” she squealed, her voice altered by the helium they were breathing. She looked worn out, more tired than he’d ever seen her. There was a cut on her forehead and an egg-sized lump matted with blood at her hairline.

“I guess absence does make the heart grow fonder,” Tusker said, managing a weak smile. They embraced. Tusker was still in his wetsuit and shivered in the chilled air. Sam felt warm and soft. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of their impending fate.