Dmitry started to hum, and then whistle as if out on a Sunday drive. Mironov lifted his gaze from the sonar, watching the man for a few moments.

“Dmitry, have you given anymore thought to my proposal?”

Dmitry breathed deeply for a few seconds. “It is impossible. Yusoff would still find me, and then kill all of us.”

“No he won’t. Do not overestimate him; he is not as well connected as you think. Yusoff has crossed the line now. One word in the ear of President Volkov about one of his ministers attempting an unauthorized assassination, and what do you think would happen to him? I’ll tell you, he’d be fed feet-first into a wood-chipper.”

Dmitry turned, his eyebrows raised. “My family.” His lips compressed for a moment or two as his mind worked.

“How would I get them out?” Mironov smiled. “I own a global transportation business. I could have them in a car, and taken to an airport within an hour. They could meet you here, in America, where I can guarantee you all permanent residency, and completely new identities.”

“A lot to think about.” Dmitry turned back to the curved window then eased back on the engines, and just let the Prusalka drift. “It’s true that I do not trust Yusoff.” He sighed. “I want to trust you, but...”

Outside, lights twinkled in the distance – bioluminescent fish, squid, or some other sort of deep-sea creature trying to attract prey, a mate, or mark out its territory. There were so many, it reminded Mironov of diamonds scattered on a dark blanket.

“You can trust me,” Mironov said softly. He closed his eyes, feeling like he might have finally broken Yusoff’s hold on the man. When he opened them, he looked back out of the curved window, and frowned. He leant forward – the lights were suddenly going out as quickly and completely as if someone had just thrown a switch. He knew what that meant and quickly turned to his sonar.

“I have contact.”

Dmitry’s head snapped around momentarily, his brows drawn together. He then looked down at his depth gauge.

“We’re deep. I thought you said we’d be below the hard-head fish.”

“We are,” Mironov responded. “We’re well below the usual zone for anything other than the deepest-diving cetaceans and giant squid.” He knew that was true in the world’s oceans, but this sea was different, this one was populated by creatures not of the normal oceans, and who lived by primordial rules he had no hope of understanding.

“What does it look like?” Dmitry threw the words over his shoulder.

Mironov quickly read the scrolling data under the image. “It’s no Placoderm.” He read some more of the incoming data. “Computer approximates its length at sixty to seventy feet – torpedo shape, and moving at thirty knots. Coming up from directly below us.  It’s still at forty-three hundred feet, but coming up fast.”