Harper looked from the now flaring-red warning screens, and then to the faces of his control room crew; he saw fear. He knew there was only one order he could give – to release it. A sense of calm settled over him, and just as he opened his mouth, the Omaru leapt forward, and immediately straightened in the water.

“What just happened?” Harper’s legs were planted.

“We’re free.” Minnez beamed. “The bag musta come lose.” He bent over a screen, but his expression immediately clouded. “Coming up too fast; must be empty, or gone.”

“Like I didn’t see that coming.” Harper began to turn. He’d check on the deck crew and also see what damage they had sustained.

Just then the ship jerked so hard that even Harper, with more than half a century sea-leg experience, was thrown from his feet. They were tilting at an angle he knew would mean water would come over the gunwale. He then heard the sound he feared the most: men screaming.

“Men overboard! Three men out!”

The deck foreman’s shout over the emergency comm was the worst thing you ever wanted to hear in a heavy storm swell – men overboard – even in life jackets, with personal signal beacons, a bobbing head was near impossible to find.

And then there was that big shadow, a small dark voice whispered in his mind.

“The damn second net’s now snagged.” Minnez’s voice was high and his face was screwed in both disbelief and fear.

The boat jerked again, and Harper knew that was no snag – they were now being tugged backwards. Ever since he was a small boy, fishing on a dock, he had known what a hooked fish felt like – it jerked a few times and then it ran as it tried to escape with its prize. And if whatever now had them was trying to make a run, it might just roll them over.

“Emergency drop, now!”

Minnez banged his hand down hard on the release button. And the sound of whipping cable reverberated inside the cabin. The Omaru rolled hard the other way, then righted and straightened. It still bucked and rode high on the heavy sea, but at least now they were back in control.

He grabbed some field glasses, and through the rain-battered window, Harper saw the first beacon light of one of his men. Then the second and third. He exhaled with relief – god bless for small miracles – they were close together, and hadn’t been washed far.

“Loop around them, and we’ll get them in the lee of the wind.”  He lowered his glasses. “I’ll be down supervising the rescue. Keep her steady, Ethan, and…”

His brows came together, and he quickly lifted the field glasses again. The first beacon light went out, and moments later, so did the second.

“What the fuck?” Harper’s mouth hung open.