Drago jammed the portable receiver into the front of his chest. Olander cleared his throat again. Behind him, his small group of youthful crewmembers now looked a little subdued.

He clicked open the mic. “Captain Olander to the Gaia Warrior, over.” He held the microphone away for a moment, listening. “Olander to the Gaia Warrior, over.”

“Hiya, captain; we have you in sight. But we also have something else on the sonar. Has the Slava sent out a boat or something to meet us? Coming at us real quick – thirty knots.”

“I, ah, have a change of plans for you. I want you to engage the engines, and head back into the shore for a bit. Seems this large shark is a little more aggressive and dangerous than first thought. Made more so by the Slava’s crew no doubt, but…”

“You idiot.” Jack snatched the microphone from his hand. “This is Jack Monroe, marine biologist, who am I talking to?”

“Who is this? Where’s Olander?” the voice was heavy with confusion.

“This is urgent. Turn your ship around and head in now. There is a massive marine predator headed your way.” Jack clicked off waiting for a response.

“Too late,” Sonya said, holding the huge field glasses to her eyes. “It’s there.” She handed the glasses to Jack, glared at Olander for a moment, and then headed back up to the bridge.

Jack pressed the glasses to his eyes and walked to the railing. He could see the fairy-lit boat clearly. It was a magnificent looking trimaran, and he could make out tiny figures on the deck, probably all waiting to catch sight of their heroic captain, or maybe rain abuse down on the Slava. But then he saw what Sonya had – the monstrous fin circling them for a few seconds before submerging.

“Jesus.” He leant forward.

Suddenly, the Gaia Warrior looked like it had struck a reef as the ship’s three hulls lifted in the air. The larger center hull had something that looked like a giant fist wrapped around the front of it, and when it pulled away, it took a large portion of the ship with it.

Jack wondered what the boat was made of, as it seemed thin and brittle, and was probably feather-light on the water. So much for Olander’s expensive high-tech ellipse design. It might have been able to withstand the pounding of huge swells, but it was just matchsticks against something with a jaw compression force of over forty thousand pounds.

The beautiful boat rapidly filled with water, and immediately sat lower on the surface. Jack was riveted as he saw people now running madly over the deck. At the rear of the trimaran, he could just make out small helicopter blades beginning to turn. He spoke from the side of his mouth.

“They’ve got a chopper – it’s taking off.”