Cate stopped entering data on her screen, and sat back. “Sure, you’re on the list, but it’s going to be dangerous, so this is a voluntary gig. Could be a one-way trip.”

“Pfft. Is that some sort of pre-mission pep talk? Sign me up.” He grinned. “And think of all that overtime.”

“I’m serious Greg.” She swung around, staring into his face.

He held her gaze. “I am serious. As an evolutionary biologist, this is probably the biggest opportunity that will ever come my way. I’m definitely in.”

“Good.” Cate smiled and reached out to squeeze his arm.

“So, who else?” Greg tilted his head, brows raised.

“There will be a crew of seven. There’ll be me, of course, and now you. And seeing it’s a subterranean mission, we’ll need a geologist, so Abby Burke is available to come. Valery Mironov is coming as a passenger, and he’s already selected one other – a specialist.”

Greg silently counted. “Okay, that’s five; you said seven.”

Cate swung back to her screen. “Valery obtained a new Russian Priz Class submersible – apparently the biggest, toughest Deep Sea Vehicle going around. He even managed to get a two-man engineering crew as part of the deal. So that makes seven.”

Greg whistled. “Okay, I am now officially impressed.” He leaned over her shoulder. “So, this new Russian boyfriend of yours; he’s single?”

Cate laughed softly, but had wondered what it would be like to date a billionaire. “Don’t be ridiculous, Professor Jamison; we’re just friends.” But who knows what the future holds.

“And the expert?” Greig straightened.

She turned to face him again. “Mironov suggested someone he knows, maybe a fellow Russian, with a unique skill set; a marine biologist who specializes in Selachimorpha – sharks.”

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5

Kodiak Island, Kodiak Archipelago, former Russian Settlement

The submarine engineer downed another glass of vodka and checked his watch. He had plenty of time. Early next morning he was to board a helicopter that would drop him on Baranof Island to meet with his crewmembers, and another Russian submariner.

He snorted; he’d never worked with Americans before. He heard they were brash and loud, but soft. A little like children who had eaten too much sugar at a birthday party. He chuckled, and downed his vodka. Checking his watch again; he’d have another, and then get some sleep.

The Russian engineer’s cabin was on the outskirts of a small settlement that was little more than a few dozen houses, a landing strip, and miles of jagged coast. He groaned and stood – he needed to piss first. He headed to the outhouse, unbuttoning his fly as he went. In the single toilet room, he pulled open his pants and was about to let a stream of urine go when the loop of wire slipped around his neck. It pulled tight in an instant, and his breath, blood flow and thinking was immediately cut off.