With a trembling hand, Lois pushed a mug across the counter. The young lab tech hesitated, then reached out for it and took a noisy slurp. Lois then gathered everyone around a large table and described her encounter with Phelps and the murder of Logan. A biologist who had been Logan’s closest friend rose from his chair and picked up a kitchen knife from the counter. He summed up his rage in a single word.

“Bastard!”

Lois remained in her seat and regarded the biologist with a calm gaze.

“You’re absolutely correct,” Lois said. “In fact, the man who shot Dr. Logan is worse than a bastard, he’s a murderer, but his moral character is not at issue here. You might get him with that knife, although I doubt it, but what then? Phelps obviously is not the only one involved. We are dealing with ruthless people who have the resources to gain entry into a heavily guarded facility three hundred feet below the ocean’s surface. I don’t know how they learned about the Locker, who they are, or how many are involved, but we are completely at their mercy.”

The knife clattered on the counter, and the biologist sat down.

“You’re right, Lois,” he said in defeat. “I just wish I knew what they wanted.”

“I’m sure they’ll let us know,” she replied. “In the meantime, let’s have something to eat. It’s important we keep our strength up. MiGod!” she said with her rollicking laugh. “I sound like an actor in one of those disaster movies telling everyone to remain calm after the ocean liner turns upside down or the plane crashes in the jungle.”

The comment produced nervous smiles. A couple of people headed for the kitchen and, in short order, returned with a tray stacked with ham, turkey, and peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. Fear must have sharpened the scientists’ hunger because they devoured the sandwiches like victims of a famine.

They were cleaning up when the mess hall reverberated with loud humming. Everyone stopped working and listened. After a few moments, the humming stopped, and the floor jolted as if jarred by an earthquake. There was a second jolt, and the room shuddered and swayed.

Those still standing fought to keep their balance, and there was an outcry of alarm, but the room went silent when the door burst open and two armed men stepped into the mess hall to clear the way for Phelps. The two strangers were wearing black diver’s suits still wet with seawater and carried short-barreled machine pistols.

Phelps grinned and said, “Looks like we arrived too late for lunch.”

“What’s happening to the lab?” Lois asked, holding on to the edge of a counter to keep from falling.

“Don’t you remember what I said about going for a little ride? The lab’s being moved to a new neighborhood.”