Ann peered at a dime-sized object as it scrolled down the screen, easily recognizing it as an old barrel someone had dumped in the ocean.

“The clarity is quite remarkable.”

“The technology’s improved to where you can almost see a carbuncle on a clamshell,” Giordino said.

The seas were empty, save a large powerboat flying a Mexican flag a mile or two away, its occupants busy fishing. Gunn piloted the Drake in a slow, steady pattern, running wide survey lanes north and south. The sonar registered some tires, a pair of playful dolphins, and what looked to be a toilet—but no sunken boats.

After four hours of surveying, they drew near the Mexican powerboat, which held its position with a pair of unmanned fishing rods protruding over its stern.

“Looks like we’ll have to skip a lane to get around those guys,” Gunn said.

Pitt looked out the bridge window at the craft a quarter mile ahead, then turned back to the monitor. He smiled as a triangular object appeared at the top of the screen.

“Won’t be necessary, Rudi. I think we just found her.”

Ann leaned over in puzzlement, then saw the shape expand into a boat’s bow and grow into the full image of a cabin cruiser, sitting upright on the seafloor. Pitt marked the wreck’s position and measured its length against a digital scale.

“Looks to be right at forty feet. I’d say that’s our missing boat.”

Gunn looked at the image, then slapped Pitt on the shoulder.

“Nice work, Dirk. I’ll call the lift barge and get them headed our way.”

Ann stared at the image until it scrolled off the bottom of the screen. “Are you sure you can raise it?”

“It looks intact,” Gunn said, “so that should be no problem for the lift barge.”

“So we’re just going to wait here until the barge arrives?”

“Not exactly,” Pitt said, giving Ann a sly grin. “First, we’re going to drag a Washington spook to the bottom of the sea.”

Chapter 11

11

THE SUBMERSIBLE DANGLED FROM A SUSPENSION crane, rotating lazily in the air before Gunn lowered it into the cool waters of the Pacific. He engaged a hydraulic release clamp, which allowed the submersible to drift free. Inside, Pitt tapped the electric motors, powering the sub away from the Drake, while Giordino flooded the ballast tanks from his perch in the copilot’s seat. Ann sat behind them in a cramped third seat, watching with all the excitement of a small child.

Giordino glanced over his shoulder and noticed her fascination with the green murk beyond the view ports. “Ever been diving before?”

“Lots,” Ann said, “but only in a swimming pool. I was a platform diver in college.”

The submersible settled into a slow descent. Beyond the range of the exterior spotlights, the sea quickly turned black.