After four days and nights of mulling all this over, Ricci had grown convinced Cobbs would be looking to come at him when he was out on a dive. If not this time, then certainly the next. Which had left him to determine where Dex might fit into the picture. Ricci could see how his partner might have gotten drawn into an attempt to scam him out of his percentage of the catch money, and, in fact, had been left with no doubts about Dex's guilt on that score when the subject of his supposed baby-sitting was raised on the boat. It had been evident in all of his mannerisms--the way he'd nervously rattled on about how lousy he felt because of what happened to Ricci in his absence, expressing a bit too much regret and dismay, fidgeting around and tugging at his beard while never looking him in the eye.

These were textbook signs of deception Ricci had recognized from the countless suspect interrogations he'd conducted during his years as a detective. But there were betrayals, and then again there were betrayals. Ricci didn't believe Dex had it in him to take an active hand in helping Cobbs settle his grudge. Unless, of course, he didn't know Cobbs had anything too drastic in mind. Or felt pressed into it. Dex led a difficult, hand-to-mouth existence, and Cobbs and his buddies in badly soiled blue could make it even more difficult for him if they wanted to. Whether suckered or squeezed, Dex could be persuaded to stay mum about anything he witnessed.

At last, Ricci had seen only two options--he could either back away from the situation, or hang tough and go back to his usual routine, keeping his eyes as wide open as possible. He had opted for the latter, and was still confident he'd made the right decision. If it proved absolutely conclusive that Dex had turned on him, was perhaps even willing to let Cobbs get away with killing him, his motivations were ultimately of little consequence. Ricci's ingrained sense of accountability demanded that there would have to be a reckoning for his breach of trust. And as for Cobbs ...

Cobbs would have to be dealt with too. Dealt with very severely.

Now Ricci heard the throb of a motor somewhere above him, and paused for a second to listen. It seemed diffuse, coming from all sides at once--which was how the human ear perceived most lower-frequency sounds underwater--but was recognizable to him as the skiff's engine being cranked. Nothing out of the ordinary, he thought. Depending on the windage up top, Dex would occasionally open the throttle to keep apace with his drift.

Ricci glanced at his instruments again, noted that he had plenty of air left in his cylinder, and went back to filling the tote, in no particular hurry to get done.