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Chapters (32)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Epigraph
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE

There came a sudden eruption of gunfire. The tile where she’d been a moment earlier exploded in a fine powder and fell down into the bedroom. Two more shots boomed out and two more tiles disintegrated. Seeps of weak sunlight filtered through the holes the bullets had torn through the outer roof.

Linda used the sound of the blasts, and the momentary deafness sure to accompany them, to slide over a larger trunk line for the base’s ventilation system. This tube was more than big enough to hide her. The safety on her rifle was off.

She knew not to hold her breath but to let it come slow and even. With her heart racing, she needed oxygen. The roof above her snapped into sharp focus under the beam of a flashlight.

The Argentine had realized something liquid had dripped on his shoulder, but with the base so cold any fluid would be frozen solid. He had become suspicious.

Breathe, Linda, breathe. He can’t see you, and he’s too big to crawl up here.

Ten of the tensest seconds of her life went by. Ten seconds that she knew he could fire a shot into the ventilation hose for the fun of it and put a round through her head.

There came the sounds of another man entering the room—heavy footfalls and a shouted question. A terse conversation followed, and suddenly the light went away, and she could tell the men had left the room below.

She willed her body to relax and ever so gently sniffled.

That would have beat all, Linda thought. Killed because of a runny nose. This was one story she knew she’d keep to herself. She buried her face in her parka’s fur-lined hood and prepared to wait out the Argentine search party for as long as it took.

FIFTEEN

FIFTEEN

CABRILLO WAITED FOR THE WINCH TO START HAULING him up, but nothing happened. Then he realized that wasn’t true, more of the line was coming down the shaft and forming an ever-enlargening loop just below where he hovered in the water. Max had hit the wrong button. Juan tried to hail him over the comm link but received no reply. Hanley had gone off alone to deal with the Argentine threat. And in his haste had trapped Juan in the Treasure Pit.

The prudent thing to do would be to surface according to the dive tables he’d memorized decades ago and wait for Max to return. But Juan wasn’t one to let opportunity go to waste, so he inverted himself and swam back for the bottom. There was no sense leaving until he was positive he’d missed nothing.