And then it was gone.

I took a moment to catch my breath before I relocated it, the dark blotches of its back and tail blending in with the sea. It was up ahead chasing another Manta, this one far quicker than ours.

“David?” Jonas switched his headphones to the radio setting. “Mac, contact the Tonga. Have them put me through to my kid. Damn this static!” He slammed his fist against the dome above his head, then accelerated after the monster, now chasing his son’s submersible.

“Zach, there’s a communication panel by your right foot. Pop it open.”

“Got it.”

“You’ll see a series of toggle switches set in the OFF position. Is there one with a blinking blue light?”

“Yes.”

“That’ll be David’s sub. Flip it on. Hopefully he’s turned on his inter-sub comm link.

“David?”

“Dad? What took you so long? I’ve been hailing you since the Lio went after those whale pods.”

“I didn’t know you were in the water. Thanks for saving our arses.”

“Consider us even. But, Dad, seriously—stay back. I’ve been playing cat-and-mouse with this pregnant bitch for weeks. This time she won’t escape.”

Escape? The crazy kid was trying to capture it!

Our sonar array flickered back on as we continued to distance ourselves from the Tortuga. The monitor revealed the presence of two surface ships that were entering the bay from the north, and David was leading the Liopleurodon right for them.

The two Dubai ships had converged upon the bay’s entrance the moment the creature had entered the shallows. Deck hands aboard the Tonga hustled to lower an immense trawl net over the tanker’s starboard side, while their counterparts on the Dubai-Land retrieved it from below, attaching cables to one side of the net’s loop. When everything was ready, the trawler gradually separated from the tanker, stretching the trap in place.

From the bridge of the Dubai-Land, Fiesal bin Rashidi, first cousin to the crown prince of Dubai, ordered the two ships under his command to shut down their engines.

Now it was up to the American daredevil.

David Taylor was out in front of the creature, making his way toward the net. He knew the pregnant behemoth was nearing exhaustion. Every time she seemed ready to quit the chase, the twenty-one-year-old pilot would slow down and bank hard from side to side, succeeding in keeping the tiring pliosaur interested, while taking some of the fight out of her.

Our sub surfaced south of the tanker. We watched on sonar as David led the Liopleurodon east toward the two motionless vessels.

Jonas was tense, counting down the distance. “Two hundred yards… one fifty… a hundred yards. Come on, kid, you’re moving way too slow to jump that net. Throttle up!”