She disconnected the regulator for a second time and swam back into the tunnel. Kicking her legs smoothly, she followed the tunnel down to the spot where it narrowed. Bits of coral stuck out on one side but she squirmed past.

“Be careful,” Hawker warned.

She couldn’t reply, because it would use up her air, but she wondered when he’d become such a nag.

And then the coral snagged her in the ribs. She tried to pull away from it but there was no room in the tunnel and she began to be concerned. Time to back out.

Using her hands she pushed, but the wedges of coral that had let her slip forward now jammed into her back. She couldn’t turn around and she couldn’t back up. She twisted and pushed harder. She felt her heart pounding, heard the coral snapping off as she writhed against it.

“Hold on,” Hawker said.

She glanced back, hearing a sudden rush of bubbles as he disconnected his tanks and came in after her. She felt a hand on her leg, pulling her, but the coral was gouging her now; she could feel it cutting her skin.

“Wait!” she grunted.

Her head was spinning. She wanted him to pull her free but the coral would surely cut her and blood in the water would be the end of them both.

She twisted over, looking upward now. Her chest felt as if it were being crushed from the outside and exploding from inside all at the same time.

Hawker had her leg again, his hands gripping her calf.

She exhaled a small amount to let some of the pressure off and the bubbles raced upward … and then popped.

Hawker pulled and she slid backward a few feet.

“Let go,” she said, barely getting the words out.

“No!”

“Please, let go.” The words squeaked from her throat. She had no more air, she was close to blacking out, but she had realized something: Safety lay ahead and not behind.

She kicked him and kicked again, felt her foot slamming into his chest. She pulled free of his grasp, and then pushed upward to where she’d seen the bubbles burst. But before she could reach the spot, her eyes rolled and all she found was blackness.

Hawker fell backward through the water, one of Danielle’s fins in his hand. He tossed it aside and tried to move forward, but his weight belt snagged on something. He broke it free but he could go no farther; his own lungs were screaming. He stretched his arms forward into the darkness, grabbing blindly for her.

Finding nothing, he pushed back out of the cave, grabbed Danielle’s tanks, and snapped the regulator into place on his mask. He took deep, fast breaths and then swam back into the cave, pushing the tanks ahead of him. They jammed on something and he pulled them back and slammed them forward angrily, using them like a battering ram, breaking off large chunks of coral on both sides.

“Danielle!” he shouted into the radio. “Can you hear me?”

He took a deep breath, pulled the knife from its sheath on his leg, and cut the air hose. An explosion of bubbles burst forth and Hawker pushed the tanks forward, past the downslope and through to the far side. They settled to the bottom of the tunnel, bubbles flowing up toward the roof of the tunnel, where Danielle had disappeared.

He had no doubts as to Danielle’s consciousness, but without her tanks, her vest gave her positive buoyancy. She would float upward, rolling over to be faceup like a person in a life vest and banging against the ceiling of the cave, however high above her it was.

Hawker couldn’t hope to get to her quickly, and unconscious she couldn’t attach her regulator, but if she was lucky, the air pouring from the ruptured hose would fill the highest point of the cave. It would create an air pocket that she could breathe in, granting her life until he could smash his way through the tunnel and reach her.

He found himself getting light-headed, backed out, and grabbed his own tanks again. Then he swam back and attacked the coral with his knife.

Large chunks broke away beneath his assault and soon he could fit through to the bottom of the tunnel where it bent upward again.

He swam down and found Danielle’s tanks still venting gas from the ruptured hose.

He passed through them and swam upward, feeling around for Danielle in the darkness. He broke into the air pocket he’d created and frantically reached in all directions. His hands found the ceiling and the walls on every side.

It was impossible. Danielle wasn’t there.

CHAPTER 31

The dockside agent for Gulf Boat Rental had his feet up, radio on, and the brim of his baseball hat tilted just enough to keep the sun out of his eyes. He heard the sound of people walking toward him on the wooden dock and looked up.

To his surprise he saw several Chinese men in slacks and dark shirts. They didn’t look dressed for a fishing trip.

“Hola,” he said.

The largest of the three men pushed his way into the small booth. The rest of the group stood out in a defensive formation.

“You rented a boat earlier,” the Chinese man said to him. “To some Americans.”

“We rent out to many Americans,” the agent replied.

“You’d remember these ones,” he was told. “Two men, one white and one black. Plus a beautiful woman and a young boy who doesn’t look like he belongs to them.”

“Right.” The agent nodded.

The questioner seemed surprised but pleased. He produced a wad of bills, handing a couple of twenties to the agent.

“Do you know if they had any weapons with them?”

“Maybe a speargun or two,” the agent said.

“Where did they go?”

“Fishing for wahoo,” he told them, repeating what the woman had said to him. “But they did have diving equipment with them.”

This time a hundred came his way. He began to see how it worked.

“Do you have any way to track them?”

The agent shook his head. “I have only the deposit, in case they don’t bring the boat back. But they only have enough fuel for about fifty miles. Where could they go? We would just call the other docks.”

“Which direction?” The Chinese man said, clarifing his interest.

“Due north, once they left the harbor.”

The Chinese man handed over one more note. “Give me what you have of theirs. And rent us two of your best boats to go find them.”

The agent nodded and reached for the keys to the larger boats. They had pilothouses and inboard motors, designed to go for swordfish, and they were as fast as the boat the Americans had gone out in. Maybe faster.

CHAPTER 32

Hawker had surfaced in a dark void filled with the air from Danielle’s tanks. He flipped up his mask and shouted.

“Danielle!”

Grabbing the wall, he steadied himself.

“Danielle!”

There was noise and reverberation from the venting tanks, like being in a hot tub gone out of control. But no sign of Danielle.

He found his LED flashlight and switched it on. The space was no more than five feet across and roughly circular. The ceiling above him was curved like the inside of a dome. He moved along the wall and found an opening.

It was like the rim of a pool. As he sloshed around, water spilled over the side and went sliding down a ramp of some type.

The inner chamber of the temple was dry.

In the dim light he saw a figure lying at the bottom. He clambered over the wall and slid down. Danielle lay on her side, coughing out water and finding her way back to consciousness.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. She was exhausted.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted. The sound echoed around them. “Are you out of your mind?”

With great effort, she sat up. “Actually, I think I might be,” she said finally.

“What are you talking about?”