In his head, a countdown had been running, matching the timer he had set on the demolition charge. Moments ago, he’d attached his remaining device to the far side of the Trident’s hull. He even added the leftover plastic explosive from the earlier charge.
As the countdown reached zero, he burst out of the water.
At the same time, the explosion rocked the cavern with a deafening blast. Water and broken planks flumed high into the air behind him.
Gray already had his stolen spear gun at his shoulder. He fixed his aim and squeezed the trigger. The steel spear shot through the air and struck the gunman looming over Kelly in the eye. The bolt pierced his skull and threw his body backward.
To his left, Seichan whipped her arm and deftly sent her dive knife flying from her fingertips. No one was deadlier with a blade than her. Her dagger impaled her target in his Adam’s apple, dropping him into a gurgling heap.
With a knife in hand, Ben barreled out of the water to Gray’s right. He aimed for the third assailant, who stood closest to the water’s edge. The enemy — stunned by the blast and the sudden attack — still managed to swing his pistol toward Ben.
Before he could fire, Kelly lunged up from the sand and knocked his arm high. The pistol cracked brightly, but the shot went wild. Ben crashed hard into the gunman, which threw off his attack. His initial knife jab was blocked by an elbow.
Still, Ben was not done.
With a hard shove, the Aussie sent his target stumbling backward — straight into one of the spear guns propped against a boulder behind the man. The impact drove the loaded bolt through his back and out his chest. The man sank to his rear, his mouth opening and closing, gasping like a beached fish, before he finally sagged and fell on his side.
Before anyone could speak, a thunderous groan drew all their attentions to the lake. In slow motion, the glowing bulk of the Trident tipped sideways, falling toward the water, collapsing on the side blown out by Gray’s charge. Its masts shook and its deck canted.
“Look!” Kelly yelled.
Two figures — one thin-limbed and spry, the other bulky with muscle — leaped over the rails on the far side and dove toward the lake. They hit the water together and vanished into the dark depths. Gray imagined these last two men must’ve been scouring the Trident for any last treasures.
“No, no, no…” Kelly said.
Gray turned to her, noting the bright terror in her face.
“That was the leader of these bastards,” she explained. “And Dr. Hoffmeister.”
The traitor.
“They won’t get far,” Ben assured her. “We’ll find them.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Kelly said. “Hoffmeister has the transmitter for the demolition charges.”
Gray understood. “He’ll blow this place behind him once he’s safely clear.”
Ben pointed to where a few brighter lines of sunlight pierced the glowing roof, marking the presence of cracks. “It could bring this whole place crashing down.”
Knowing this to be true and with no time to spare, Gray stripped his body of nonessential weight, grabbed one of the spear guns, and sprinted into the water.
Seichan followed his example and dove alongside him.
They swam in tandem after the fleeing men. With the enemy already having a significant lead, it was likely a futile chase. Still, Gray refused to give up.
He glanced over to Seichan.
Behind her shoulders, the Trident sank into the depths, its bulk still aglow as it finally met its doom.
As he turned back around, something silvery flashed past his nose.
A spear.
The bolt shot between the two of them.
Ahead, a shadow rose from behind a ridge of a reef. It was the mercenary leader. He was already raising a second spear gun. Beyond the man, a small iota of light bobbled in the darkness.
Hoffmeister.
He was getting away.
Seichan knew they had only one chance.
She lifted her spear gun with one arm and kicked hard. As she passed Gray, she shoved her free hand into his shoulder. “Go! I’ll deal with this bastard.”
Gray didn’t hesitate or balk. It was one of the reasons she loved him. As exasperating as he could be at times, he trusted her fully. He did not suffer from some overinflated conceit of male bravado. Instead, they were a team. They knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses — and Gray was the better swimmer.
Proving this, he twisted to the side and swam off. He vanished almost immediately as he circled around the threat.
Seichan continued on a straight path.
She lifted her spear gun.
The enemy did the same.
Let’s do this.
When only yards separated them, they both fired. Spears flashed through the dark waters. Seichan twisted to the side, but the bolt grazed the length of her thigh, slicing her wetsuit and leaving a line of fire down her leg.
Her aim was better. But at the last moment, the mercenary leader deflected the bolt with the steel butt of his gun, sending the spear careening to the side.
So be it.
She closed the distance between them. She had suspected all along this battle would end in a knife fight.
She reached for the sheath at her waist — but her fingers came up empty.
Cursing silently, she pictured the blade impaled in the throat of her target on the beach. In her haste to depart, she had never collected it.
Her enemy was not so ill prepared.
He bared a foot-long dagger.
Across the lake, Gray continued his chase after the fleeing light. It was a beacon in the darkness and became his sole focus as he kicked and swept his arms. He used it to distract him from his worry about Seichan.
Slowly the luminous speck grew before him, offering both encouragement and hope. He still had his spear gun over one shoulder.
If I can get close enough…
Then suddenly the light vanished ahead of him, blinking out entirely. Caught by surprise, he momentarily slowed — then realized what the loss implied.
Hoffmeister had reached the tunnel.
I’m out of time.
Unarmed, Seichan fled from her assailant.
Like Gray, she was practical. She knew her limitations and recognized the skill of her adversary. Her only hope was to keep ahead of his muscular bulk. With that goal in mind, she headed back toward the sandbar, following the path the team had used earlier.
Her brutal training as an assassin had taught her always to memorize her surroundings, to weigh every variable at hand.
So she headed unerringly along their prior path.
She pictured the dive knife abandoned on the sandbar.
It was a stupid lapse.
One I’ll not make again.
But first she had to live.
She was already slowing, both from exhaustion and from the blood trailing from her sliced leg. It was becoming harder to kick with her wounded limb. Still, if nothing else, her injury drew her attacker onward, like a dog after a wounded bird.
A glance over her shoulder revealed the man was almost on top of her.
Good.
She slowed even further as she neared the location fixed in her mind’s eye, a spot that had drawn her attention earlier on the way to the sandbar, enough to draw her away from Gray briefly.
She crested over a coral ridge and dove down to a stretch of bare sand.
She had noted a weapon here earlier.