Page 78 of The Atlas Maneuver

He said, “We need to go get Kelly.”

CHAPTER 42

CASSIOPEIA SWAM DOWNWARD.

The murky water was cold, becoming colder, though the wet suit offered ample protection. Only bubbles marked her progress as they percolated away with each breath and started their journey back to the surface. She kicked steadily, letting the fins, not her arms, do the work. The depth gauge connected to her vest read fifteen meters.

She kept descending.

Pressure built in her ears and she pinched her nose through the mask, equalizing them. Interestingly, the deeper she went the clearer the water became. She switched on the underwater light, illuminating about ten meters ahead within the swath of its beam. Below she began to see a darker shadow in the inky water. Visibility was about twenty meters and she spotted the lake bottom.

Sandy. Barren as a desert.

Except for the hulk of a wreck.

KYRA HAD WATCHED AS A GUN BATTLE ERUPTED IN THE GROCERY STOREparking lot. Three men had arrived and started shooting at thePSIA agent, then another man came out of the building and drove them away with more gunfire. Two of the original three were shot, one managing to help another away, leaving the third on the pavement.

Then the new man had left with Aiko Ejima.

She’d managed to snap several photographs, but none of what she witnessed concerned her any longer. Catherine Gledhill had been clear.

“I’m going to give you a location. Go there and retrieve Kelly Austin. She’s expecting you.”

That had been a surprise.

Austin was surrendering?

So much for the promised bonus.

She followed the navigation on her phone and located agasthausabout ten kilometers away. Small. Quaint. Only a handful of rooms. A woman stood at the base of a set of steps. Slim, fit, attractive, with pale-reddish hair cut short. Kelly Austin. Looking anxious. Studying the road.

She parked and exited the vehicle. “I’m Kyra Lhota.”

Gledhill had instructed her to use her name as a code phrase for a positive identification.

Austin headed for the car.

CASSIOPEIA KICKED TOWARD THE SUNKEN BARGE, WHICH HAD DEFINITELYbeen down there awhile. Plants and algae populated its exterior. Fish darted in and out among openings in its hull. Some of the gashes were fairly good-sized. She settled on the bottom at thirty-two meters, resting on her knees, and appraised the situation.

Okay, there was a barge.

She’d not actually expected one to be here.

But she supposed that whatever game Citrone was playing had to include at least partial credibility. She scanned the water around her, looking for anything remotely associated with gold. Crates?Debris? The bars themselves? But saw nothing. She estimated about ten minutes of bottom time so far. Five more to go. Ten at the most.

Fresh lights suddenly appeared.

A ghostly green incandescence. On the far side of the barge. Growing larger by the second as they approached.

Two divers. No bubbles.

Which meant they were wearing rebreathers.

Sophisticated equipment. But dangerous at depths like this. That meant they knew what they were doing.

And they were swimming straight for her.

Nothing about that was good.

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