Page 41 of Doyle

Huh.Doyle checked his pressure. Only half down. Maybe she had a faulty tank. “Okay, let’s head back to the boat.”

He searched for the vessel and spotted it bobbing in the water farther away than he’d hoped. They’d swum too far. “Let’s inflate our swim sausages.” Crazy name for the tall inflatable signaling tubes, but they worked. Hopefully the boat would pick them up.

Elise and Hunter deployed their tubes.

“I want to keep diving,” Dr. Scott said. “I’m not done.”

“We need to stick together. And we have a second dive, so let’s regroup, then we’ll go down?—”

Greg disappeared under the water.What the?—

“Go,” said Hunter. “I’ll stay with Elise.”

Doyle popped in his regulator and headed down.

Greg had returned to the lava tunnel, scattering angelfish and tang in his swim to the bottom.

He was after something.

Doyle kicked hard to catch up.

In the tunnel, Greg turned on his light, stopped, shone it on the bottom, then up to the ceiling.

Doyle caught up, indicated that they should ascend, but Scott shook his head. He pointed the light at the ground again.

Brilliance sparkling against the glow.

Greg dove and Doyle followed.

The man picked up what looked like a sand-worn gold figurine, barnacle and algae free. Clearly the shadowed tunnel had protected it. Scott held it up, gave a thumbs-up.

He didn’t have the heart to tell him that it looked like a souvenir of the bell tower from Esperanza, something a tourist had probably thrown in for fun.

Doyle’s attention fixed on the tunnel. And how light poured through an opening at the top, near shore. He kicked away from Scott toward the light.

Surfaced slowly.

The opening seemed to be a deformation in the tunnel, maybe broken up by hurricanes or waves. Beyond it, the tunnel mouth enlarged and led toward the volcano. On the other side of the watery channel rose a small island made from lava debris.

He hadn’t realized they’d dived so close to shore. He made out Hope House on the cliffside in the distance. The black beach spanned out to the water below the cliff, maybe also the remnant of this lava tube.

And then...Wait.

He sank back below the surface and spotted Dr. Scott, still searching the tunnel. Whatever had destroyed the lava tube had also dug an alleyway of sorts between the coral and the dark bottom.

At low tide, the right boat could maneuver through this alleyway and offload cargo to the tube...

Cargo like medical equipment.

And it wouldn’t even have to go through the harbor control, right?

Maybe.

He’d have to talk to the police, get a permit. And perhaps test his theory, but...

But it could be a way to avoid Sebold and his tyranny.

He checked his air gauge—nearly at the warning line—then swam back to Greg. He tapped two fingers on his hand, and Greg checked his air supply. His wide eyes showed what Doyle knew—they needed to ascend.

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