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of sunlight dancing off the water。 With his free hand he strung up a pair of dark glasses； wrapping the curled ends of the wire temples around his ears。
This plan was far simpler than his first one but it was also far more terrifying to him。 It had taken him six months to work up the courage to take his first scuba lessons and finally only direct orders from above had set him in motion。 He was a brave man in most respects。 But not this。
His hands shook so much that he dropped the speargun twice after he had unwrapped it from its concealing cocoon。 This was not an item he had rented。 In fact； he had made a point of telling the salesman at the scuba shop that he had an abhorrence of such things when the man had asked if there was any other item he wanted to rent。
Bristol had bought the speargun in a shop in Boca Chica early one morning while Alix Logan still tossed in her bed。 He paid cash； dressed in a ridiculous seersucker suit with an old…fashioned straw hat atop his head and a pair of dimestore glasses with mirror lenses masking his face nicely； blending right in with the bushy mustache he had glued on for the occasion。
On his way back south he had his pick of three chemical plants； most engaged in retrieving nitrates from guano； and choosing one； he broke in easily and took what he needed。 He spent the rest of the day on his boat in distant view of the long pleasure craft Alix had chosen to climb aboard that day； working out the rest of his plan。
And now that it was time to implement it； he was as nervous as a rookie on his first day in the business。 It didn't look good； and with the bulk of the tanks settled between his shoulder blades； he paused； feet planted and spread on the rolling deck； trying to slow his breathing and calm his racing pulse。
But all the time his gaze ran away with him； slipping like an uncontrollable kid over the side； drinking in the long； deep swells and the infinite depth through which he would soon have to navigate。 He put his hands out in front of him； saw the tremor there； and said； 〃The hell with it！〃 out loud as if he were blowing carbon dioxide from his system。 He bent and retrieved the speargun； carefully examining the wickedly barbed flechette at its tip。
He stuck two sticks of shark repellent into his weighted belt； double…checked his wrist pass； working out the realignment of vectors now that Alix's small boat had drifted a bit。 He'd have to remember that and not rely solely on the pass。
He went to the railing of his boat and slipped on his powerful fiberglass fins。 Then； bringing his regulator over his head and up to his mouth； he made certain the line was absolutely clear。 Mentally he ticked off the list of items the pimply kid had gone over with him； partly for safety and partly to keep his mind occupied and off the abyss already lapping at his ankles。
He reached for his mask； washed it with sea water； and then spat heavily into it； smearing the liquid around so that the mask would not cloud up。 Fitting it over his face； grabbing the faceplate； his mind a frozen blank； he slid over the side。
The coolness of the sea engulfed him。 Even through the protection of the blue rubber scuba suit he could feel the suck of the cold； rising from the ocean's depths like a physical creature。
Steady； schmuck； he told himself。 The last thing you need now is for your imagination to run away with you。 You're safe and warm in your booties and mommie's ing soon to tuck you in。
Bristol hung in the blue…green depths； going nowhere until he had settled his breathing and had gotten used again to the peculiar form of breathing one was obliged to use underwater。
Strands of sunlight filtered obliquely down from above； giving him the odd sensation of being in a cathedral； and he thought of the old days in Hell's Kitchen before his father had been slaughtered in the filth and darkness of a neighborhood alleyway。
Then he made the mistake of looking down where the bands of light faded out and could not penetrate； blacker than anything he had ever seen and he realized what was below him； down； down； down。
Convulsively； he made himself look at his pass and orienting himself； he set off in the direction of Alix Logan's boat。 He swam slowly； almost lazily； but that appearance was deceiving for his enormous fins propelled him through the water in great long kicks。 He was in excellent shape and he had no trouble； even with the tidal surge that could potentially bee a diver's worst enemy； creating a nausea so strong it could turn even the strongest diver into a mewling baby。
A third of the way there he forced himself toward the surface in order to take a visual fix。 He did it in less than three seconds； up and down again into the depths。 Checking his pass again； he saw that he was six or seven degrees off and adjusted his course。 He plowed on； using the half…leg kick the pimply kid had told him was more economical and less taxing over a long haul than the one he had been originally taught。
He had just e down from his second visual and had again corrected his course slightly when his peripheral vision picked up the shadow almost directly below him。 Immediately he ceased his kicking and hung motionless in the water。 If it was a shark he did not want its acute vibrational sense picking him up。
But now ahead of him he could dimly make out the bulk of the underside of Alix's boat and below that the taut fishing line。 In reality he could not actually see the line but he was certain it was there。 The Red Monster had caught a big one。 And that was what Bristol saw。
The fish was hooked solidly； its body whipsawing back and forth。 And that was the reason for the shadow cruising below him。
Silently； Bristol cursed the Red Monster。 But now； as he glanced back downward； he saw how close the shark was to him。 He was no expert but he knew a basking shark from a blue； a nurse from a tiger。
This one was about twelve feet long and； from its marking； was surely a tiger shark； one of the flesh eaters。 It was there now because it could sense the blood drooling from the fish fighting the line more than a hundred yards away。
Bristol watched the spotted light play along the rough prehistoric hide of the creature as it wound its way upward。 He could not tell whether the thing had sensed him or not but he did his best to parallel its course； keeping on top of it。 At a certain point that would have to end and then he would have to see what the shark did。
The tiger rose lazily； almost indifferently； moving so slowly Bristol could make out the score lines crisscrossing its flank。 Then； abruptly； it veered to port； launching itself through the green void like a missile。 It turned； and now Bristol had no doubt。 It had seen him。
His heart pounding painfully in his chest； he willed his body to be still。 He hung； suspended； watching the tiny green plankton drift by him in oblique sheets。 A strand of seaweed。
Food's in the other direction； asshole。 He spoke silently to the primitive creature。 You don't want any part of me。 I'll just bash your pea brain back into your spine。
The tiger was now turned so that it was head on to him and they faced each other like a pair of gladiators in a v