The Meridian Cross lies on her side in ninety meters of black water. She took three men Mara loved down with her. Now Mara hangs above the torn hull, her own breath bubbling against her helmet, the signed salvage claim folded against her chest. Two hundred meters off, the Vares team's dive lights swing toward her through the dark. They have no claim. They came anyway.

Mara kicks up toward her own boat instead, ready to radio the claim office and the coast authority. If Vares wants a fight, she will make it a legal one, on the record, with witnesses. But her radio answers with nothing but static. Someone has been busy up top.