Sarah Lawson finned through the water, her body gliding over the coral reef, the underwater camera pointed down at the passing scenery. Fitted with a multitude of sensors, the dual-handled device sampled the surrounding water and revealed its findings on a bright display. But even with the specially designed apparatus, she couldn't pinpoint the problem.

Healthy coral was the only sign of marine life to be found along the southeastern shores of Nassau and the Atlantis Paradise Island Resort. On the northern tip of the island, there was a wide variety of life, but not here. Seemingly, an invisible force had snatched up the fish one by one until at last none remained.

Prior to Sarah's arrival, the director informed her of the people who went missing in the water. Several predators could have been responsible for the disappearances, but not for the lack of fish.

She raised a leg and swished a fin down to gain momentum.

Sarah spent the better part of three days combing the offshore region, recording every dive and reporting back daily to her special operations director with the same dismal news of an underwater environment with an abundance of healthy, thriving coral, but no fish.

The reports of the depleted populations originated from the area's wealthy vacationers—turned part-time fishermen—who roamed the turquoise waters of the Western Atlantic when not state side. The tourists had a lot of money. When something affected their way of life; they spoke out and often got results. Anywhere else she could have taken her time and performed a thorough investigation, lasting weeks, not days. But here, the pressure mounted, and she had no choice. She had to please these spoiled people, or Sea Lab International's image risked being tarnished.

Sarah reminded herself, across the bay bridge from Nassau, a vacationer experienced a fantastic world comprising pools, water parks, beaches, five-star restaurants, a golf course, and one of the world's largest saltwater aquariums. A large marina contained an influx of million dollar yachts and a wide assortment of fishing boats available for charter. To top it off, a luxurious bridge suite connected the two main towers of the resort, reserved years in advance by those with six figures to blow. It was the place of Hollywood films and best-selling novels. It was paradise. But not today, not underwater at least.

Sarah veered out to sea, made a u-turn and swam north toward her boat. She had been under for over forty minutes, draining most of her air. Late in the day now, she figured her field assistant wanted to pack it in too. She pressed the talk button on the side of her communication headset.

"Ben, you there?" Sarah released the yellow button to allow him to speak from the surface. When he didn't answer, she tried again, drawing out the word 'Hello' in a more comical tone. "Hell-low, Ben, come in."

Still no reply.

"Are you staring at bikinis again?"

"Sorry," Ben Porter said. "I've been watching two divers on a boat north of us."

"In bikinis?"

"No, they're in dive suits. Listen, it was strange. I caught one of them looking at me with binoculars. He knew I was onto him too because he tried to act all nonchalant about it. Anyway, the first diver must have run into a problem because his friend hit the water in a hurry. I hope they're okay."

"I'm sure they're fine. Are you monitoring the data I'm sending you?"

"On it," Ben said. "But there's nothing to report. The pH is normal. Water temperature is too. Pollution levels are less than one part per billion. The conditions are pristine."

"It's odd. The organisms that make up the coral reef appear to be, in good ole Alabama terms, plum good."

Ben laughed. "As much as you've learned to drop your southern accent for a more sophisticated one, you can still put your Bible Belt on and lower the boom."

She emphasized her accent like a southern belle. "Don't get mad at me because your Berkeley education didn't teach you how to talk like a real southerner."

"Not meaning to change the subject. But what are we looking for? The water's not poisoned, but obviously something's wrong."

As Sarah approached from below, the underbelly of the boat rocked in the mild current. With a powerful kick, she burst from the water and latched onto the gunwale with dripping wet fingers.

With his back turned, Ben bolted to his feet and almost tripped over his chair.

Sarah removed her mask. "I would have to agree."

"For the love of―" His jaw dropped, aiming an arrow-straight finger at her. "I almost came out of this boat."

"Sorry." Sarah smiled and let it fade. "Just a little bored. I love The Bahamas, but three days of empty water gets old."

"Same here. Well, except the bikinis."

"Good for you. Not for me."

Ben braced an arm on the back of the chair and took the underwater camera from Sarah. Then he reached over and hauled up her air tank and then helped her aboard the twenty-one foot speedboat. They couldn't find an available charter three days ago when they began their investigation of the reef, so they settled for a rental. So far, the choice gave them no hiccups to slow them down. The boat offered room for their dive gear and related equipment, as well as space for two people to work without bumping into each other.

"I assume our neighbors are the ones you were talking about." While removing her fins, Sarah nodded toward a large fishing vessel more than a hundred yards away.

"Yeah. They haven't surfaced since the second guy hit the water."

"What do you think they've stumbled across?"

"I don't know, but whatever they've found, I bet it's not living," Ben said.

"Speaking of that subject, I wonder how Kevin and―" She refrained from using a certain woman's name. "I wonder how they are coming along with their investigation in Tahiti?"

"Kevin and Rachel are probably clinking wine glasses together as we speak."

"He wouldn't get involved with her, unlike one marine biologist I know."

"I assume you're talking about the infamous Jake Soloman. Don't know him personally, but I remember our first project together. You said you guys had just split up."

"I'm over him," Sarah said. "As for Rachel, I've forgiven her, though it's still difficult to mention her name." She sighed, eyes darting. "She's young... and she was new at Sea Lab. I'm sure she didn't realize we dated."

"Or so you say. She may be more mature than you give her credit for. You didn't see the way she smiled at Kevin before they left."

Ben closed the laptop, but Sarah stopped him. "Be sure to back-up the readouts on a memory stick."

"No problem..."

She noticed his neck craned toward the rear of the vessel. "What is it?"

"Someone's heading our way. Looks like the same guys that whizzed by us the other day. The ones we reported to the director."

Sarah turned to see a black boat eating up the distance between them at a high rate of speed. She remembered them alright, three to be exact, dressed in dark clothes, glaring at them. The initial incident occurred in broad daylight. But now they were approaching in the day's waning moments before dusk enveloped the region.

Ben joined Sarah in the stern, both of them watching as the sleek craft failed to alter course or back off the throttle. As it got closer, her focus shifted to the long objects two of the men held in their hands.

"They've got guns," Sarah said. "Get down!"