Deadly Salvage

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Bolan turned and went to check on the young couple. He found them right where he had left them, lying prone on the ground in back of the overturned picnic table. He stooped down and gently placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. His head shot up, terror still etched across his face. Bolan smiled. “The worst is over,” he said, gesturing toward the young woman. “Are you both okay?”

She looked up, her face streaked with tears. “We are not harmed,” she said.

Bolan gave them a reassuring nod and did a quick assessment of the situation. He went over to examine the fallen island policeman. The man was dead, his weapon still in its holster. A cell phone lay in pieces next to his outstretched hand. Bolan would have liked to have been able to check the last call the dead man had made, or maybe scroll through his contacts, but he already had a pretty good idea who Gaston had phoned. The timing of this ambush had been a little too coincidental.

In the distance Bolan heard the wail of a siren. Sounds like the cavalry’s coming, he thought. Late, as usual.

Chapter 5 (#ulink_ff076746-b5a7-575c-9e50-a6f5015c3f84)

Everett watched the television monitor intently in the platform rig’s control room. Next to him, Andrei Rinzihov, an older man with sparse gray hair and thick-framed, circular glasses, gazed at the screen, as well. Grimes stood behind them. The camera showed the first submersible’s mechanical arm reach into the square hole in the side of the submarine and pull away another piece of metal debris. The divers, specially outfitted in heavy-duty wasp suits, stood by with their welding tools. The arm of the second submersible hovered above them.