Hauk left the cabin and stepped onto the twelve-foot deck. According to his watch, Arnie and Fisher had been down less than ten minutes.

The oxygen tanks lined up against the storage bin beckoned to him. He grabbed the closest one and peered at the gauge. 1,700 pounds. Enough air for a short dive. Wanting to witness what had prompted Fisher's request, he geared up and dove in.

The wetsuit didn't completely insulate his skin from the colder water he encountered fifty feet below. With darkness surrounding him, he trusted the guide rope to lead him to the site as he continued his descent. Minutes later, through the shadowy waters, Hauk spotted his two divers. Arnie floated above a lamppost, and Fisher knelt on the lakebed in front of the wreck.

An object was in Fisher's hand. He swam toward her to get a better view, but the mysterious object disappeared into her bag, and she glided away from him before he had a chance to satisfy his curiosity. A few flutter kicks behind her, Hauk stretched out his arm with the intent of tapping her shoulder. Her hand swiftly swept across her belt, and a glint of light from the lampposts reflected off her glove.

She spun around. Eyes glazed with fear, she swung her arm. Sharp reflexes allowed Hauk to deflect the blow, but they didn't prevent her other hand from sneaking past his defenses. He inhaled sharply.

A silver blade, shining in the light, pushed against his hose, ready to sever his air supply with the flick of her wrist.