Baited by CRYSTAL GREEN Page A

that the sharks were conditioned to accept the tourists, but that didn’t guarantee safety—not by a long shot.
    You never know what a shark is going to do, she’d told Kat on their first day together. We’ll be in their territory, their world, and they own it.
    Never forget that.
    “It’s always good to give them some healthy respect,” Dr. Hopkins added, “but as I’ve told you before, even though sharks have been around for thirty million years—and they haven’t changed much in that time, either—we still don’t know a whole lot about them. They still pull the unexpected. For instance, we can be outside of the cage in the water, and never be attacked.”
    Kat’s stomach flipped. “Seriously?”
    “Seriously. In fact, shark attacks in the United States are less frequent than homicides or auto deaths. You’d never know it by the kind of attention the media gives them though, would you?”
    Duke straightened up, creaking with the effort. “Judging by the news, the sea is full of jaws.”
    Without much energy, he squeezed Kat’s arm as he left the flying bridge, saying something about a nap, while the women chattered and watched Chris. From all the doctor’s information these past couple of days, Kat felt confident about her own dive. She wasn’t as afraid of these predators half as much as she’d been back in San Diego, where surfing myths about man-eating sharks ruled the day.
    By this time, the ten-footer had started to “test” the cage bars, as Dr. Hopkins explained. Its teeth had been scraping the aluminum with every pass and, now, it had graduated to biting the cage.
    “When this happens to you,” she said, “just remember that it’s trying to determine what the cage is. ”
    “Or if it would make good grub.” Kat wondered if Chris had peed in his suit yet. But she had to hand it to him; he looked real collected down there all by himself.
    Seconds later, one shark had left, but the ten-footer was still hanging out, going back to eat more chum.
    When it finished, it tested the rope that connected the cage to the boat—the lifeline. Kat gasped.
    “Is that okay?”
    “It’ll realize the rope tastes awful.”
    But then it happened.
    The ten-footer gave a powerful yank on the lifeline.
    “Tell me that’s okay, Doctor.”
    Dr. Hopkins backed away from the railing, gazing at the water. She started to walk toward the stairs with Kat.
    Tinkerbell started yelling at Larry.
    The shark wrenched on the rope again.
    Chris’s cage began to float…underneath the boat. A trail of bubbles spurted out of the top. His breathing had gone erratic.
    Kat took off down the stairs, Dr. Hopkins on her tail.
    Grasping for breath, she came to stand by Larry. He’d retrieved another lifeline and was ready to throw it toward the cage for Chris to grab.
    “Is that going to work?” Kat asked.
    A jagged voice cut the air. “What’s happening?”
    Will. Calm, in control, green-blue eyes blazing.
    “Old Ten Speed got a hold of the lifeline,” Larry said, gesturing toward the shark, who’d deserted the rope and resubmerged. A faint thud from the bottom of the boat spoke for the peril of Chris in his cage.
    Will leaned over the vessel’s side. “Did he tear it? How—?”
    Kat joined him, heart thudding until it beat in her ears. “What can we do?”
    He leaned over further, inspecting the rope. The length was taut, moaning with tension.
    “Shit,” Will said, a hint of fear in his tone.
    Kat saw the problem. The strands were splitting and every push of the current weakened them as the rope was stretched.
    Will looked ready to kill. “I inspected everything myself before we started. That rope should withstand more than a test bite.”
    She knew the cage couldn’t be hauled in the old-fashioned way. “Can’t we all grab the rope below where it’s damaged and bring it in?”
    Even as she said it, she knew it was an idiotic question. There wasn’t enough length between the cage and the yielding strands