Countdown to DANGEROUS WATERS--Exclusive excerpt from Chapter 1

Just over a week away until the release of my next book and I thought I'd post a scene from the first chapter. This is where we first meet our intrepid hero, Finn Carver, along with his boss, Thomas Edgefield. Hope you enjoy!

***Warning--contains some bad language***
DANGEROUS WATERS




C H A P T E R 1Present Day
Finn set out the dive flags and made sure the lights were on.Anchors secure. “Ready?”   His boss nodded and did a final equipment check.   Finn handed him a dive light. “Don’t turn it on yet.” Heglanced around the rocky cliffs that surrounded the shelteredcove. The outcrops were topped with craggy pines and Douglasfir. Crow Point—it was remote and sparsely populated, no chanceof rescue should things go pear-shaped.   It was creeping toward dusk and would be full dark when theycame back up. He was in charge of dive safety and dive training atthe local marine lab, and it went against every principle not to havea surface crew on a dive this dangerous.   Conditions were perfect.   On the low edge of a neap tide cycle. Flat calm and nothing inthe forecast to cause any concern. But there was a reason this partof Vancouver Island was called the Graveyard of the Pacific, andrelying on forecasts was for fools and novices. Barkley Sound wasnotorious for violent squalls and surging swells that came out ofnowhere and sucked you down into the pitiless black depths andnever let go. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked.   Professor Thomas Edgefield, director of Bamfield MarineScience Center, nodded and stood awkwardly with his three airtanks secured to his back—two cylinders and a pony backup.   If ever there was a need for margin of error and built-in redundancy,this was it. He shuffled over to the dive platform at the sternof the boat. Finn checked that his buddy’s hoses were secure andnot liable to get caught on the wreckage as Thom pulled on hisfins. Thom returned the favor, patting Finn on the shoulder whenthey were good to go. Thom put his regulator in his mouth, heldhis mask, and stepped off into the sea. Finn took a last look at thebrooding cliffs and dropped in behind him.   The first thing that always hit was the flash of cold as thePacific struck exposed flesh.   He signaled, and Thom returned the thumbs-down gesture.They began descending the gerry line to the anchor line, swimmingtoward the area where ten days ago they’d discovered thewreckage of an unknown, previously undocumented ship.   The second thing that always hit was the ominous quiet. Themuffled, deadened version of sound that amplified awareness ofbody, breath, heartbeat. A deceptive quiet that lulled the mindand softened the very real danger of a nighttime wreck dive withoutproper surface support.   But Thom had been insistent and he was the boss. Worse, hewas liable to do it alone if Finn refused to help. Classic case ofdamned if he did and damned if he didn’t.   He flicked on his flashlight and shone it along the anchor line,checked his gauges, turned to watch his buddy do the same, andthey both gave the OK signal.   They headed straight down, air bubbles streaming out of theirmouths. Ten meters. Twenty. Clearing ears as depth increased.Thirty meters, and they were almost there. Pressure pinched theneoprene tight to his skin. At the bottom, he tied in the anchor,making sure it was secure. He attached flashing strobe lights andclipped off a line reel so they could more easily find their wayback. He might not have told anyone what they were doing but hesure as hell wasn’t playing fast and loose with their safety.   The hull was a dark, menacing shadow, riddled with cracks,but inaccessible. Potentially treacherous. Unwilling to give up itssecrets. The research he’d done suggested the ship was a relic ofthe nineteenth century. He’d learned little else. Why had no oneever heard of it? Why hadn’t some of the crew escaped?   Finn didn’t like mysteries. He liked things straightforward.Direct. No bullshit. But it wasn’t the first shipwreck in this part ofthe world to be found with no record of survivors or crew.   Most wrecks on the west of the island were pummeled by waveaction and pounded into tiny pieces or flattened in the sand. Butin this sheltered cove, the waves were buffered, and at this depth,in this remote, protected part of the Pacific Rim National ParkReserve, the hull had remained intact, the wreck undiscovered forall these years. Until he and Thom had checked out an unusual seaotter sighting in the bay and done some impromptu diving, justfor the hell of it.   Serendipity? Thom sure as hell thought so.   Finn looked up through the water column and saw nothingbut obsidian blackness at these chilling depths. He shone his beamover the metal hull, picked out starfish and anemones that shimmeredin gemstone colors. But they weren’t what had made Thomnearly choke on his regulator last time they were down here. Finnmoved cautiously over the deck to one of the doorways and tiedoff his reel. Inside the wreck the line was more hazard than help.The pitch-black opening consumed him with a tight swallow. Hefelt Thom move close behind.   A shiver of dread picked its way over his vertebrae. He shookoff the feeling and moved farther into the ship. They had to movewith extreme caution. Otherwise, sediment would completelydestroy visibility and they’d have to rely on touch to get out of thedeadly maze. A good way to die on an unfamiliar wreck in themiddle of the night with no surface crew to miss them.   His heart thumped impassively in his ear. Years of militarytraining had taught him how to control his stress levels. He’dtaken plenty of risks diving military targets in enemy-rich environments,but this situation didn’t feel any less deadly. And Thommight be an experienced diver, but he was too old and…frail…todo this alone.   Thom drew level with him and stopped, shining his dive lightunder his chin and pulling a comic horror face. Suddenly he lookedhappier than Finn had seen him in years, and the worry lightened.Maybe it was worth it. This discovery would make Thom famousrather than infamous, and it was about goddamn time.   He signaled his buddy to take the lead in the hunt for the treasure.The water started to get cloudy so he slowed, gliding with precisionso as not to disturb the insidious layer of silt that shroudedevery surface. The flashlight beams penetrated the gloom by onlya few meters, slashes of brightness in the heavy, claustrophobicdarkness. Finn checked his wristwatch and air gauge, every movementcontrolled and cautious.   Shadows swarmed through the water, schools of fish dartingin and out of the beams like flashes of sunlight off the edge of ablade.   They headed along a stairwell and into the bowels of the ship.Into the engine room, Finn scanning for sharp edges that couldcut through rubber hoses or neoprene. At nighttime, the ship wasa dense absence of light, and he felt like Jonah in the belly of thewhale. Except he had a knife and he knew how to use it.   Thom started taking photographs, the flash startlingly brightin the void of the silent tomb. This was the most hazardous time.Thom’s attention was rapt on his prize, oblivious to everythingelse. Finn had to think for both of them.   He let the man work, stayed perfectly still in the background asThom wrote in his underwater notebook, took water temperaturereadings, more photos, before carefully collecting his treasure.Cold started to seep into his muscles, and he flexed his fingers.He didn’t wear gloves—didn’t like how they reduced his dexterity.Five minutes later, he rechecked their gauges. Saw Thom wasguzzling air in his excitement. He tapped him on the shoulderand gave him the thumbs-up, the signal that meant it was timeto surface. Thom scowled and shook his head. Finn tapped himagain—with his fist. Gave him the thumbs-up signal once more.It wasn’t a question. Thom might be his boss, but Finn was divemaster. Down here he was God.   Thom nodded with a glare and slipped his prize into a bag athis side. He started swimming for the exit. Finn caught a flash ofsomething in a shaft of his flashlight and paused. He shone hisbeam over the same spot and picked out the object. Frowning, hewent down for a closer inspection.   It was a weight belt, worn by divers to reduce buoyancy. Heswore and swam swiftly to Thom. He didn’t want his buddy poppingto the surface like a cork when he got out of the wreck. Hedidn’t want to spend the night in a decompression chamber orhave to explain what they’d been doing down here. He grabbedhis mentor and friend and physically turned him—but Thom’sweight belt was securely in place. Thom frowned in confusion,and Finn swam back to the bottom, picked up the belt, stirringup silt and swearing silently with each noisy inhalation. He glidedcarefully back to where Thom floated beside the door.   Thom ran his own light over the belt and his brow wrinkled.Then he looked up, past Finn’s shoulder, and his expressionmorphed into horror. He screamed, panicking as he lost his regulator,banging against the doorframe in a frantic effort to get out.Finn shot a quick glance over his shoulder before sediment obliteratedthe view like an ink cloud.   Shit.   He didn’t have time to deal with it. Thom was in deep trouble.He’d banged against something sharp, and a confusing swathe ofbubbles now engulfed him, stirring up grit and muck all aroundthem. Finn’s training took over, and he grabbed Thom’s pony tank,turned it on, and shoved that regulator into his mouth, grippinghim by the chest so he didn’t disappear. Something had piercedThom’s manifold and emptied both air tanks. Finn shook himhard to get his attention. Kept them orientated with the hatch sothey didn’t lose their way in the velvety, encompassing blackness.Panic would kill them as surely as lack of oxygen, and he wasn’tdying like this. Thom sucked air like an asthmatic, eyes bulgingfrom the awful choking experience Finn knew all too well.   In zero viz, he hauled his buddy through the hatch. Thetwisted wreckage pressed tight around them, making it hard tomove, suffocating and sinister.   This was the danger of wreck dives. You had to expect theunexpected. They bumped up the narrow stairwell. Every franticmovement stirring up more sediment and silt that crowdedthem, obliterating every particle of light, every hint of shape andform.   His heart beat louder in his ears, still steady, but reinforcedby the oh fuck factor. Flashlights were useless. Finn used touchand had to trust his innate sense of direction. With an iron gripon Thom, he made it out of the stairwell, through the wheelhouse,and free of the shipwreck. Sediment cleared as they hit open water.Darkness still surrounded them, but it was different. Less oppressive.Less claustrophobic. He pulled Thom swiftly to the strobelights that marked the anchor line. They didn’t have much timeon the pony tank, but if that ran out, Finn had plenty of air in hisbackup. Just so long as Thom didn’t freak.   He had to hold on tight when the man would have shotstraight to the surface. Dammit. He dragged him back down. Hisdive computer said they needed to decompress for a few minutesor they’d face the very real possibility of getting bent. He heldThom determinedly in place, stared into his eyes, and willed theman back from the ledge of crazy.   Thom’s skin was so waxy that, up close, his face shone like afull moon. Finn had never seen him so distraught—well, not indecades.   They’d known each other a long time.   They’d trusted each other a long time.   He willed Thom to trust him now. To get him safely to thesurface and out of this mess alive. Slowly, Thom’s juddering breathsettled and his eyes calmed. Finn checked his watch, his gauges.He flashed him the OK signal, silently asking the question.   Thom nodded, gripping Finn’s arms and closing his eyes,drawing in a huge lungful of air. Finally he returned the signal,thumb pressed to index finger, other fingers upright. OK.   Everything was going to be all right.   Finn gave the signal to surface, taking it slow, forcing airout in deep breaths to stop his lungs from exploding as the airexpanded. He had to remind Thom to do the same, which toldhim the guy—an experienced diver—was in bad shape.   Breaking the skin of the inky surface, they followed the gerryline back to the boat that bobbed gently on the incoming tide.Neither said a word. They threw their fins up on deck, climbedaboard, and shucked off their heavy equipment. Sat breathingheavily, looking at one another for a long, drawn-out moment.Ghosts lingered in Thom’s eyes.   “I have to report this to the police,” said Finn. The image ofthe diver hanging lifeless in the water burned through his brain.   Thom swallowed thickly. Nodded. He pulled out a small samplejar and looked at his prize floating gently in the water. Then herested his head in the palm of his hands and started to cry.


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Available on kindle, and print from all good bookstores...
Pre-order from Amazon USA or UK. Also, Canada, France, and Germany.Also from Barnes & Noble (US) and McNally Robinson (Canada).Audio from Brilliance Audio.ISBN-10: 1612186076ISBN-13: 978-1612186078