'We're going to find a way, Gerhard. We'll have you out of there before your oxygen runs out.'

'I sincerely hope so.'

Light was returning gradually to the crack, but if what van Maarten was saying was true, the lamps were about to go out.

He'd be alone in the darkness of the ocean, alone until someone declared themselves ready to brave hundreds of hammerhead sharks.

No shark in possession of its natural instincts would have swum into an electromagnetic field. A hammerhead shark would never attack two humans in exosuits, and even if it did, it would quickly lose interest. Hammerheads were known to pose a threat to humans and to be infuriatingly inquisitive, but they usually gave anything suspicious-looking a very wide berth.

They didn't normally swim inside crevices.

Bohrmann cowered inside the cave, equipped with enough oxygen for other forty or so hours. He hoped there wouldn't be a bloodbath when van Maarten's men came down, if they came down.

A bloodbath in the lightless water.

He switched off the floodlight on his trackhound to conserve its battery. He was immediately engulfed in inky black. Light shone through the crack. It was getting fainter all the time.

INDEPENDENCE, Greenland Sea

Johanson couldn't settle. He'd been down on the well deck where Li's men were preparing for the jelly to be transferred to the deep-sea chamber under Rubin's supervision. The tank had been emptied and decontaminated, and the Pfiesteria-laden crabs deposited in liquid nitrogen. The whole process was being conducted under the most stringent safety precautions. Johanson and Oliviera were planning to start the phase tests as soon as the jelly was in the tank. In the meantime, while they'd been exchanging notes and laying down the procedure, Crowe and Shankar had begun to decipher the second Scratch message.

'The shock is still with us,' Li had said, in her improvised speech. 'Every one of us has been deeply affected by what happened. Our enemy is trying to demoralise and destroys us – but we mustn't give in. I'm sure you're all asking yourselves whether this vessel is safe. Let me assure you, it is. Providing we don't give our enemy any further opportunities to come aboard, we've got nothing to fear on the Independence. All the same, speed is of the essence. It's more important than ever that we focus our energies on forcing a dialogue. We need to convince our enemy to put a stop to its campaign of terror against the human race.'

Johanson went up to the flight deck, where the kitchen staff was clearing away the remnants of the abandoned party. The sun had risen again, and the sea looked no different from usual: no blue glow, no flashes, and no luminescent vision presaging a nightmare.

He walked back to where he'd been standing before Li had presented him with a glass of red wine and tried to pump him for information about his night-time escapade. Two things had been clear to him: first, that Li knew what had happened to him; and second, that she wasn't sure how much he could remember and whether he was telling her the truth – which worried her.

She'd lied to him. He hadn't fallen over.

If Oliviera hadn't mentioned that he'd seen Rubin walk through a door in the hangar deck, nothing would have come back to him, and he would have swallowed Dr Angeli and the others' explanation. But Oliviera's comment had triggered something in his mind. His brain was reprogramming itself. Enigmatic images appeared and faded. As he stared at the uniform seascape of waves, his gaze turned inwards. Suddenly he was back on the crate, chatting to Oliviera, glass in hand. Rubin stepped through a door in the hangar-deck wall. A door … It appeared in the distance, and yet in another picture he seemed to be standing right in front of it – proof to Johanson that the mysterious passageway existed.

But what had happened next?

They'd gone down to the lab. Then he'd returned to the hangar deck alone. Why? Was it something to do with the door?

Or was he imagining it all?

You could be getting old and crazy without even knowing it, he thought to himself. That would be embarrassing.

While he was still puzzling over it, fate took pity on him and sent Weaver to him. Johanson was pleased to see her walking over the deck. They hadn't spent much time together lately. At first he'd seen her as his confidante, but he'd soon come to appreciate that she wasn't a replacement for Lund. They got on well, but it hadn't gone any deeper than that, neither in the Chateau nor on the boat. Maybe he had hoped that, through her, he could make up for everything that had happened to Lund. In the meantime things had changed. Now Johanson was by no means certain that he needed to make up for anything, and still less whether he'd share the intimacy with Weaver that he had with Lund. He had the impression that something might happen between her and Anawak, and they were much better suited…

But there was trust. If he put his trust in Weaver, he would surely be rewarded. She was much too down-to-earth to want to romanticise inexplicable events. She'd listen to him and tell him if she believed him or if she thought he was mad.

He gave her a succinct account of everything he could remember, including all the things that didn't make sense or that made him doubt himself, and how he'd felt when Li had given him the third degree.

After a thoughtful pause Weaver asked; 'Have you been down to look?

'I haven't had a chance.'

'You must have had plenty. You're just scared in case there's nothing there.'

'You're probably right.'

She nodded. 'Let's take a look together.'

Weaver had surmised correctly. He did feel scared and unsure of himself- more so with every step that took them closer to the hangar deck. What if there was nothing? By now he felt almost certain that they wouldn't find a door, and then he'd have to get used to the idea that he might be delusional. He was fifty-six, he was good-looking, and people seemed to find him intelligent, attractive and charming. There was never any shortage of women.

It was just as he'd feared. They paced up and down along the bulkhead, and there was nothing that resembled a door.

Weaver looked at him.

'I know, I know,' he muttered.

'Don't worry,' she said. And then, to his surprise, she added, 'You can see the wall's riveted together. Look at all these pipes and joints. There must be thousands of ways of building a door into the wall without anyone being able to spot it. You need to remember precisely where you saw it.'

'You believe me?'

'I know you pretty well, Sigur. You're not nuts. You don't drink yourself into a coma or take drugs. You appreciate the finer things in life – and that means you see details that other people miss. I'm more of a fish-and-chips girl. I probably wouldn't notice a hidden door if it opened right in front of my face, because it wouldn't occur to me that something like that might exist. I don't know what you saw, but. . . yeah, I believe you.'

Johanson leaned forward impulsively and kissed her cheek. He headed down the ramp towards the laboratory, almost elated.

LAB

Rubin still looked pale, and when he spoke, he sounded like a squawking parrot. He was lucky to be alive. Greywolf had been well on the way to finishing him off. The biologist showed himself to be extremely understanding. He maintained a stiff smile, reminding Johanson for all the world of Nurse Ratchet in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest after she had narrowly escaped being throttled by Jack Nicholson. Rubin swivelled his whole body ostentatiously whenever he glanced to either side. He was quick to let everyone know about his wretched state of health, and magnanimously announced that he didn't hold a grudge against Greywolf.