Rogue Angel 49: The Devil's Chord by Alex Archer Read Free Book Online

your trust, sweetie?”
    “For starters? Stop calling me sweetie. ”
    “But I thought you were here to keep an eye on me.”
    Grabbing the closest headlamp, she said, “Let’s go have a look around.”
    * * *
    T HE V ENETIAN CANAL swirled with sediment, murky at the lightest spots. The headlamps allowed Annja and Scout to see about four feet in front of them at the most, and less than two feet the majority of the time. The canal was a few meters deep, and the bottom was littered with timbers, stones and building materials that had been abandoned through the centuries of construction, remodeling and growth. Iron rebar was the most dangerous obstacle, and Annja brushed her hands over the rusted metal often.
    Annja loved to scuba dive and had done so all over the world, from the indigo waters of Phuket in Thailand to the volcanic outcrops in Bali. She preferred the bright coral reefs of the Red Sea in Egypt, but the dark and manta ray–infested waters of Belize had fascinated her equally. There was something about the mystery of what lay immediately before her that kicked up her adrenaline and beckoned her forward to discovery.
    Ian’s dive light, specially designed for underwater filming, cut a deeper and wider swath through the dimness. He intended to film some initial shots of the canal, then wait for her cue to continue filming. It wasn’t necessary to film the entire dive, and she wanted to reduce later editing.
    This area of the canal hugged the buildings and Annja noted the crumbled cement chunks and lots of garbage, including tin cans and broken wood oars.
    Venice’s buildings sat upon oak and pine pilings, most having existed since Renaissance times. Since the wood was embedded in airless, muddy soil, it did not decay or rot. It was the constant wetting, drying and shrinking of wood that caused it to rot and that only occurred in wood above the waterline. Another torment to the abovewater wood was decay from fungi and mold. She imagined upkeep on the pilings alone must tax the city’s budget.
    Scout’s headlamp beamed in her face briefly, and she saw his hand gesture. Annja started to follow. Yet Scout swam quickly, and she was compelled to pause and beam her light down a narrow channel to her right. Looked like a passage under a building. Couldn’t be more than a foot wide. No way a diver could risk entering. Flashing the headlamp around, she looked for a glint, as the light would catch on the lost object. Scout had said it was in a silver attaché case, so that should stand out in the murk.
    Marking off the channel, she pushed back and started in the direction Scout had pointed.
    Annja felt something touch her arm, and she swung her head to the right to acknowledge Ian—but it wasn’t him. In fact, she caught a glimpse of the white glow-in-the-dark ribbon sewn down the diver’s arm. Scout hadn’t such a design on his wet suit. Ian had complained about his suit lacking the racing stripes.
    There was another diver down here? What were the odds? Had Kard, manning the boat above, seen someone go down?
    Veering to the right, where she had last seen Scout, Annja swam into a fizz of oxygen bubbles. An arm slashed across her headlamp beam. Silt stirred up from the canal floor. As she swam closer, she spotted blood in the water.
    A pair of fins hung motionless, then kicked as she neared the person. Gripping Scout’s arm, she turned him to face her. His eyes were wide behind the goggles and he slapped his arm. Out spilled more blood in a red cloud. He’d been injured by the other diver?
    She tugged him upward, passing Ian. Signaling to him that they intended to surface, the cameraman nodded.
    Surfacing, Annja pulled off her mask and tugged out the breathing apparatus. She did the same for Scout. “What the—”
    “Didn’t recognize the guy,” he blurted. “Thought it was the cameraman at first. He got me with a harpoon.” He lifted his arm to reveal the slash through the dive suit. “It’s only