Kusanagi by Clem Chambers Read Free Book Online Page B

fuck do you call that?’
    Brandon peered down to the seabed below. His eyes widened.
    â€˜Welcome to Sharkopolis,’ crackled Casey.
    Hundreds of hammerheads were patrolling the seabed, their flat, elongated heads sweeping the sand, like a metal detector searches for landmines.
    â€˜Wow,’ said Danny. ‘This could make one crazy YouTube video.’
    â€˜Didn’t you bring your Android phone?’ quipped Brandon. ‘The fucking fish are everywhere,’ he added redundantly. If dolphins were good luck, what were hammerhead sharks? The animals were right on top of where they wanted to be. ‘Can you guys see anything?’ he radioed.
    â€˜Sharks.’ That was Danny.
    â€˜Nothing on the bottom,’ called Casey. ‘Just sand and coral.’
    â€˜We’re right over the spot,’ Brandon told them.
    â€˜Casey,’ radioed Danny, ‘want to accompany me down to the bottom? You can be my shark buddy.’
    â€˜Sure,’ said Casey.
    Brandon stared down at the hammerheads sweeping back and forth. His heart sank. Last time the gold had been lying on the sand, twinkling up at him. This time there was nothing but sand and sealife. He had been dreaming of filling the green GI duffel he was carrying with coins but now that seemed like a foolish dream. Instead a storm was brewing upstairs and a National Geographic shark cluster-fuck was going on below.
    Closer to shore, at the edge of his vision, a dozen hammerheads seemed to be swimming in a giant figure of eight. He propelled himself towards the formation simply because he had no other point of focus.
    The hammerhead had a fierce reputation but the facts were different. It wasn’t like a tiger, bull or great white shark that would eat you as soon as look at you, it was a more specialised and finicky predator. The purpose of its flat head was to sweep over the sand and sense creatures hiding just below. If you were a ray or some other hidden flat fish, it would feel you with its flattened forehead and snap you up.
    That information wasn’t too comforting because scalloped hammerheads were dangerous, and whatever the reason they were in that cove today, it was unlikely to make them chilled out. He was pretty sure sharks got grumpy when they were breeding – and why else would they be there in such profusion?
    â€˜These fucking fish,’ interjected Danny. ‘Good job there ain’t no piles of coins to see down there – it’d be gnarly getting them up.’
    â€˜At least we know it’s the right co-ordinates,’ commented Casey. ‘There were quite a few hammers around last time, as I recall.’
    Brandon’s face did its best to smile around the mouthpiece of the regulator. The crazy shark conga was pivoting over a lump of something, and that something had just flashed a dull golden light. He didn’t say anything – he wanted to be sure. He swam on. Sure enough, a gold lump was sticking up from the sand, like a Starbucks pound cake. He dived down and slowly approached it from above, hoping the hammerheads would amend their circuit to accommodate him.
    They didn’t.
    He swam lower, side on to the sharks as they soared by on their fixed path, sailing around or over the shiny golden chunk. He thought he saw the corner of a gold bar poking out of the sand.
    Brandon took out his diver’s knife, waited for a gap in the shark train and swam down to the gold. He was banking on the sharks turning away from him, as sharks normally did if confronted in the right way, and the theory that the hammerhead was not a natural man-eater. A shark was coming right at him and he held out the knife to jab its nose. Then another was gliding towards him from the other lap of the figure of eight. He was going to be the jack in a shark sandwich.
    He couldn’t fight two sharks with one knife.
    The closest animal suddenly veered away, with a violent swish of its tail, and swung off