"You are a yellowbellied fink," he commented.
"Okay," I admitted, "but it's her I'm thinking of, too."
"I've heard the stories about you both," he said. "So you're a heel anda goofoff and she's a bitch. That's called compatibility these days. I dareyou, baitman, try keeping something you catch."
I turned.
"If you ever want that job, look me up."
I closed the door quietly behind me and left him sitting there waitingfor it to slam.
The day of the beast dawned like any other. Two days after my gutlessflight from empty waters I went down to rebait. Nothing on the scope. I wasjust making things ready for the routine attempt.
I hollered a "good morning" from outside the Slider and received ananswer from inside before I pushed off. I had reappraised Mike's words, sanssound, sans fury, and while I did not approve of their sentiment orsignificance, I had opted for civility anyhow.
So down, under, and away. I followed a decent cast about twohundred-ninety meters out. The snaking cables burned black to my left and Ipaced their undulations from the yellowgreen down into the darkness.Soundless lay the wet night, and I bent my way through it like a cock-eyedcomet, bright tail before.
I caught the line, slick and smooth, and began baiting. An icy worldswept by me then, ankles to head. It was a draft, as if someone had opened abig door beneath me. I wasn't drifting forwards that fast either.
Which meant that something might be moving up, something big enough todisplace a lot of water. I still didn't think it was Ikky. A freak currentof some sort, but not Ikky. Ha!
I had finished attaching the leads and pulled the first plug when abig, rugged, black island grew beneath me....