The light from the camera rig vanished into the cavern, which was apparently too large for the illumination to reach the walls. A large, indistinct fish swam in front of the lens, and the floating debris drifting away from the drill hole made it look as if he had suddenly picked upWhite Christmas on the monitor.

Frik’s frustration mounted. There was little chance on this monitor that he’d be able to distinguish any turquoiselike fragments which might have remained in the undersea cavern. The only way to be sure was for someone to dive down and enter the cave. Fortunately, the presence of the fish assured him that there was an entrance other than the hole his men had drilled.

“I’m not going down there,” Blaine said, anticipating what Frik had in mind.

“You’ll go where I tell you to go,” Frik said, “but you’re right. I need you around to fly me off this rig.” He yelled out the names of the few workers he knew. “You want to be paid?” he shouted when no one appeared.

One by one, the men returned. They clustered in small, silent groups, far from the strange objects.

“All right now. Who’s going down?”

Nobody moved. “You. Charles.” Frik stared into the man’s eyes. “You just volunteered. You, too, Abdul. Get your gear. Find the opening to that cavern. If there are any more pieces down there, bring them up. There’s a bonus for each one you find.”

The men did as they were told. When they had been lowered into the water, Frik said, “The rest of you bastards, no pay today. Tomorrow you work like men or—”