The hull of the predator vessel loomed above Reno like a blackened cliff-face of forged steel. It wasn’t a ship; it was a fortress, carved with sharp angles designed to deflect radar and suppress heat signatures. It hung caught in the throat of the reef, pinned by its own mass against the serrated coral teeth. The seawater churned into a white froth of frustration around its base.Reno surfaced, his chest burning as he sucked in a desperate gulp of the salty, storm-thick air. His ears were ringing, a dull, metallic chime left over from the pulse-emitter’s final charge. He tapped the small, ruggedized transceiver duct-taped to his wrist."I’m at the waterline," he hissed. His voice sounded like gravel shifting under a boot."Are you insane?" Tiffany’s voice bled through the static in his earpiece, high and frayed. "There are sixteen signatures moving on the deck. Those are professional hitters, Reno, not corporate drones. If they catch you, they’re going to fillet you before they even