Skeleton Key

illusion, some sort of trick. The very fact that it was so close to him seemed impossible. He stared at the white underbelly, the two sets of fins, the down-turned crescent mouth with its jagged, razor-sharp teeth. And there were the deadly, round eyes, as black and as evil as anything on the planet. Had they seen him yet?
    Alex forced himself to breathe. His heart was pounding. Not just his heart—his whole body. He could hear his breath, as if amplified, in his head. His legs hung limp beneath him, refusing to move. He was terrified. That was the simple truth. He had never been so scared in his life.
    What did he know about sharks? Was the great white going to attack him? What could he do?
    Desperately, Alex tried to draw on what little knowledge he had.
    There were three hundred and fifty known species of shark but only very few of them were known to have attacked people. The great white—carcharodon carcharias—was definitely one of them. Not so good. But shark attacks were rare. Only about a hundred people were killed every year. More people died in car accidents. On the other hand, the waters around Cuba were notoriously dangerous. This was a single shark…
    …still circling him, as if choosing its moment…
    …and it might not have seen him. No. That wasn‟t possible. A shark‟s eyes are ten times more sensitive than a human being‟s. Even in pitch darkness it can see eight metres away. And anyway, it doesn‟t need eyes. It has receptors built into its snout which can detect even the tiniest electrical current. A beating heart, for example.
    Alex tried to force himself to calm down. His own heart was generating minute amounts of electricity. His terror would guide the creature towards him. He had to relax!
    What else? Don‟t splash. Don‟t make any sudden movements. Advice given to him by Ian Rider came echoing back across the years. A shark will be attracted to shiny metal objects, to brightly coloured clothes, and to fresh blood. Alex slowly turned his head. His oxygen cylinder had been painted black. His T-shirt was white. There was no blood. Was there?
    He turned his hands over, examining himself. And then he saw it. Just above the wrist on his left arm. There was a small gash. He hadn‟t even noticed it, but now he remembered catching his wrist on the side of the boat as he fell backwards. A tiny amount of blood, brown rather than red, twisted upwards out of the wound.
    Tiny, but enough. A shark can smell one drop of blood in twenty-five gallons of water. Who had taught him that? He had forgotten, but he knew it was true. The shark had smelled him…
    …and was still smelling him, slowly closing in…
    The circles were getting smaller. The shark‟s fins were down. Its back was arched. And it was moving in a strange, jerky pattern. The three textbook signs of an imminent attack. Alex knew that he had only seconds between life and death. Slowly, trying not to make any disturbance in the water, he reached down. The knife was still there, strapped to his leg, and he carefully unfastened it. The weapon would be tiny against the bulk of the great white and the blade would seem pathetic compared to those vicious teeth. But Alex felt better having it in his hand. It was something.
    He looked around him. Apart from the cave itself, there was nowhere to hide—and the cave was useless. The mouth was too wide. If he went inside, the shark would simply follow him. And yet, if he made it to the ladder, he might be able to climb it. That would take him out of the water—
    up the Devil‟s Chimney and onto dry land. True, he would surface in the middle of the Casa de Oro.
    But no matter how bad General Sarov might be, he couldn‟t be worse than the shark.
    He had made his decision. Slowly, keeping the shark in his sight, he began to move towards the cave‟s entrance. For a moment he thought the shark had lost interest in him. It seemed to be swimming away. But then he saw that he had been tricked. The creature turned and, as if fired from a gun, rushed through the water, heading straight for him. Alex dived down, air exploding from his lungs. There was a boulder to one side of the cave and he tried to wedge himself into a corner, putting it between himself and his attacker. It worked. The shark curved away. At that moment, Alex lunged forward with the knife. He felt his arm shudder as the blade cut into the thick hide just under the two front fins. As the shark flickered past, he saw that it was