Coast Guard Sonar Picked Up Something on the Seafloor — Then Divers Went Down

Samira reached down to her tactical belt and unlatched her heavy, bright-orange emergency signaling flare gun. Squeezing through the bridge access door, she stepped onto the raised deck and leveled the thick plastic barrel directly at Sterling's chest.

"Put the phone down, Sterling," Samira said, her voice dropping to a low, icy register despite the adrenaline surging through her veins. "Tell your men to stand down immediately."

Sterling slowly ended the call and placed the phone on the console, turning around with a calm, predatory smile. He sneered, “A flare gun, really?" He looked her up and down. "My divers assured me that they had you trapped feet below on the ocean floor."