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antiquities rulings in the country of Jamaica. No sooner had they closed the door than the Romanian known as Costin had pulled a pistol, taking them prisoner.
    They’d remained in the room until well past ten o’clock, then had been taken to the fifty-four-foot Bertram boat at the Royal Jamaican Yacht Club. Sailing out into the bay, they’d gotten within about two hundred meters of the port of Kingston, just outside the security zone, then stopped. A black mesh container about five feet square was thrown on the deck. Inside were dozens of waterproofed bundles. On the corners were large rare earth magnets.
    Costin pointed at Brett and said, “Stand up. Look over toward the port. Do you see the second ship in the line?”
    Brett did as he asked, then said, “Yes.”
    “You will swim this bundle to that ship and affix the magnets to the hull beneath the water line.”
    “Just me? That thing is huge.”
    “Yes. Just you.” He pointed at the remaining scuba gear. “I’m told you know how to use this equipment. I hope for the sake of your friend here, you do. If you get caught by security or try to escape, she will die.”
    Remembering that Brett was recovering from an arm wound, Jennifer said, “Let me help him. Let us both go.”
    Costin had laughed. “Let you both go under the ocean at night? I’m afraid not. You
will
be helping him. You will provide the motivation.”
    Brett had grimly suited up, then slipped over the side. Two men had hoisted the package into the water; then Costin had said, “You have two hours. If you’re not back in two hours, she is dead.”
    “But this tank only holds about forty-five minutes of air.”
    “Then I suggest you use it wisely. Surface swim until you’re close.”
    An hour and forty-two minutes later, she had hoisted an exhausted scuba diver back onto the boat. Brett had collapsed on the deck, not even caring when they zip tied his hands behind his back.
    The boat had returned to the marina, but they had not been allowed to leave. Costin and his crew had been replaced by two more men who said nothing, merely bringing on some maritime equipment and a duffel bag. One sat in the galley with a pistol on his belt while the other remained up top, the two men rotating positions every few hours.
    Out of the small window above the galley table, Jennifer could see the container ship that Brett had swum to. When it set sail midafternoon, her boat’s engines had fired to life. Now Jennifer was sure they were chasing the giant ship on the open ocean.
    Why? What are they up to? What does this have to do with us?
    The guards on the boat spoke only in a foreign language she assumed was Romanian and were no help. Before he’d left, Costin had given instructions to Brett and Jennifer, saying they were being held only until an operation had been conducted, then would be set free. Jennifer knew he was just trying to ensure compliance and he had no intention of letting them go. He was going to kill them the minute they were no longer of any use. But that was the question.
    What use are we to begin with?
    They were being kept alive for a specific reason, and it wasn’t goodwill. When the two men had changed out with Costin’s crew this morning, they’d brought with them some type of collapsible pole ladder with a hook on the end. That, coupled with the fact that they were following the container ship, led her to believe that they were going to board it, and not from the next port.
    But they couldn’t board it and leave us here without risking escape. And there are only two men on this boat. Not enough manpower to both drive the boat and guard us if only one boards. Why keep us alive if they’re going to do that anyway? They could just shoot us and dump us out here.
    Then it dawned on her.
They’re going to make
us
board.
    She had no idea why but was positive that was what was going to happen, and once it did, they’d be used as pawns in whatever Costin and Dylan were doing. Probably dead