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Great. Nothing like going into something blind.
    A large crest of water splashed the starboard side and up popped a diver. He tossed a hard-shell handheld lamp onto the boat and then gripped the aluminum stairs and climbed up over the side. After he peeled the tight diver’s cap off his head, the man’s dark blond hair spiked this way and that. He looked young. Annja’s age. Too young to hold tenure and to have been through such nefarious experiences as listed in the dossier.
    He took in Annja from head to toe, noted Ian with a frown, winked at Kard, then slapped a wet palm into hers.
    “Scout Roberts. Delighted to be at your service, Miss Creed. But not so delighted about that guy. You a cameraman?” he asked Ian.
    Ian nodded and stood, but after the cold reception, did not offer a hand to shake.
    “He’s with me,” Annja clarified. “I’ll be documenting the dive for possible use as a segment on Chasing History’s Monsters. ”
    “No, you won’t,” Scout confirmed confidently. He slapped a wet palm against his suit, and the spray of water misted Annja’s face. “I know that show. They do monsters. We’re not monster hunting, Creed.”
    “No, but we are diving for buried treasure. I’ve occasionally featured lost treasures on the show.”
    “Yeah, I don’t know about that.” The man hooked a hand at his hip, glaring at Ian for a while. “I wasn’t even expecting you, Creed, until I got the call from Roux last night. A babysitter I can deal with. But no camera crew is getting in our way. The canal is relatively shallow and narrow and we don’t have the space.”
    “The camera crew consists of one,” Annja corrected him, “and you don’t get a say in his being here. Roux approved it.” Buying the extra plane ticket was as good an approval as any. “You’ve already completed a dive this morning?”
    “Nothing official. Just stuck my head down to get a lay of the land, or canal, if you will.” Scout addressed Ian. “If you get in my way—”
    Annja stepped between the men. “He’s a professional and has filmed while diving in Venice before. And you’re out of line. Can we agree to keep things genial, since we must trust one another to have our backs while underwater?”
    Scout whistled and turned his back to them. Let him pout about it, she thought. If Mr. Cocky couldn’t handle another diver on this team then Annja would take the lead, if necessary. Until then, she would stand back and let him run this show. For the most part.
    “Scout?” she prompted him for a reply.
    “Yeah, yeah.” He swept a dismissive hand behind him. A poor agreement, but she imagined it killed him to show that much assent.
    “So this is the correct area?” she asked, hoping to settle both mens’ ire by changing the subject.
    “According to the few details I’ve read about the heist, it should be,” Scout said.
    He unzipped the wet suit to reveal defined pecs and abs that again made him appear much younger than Annja had expected. Sitting on the bench before her, he bent to pull off his fins. She couldn’t deny he was a handsome blond, with blue eyes and a sweet dimple that poked into his left cheek with each smile. Judging from his looks and quick wit, she’d bet he had no trouble making friends almost anywhere. But could he be trusted? His response to Ian being there didn’t bode well, or maybe she was being too paranoid.
    Still, a hotshot? She could deal with that. Might prove more interesting than some of the shy academics she’d spent weeks with on a dig.
    “And what are the few details?” she asked. “I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage. After Roux contacted me, I immediately hopped on a plane to Venice.”
    “You at the man’s beck and call?” Scout cast her a curious glance. “Thought you were more independent. I’ve heard of you. Recognized you the minute I surfaced. Annja Creed, the host of her own TV show. A world-famous archaeologist. Author—”
    “Roux’s a friend,” Annja