Bill Evans and Marianna Jameson first teamed up to write the New York Times bestseller "Category 7," vividly portraying the devastating impact of a powerful hurricane on New York City. Now Evans and Jameson return with "Frozen Fire," another edge-of-the-seat thriller that mixes atmospheric science with cutting edge technology.
Read a chapter from the book below, then click here to explore the "GMA" Library for more great reads.
5:50 a.m., Wednesday, October 22, off the western coast of The Paradise of Taino, Eastern Caribbean
The equally high-risk parallels of probable success and possible failure sent twin feeds of adrenaline streaming into Micki Crenshaw's veins as she watched her shadow gradually stretch less and less far across the gently pitching deck of the research ship and submersible tender Wangari Maathai. The sun had crept above the horizon and around the low swell of Taino's lone volcanic peak. That small tip of light was gilding the waters of the eastern Caribbean and expanding the roseate glow that hung low in the sky. The low hum of the engine throbbed beneath her feet. The slap of small waves against the hull and the screams of the seabirds overhead broke the early subtropical stillness. The flag identifying the ship as part of the fleet of the Paradise of Taino--her home and her target--flapped randomly in the cool, quiet air.
It was a beautiful morning in paradise.
A morning more beautiful than this paradise deserves.
Micki glanced over her shoulder at the ship's captain, whom she knew was only pretending to be absorbed by the contents of the clipboard in his hands. He was young, handsome, ex-Royal Navy, and nobody's fool, and he'd been gently flirting with her for the last few weeks. There was little else to do on such a small island and, although the difference in their rank made it a bad idea, she'd allowed it. Actually, she'd encouraged it. She'd never had any qualms about using anything in her repertoire if it would help the cause. And being on Captain Simon Broadhurst's good side, and having him think he was on hers, could help.
"Captain Broadhurst, the sun is up. Can we get underway?" she asked quietly, even though there wasn't a crewmember within earshot.
I'm English, Micki. The proprieties must be observed, he'd said earlier, giving her that smile. She'd wanted to roll her eyes but had stopped herself.
"In a few more minutes, ma'am. I'm still reviewing your dive plan."
She turned to face him full on with a mildly amused expression on her face and one slim eyebrow cocked. Deploying her silkiest Alabama drawl, she answered him. "I know it's unorthodox, captain. But, as we've discussed, that unorthodoxy is necessary. Vital."
"You ought to have briefed me before we left port," he replied.
Tradition and the law of the sea gave him absolute authority on his ship. However, both Micki and the captain knew that, as the second-in-command of Taino's security forces, she outranked him on land, and that's what she was leveraging out here in the soft pre-dawn light. And that's why the censure in his tone was more mild than it would have been had she been anyone else.
"Your dive plan flouts protocol, and may thereby endanger yourself and my crew," he continued in his starchiest, high-street voice. "You're not to dive alone without tracking capabilities. I shouldn't allow it."