Free Lethal Legend by Kathy Lynn Emerson

place was chill and damp. Diana could not imagine why anyone would have preferred camping out to living in the mansion. As for the excavation itself, there was indeed very little evidence of archaeological activity.
    “Sand and bedrock,” Ben said in a low voice. “Not much to dig in.”
    But the area had been marked off with posts and criss-crossed with cord and off to one side Diana could see what looked like a giant sifter made of wood and wire mesh.
    “This is our work area,” Ennis said, ushering them into one of the tents. It had been furnished with tables and shelves but at present seemed to be in use only to store equipment—trowels, brushes, and other implements Diana could not identify.
    The second tent provided living quarters and contained three cots and case upon case of food. Two crates, one open and one still nailed shut, were marked with the distinctive brand name “Moxie Nerve Food.”
    “Those belong to Paul Carstairs,” Ennis said, seeing the direction of her gaze, “although he’s talked me into drinking a bottle once or twice. Claims it’s good for digestion, fatigue, insomnia, and whatever else ails you.” He grimaced at the memory. “To tell you the truth, when we first got sick, I was sure it was the Moxie that had poisoned us!”
    Diana grinned back at him. She’d once tried a sip of the carbonated beverage herself. That had been more than enough of the horrible stuff. It had a bitter taste appropriate to the medicine it claimed to be.
    “Why does he have so much of it?” she asked.
    “Says it affords him more relief than anything the doctors gave him after the accident.” At her questioning look, he added, “He took a bad fall on his last expedition.”
    “Frank!” Miss Dunbar’s voice, sharp and impatient, reached them from the other side of the tent flap. “If you’re going to dive, let’s do it now.”
    Ennis grinned. “She’s like a broody mother hen about this excavation. Wants to keep it all safely tucked under her feathers so nobody can get at it.”
    He was already pulling off his outer garments as he left the tent. Beneath, he wore heavy woolen underwear. Diana managed not to blush, but she had an uncomfortable moment wondering just how much more he intended to strip away.
    Apparently, the long johns would stay on. Over them, with Mr. Carstairs’s help, Ennis donned a waterproof suit made of rubber. Next came a curved metal plate that covered his upper chest and back and had studs protruding from it.
    Diana moved closer to get a better look.
    “The opening for the head and neck is surrounded by a waterproof gasket,” Mr. Carstairs said, seeing her interest.
    He drew the upper edges of the suit up and over the breastplate, matching each hole in the suit to a stud. Then he placed metal straps over the studs and made them tight with wingnuts, sandwiching the suit between the breastplate and the straps to create a waterproof joint. Lastly, he dropped a huge brass helmet into the opening of the breastplate and locked it in place with a one-eighth turn.
    Two flexible hoses rose out of the helmet. Remembering what Mr. Somener had told them earlier, Diana studied them with considerable curiosity. One went in close to the right ear. The other was aimed directly at the mouth. She could see that the first hose was connected to the pump. The second, however, was not. It appeared to be a speaking tube of some sort.
    “Safe as houses,” Carstairs proclaimed, giving the helmet a smack. “Everything is sealed tight, so there’s no risk of filling up with water. And as you can see, air comes in through a hose, supplied by a force pump, to circulate freely through both the helmet and the suit.”
    “How does the pump work?”
    “It’s hand operated, designed for use in warm, shallow water. It supplies air from the surface. Amity and I will man it from the tender while Ennis drops over the side of the boat and walks along the bottom, looking for any odd formations.