Cambodian Book of the Dead by Tom Vater

they were at twenty-four metres. No problem, yet.
    Rolf urged him on, as close as possible to the large rocks that made the area look like an abandoned scrap yard. After twenty metres, the younger German stopped, slid, as best he could, into a narrow cave and pointed ahead.
    They were very close. Maier suddenly felt cold. Fear spread through his wetsuit like ice water. The centre of the cauldron was a hellish place.
    Twenty to thirty reef sharks had gathered and were nervously cruising around their find. Ten metres ahead of the two divers, a man floated, his feet chained to a stone, dressed in a torn shirt and jeans, upright in the water. One of the sharks had already ripped away his right arm and part of the shoulder. Blood formed small clouds around his injury.
    The man was dead.
    Maier was ready to retreat, but Rolf shook his head again and pulled Maier deeper into the cave he’d found.
    The next time Maier looked up, the reef sharks had gone. The scene in front of the two divers was ghostly. The man hung in the blue water, all alone, almost elegant, as if waiting for something. Maier could not see whether the corpse was Khmer or foreign.
    A large, dark shadow appeared at the opposite rim of the cauldron and descended, like a malignant avalanche, down the slope towards the dead man. Maier was not sure what they were facing – a blue shark, a tiger shark? He had no idea. Whatever it was, it was monster size. Definitely not friendly. Definitely wound up by the blood.
    The shark was bigger than many of the rocks in its way and seemed in no hurry to reach its prey. But its slack movements were deceiving. Within seconds, the huge creature had passed the dead man and was gliding straight towards the two divers. Maier could feel the blood pumping in his temples. The shark had reached the cave. Black, dead eyes. Mouth, jaws, teeth. Maier had heard that some sharks closed their eyes seconds prior to taking a bite while dislocating their jaws. But this shark kept its eyes open. It must have been close to four metres long, as large and as heavy as the hammerhead sharks in the Burma Banks. And a lot meaner.
    As the shark reached the narrow cave, Rolf pressed the buttons of both his regulators and the water filled with clouds of bubbles. The shark, irritated, changed course and disappeared behind them. Maier thought he could hear the boat engine above them, but Rolf grabbed hold of his jacket and shook his head. Maier understood, they could no longer ascend safely. They had dived too deep for too long to go to the surface without safety stops. Rolf checked Maier’s bottle and shook his head again. Maier no longer had enough air.
    Maier tried to bend his head back. The fissure into which they had squeezed led deeper into the rock and widened above them. Rolf had the same idea. They pumped up their BCDs and slowly ascended while pushing deeper into the rock. Rolf had found Maier’s alarm buoy, filled it with air and let it rise to the surface.
    At eight metres, they had reached the upper lip of the rock. Maier could see the boat clearly above them, but he did not dare raise his head above the rock. He turned slowly.
    The large shark had forgotten about the two divers and was slowly circling the man below them. A few reef sharks had returned, but they kept cautiously to the rim of the cauldron. A metal clunk distracted Maier. Samnang had lowered a full bottle, tied to a weight-belt, onto the rock. Rolf carefully pulled the precious air into their crevice. Maier’s bottle was almost empty and he changed regulator. Rolf had enough air and calmly watched the drama below them. Maier sucked on his new bottle greedily.
    The shark swam in a wide curve and coiled, like a tightened spring. As the huge fish came face to face with its victim, it sped up. Then it was upon the dead man. In the last moment before impact, the shark turned on its side and shot forward like a rocket. Maier had no idea whether the fish shut its eyes or