Trapped

Neil Swidey: The divers packed themselves into the basket and prepared to be lowered by a crane down the 400-foot shaft. But they couldn't move until DJ Gillis got into the basket with them, and he wasn't about to be hurried.



"C'mon, DJ," one of the guys yelled. "Let's go!"



Tap Taylor, who was DJ's boss, started yelling, too. "Let's go!" It was a radiant summer morning, and they were standing on Deer Island, a peninsula that hangs down like a comma from Winthrop into Boston Harbor, curling in front of Logan Airport. It also happened to be Tap's 36th birthday, and he didn't want to waste it waiting for DJ to move his tail.



The two of them had a close if combustible relationship. Tap…