“Please, Daniel, your career is starting. I think mine’s over. I’m doing this because someone needs to figure out what’s happening on the island—for Elliot and Rory. But it will likely get me fired, at best, whatever I find. At worst, it’s a lot messier than that. So please . . .”

“There’s no way this is a solo operation,” he said, moving for the stairs. “Come on. I’ve never met a treasure hunter.”

25

Kane drove fast. The twisting roads were still a nightmare to drive, but empty now. Everyone was in Georgetown for the drama or hiding at home.

He almost missed the turnoff for Devil’s Ashpit. Kane swung onto the overgrown road, aware that he was heading into more mystery than he’d ever faced before. He passed the crater striped like a racing track, the glimpse of blackly glinting sea, continuing toward the interior. The moon was low and swollen, and he was grateful for its light. What the hell was he heading toward?

He stopped the car before the station came into view, got out, and listened. Nothing. Kane approached on foot. As he drew nearer, Kane saw what he thought was a girl with her arms out, but it was one of the decaying stumps of palm tree. Beyond it, the ruins appeared. In the cold moonlight the concrete blocks where the deep space antennae would have sat looked like ancient plinths. The front doors remained locked. Nothing had changed. Kane was wondering how he might get in when he heard a sound behind him.

Kane turned. A figure appeared from the darkness, pointing a gun.

Connor.

The boy advanced slowly, limping on his bandaged foot, gun shaking. It was a Beretta, heavy in his hand, but his finger was determinedly on the trigger.

“Hey, Connor,” Kane said. “You okay?”

Connor’s eyes were wide, terrified. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking a look. What’s going on? Where’s Lauren?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for her.”

“Okay. Where did you get the gun?”

“I took it.”

“Anyone know you’re up here?”

“No. I think I’m going to be killed.”

“Who’s going to do that?”

“Whoever killed them.”

“I want to make sure that doesn’t happen, Connor. Do you have any idea who we should be looking for?”

“No.”

“But you know I’m on your side, right?”

“I don’t know anything.”

It had been a while since Kane had had a gun pointed at him. The Beretta M9 was reliable and easy to use, one reason it had been standard issue in the US Air Force. You were taught how to respond to this kind of scenario: distract, redirect, disarm. But persuasion could work too.

“What do you think happened to Lauren?” Kane asked.

“I don’t know.”

“But you’re here.”

“So are you.”