“Planétaire Systems saw no reason for it,” he said. “Frankly neither did I. The event was localized. Its causes were apparent from subsequent inspection by divers and ROVs. And we were confident of the seismological data already compiled.” He reached for his drink. “You must also understand my own immediate priority was recovering the bodies of my crewmen.”

“Sure,” Nimec said. “We’re not trying to second guess anybody.”

“Still makes sense to do a comparative geological work up,” Scull said. “With all the offshore rigs popping up in the Ogooué, you want to be sure the drilling hasn’t moved things around, loosened them like people sticking their toes into sand castles.”

Gunville looked at him.

“I agree with your suggestion. If Planétaire hadn’t pulled out of the region, it is likely a new survey would have been conducted by my employers at Nautel. Unfortunately, without their finances . . .”

“UpLink will get one ordered,” Nimec said.

“Excellent.” Gunville sat quietly a moment, then glanced over at the stage. “I hope you will forgive me, but I must prepare for my next set.” He offered the men a courteous smile. “I’m certain we’ll be talking again over the next several days.”

Nimec nodded.

“You bet,” he said. “We’re very grateful for your time.”

Handshakes around the table, and then Gunville was off across the room.

Nimec saw him move toward the blond at the foot of the stage, dawdle there to speak to her.

“Hot stuff,” Scull said, following his gaze. “If I could sing like him, I’d be picking up broads left and right, too.”

“Don’t remember you having trouble on that score when you were married.”

“Which time?”

“I could probably take my pick.”

Scull shrugged.

“That was all before I lost my boyish good looks,” he said.

They were silent a bit.

“Okay,” Nimec said, and pointed his chin in the direction Gunville had gone. “Give me your impressions.”

Scull pointed to Gunville’s half-full scotch glass. “Didn’t finish his drink.”

“I noticed.”

“Sort of left me feeling he gave us the bum’s rush.”

“Yeah.”

“Meanwhile, he’s over there talking to the blond, plenty of time for her.”

“Yeah.”

Their eyes met.

“Can’t figure what it might be, but I think our fucking crooner Romeo’s got something to hide,” Scull said.

Nimec nodded.

“You and me both,” he said.

Port-Gentil. Headquarters Police Gabonaise. Forty-seven minutes past midnight. His shift long concluded, leaving him drained from overwork and nerves, the normally starch crispness of his officer’s uniform gone as limp as he felt, Commander Bertrand Kilana slouched before a computer screen behind his locked office door.