The American looked up at him. “I… I’m sorry that I asked about this. I had… had no idea. I think maybe I really didn’t want to know.”

“The truth doesn’t always make you free,” Braun said, “especially when you’re the one charged with keeping its power from disturbing the faith of hundreds of millions of your fellow Christians.”

SEVEN

Ridgeway shook uncontrollably as he clung to a concrete piling under the pier. Through the narrow slits between the boats, he had watched the two men carry the bodies of their comrades back up the dock. The tide was out The marina’s seawalls loomed about him like giant cliffs.

Fighting the cold-induced haze in his head, Ridgeway weighed his chances of swimming farther. He knew it was no use. He had only been able to make it three docks down toward the main channel, diving deep to cross the spaces between piers, pausing to catch his breath in the relative seclusion of the boats.

Now the cold had permeated the deepest parts of his body, driving out even the heat generated by exercise. It was all he could do to cling to the piling and he knew that he either had to climb out and face his assailants or the in the water.

Ridgeway had heard stories about hypothermia, how pleasurable it felt to slip into unconsciousness. It was so comfortable that those who were later revived showed anger toward their rescuers for returning them to the world. He closed his eyes and felt the tension vanish.

The water was warm and Zoe was at the wheel. They had the large genoa foresail up, and through the slim space between the sail’s foot and the deck they could see the island of Salt Cay sliding past on the horizon. Ridgeway took a glance at the compass and the chart draped over his knees. The island of Jost Van Dyke lay ahead in the distance. He leaned his face into the sun and thought of the fresh lobsters and pina coladas at Foxies. He closed his eyes and let the sun’s rays bleed through his eyelids. He felt Zoe’s hand in his hair and …

Suddenly salt water was choking him. His eyes clouded with muck. He had let go of the pilings! He was sinking. His arms seemed frozen and his legs were stiff, lifeless, but he told his legs to kick and they obeyed. His head broke the surface and he breathed greedily, trying not to make noise, though it was hard to hear anything above the storm. To his right, a rope arced down from the dock and then back up again out of sight. Ridgeway kicked desperately and stretched out for the lowest point of the arc. The tips of his fingers brushed the rope but failed to catch it. Again he went under, but this time when his legs propelled him to the surface his hands found the rope easily. He pulled himself upward on the rope and as he did found it was a slack mooring line between the dock and a small powerboat.