Devin found the salon door unlocked and slid it open. He was greeted by a stale, mildewy odor that he assumed to be normal for compact space that gets aired out a couple of times a year at most. The interior, a combination of deep-stained wood, light-blue cushions, and white vinyl flooring, was well lit from the sunlight pouring through the long, narrow windows on each side of the salon. The galley was directly below the door, a few steps down a short wooden ladder. Easy enough.

He lowered himself into the galley and opened the lowest of three drawers next to the sink, removing a hefty gray waterproof pouch that took up most of the space in the drawer. Devin sat gently on the edge of the starboard-side couch and unzipped the pouch, placing its contents on the cushion next to him.

A handwritten note signed by his mother. A key chain with three brass house keys. A very high-end touch screen satellite phone. A manila file folder with metal fasteners holding together several typed pages. A little lighter than he expected. Two rubber-banded bundles of cash. Twenties and hundreds. Easily ten thousand dollars, if he had to guess. Much more than he expected. He wasn’t encouraged by the fact that the money piled up higher than the file.

He started with the note.

Devin, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that there’s more than a hundred dollars in the pouch. You can walk away right now and take a really nice vacation, which might sound like an attractive option after you hear the bad news. Before I get to that, please deliver the mailer to your father. It’s a copy of my will, life insurance policy, and assets. Along with my estate attorney’s contact information.

What’s the bad news? I’m dead. Sorry. I couldn’t resist. Ye olde gallows humor. Had to get one last joke in. The bad news is that the file in your hands is just the 30,000-foot view. You’ve probably guessed that much by the size of the file. There’s simply no way to adequately explain or represent what I’ve assembled over the past two decades. I apologize for misrepresenting the size of Sadie’s treasure, but I couldn’t take the chance that you might not take the SDR seriously—and lead them to the source. Go ahead. Roll your eyes. But read the file and consider taking one more step in this journey, assuming you took the SDR seriously. Please don’t execute the next paragraph if you’re not entirely sure they didn’t follow you. Did they try?