He dropped his sarong to the floor and turned on the bathtub’s tap. There was no shower curtain and the leaky plastic spray wand was on a hose connected to the spigot. There was only one handle: cold. Rust-colored water gushed out. When it cleared, Tusker braced himself and stepped into the tub. Now he was awake.

He brushed his teeth and finger-combed an unruly mop of blonde hair away from his forehead. In the mirror, under the fluorescent light and against his deeply tanned face, his eyes looked even more blue. He noticed the creases seemed to be getting more pronounced, and remembered his ex-wife always telling him to wear sunscreen to stay looking young. Can’t help things now, he thought, and switched off the bathroom light.

The relative cool of dawn had quickly evaporated, replaced by the sultry heat that would build all day. Tusker hoped they could finish surveying the promising site they’d found last week. It’d be great to finish out his stay in Sri Lanka with a big discovery.

He dressed in a pair of rumpled cotton cargo shorts and one of those supposedly “insect proof” shirts he’d stocked up on before coming to Sri Lanka. He filled his water bottle from a jug in the corner of his room, tucked it in his backpack and headed downstairs. He’d grab a couple of egg hoppers, those delicious thin coconut pancakes unique to Sri Lanka, from the stall next door to take along for breakfast.

Ian was waiting for him in the lobby with a grave face.

“Bad weekend?” Tusker asked. “Did that girl at The Lighthouse shoot you down again?”

Ian ignored his joke. “Took your sweet time getting down here,” he said.“Upali’s dead.”

“Well, that’s a pretty extreme way to get out of digging in the mud here,” Tusker said, smiling. “Come on, let’s grab some hoppers and get down to the shed. We found something promising on Friday that I want to show you.”

“No, mate, I’m serious. The research boat caught on fire and they’re saying no survivors.” Ian’s eyes were dark and earnest. He held up his iPhone to show a news site’s homepage. There was an old file photo of the R/V Taprobane, MOCHA’s sonar and dive boat. Headline: “Ministry Boat Sunk, No Survivors.”

“When did this happen? It has to be a mistake. I got a text yesterday from Upali saying they’d found something.” Tusker snatched the phone from Ian’s hands and pulled it close to his face, as if looking for some clue that this was a hoax.