“Very close. They always referred to each other as soulmates. When she died, she took his heart with her to the grave. Part of mine, too.”

“If he loved her so much, how could your father have left her when she was dying?”

“Mom and Julius told me their quest was more important, more noble than sitting around, watching death invade her body. I was taught at an early age about destiny.”

“What about it?”

“Mom believed that certain people have been blessed with special gifts that determine their paths in life. These gifts come with great responsibilities, staying on the path requiring great sacrifices.”

“And she believed you were blessed?”

“Yes. She said I inherited a unique insight and intelligence that was passed down from her maternal ancestors. She explained to me that those without the gift would never understand.”

Christ, Mick’s parents really screwed him up good. It’ll take decades of therapy to right his compass. Dominique shakes her head sadly.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about Julius, leaving his eleven-year-old boy to handle the burden of taking care of his dying mother.”

“It wasn’t a burden, it was my way of thanking her for all she’d given me. In retrospect, I’m not sure I’d have it any other way.”

“Was he there when she passed?” Her words cause Mick to wince.

“Yeah, he was there all right.” He looks up at the horizon, his eyes growing harsh at the memory—then suddenly focusing like a hawk. He grabs the binoculars.

An object has become visible, towering above the western horizon.

Mick points. “There’s an oil platform out there, a big one. I thought you said Iz reported seeing nothing in the vicinity?”

“He did.”

Mick refocuses the glasses. “It’s not a PEMEX rig, it’s bearing an American flag. Something’s not right.”

“Mick—” Dominique points.

He sees the incoming boat, focusing on it with the glasses. “Damn, it’s the Coast Guard. Cut the engines. How fast can we get that sub of yours into the water?”

Dominique hurries to the pilothouse. “Five minutes. You want to dive now?”

“It’s now or never.” Mick races to the stern, pulling the gray tarp off the capsule-shaped submersible. He starts the winch. “The Coast Guard will ID us. We’ll be arrested on the spot. Hey, grab some supplies.”

Dominique tosses cans of food and jugs of bottled water into a knapsack, then climbs down into the minisub as the cutter closes to a hundred yards, its commander blaring a warning across the water.

“Mick—come on!”

“Start the engines, I’ll be right there!” Mick ducks into the cabin, searching for his father’s journal.

“THIS IS THE UNITED STATES COAST GUARD. YOU HAVE ENTERED RESTRICTED WATERS. CEASE ALL ACTIVITY AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED.”