Song Lee had been content to labor in anonymity, but the remoteness of the island had started to get to her and she had been thinking of finishing her book back in China. She often thought of the NUMA people who had swooped in to save her and the world. She missed the Trouts and Joe Zavala, but most of all she missed Kurt Austin. A few weeks after she had arrived on the island, he had called her on one of the lab’s radiophones. He was on Pohnpei, still helping with the recovery of Davy Jones’s Locker, and would be in Micronesia longer than anticipated.

The drone of the marine motor grew louder, and seconds later Dooley’s double-hulled boat rounded the corner of a mangrove island and coasted up to the dock. There were two people in the boat: Dooley, who was at the wheel, and, beside him, a broad-shouldered man wearing a Hawaiian shirt. As they approached the dock, the broad-shouldered man removed the baseball hat from his head, revealing a thick mane of steel-gray hair. Song was already up and running down to the dock by the time Kurt Austin had started to wave his cap in the air. She and the boat got to the end of the dock at the same time.

Dooley tossed her the bow line as the boat bumped up against a piling.

“Brought you some company, Dr. Lee,” he said.

Song barely heard him. Her eyes were fixed on Kurt, who had a wide grin on his bronzed face. The grin grew even wider when he climbed out of the boat and Song threw her arms around him. He returned her embrace with enthusiasm. She planted a kiss on his lips that was warm and long, and might have gone on forever if Dooley hadn’t cleared his throat.

“Pardon me, folks, but I’ve got to get back to the mainland.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Kurt. Call when you want to go back to Pine Island.”

“Thanks for the ride, Dooley,” Austin said. He asked Dooley to toss him his small rucksack.

As the boat disappeared into mangroves, Austin said, “I got back to Washington a few days ago and thought I would hop down here to say hello.”

Lee hooked her arm in Austin’s and led the way toward the lodge.

“I’m glad you did,” she said. “How are Joe and the Trouts?”

“They’re fine. Zavala has found true love with a NUMA cartographer, and the Trouts just got back from New Bedford. The city’s whaling museum was dedicating a room for Caleb Nye’s diorama. It’s part of a special exhibition on the strange voyage of the Princess.”

“And a very strange voyage it was,” Lee said. “I start off my book with their experience on Trouble Island.”

“How is the book coming?”