Elsa went down the path between the SBMC building and the hostel, emerging on the beach. Dr. Murdoch’s research vessel was moored at the end of the beach’s pier, a large silhouette illuminated from within. She had seen it during the day, and it was an impressive ship, one that would cost more money than she would ever have in her lifetime.

Must be nice to be a trust fund kid, she thought with a dash of asperity. But at least he’s spending his inheritance on the pursuit of science, even if it is questionable science.

Breathing in the brackish ocean air, she crossed the hard-packed sand and followed the pier to the boat. She could hear music, somebody playing a piano.

“Hello?” she called.

Nobody answered.

She ascended the gangway. To her right a pair of teak doors led to the ship’s salon. Through adjacent windows she saw that the room was filled with opulent furniture and luxury textiles that could have been transplanted from a Baroque mansion. Dr. Murdoch sat before a glossy black piano, his back to her, halfway through a Billy Joel song. She went to the doors and eased one open, knocking on it at the same time to announce her presence.

The music stopped. Dr. Murdoch swiveled around on his little bench, surprise on his craggy, tanned face. Then he grinned.

“Elsa! What a surprise!” He got to his feet.

“Good evening, Marty. I’m sorry to disturb you. I thought Miss Fernandez and Miss DeSilva would be here with you.”

“They’re staying the night, yes. They went to the hot tub a little while ago.”

“You have a hot tub on this ship?”

“I live on this floating bucket, and for the sake of my sanity, I believe I should be afforded a few luxuries, don’t you agree? Now, I assume you’re here about the genetic testing of the skull? Come with me. It’s better you see for yourself.”

∆∆∆

Dr. Murdoch led Elsa below deck to a sprawling state-of-the-art dry lab featuring all sorts of electronic equipment. Numerous computers streaming data ringed the room. Along one wall were cabinets, incubators, a safety hood for handling hazardous substances, and a large refrigerated unit. A petite woman sat in a chair at one workstation, studying information on an extra-wide monitor.

“Pip, this is the good Dr. Montero. Elsa, this is my assistant, Pip. She’s from France, but her mother is Chinese, which is why she looks like that.”

“Looks like what, Marty?” the woman said in French-accented English.

He shrugged. “Like you do.”

“So you are a racist now?”

“You clearly have Asian and Caucasian features. I simply commented on that.”

“You know some people are clumsy with their feet?” Pip said to Elsa. “Marty is clumsy with his mouth.”

“Let me take back my words then,” he said. “Elsa, this is my assistant, Pip. She’s from France, but her mother is Chinese, which is why she’s so stunning.”

“Yes, that is better, mon capitaine.” To Elsa, “You are here to see the result of the genetic test, yes?”