“Those odds and ends,” he said. “They going to blow us out of the air?”

“Only if they get tossed around.”

“Oh, well, hey.” DeBattista gestured toward the guy in the cargo loader. “Eddie will take care of the bags and crates. You can all get aboard in the meantime. Wheels up in twenty minutes.”

“OK.”

Carmody went back to the Rhino and held a finger up to Kali, Natasha, Dixon, Schultz and Musil. Then he went around to Morse’s window and waited as she lowered it.

“Well, you’re off,” she said.

“Almost.”

“Captain Harper will meet you at Barbers Point.”

“Right.”

“You’ll coordinate with him. There’s to be no independent action.”

“You bet.”

Morse looked at him for a long moment. “How’s your arm?”

“The one without the bullet hole’s terrific.”

She smiled.

“Godspeed, Mike. Keep me updated.”

Carmody nodded and stepped back from the door. Morse’s window rose. He rejoined the others, and they walked across the tarmac and went up the boarding ladder into the plane.

New York is six hours ahead of Hawaii on the world clock, and it was a quarter to eleven on Friday night when Grigor Malkira’s plane landed at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport. A moderate tailwind had shaved forty minutes off the trip.

Outside the terminal, he got into a yellow cab and took it to Honolulu Harbor. There was almost no traffic on the Nimitz Highway, and the ride was fast.

“Drop me off in the parking area behind Pier 1,” he told the driver.

“Where exactly, sir? It’s pretty big.”

“I’ll let you know.”

The cab driver nodded and turned into the expansive lot. Grigor directed him to a low flat white-walled commercial office building near the waterfront.

Jochi was waiting outside alone.

“This is it,” Grigor told the driver. “Right here.”

The driver stopped to let him out. He saw Jochi’s tall, broad silhouette a few yards away in the darkness and looked nervous. Grigor paid his fare in cash, exited the cab and watched him turn quickly back toward the road.

The night was clear with light breezes off the water. He inhaled the briny air.

“How was your flight?” Jochi asked.

“It got me here.”

Jochi grunted, nodded to his left. The colossal hulk of the Xingyun Liwu was visible just east of the white building.

“We’re nearly ready,” he said.

Grigor looked at him.

“Take me to the ship,” he said. “I want to see for myself.”

Kali sat quietly beside Carmody in the Falcon’s passenger cabin. Their rotating chairs were like personal islands. They were huge and cushiony and dove-colored, with wraparound backs and high wing arms. The carpeting was a plush camel tone. There were lounges and tables and a dining area, and there was a galley with a full bar and wine refrigerator and shelves of fluted glasses. The lavatory floors were tiled in white marble.