“Honored superior, I will not claim we abided by strict convention. As you know, our inspection of the vessel uncovered extraordinary things. Sophisticated American spy technology most vitally among them. The remains were handled in a way I concluded was in our nation’s best interest. I can show you privately if you wish.”

Wei looked at him for a long minute.

“Yes,” he said. “Do that.”

The harbor on the seaward side of the dome was wide and deep, its facilities like those of any midsize working port. There were cranes and forklifts and shipping containers the size of trucks.

Wei looked out over the water. The batteries of high-powered lights on each side of the dock cast a bright skin on its surface. He saw wavelets sloshing up against the wharf. He saw the silhouettes of the militia’s fishing boats in the outer harbor. He smelled the ocean and, faintly, gasoline and machine oil. He turned to Zhou. His men had brought a small cooler and set it down beside him. They had opened its lid and stepped away and disappeared, leaving only the two of them on the quay. Inside the cooler was a thick mound of bullet-shaped silver fish, all about four inches long.

The two officers stood in silence for a while. The wind came from the north beyond the anchorage, blowing straight into their faces.

Zhou motioned at the cooler. “The fishermen call these trash fish,” he said. “They are inedible and virtually worthless. The boats trap them in their nets while trawling for more valued catch. They’re used as bait or sold cheaply to the Thais, whose slave laborers use them in stew. Or to the Americans, who feed them to their pets.”

Wei looked at him. “I’ve had a draining trip, captain. Show me what I’m out here to see.”

Zhou nodded, bent, and lifted the cooler by its handles. He took two or three steps to the edge of the quay, tilted down its open end, and swung it back and then forward so the fish went flying out into the water, striking it with a hail of little splashes.

Wei immediately saw the sharks slicing beneath the surface. They were like pointed torpedoes. Their dorsal fins broke the water as they converged on the bait fish. They showed no fear of the light shining over them from the dock.

“The ocean has its own efficient means of trash disposal,” Zhou said. “Tiger sharks are nocturnal feeders. They eat anything. Whatever they see or smell. They will even devour other sharks.”

Wei inhaled. The sharks spun and lunged a few feet underwater. “How many bodies did you say were on the ship?”

“There were seventy-seven.”

“And you really think we’re done with things? They were civilian sailors, Captain.”

“They were spies. Saboteurs. And now they’re gone. Lost at sea. No one can be accused of anything.”