The Drake and the barge were stationed alongside each other, while a larger ship waited nearby. Pitt observed its white-and-orange-banded hull, signifying a U.S. Coast Guard vessel. A pair of lookouts on its deck monitored the inflatable as Pitt eased it alongside the Drake and killed the engine.

When he saw Ann, a visibly relieved Rudi Gunn leaned over the rail above them. “Thank heavens, you’re safe.”

“Careful, she’s got a bad wheel,” Giordino said. He lifted her to the rail, where Gunn helped her aboard the ship.

“I’ll call for the Edisto’s medic to come aboard,” Gunn said.

Ann shook her head. “All I really need is some ice.”

“Me, too,” Giordino said, pulling himself onto the deck. “In a glass with a shot of Jack Daniel’s.”

Pitt remained in the inflatable, acting as taxi driver to shuttle over the Coast Guard medic. Ann was quickly settled into her cabin with her ankle iced and a dose of painkillers in her stomach. Pitt returned the medic to his ship, tied off the inflatable, and climbed aboard the Drake.

When he met up with Gunn and Giordino on the bridge, Al had already explained their chase through Tijuana.

“El Matador Pitt, eh?” Gunn smiled.

“I must have some Spanish blood in me.” Pitt sighed and gazed out the bridge window toward the Edisto.

“Nice work, getting the Coast Guard out here, but why aren’t they pursuing the Mexican boat?”

“Absent a lifesaving emergency, they weren’t prepared to encroach on Mexican territorial waters without authorization. They’ve called in the Mexican Navy, who will take the lead.” Gunn took off his glasses and wiped the lenses. “Unfortunately, they don’t seem to have a vessel in the area, so the outlook isn’t good. I thought it best if the Edisto stood by until we heard back from you.”

“A prudent call.”

“It seems the thieves were standing by, waiting for us to salvage the Cuttlefish,” Gunn said. “What was in that crate that was so valuable?”

Pitt’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a question I’d like an answer for.”

“Whatever it was,” Giordino said, “nobody’s going to be too happy about its demise. Now it’s nothing but a worthless bundle of mashed wires.”

“Speaking of which,” Gunn said, “we replaced the bridge radio with a spare unit from belowdecks. I guess I should let the Edisto know we can all head back to San Diego now.”

“Rudi, aren’t you forgetting some unfinished business downstairs?” Giordino said, pointing toward the sea.

He looked down his angular nose at Giordino. “Do you think we’ve been sitting around playing tiddlywinks while you were gone?”

He stepped to the rear of the bridge and pointed out the window at the barge. Bathed in the glow of a dim deck light sat the Cuttlefish, supported on a pair of wooden cradles.