The light floated behind the yacht. Kannaday slipped a little more. He let go with one hand and tried to wrap the rope around his wrist. There was not enough slack to do that. He was losing blood and felt his head swim. His fingers weakened, and he slipped farther down the line. But Kannaday forced himself to hold tight. He wanted to finish what he had started belowdecks. The long overdue reformation of Peter Kannaday. A captain was supposed to resist any effort to mutiny. In the end, he had done that. The unwritten law of the sea also dictated that a captain remain with his ship until passengers and crew had been safely evacuated. Kannaday intended to honor that, too, even though he hoped that John Hawke drowned with him. He knew that Hawke was still somewhere on the deck of the sinking ship. Kannaday had seen the security officer hanging to the bottom edge of the forward hatch. He refused to surrender the Hosannah to him. Even in the end.

Strong winds howled along the sides of the yacht as the vessel slid deeper into the sea. It was rotor wash from the helicopter. The light behind it rose slowly behind the ship. Kannaday saw the Hosannah silhouetted on the restless sea. It was a foreshortened, oblong shape.

Almost like a coffin.

That was the last thing Kannaday saw as the ship went under. It dragged him feetfirst into the cold water. His fingers remained wrapped on the rope as he submerged. He did not hold his breath, and he did not struggle. It did not matter to him what the maritime authorities made of the sinking. What mattered was that Peter Kannaday knew the truth.

He had died a captain.

SIXTY-THREE - The Coral Sea Sunday, 3:08 A.M.

SIXTY-THREE

The Coral Sea Sunday, 3:08 A.M.

“I think it’s safe to go around,” Herbert said.

The American’s voice was thick with sarcasm as the ship vanished. Jelbart turned his binoculars on the water where the boat had been.

“Did the name of the yacht sound familiar to anyone?” Herbert asked. “The Hosannah?”

“No,” Jelbart said. “But it looked like a typical charter. You see them a lot in this region.”

“There is someone down there,” FNO Loh said suddenly.

“Where?” Jelbart asked.

“On my side,” Loh said. “Floating facedown.”

The pilot turned the helicopter around so Jelbart could see. “You’re right,” Jelbart said. “And there’s someone swimming toward him. Officer Loh, can you get the ladder?”

The Singaporean reached behind her. She unhooked the rolled aluminum ladder from the small storage area.

“There are hooks on the floor,” the pilot said.

“I see them,” Loh replied. She unbuckled her seat belt and dropped to one knee. She fastened the top of the ladder to the steel hooks, gave a hard tug, then undid the nylon bands around the ladder. “Ready,” she said.