“Wake him,” Herbert said.

Loh turned and gave Kannaday’s shoulder a firm shake. He opened his eyes slowly.

Warrant Officer Jelbart turned. “What is it?”

“I wanted to ask our guest a question,” Herbert said.

“I thought we had decided to let the captain be for now,” Jelbart said with a hint of annoyance.

“I let him have his power nap,” Herbert said. “Now I want to know something. Something simple.”

“You are free to ask anything you like,” the man replied.

“Thanks. But you’re saying you may not answer,” Herbert said.

“As I said, I am extremely tired. I don’t want to say anything that is inaccurate or may be misinterpreted.”

“I understand,” Herbert said. “How about this, which is pretty tough to screw up. Where were you born?”

The man looked at him.

“What’s wrong?” Herbert asked. “Is that too tough?”

“Are you serious?” the man asked.

“I’ve been accused of that, yeah,” Herbert said. “Have you got an answer for me?”

“I was born here. In Australia,” the man replied.

“In which town?” Herbert asked. “On what date?”

“Why?” The man grinned. “Are you going to buy me a gift?”

“One that keeps on giving,” Herbert told him. “A lifetime sentence in a maximum security prison.”

“Really?” the man said. “For what?”

“I think you know,” Herbert said.

“Bob, we decided we weren’t going to do anything like this,” Jelbart said angrily.

“You decided that,” Herbert said. His eyes remained on Kannaday. “Where were you born and when?”

Loh did not think Herbert would bully someone unless he had a solid reason. Apparently, he did. She watched Kannaday’s reaction. He was unfazed. After a few moments the captain closed his eyes. His head sank back on the seat and was lost again in darkness.

“Bob, why do you want to know that?” Jelbart asked.

“Why?” Herbert replied. “Because this man is not Peter Kannaday.”

“What?” Jelbart said.

“I just saw a photograph of Captain Kannaday,” Herbert said. He angled the monitor toward Jelbart and cranked up the brightness. “There is a picture attached to his license.”

Jelbart looked from the computer monitor to their guest. “I’ll be a nong—an idiot, to you. Bob is right. This isn’t you.”

“Rot,” the man replied without opening his eyes. “There’s obviously a mistake in the file.”

“I don’t think so,” Herbert said. “There were two men on the deck of the yacht. One man dies. The other man assumes his identity.”

“Why?” the man asked. His eyes were still shut. He seemed utterly unconcerned.

“What better way to earn our trust than to pose as a virtuous sea captain fighting smugglers? We give that trust, along with safe passage to shore. Then, as soon as you get there, you slip away.”

“The photograph is as mixed up as you are, Mr. Herbert.”

“Then answer the question,” Herbert pressed. “Where and when were you born?”