“Please, Captain Cabrillo,” Maurice said in that reserved voice of his. He was the only member of the Corporation to call Juan captain rather than chairman. “I oversaw the serving of high tea for twenty officers in a force seven storm off the Falkland Islands during that little flare-up. If you would permit me to be frank, sir, you have yet to tax my abilities.”

“All right then,” Juan said with a fiendish glint. “Next time we hit a hurricane I would like a Gruyère cheese and lobster soufflé with a baked Alaska for dessert.”

“Very well, Captain,” Maurice intoned and retreated from the room.

On his way to the hangar Juan ducked into the infirmary again. Julia Huxley was just closing up a pair of red plastic medical cases. She wore scrubs, but her ubiquitous lab coat was slung over the back of her chair.

“I take it by your packing that you’re coming with us and our patient is doing well?” he asked by way of greeting.

“She woke up about an hour ago,” Julia said. “Her vital signs are all stable and I see no sign of infection so she’ll be fine for as long as I’m away. Besides, my orderlies are better trained than most ER nurses.”

“All right then. Give me a minute to say hi and I’ll help you with your cases.”

Sloane was lying back against a bank of pillows. Her face was pale and her eyes were somewhat sunken, but when she saw Juan leaning against the doorjamb her mouth split into a radiant smile.

“Hello there, sunshine. How are you feeling?” Juan crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“A little groggy from the meds but okay, I think.”

“Hux says you’re going to be fine.”

“I was surprised that your doctor is a woman.”

“There are eleven women on my crew,” Juan told her, “including my second officer, Linda Ross.”

“Have I been hearing a helicopter?”

“Yeah, just ferrying some men to shore.”

She eyed his fatigues and gave him a dubious look. “You said you’d tell me who and what you really are.”

“And I will,” he promised, “as soon as I get back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To do the job we came to Namibia for and hopefully find who was behind the attacks on you and who built the wave-powered generators.”

“Are you with the CIA or something?”

“No. But I used to be. And that’s all I’m going to tell you until tomorrow. How about I come by at eight and we can have breakfast together?”

“It’s a date.”

Juan bent and grazed her cheek with his lips. “Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

She held on to his hand as he stood. “I want to apologize to you again for getting you mixed up in my problems.” Her voice was solemn.