A memory came suddenly. Dunning, competitive in all things, was a scratch golfer, and they would play twice a month. He remembered the time he had almost beaten him a few years before on the course out on Griffin Island. He’d been up one on the last tee. Then right in the middle of his back swing, the sly old bastard had actually coughed. Reyland remembered slicing it, burying it in the woods good and deep.

“Shit happens,” Dunning had said, giving him a smug little smile.

Reyland fought off the strange desire to smile a little smugly himself as he looked down at his dead mentor laid out on the beat-up below-deck windowless room like a bunch of garbage in a split-open Hefty.

Sure does, boss, he thought, nodding. It surely does.

Reyland looked at the other dead men.

“How’d the plane go wonky? The cabin pressure like they said?”

“No clue,” Ruiz said, blinking at him. “I’d expect it’s something like that because of the blue patches on their faces there. Looks like they suffocated. But there’s no way to tell unless we bring in the mechanics and experts. I’m no structural engineer, boss.”

“Now tell me, Tommy,” Reyland said, looking the hardcase commando in the eye, “we’re the only ones to see this abortion, correct? Our team and the coast guard diver and a few coast guard people?”

“Well, actually,” Ruiz said, raising a brow.

“Actually what?”

Ruiz folded his stocky forearms.

“They sent an investigator from Naval Safety before we got the call. The cutter captain has an uncle in the navy and went VFR direct to him, jumped the chain.”

“No!” Reyland cried.

Ruiz nodded.

“They even flew her out to the cutter. But as far as I know, she didn’t see this or anything else. The cutter was ordered away before she could see any of the wreckage. She actually left the base. There’s another investigator now. Some navy fool who keeps asking to get on the ship.”

“Why bring her up?”

“No reason. I know how thorough you like to be. Especially in a situation of this, um, magnitude. I thought you might want to make a note of who’s coming and going.”

Reyland nodded at his tough little security man. Ruiz was as sharp as he was ruthless. He never missed a trick.

“Okay, good, Tommy. Noted. Now, where are the packages?”

“Ah, the packages,” Ruiz said, gesturing with his chin.

Reyland followed him into the corner of the hold opposite his resting men.

As they arrived, Ruiz kicked at a silver hard-pack suitcase with his tactical boot, sending it spinning. Reyland looked at it. It was open and empty.

“What’s this?”

“We found this at the site in some coral thirty feet from the plane,” Ruiz said. “Empty just like this.”

“No!” Reyland said, staring at the empty case. “You have got to be putting me on. Someone is playing games, huh? Did a little five-finger salvage job? One of the coasties? Or maybe the navy inspector who left?”