There’s a strain in Tashi’s voice, a kind of poignant longing that Sandy hasn’t heard before. He thinks, When you’re on the horns of a dilemma, you do your best to find a third way. But he doesn’t say this. “That would be something, wouldn’t it. Surfing might be a problem, though.”

Tash laughs. “No more so than here. The crowd scene is too much.”

“Even at night?”

“Nah, but look around—can you see the waves? It beats war with nazis, but still, it’s not the same.”

“Alaska, then. Hmm. Sounds like a possibility. Maybe you can grow pot for me.”

“Maybe.”

“Speaking of which…” They rock on the water. Tash falls asleep. Sandy keeps a hand on the tiller, worrying about his friend. Maybe he’ll mention it to Jim. Maybe Jim will think of something to say to Tashi. So many troubles, these days … alliances going bad left and right … things falling apart. What to do, what to do?

In the predawn he starts awake, then falls into a doze. He’s half-awake, now, watching gray swells surge up and down under his fingertips, up and down, up and down, up and down. There’s a light mist smoking off the swell tops, liquid turning to gas. There is a lovely glassy sheen to the water’s surface, it’s so smooth, so smooth. Maybe he’s dreaming. The terraced benches of the island are obscured by mist, the gray hills rise out of it as on the first day, an unreal solidity intruding into a liquid world. Everything seems surreal, dreamlike, mesmerizing.

Suddenly there’s a creak, and a forty-foot yacht has hove to alongside them. Three men jump down onto the deck of the cat, frightening Sandy. The thumps and the sudden tilt of the deck wake Tash, and he appears out of his cabin to stand beside Sandy. Sandy still feels like he’s in a dream, he’s too groggy to move. The three strangers form a chain and small metal drums are hefted over the water onto the cat’s middeck, behind the mast.

While they’re at it, right in the middle of their operation, there’s a deep crump from the island, followed by a huge sonic boom. BOOOOMM!!!! Whoah!

That’ll wake you up. Tash stares out to sea. “Look there, quick,” he says urgently, and points. Sandy looks. A black dot, just over the water out on the horizon, skimming in over the mist … it’s moving fast and jinking from side to side as it approaches, zoom past the two boats faster than Sandy can turn his head, and crump into the island. BOOOM! a racking sonic boom, like the fabric of the world has been ripped. And another dot has appeared out there.…