“There is nothing on Con Dao that isn’t elsewhere. We have reefs, okay—but no better than many islands. And not perfect: they have been damaged by overfishing. We have a few rare animals, maybe—the dugongs, a few others. But no one buys a whole island chain to protect the dugongs. No matter how much money they have. No. They are after the Con Dao Sea Monster. I know it.”

“Chasing a rumor. Buying up an archipelago because of a rumor.”

“It’s not a rumor. It killed the man we were diving with. Not only him—others, too. Rumors don’t kill people.”

“So, a very dangerous sea creature.”

“Dangerous, maybe. Lots of things are dangerous. Sharks, barracuda. Other people. That’s not the point. It’s not just dangerous—it’s smart.”

“So what?”

“We talked about it all the time—about why they were buying the archipelago. There were lots of theories. But here’s what I think: If you are a company that creates artificial minds, wouldn’t you want to study a new kind of mind up close? If the Con Dao Sea Monster is smart, I bet DIANIMA wants to know how smart. How it works, and maybe how it got that way.”

Son had not been glad to leave the archipelago, but he had known it was time. Without his job at the dive shop, there was nothing left on the island for him but illegal fishing, and he couldn’t do that anymore. Not after his environmentalist conversion.

He’d gone to Vung Tau to look for work as a dive instructor.

That was where they took him. He was tranquilized in the bathroom of a bar, shoved into a van, and sold to the Sea Wolf’s procurers.

Eiko didn’t believe the talk about sea monsters, but it was pleasant listening to Son. And about DIANIMA? Who knew? The most probable explanation was that the company wanted a base of operations that was totally secret. Eiko was willing to bet they were hiding something on those islands. Developing something out there. Something even more scandalous and innovative than that conscious robot they had built. He wished he were working for them, on whatever project it was.

Working his way up the corporate food chain.

Son liked to talk. He’d learned a skewed but efficient English as a dive instructor, and he used it to great effect. That was lucky for him. English was the common language of the enslaved crew of the Sea Wolf. And it was the language of the mercenary guards, who spoke either in English or in violence: a fist, a kick, the butt of a rifle. Better to have them speak to you in English.