Jason Lambert, of course, was a controversial figure, an extremely wealthy man who seemed to enjoy showing the world his fortune. He grew up in Maryland, the son of a pharmacist, and started his working life as a vacuum salesman. Within three years, he took over the business. He soon leveraged his company to buy others, eventually earned a master’s degree in finance, and started his now-famous mutual fund Sextant Capital, which has grown to the third-largest fund in the world. Among other holdings, he owned a movie studio, an airline, a professional baseball team, and an Australian rugby club. Lambert was also an avid golfer.

The Grand Idea was Lambert’s final creation. It was hailed by some as visionary, and criticized by others who saw it as a frivolous gathering of the rich and powerful. Of course, no one knew what a dark turn the voyage would take. Jason Lambert, presumed dead at age sixty-four.

ANCHOR: We should also mention that in addition to the famous names lost at sea, there were workers on that boat, the crew, the service staff, and the like, I imagine?

REPORTER: Yes. They should be remembered as well.

Sea

Bernadette is gone, Annabelle! She is gone! I must calm down. I must keep my wits. I will write exactly what happened. Someone has to know!

I told you yesterday how the man we call “Lord” merely touched Bernadette’s body, and she opened her eyes. We all saw her smiling and whispering to Jean Philippe. He was so happy. He kept saying “This is a miracle! The Lord has made a miracle!” I told you this, no? I’m sorry. I am so rattled, I’m not remembering things clearly.

Last night was an uneasy slumber, the raft rocking on the waves. I was out for maybe four hours. I dreamed of sitting in a barbecue restaurant. The smell was so real, so pungent. But the food never came, no matter how many times I craned my neck to look into the kitchen. Then, suddenly, I heard a customer howl.

I awoke to the sound of Jean Philippe crying.

I rolled over and saw him with his head down, his arms limp by his sides. The “Lord” had a hand on his shoulder. The space between them, where Bernadette had been resting, was empty.

“Jean Philippe,” I croaked. “Where is your wife?”

No answer. Nevin was awake, tending his wounded leg. When I caught his gaze, he just shook his head. Mrs. Laghari was awake, too, but she just stared out at the dark ocean.

“Where is Bernadette?” I repeated, rising. “Did something happen? Where did she go?”

“We don’t know,” Nevin finally said.

He pointed at Jean Philippe and the Lord.

“They won’t talk.”

Three

Land