Change, for him, was the elixir of life. For her it had induced a kind of coma. Years later, when he was in Trondheim, friends had told him that she'd finally got back on her feet, taken charge of her life. After a while she'd found someone new. Johanson and she had chatted on the phone a few times, free from rancour or longing. The bitterness had destroyed itself, and he'd been released from the burden of guilt.

But now it was back.

It followed him around, with Tina Lund's pale, pretty face. By now he had been through all the different scenarios. If they'd slept together at the lake, it would have changed everything. Maybe she would have joined him in the Shetlands. Or maybe it would have ruined everything, and he would have been the last person whose advice she would have taken – like when he'd encouraged her to visit Kare. Either way, she would still be alive.

He kept telling himself it was stupid to think like that.

But the thoughts kept returning.

The first rays of sunshine streamed into the room. He had left the curtains open as he always did: a bedroom with closed curtains was no better than a crypt. He wondered about getting up for breakfast, but he had no desire to move. Lund's death filled him with sorrow. He hadn't been in love with her, but he had loved her. Her restlessness, her need for freedom had drawn them together, as surely as they had kept them apart.

I won't live forever, he thought Ever since Lund had died, he had thought about death. He wasn't used to feeling old, but now it seemed as though Fate had stamped a best-before date on him. He was fifty-six, in excellent shape, and had escaped the statistical threat of untimely death through illness or accident. He'd even survived a tsunami. But there was no doubt that time was running out. Most of his life was in the past, and he was starting to worry that it might all have been a mistake.

Two women in his life had trusted him, and he'd failed to protect them.

Karen Weaver was alive. She reminded him of Lund. She wasn't as hyperactive, as guarded or as moody, but she had Lund's strength, her toughness and impatience. After their escape from the tsunami, he had told her his theory and she'd explained her work for Lukas Bauer. After a while he had flown back to Norway and joined the ranks of the homeless. But the NTNU was still standing. The authorities had besieged him with work, and before he could drive to the lake, the summons had arrived from Canada. It had been his idea for Weaver to join them, ostensibly because she knew more than anyone else about Bauer's work and could take it further. But that wasn't the real reason. If it hadn't been for the helicopter, Weaver wouldn't have survived – so, in a sense, he had saved her. Weaver was absolution for his failure to help Lund, and he'd made up his mind to look out for her. To that end, it was better to have her close.

The memories of the past faded in the sunlight. Johanson got up, showered and arrived at the buffet at half past six to find that he wasn't the only one to have risen so early. The dining hall was filled with soldiers and intelligence agents drinking coffee, eating muesli and fruit and talking in hushed tones. Johanson piled his plate with scrambled eggs and bacon and searched for familiar faces. He would have liked to talk to Bohrmann, but he was nowhere to be seen. General Judith Li was there, though, sitting alone at a table for two. She was leafing through a file. From time to time she took a spoonful of fruit from her bowl.

Something about Li intrigued Johanson. He guessed that she looked younger than she was. He wondered what a man had to do to get her into bed, but decided it was probably unadvisable to try. Li didn't look like someone who would let others take the initiative.

She glanced from her reading and spotted him. 'Good morning, Dr Johanson,' she called. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Like a baby.' He walked over to her table. 'You're not breakfasting alone, are you? I guess it must be lonely at the top.'

'Why don't you join me? I like having people around me who are busy with their thoughts. It concentrates the mind.'

Johanson took a seat 'Who's to say I am?'

'It's obvious.' Li put down her file. 'Coffee?'

'Yes, please.'

'You revealed yourself yesterday. The other scientists here are focused on their fields. Shankar's contending with mysterious deep-sea noises, Anawak's fretting about his whales – although he's got more of an overview than the others – and Bohrmann's terrified that there's going to be a methane disaster. He's juggling variables, trying to prevent another slide.'

'Sounds like they've got their work cut out to me.'

'But they haven't come up with a theory to tie it all together.'

'I didn't think we needed one,' Johanson said evenly. 'It's an Arab conspiracy.'

'Do you believe that?'

'No.'

'What do you believe, then?'

'If you want to hear what I think, you're going to have to wait an extra day or so.'

'You haven't convinced yourself yet?'

'Almost.' Johanson sipped his coffee. 'But it's tricky. Your Mr. Vanderbilt is all fired up about terrorism. Before I even voice my suspicions, I'll need someone to cover my back.'

'And who's going to do that?'

Johanson put down his cup. 'You are, General.'

Li didn't seem surprised. 'If you're going to try to convince me of something, maybe you should tell me what it is.'

'Absolutely,' smiled Johanson. 'All in good time.'

Li pushed the file across the table. Inside the plastic wallet was a collection of faxes. 'Maybe this will speed up your decision, Dr Johanson. I received these at five o'clock this morning. No one seems able to tell us exactly what happened, and we're still awaiting a full report, but I had to make a quick decision. In a few hours' time, New York and the surrounding area will be under martial law. Peak's there already to set things in motion.'

Johanson saw the spectre of another wave. 'But why?'

'What if I told you that billions of white crabs were rising from the sea along the coast of Long Island?'

'I'd say they were on a team-building exercise.'

'Uh-huh. But for which team?'

'Tell me more about these crabs,' he said. 'What are they doing there?'

'We're not sure. But we think it's something similar to those Brittany lobsters. They're importing a plague. How does that fit with your theory?'

Johanson thought it over. 'Is there a biohazard facility where we could examine them?'

'We've set one up in Nanaimo. A consignment of crabs is being sent there.'

'Live ones?'

'They were alive when they were caught. Plenty of people are dead, though. The poison seems to work faster than the toxins in Europe.'

Johanson said nothing for a while. 'I'll fly over,' he said.

'And when do you plan to tell me what you're thinking?'

'Give me twenty-four hours.'

Li pursed her lips. 'Twenty-four hours it is,' she said. 'But not a minute longer.'

NANAIMO, Vancouver Island

Anawak was sitting with Ray Fenwick, John Ford and Sue Oliviera in the institute's capacious projection room. The projector was showing 3-D models of whale brains. Oliviera had designed them on the computer, and had marked the places where the jelly had been found. You could navigate around the insides of the brains and slice them lengthways with a virtual knife. They'd already watched three simulations, and now they were viewing the fourth, which showed how the substance wound its way through the gyri towards the centre of the brain.

'OK, here's the theory,' said Anawak. 'Imagine you're a cockroach.'

'Gee, thanks, Leon.' Oliviera raised her eyebrows, which made her horsy face seem even longer. 'You know how to flatter a lady.'