Cape Resurrection, on their right, had been succeeded by a series of sheer cliffs contorting themselves into a sinuous convolution of coastline that was mostly bare rock dropping into eighteen, twenty-nine, thirty-seven fathoms of water. Ahead, a narrow spit thrust out from Fox Island to the northeast, a rude gesture of land thickly crusted with trees, most of them dead and bare of limb. An old fishing boat was tossed up among them, its wooden sides as gray as the dead tree trunks.

“Getting kind of skinny through here, XO,” the chief said.

Sara looked at him. He was sweating. “Maintain course and speed,” she said.

The Sojourner Truth seemed to have been swallowed alive by the encompassing walls of land. The sky looked very narrow above, and the throb of the engines echoed back at them. Sara saw a group of sea lions hauled out on a rock dive back as the cutter passed by. In the next moment the cutter’s wake rolled over their rock in a cold green wave.

She knew what the chief was feeling. She was feeling it herself. The channel was three hundred yards wide from land to land and only two hundred of that was navigable due to shoals and rocks and reefs protruding from the shore on either side. They were an hour away from low tide, and the Sojourner Truth was making the better part of eighteen and a half knots.

Sara was glad the chief was scared. It would keep him sharp.

Everyone on the bridge seemed to hold their breath as the cutter flashed between spit and headland, and then they were through.

Sara let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Well done, Chief, helm.”

Mark pulled off his cap and wiped his forehead on his forearm. His hair was soaked. He saw Sara watching and resettled the cap on his head. “Helm, steer three-zero-zero.”

“Steering three-zero-zero, aye.”

The bow of the Sojourner Truth swung to port and the northern point of Fox Island.

“HOW HERE’S SOMETHING Y0U don’t see everyday, ladies and gentlemen.” The fifty-foot cruise ship slowed down until it was almost dead in the water as the passengers lined up on the port rail. “We’ve got two pods of orcas, also known as killer whales, in sight. The one closest to us is a resident pod. The one farther off is a transient pod.”

“Mom, look!”

“I see, honey.” Lilah blew her nose and tucked her hands back into her pockets, leaning against the rail to steady herself against the roll of the boat.

The captain’s mellow voice continued over the loudspeaker. “The residents reside right here in Resurrection Bay. The transients, the ones farther off, they travel all over Prince William Sound. The resident orcas eat fish. The transient orcas eat everything, including sea mammals like sea otters and sea lions. The two pods speak different languages, and they don’t interbreed.”

Eli tugged at her hand. “Mom! Boat! Big boat!”

Lilah looked up and saw a freighter pass them en route to the dock in Seward. Men were at work in one of the containers stacked on deck. She squinted at the name on the bow. The Star of Bali. Such a pretty name for such an ugly ship.

“If you’ll look up on the cliff above us, you’ll see a couple of bald eagles-”

“IT’S VERY SIMPLE, REALLY,” Ja said, watching the nose of the missile point toward the sky. “My nation is in serious need of an invasion. Your government used the bombings in New York and your capital to launch a war in the Middle East. If I detonate this weapon”-he patted the undercarriage of the Scud-“in an area with a military presence responsible for protecting most of the North Pacific Ocean, your nation will take this as an act of war. Especially when they learn that North Korea is behind the attack. Which they will, as your people discover the evidence I have left behind.”

Ja smiled at Hugh. “And you have thirty-seven thousand very conveniently placed soldiers just over the border, ready to lead the charge. I imagine it won’t take long.”

“Why do this?” Hugh said. “Why not take it into the heart of Kim Jong Il’s palace in Pyongyang and blow him to bits? He’s your problem, not us.”

“We will need help in rebuilding,” Ja said.

“You certainly will,” Hugh said, “and we’re just the folks to do it. Look how well we’re doing in Iraq.”

Ja continued to regard him with a tranquil expression. “When did you find me out?”

Hugh saw no reason not to tell him. The longer they spent talking, the longer Hugh stayed alive. “Last October I got word of your meeting with Fang and Noortman. I’ve been tracking you since then.”

Ja gave him an approving smile. One of the men said something to him. “Fire when ready,” he said almost casually.

“No!” Hugh said, and stumbled forward to do something, anything.

“Help me,” Ja said to one of the men, and they took Hugh by the hands and feet and tossed him out of the container. Hugh landed hard and awkwardly. He heard something crack, and he didn’t think it was anything he’d landed on.

Over the wind and the waves he could hear men shouting. Over the shouting he could hear the engine of the missile ignite. “No!” he shouted, and grabbed something to haul himself to his feet.

He was on the starboard side of the Star of Bali and was the first on board the freighter to see the Sojourner Truth bearing down at flank speed, cutting through the green swells like a juggernaut.

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard screaming over the ship’s loudspeaker in what he thought was Mandarin. “We surrender! U.S. Coast Guard, U.S. Coast Guard, we surrender! I am a citizen of Hong Kong! I demand asylum! Take me with you!”

Now there was screaming and swearing from the container. A man appeared in front of him with a very large weapon he didn’t recognize, but then he’d never been much of a one for firearms. The man raised the weapon to his shoulder.

“No,” Hugh said, this time to more purpose, and threw himself at the man. This yo-yo was not going to get any free shots at Sara. They crashed to the deck in a horrible tangle.

But Sara had provided for that, too, as he heard the distant chatter of an automatic weapon and heavy thuds began sounding in the containers all around him. The man beneath him tried to club him with the stock of his weapon but it was too long to maneuver between them. Hugh, trying to pull away before the two ships hit, was helped when whoever was at the wheel-Fang? It would explain the Mandarin-yanked at the rudder in an attempt to get out of the cutter’s way. The deck listed to starboard and Hugh let gravity do the rest, breaking into a stumbling run between the containers toward the port side of the ship.

He was knocked off his feet when three thousand tons of Coast Guard cutter crashed into the Star of Bali. It was louder than any 747 he’d ever heard on takeoff. It shook like the biggest earthquake he’d ever been in.

Time seemed to proceed in slow motion. The ship shuddered. Metal tore and screeched and groaned. A man fell from above, and then another. The man with the weapon had chased Hugh to the port rail. He lost his balance and his back hit the railing. Momentum flipped him over the side.

He let go of the weapon in a frantic attempt to grab something to halt his fall. What he grabbed was the front of Hugh’s Mustang suit, pulling Hugh halfway over the railing.

Hugh tried to fight free but the various beatings he’d taken in the last hour were catching up with him. He was overcome by a wave of dizziness and followed the man over the side.