She looked back down the pier and searched the waterfront for Theo’s yellow jacket. He was gone.

Riley left the player and ear buds in her lap and raised the book to her face. She inhaled the familiar leather smell. She remained like that, sitting on the seawall, the wind whipping her skirt around her calves, the book pressed to her forehead and nose. If she lowered it, she was afraid someone would see her crying, and she had been so certain she wouldn’t let that happen.

A couple of seagulls flew overhead and the laughing caws startled her. She lowered the book and watched them riding the wind aloft. They were big birds. One of the two had a bit of carrion in his mouth, and the other bird was trying his darnedest to steal it away.

Riley untangled the cord and fit the buds into her ears. She pushed the button to play.

“Hey Magee,” he said, and she pressed the button to stop the player. It was him. She bent forward at the waist hugging herself. She squeezed her eyes shut against the mounting pressure in her head.

How could she listen to his voice? But then again, how could she not.

She sat up, opened her eyes and pushed the button again.

“So, you know, if you are listening to this that things did not go according to plan. I’m sorry about that. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. But I know you are one tough Marine – uh, scratch that, one tough former Marine. You’ll survive this. Besides, a man’s got to do – as the saying goes – and often he has to do it alone. Sometimes duty takes you far from your loved ones, but it’s necessary to keep them safe.

“Speaking of which, did I ever tell you about the time that Theo and I took the Shadow Chaser down to a Venezuelan boatyard for a haul-out? Yeah, we had loads of work to get done, and they have great skilled workers down there. And you know me, what I like best is the fact that their government is not friendly with ours. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe walking down the street. No bad guys hanging in the shadows. I knew that the fatherly American types wouldn’t be able to get into the country to find me. So I slept soundly, and I even learned a Spanish lullaby.

“I love traveling abroad. Someday, I hope to visit Southeast Asia. They’ve got this place over there they call the Dragon’s Triangle. It swallows up ships and makes them vanish just like the Bermuda Triangle swallowed up Surcouf.

“Listen, even if you believe I have left you alone, I know you will find some small kernel, some chestnut of wisdom that will point you on your way to finding future happiness.

“Good luck, Magee. And by the way, this iPod will self-destruct in five seconds.”

The buds in her ears went silent, but Riley could still hear the gulls laughing in the distance. She was smiling, too.

She wiped under her eyes with the sides of her fingers. That last bit was so Cole. She laughed out loud. A shaft of sunlight broke though the dark clouds and bathed the wet stones in a golden glow.

It hurt, but it was a good hurt to hear his voice again. But what in the world was he talking about? Venezuela? He never mentioned that he’d been to Venezuela before. The Dragon’s Triangle? Chestnut of wisdom?

“Oh my God,” she said aloud. Riley yanked the earbuds out of her ears and clawed at the side of her foul weather jacket trying to find the pocket. The Velcro had sealed the opening and she fought to pull it apart. She heard the ripping noise as the Velcro separated. She shoved her hand inside and pulled out the bag of chestnuts.

“Southeast Asia,” she said. La guerre l’Indochine.

Riley tore through the brown paper and the chestnuts spilled onto the top of the leather journal, though several clattered to the pavement. Amongst the nuts, a gold coin shone bright in the momentary sunlight. Riley held up the coin and smiled at the familiar angel with his tablet and the word Constitution. Beneath it, there were no minuscule numbers engraved. This was a different coin. A new one. But there weren’t supposed to be any new ones. Henri Michaut had melted down the only remaining coins he had.

Clutching the French Angel, Riley swept the nuts and the paper off the book. She turned the journal over and started from the back. She found the last entry.

Only this time, the lullaby was in Spanish.

Dear son,

You’ve won a battle, not the war. Stay ever vigilant. Jamais fais do do.

Arroz con leche me quiero casar

con una señorita de la capital,

que sepa coser,

que sepa contar,

que sepa abrir la puerta

para ir a jugar.

 She pictured the beggar with the black baseball cap and slicker. He had only been two to three inches taller than her. That was Cole’s height. The big mirrored shades had covered most of his face, but when he’d touched her, she’d felt something she couldn’t describe. It had frightened her, and she’d thought she was going crazy at the time. She’d only ever felt that kind of physical reaction once before.

She clutched the book and stood searching the docks, the waterfront, the faces of all who were near.

No, this was crazy. But so was he. It wasn’t possible, was it? Why go through all this cloak and dagger stuff? Why not just come up to her and tell her if he was alive? Was someone playing a cruel trick on her? Or was there still some kind of real danger out there?

She swiveled her head around and looked at the few people out and about. Could one of them be watching her hoping to find Cole?

Riley thought back to that day six months ago. She saw Dig pull the box out of the cargo net, saw the crushed hasp on the box. That must have been Cole’s work. He had taken the diplomatic pouch out of the lock box already.

She remembered Theo’s invitation to the Inauguration. What had he said when she’d asked if it was his uncle’s work? We worked a little magic?

Operation Magic. Had Cole had found it?

She looked at the coin in her hand. Theo said he’d been doing salvage work all summer, that he had visited Henri Michaut. He said he’d built a new Enigma that could go deeper. Like into that trench? She remembered that Cole had promised to visit Michaut after he’d found the wreck.

Riley flipped the coin over. The familiar words, Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité were inscribed around the edge of the coin. In the center it read 50 Francs and between the number and the word, Riley saw something that looked liked etchings. A Spanish lullaby this time. Etchings on the coin. A new puzzle.

She would find him.

Riley took a deep breath and the rain-washed air tasted fresh and clean. The ashy taste was gone. She started laughing and though tears wet her cheeks, she didn’t mind this time. The librairie in town might carry a magnifying glass. And maps. She’d need maps.

She stuffed the iPod into her jacket pocket and started walking back down the quay toward the centreville. Her pace quickened until she was almost skipping.

Theo had told her to be careful, so she kept glancing back over her shoulder.

Cole was crazy. 

 But the next time she looked, the tall man in the green jogging suit had fallen in behind her.

The end

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The true story of the French submarine Surcouf is a fascinating and tragic chapter from World War II. When she was commissioned in 1934, she was the largest submarine in the world. In February of 1942, while serving under the Free French flag, she left Bermuda bound for Panama and disappeared. One hundred and thirty-one men died with her making the Surcouf one of the deadliest submarine disasters on record. Though the wreck has never been found, many theories about her demise have been proposed by authors, archeologists, military specialists and conspiracy buffs.