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“Is that a place?”

“I have no idea. Captain Ash asked me about it. Was kind of secretive, too. Told me not to talk to anyone else about it, but I assume he didn’t mean you.”

“What was it again?”

“Augustine dream sky.”

“Augustine…dream…sky,” she said, then shook her head. “I’ve got nothing.”

7

OFF THE EASTERN COAST OF COSTA RICA
5:29 PM CST

Pax arched his back and rolled his head side to side. He’d been at the controls of the ferry for hours now, sometimes sitting on the cracked cushion of the raised captain’s chair, sometimes standing in front of it, but never traveling more than a few feet away from the controls.

Outside, the sea was getting dark as the sun began disappearing behind the mainland. At least the water had calmed somewhat. For the first couple hours it had been a rocky trip. He’d heard at least two of his kidnappers throwing up over the railing of the passenger deck.

The stairs leading up to the pilothouse creaked behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the fortysomething woman — the older of the two, whom the others called Kat — step into the cabin, carrying a mug of steaming coffee and a bowl of food.

“That for me?” the man leaning against the back wall said. His name was Luke, and he was the guy currently on guard duty.

“It’s for Mr. Paxton,” she said. “If you want, I can bring you up some, too.”

“Or you can give me that and bring him up another.”

“Don’t be an ass,” she said, and carried the food across the cabin to Pax.

“Nice mouth you got,” Luke said.

Kat rolled her eyes so that only Pax could see. Then looked over at Luke and said, “I apologize. I’ll go get you some food right now.”

“Screw that,” he said. “Take this and watch him. I’ll go get it myself.”

As he held out the gun, Pax turned and looked out at the sea again.

“I don’t know how to use that,” she said.

“Great. Now he knows that.”

“If you want to go get food, go. I’ll watch him. If he tries to leave, I’ll yell. But where would he go? It’s getting dark. If he jumped over the side, he might end up swimming in the wrong direction and never make it to shore.”

The overhead light in the cabin was enough for Pax to see Luke’s reflection in the window. The man appeared to be contemplating the suggestion, then his gaze zeroed in on Pax.

“Hey, you. Paxton.”

Pax turned.

“You try anything funny and you’re a dead man,” the man said.

“Like the lady told you, it’s not like I’m going to jump overboard.”

Luke narrowed his eyes as if assessing whether or not Pax was lying. Finally he frowned and pushed off the wall. “I’ll only be gone a couple minutes.”

As soon as he headed down the stairs, Kat placed the bowl and mug on the counter. “It’s just some canned beans,” she said. “But there was a hot plate down below so they’re warm.”

“Thanks,” Pax said, his voice flat.

They plowed on through the sea, neither saying anything, the food untouched.

There it is again, Pax thought after about thirty seconds.

The sound had come through the open side windows of the cabin, barely audible above the noise of the ferry. It was more an engine whine than a rumble. He’d heard it a few times before, but had thought it was just something wrong with the boat’s motor. This time the noise was a little louder, as if the problem was getting worse or the source was closer.

He nudged the throttle up a bit. The decibel level of the engine masked the other sound. He still wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but if it wasn’t from the ferry, he thought it was probably better if no one else noticed it. He left the engine at the increased RPM.

“I’m…I’m sorry we had to do this,” the woman said. “I mean, that they did this. I didn’t—”

“You could have just tried talking to me,” Pax said.

Pax had been trying to start the bus he found when the guy named Jacob climbed aboard and pointed his rifle at Pax. He ordered Pax to drive to a building in the center of town, where they picked up the others before heading to the ferry.

“I know,” Kat said. “I’m sorry. Jacob, he…”

“He’s an asshole?”

“He’s kept us alive,” she said, almost defensively but not quite.

Pax said nothing.

“We were all on the cruise ships. Me and Aiden were on one, Luke and Avery on another, and Jacob by himself. He pulled us together, you know? Helped us to get organized.”

“He the one who came up with this brilliant plan?”

“We have to get home.”

“Do you really think this thing is going to get you all the way to the States? Do you know how far away it is? I don’t even know if we’ll have enough fuel to last us past tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll find more. We’ll keep going.”

“Maybe. But I’ve got to be honest, the reality of that happening isn’t very good.”

“Then we’ll get as far as we can,” she said, her voice level rising in anger. “We have to get home. I have a son. He needs me.”

Despite his situation, Pax felt his heart clench. The chance that her son was still alive was minimal at best. He could see in her eyes that she knew it, too, but needed to find out for sure.

If his captors had asked him for help instead of forcing him to pilot the ship, he would have told them about the plane that would be landing outside Limón in another hour or two, but holding a gun on him from the start had blown any chance of that — not because of some personal retribution, but because he couldn’t afford to mix them in with the others.

“I’m sorry,” Kat said. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry like that.”

“Ma’am, I believe everyone who has survived to this point couldn’t have done so without building up a lot of anger.”

“Have…have you seen others? I mean, besides the friend you were with?”

“I have.”

“How many?”

He was saved from answering her question by the creak of the staircase announcing Luke’s return.

“All right,” the man said, juggling his bowl and mug with his rifle. “I got him now.”

Kat took a step back and said to Pax, “There’s plenty more coffee if you want some.” She looked at Luke. “Yell down when you’re both done and I’ll come get your dishes.”

The man grunted a reply and set to work on his beans.

From outside, Pax started to hear the whine again, so he nudged the throttle forward once more.

TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND FEET ABOVE NICARAGUA

“Eagle Eleven calling Rich Paxton. Pax, do you read?”

Static.

“Eagle eleven calling Rich Paxton. Come in, please.”

No answer.

The copilot of the passenger jet heading for the airport outside Limón, Costa Rica, looked at his partner. “I don’t like this.”

The pilot was silent for a moment before she said, “They’re moving a lot of people. Could be they haven’t gotten the radio set up yet. Keep trying.”

The copilot settled back in his chair and clicked his mic button. “Eagle eleven calling Rich Paxton.”

OFF THE EASTERN COAST OF COSTA RICA

Robert began closing the distance between the skiff and the ferry as soon as the sky started to darken. Though he knew he could quickly overtake the larger boat, he approached at a much more gradual speed to minimize the chances of the others hearing him.

As he drew closer, he could see that most of the lights that were on were contained to the front portion of the main passenger level. He was still much too far away to discern any people on board, but he caught a few flickers of light near the front end that he guessed were caused by people moving around. There had been no similar flickers along the stern, leading him to hope no one was back there.