“He just made the drop,” Jackson said over their boat radio. “The target item plus a surprise. A big surprise.”

“What is it?” Annica said, knowing he’d never answer over the radio.

“A big fucking surprise.” Jackson’s voice had a strain to it she’d never heard before. “We’re rolling out,” he said, his communication filled with a loud roar before it cut out.

“Copy that,” Annica said. “Hurry before the wave.”

Jackson didn’t bother answering that one, and Annica had begun to feel foolish for how she’d talked over the radio. She wasn’t accustomed to that, radio ops and feeling foolish. Her world was one of relaxed phone interviews, not the precise language of clandestine agents or radio operators.

Ethan’s voice came from up top. He sounded equally as strained. “I’ve got visual,” he said.

“You see him?”

“I see him,” Ethan said, “in the boat, headed our way.”

“With whom?”

A moment later, Ethan said, “No one. He’s alone.”

She was happy that Cole had escaped alive. But something had obviously gone wrong. Cole should have had at least one other person in his boat. Two if everything had gone well. It obviously hadn’t, and so there must have been some problem with Kalani and her sister. Or worse . . .

She hollered to Ethan, “How does the tide look?”

“It keeps pulling back. Cole had to drag the boat across sand for almost—”

“How far out is he? Is he close?” She couldn’t see him out the side window. It knotted her stomach not being able to see him, not knowing if he’d make it before the wave. “Hold on, I’m looking,” she said, getting up and climbing to the top deck. Ethan handed her the binoculars and she could see him coming in fast, skimming over the tops of waves, the front of the boat tilted up high. Only his head peeked over. His face. “Come on,” she mumbled to herself, and to him. “Come on . . .”

Ethan, meanwhile, was mumbling into his radio about Kalani. Cole wouldn’t answer. Jackson finally did. “Main Control, I have no information on that. Keep the channel clear, please. And keep an eye on that surge.”

The surge. The tsunami. Ethan was supposed to be watching out toward the sea, looking for the first hint of a white line forming across the horizon, a line that would signify the first wave. But he’d been staring back into Hilo the whole time. Annica gave him a stony look, and Ethan hustled to the rear of the ship.

She watched Cole’s approach, seeing his face, the wind streaming back his hair. She heard Ethan say, “Nothing yet. No wave. But I’m sure it’s coming.”

She could hear the growing whine of the dinghy’s engine, how it warbled with each crested wave. And then the throttle backed off, and she could see Cole’s face as clear as ever. He smiled at her, and then swung the boat around to the rear of the yacht.

Ethan hollered to him, “Where are they?”

Annica, already halfway down the stairs, could feel the two boats clunking into each other. “Are you okay?” she called, rounding the side of the yacht. “Cole?”

And then she heard his voice. Thank God. And thank God he was back.

Cole was saying, “They didn’t want to come,” as he crawled aboard.

Ethan said, “What about Kalani?”

“Neither of them. They were talking and . . . having some sort of scene. It wasn’t my place.” He was walking over to Annica, his shoes sandy and soaked. Water squeezed out of the soles he moved closer, making a soggy, squelching sound. There were traces of blood across his face.

“I’m radioing Jackson,” Ethan said.

But nothing could break their eye contact. No outside people or conversation. Cole had stopped just a few feet away. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I think we did it,” he said. “We’ll have to see about Kalani. But we got the laptop.”

“And we got you,” Annica said, rushing into him for a hug, squeezing him hard.

He dropped his head to the top of hers. He smelled like gasoline and fresh sea life. “And,” he said, “we got the captain.”

There was a clamor behind them. Annica looked past Cole’s embrace to see Ethan climbing into the dinghy. She pulled back. “Ethan?”

“I’m going in,” he said, looking down into the boat, and then to his holster, drawing his gun to inspect it just like Cole and Kalani had. “I’m going.”

“Where? What are you doing?”

“I’m going back for her,” he said. “Kalani. And her sister.”

Cole was looking to the rear of the ship, to the horizon. He said, “You better haul ass to shore.”

“I know.”

“That wave’s coming in any second now.”

“I know,” Ethan said. “Annica?”

Annica was looking too, worried, waiting for the wave. “Hurry,” she said.

The engine started up again.

Cole took a few steps closer to the dinghy. “And Ethan . . . We won’t be here.”

“I’ll see you guys at the rendezvous,” Ethan said.

“You will,” Cole said. “It’s chaos in there, so you should be safe.” He sort of laughed, and Annica appreciated his attempt at levity. But . . .

“The wave,” she said. “We’ve gotta go.”

Walking back toward the middle of the yacht, Annica could hear Cole say, “Get going,” to Ethan. “Full steam ahead.”

“You, too,” Ethan said, throttling up and pulling the dinghy away from the yacht.

Inside, Annica flipped the switch to retract the anchor. It made a low grinding noise that she could hear more clearly as Ethan’s dinghy set off further toward the shore. Then she heard Cole’s wet shoes coming up from behind. And she felt his hand on her shoulder.

She reached for a spoke on the large wooden wheel, and began turning toward the open water.