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150-horsepower Evinrude outboards powered the large Zodiac that took the lead with Jesse at the rudder. Jesse’s passengers feared for their lives: Nell and Glyn clung to the edge rail as the inflatable jumped the breakers, its dual engines whining as they launched from each crest.
    The cliff around the cove rose seven hundred feet straight up, swirled with faded bands of color like pigments in an overturned bucket of paint. Centered in the cliff, a dark crack had spewed broken rock over the beach down to the water. Judging from the fresh red and green color of the rubble, the crevasse had opened fairly recently.
    Washed aground on this outpouring of jagged rock, the hull of a thirty-foot sailboat lay on her side like a swollen whale carcass.
    “That crack looks new,” Glyn shouted.
    Nell nodded, grinning. “It may give us a way inland.”
    The
Trident
rolled on swells in the cove, anchored to one of the few submarine ledges their sonar had picked up around the island. They had nearly circumnavigated the entire island before locating this inlet, which they could have found in a few minutes had they circled in the other direction.
    Now they had no time for setup. They had to dive into the boats and go live.
    Peach got the camera feeds up as he counted down to the satellite uplink in the control room.
    The three cameramen marked Peach’s countdown in theirheadsets aboard the speeding rafts. They carried waterproof videocams and backpack transmitters with a thousand-meter range.
    Cynthea looked from the stern of the
Trident
and fired off orders to her camera crew. “OK, this goddamn island has a beach after all, and we’re in at 5:49, Fred! We’re going hot right now! Peach, tell me you’re on top of the uplink!”
    “TWO——ONE——ZERO. I’m there, we’re live,” Peach said, cuing Zero’s feed first.
    Cynthea ran down a passageway belowdeck, toward the control room in the starboard pontoon. “Glyn! Glyn? Can you hear me, Glyn?”
5:49 P.M.
    Glyn wore a wireless earmuff transmitter on his right ear and carried the
SeaLife
flag at the prow of the Zodiac. The British biologist sported an orange
SeaLife
T-shirt, shorts, and Nikes, the last thing Nell thought she’d ever see on him. “Yes, Cynthea,” Glyn said. “I hear you!”
    Nell could hear Cynthea shouting through Glyn’s earphone: “Plant the flag on the beach!”
    Nell grinned with excitement as she gripped the edge rail of the speeding boat and scanned the beach. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made her want to leap out of the boat and fly to the shore.
5:50 P.M.
    Cynthea crashed through the door into the control room, where three camera shots zoomed toward the shore in the bank of monitors above Peach’s head.
    The small Zodiac landed first. Zero and Copepod jumped out into the surf. Copepod barked excitedly and darted up the beach. Zero sidestepped out of the water to cover the other Zodiacs landing.
    The rest of the crew watched intently from the decks of the
Trident.
    Andy ran to the ship’s rail in striped pajamas. “I can’t believe they didn’t WAKE ME UP!” he yelled. “They give me the night watch and then they don’t wake me up? God damn it, I’m tired of getting SCREWED all the time!”
    Andy turned to see a camera recording the moment and noticed some of the uniformed crew laughing nearby. “Screw you!” he screamed.
    Cynthea cut back to Glyn planting the
SeaLife
flag in the sand.
    “I claim this island for
SeaLife
!” Glyn cried.
    Fans cheered in their living rooms and dorm rooms across the globe; Glyn had just become an instant star.
    The network chiefs smiled, and for the first time in a month leaned back in relief as they watched their screens.
    Millions went
“Ooo!”
as Cynthea caught Dawn flashing a look at Glyn and Nell squinting at Dawn.
    Cynthea winked at Peach.
    He nodded. “Drama.”
5:51 P.M.
    “Right! Let’s have a look at the boat!” Glyn said.
    The landing party scrambled over the avalanche of