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someone’s warning to steer clear.”
    â€œI’ll get us pointed in the right direction,” Reynolds said.
    Kurt nodded. “And don’t spare the horses.”

4

    As the Sea Dragon closed in on Lampedusa, the first sign of trouble was a pall of dark, oily smoke rising high above the island. Kurt trained a pair of high-powered binoculars on it.
    â€œWhat do you see?” Joe asked.
    â€œA ship of some kind,” Kurt said. “Sitting close to the shore.”
    â€œTanker?”
    â€œCan’t tell,” Kurt said. “Too much smoke. What I can see is burnt and twisted metal.” He turned to Reynolds. “Head toward it, let’s take a closer look.”
    The
Sea Dragon
changed course and smoke above them grew thicker and darker.
    â€œThe wind is dragging that smoke right across the island,” Joe noted.
    â€œWonder what she was carrying,” Kurt said. “If it was something toxic . . .”
    He didn’t need to finish the statement.
    â€œThat doctor said she was trapped and running out of oxygen,” Joe added. “I had visions of the hospital having fallen down around her ears after an explosion or an earthquake, but I’ll guess she meant they’re hiding from the fumes.”
    Kurt took another look through the binoculars. The front of the ship looked as if it had been torn apart by a giant can opener—in fact, it looked like half the ship was gone. The rest of the hull was blackened with soot.
    â€œShe must be sitting on the reef,” Kurt said. “Otherwise, she’d have gone down. I can’t see a name. Someone put a call into Palermo and let them know what we’ve found. If they can determine what ship this is, they might be able to figure out what she was carrying.”
    â€œWill do,” Reynolds said.
    â€œAnd Gary,” Kurt added, lowering the binoculars. “Keep us upwind.”
    Reynolds nodded. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
    He adjusted their course and reduced speed while they called in the news. When they were five hundred yards from the freighter, a crewman called from the front deck.
    â€œLook at this!” the crewman yelled.
    Reynolds chopped the throttle to idle and
Sea Dragon
settled while Kurt stepped out onto the deck. He found the crewman pointing to a half dozen shapes floating in the water. The objects were about fifteen feet in length, roughly torpedo-shaped and colored a dark charcoal gray.
    â€œPilot whales,” the crewman said, recognizing the species. “Four adults. Two calves.”
    â€œAnd floating the wrong side up,” Kurt noted. The whales were actually lolling on their sides, surrounded by seaweed, dead fish and squid. “Whatever happened on that island it’s affecting the water too.”
    â€œIt’s got to be that freighter,” someone else said.
    Kurt agreed, but he didn’t speak. He was busy studying the inanimate cluster of sea life drifting by. He could hear Joe talking to the Italian authorities over the radio, reporting their latest find. He noticed that not all the squid were dead. Some were clinging to each other, wrapping their short little tentacles around the other in a spasmlike embrace.
    â€œMaybe we should get out of here,” the crewman suggested, pulling the top of his shirt up to cover his nose and mouth as if that would stop whatever poison might be floating through the air.
    Kurt knew they were fine where they were because they were a quarter mile upwind of the freighter and there wasn’t the slightest scent of smoke in the air. Then again, he had the safety of the crew to think about.
    He ducked back into the cabin. “Take us out another mile,” he said. “And keep an eye on that smoke. If the wind shifts, we need to be gone before it reaches us.”
    Reynolds nodded, bumped the throttle and spun the wheel. As the boat accelerated, Joe put the radio microphone back in its