Lozada riffled through the money inside and counted five hundred American dollars. Although he was here on a mission, there was no sense in letting this opportunity for a bribe go to waste.

“We all good?” Holland asked.

Lozada glanced at Gao. “Have you seen what you need to see?”

Gao gave a curt nod.

Lozada pocketed the envelope and stood. “Everything seems to be in order, Captain Holland. You may begin unloading immediately.”

“That’s mighty nice of you, Mr. Lozada. Let me walk you out.”

They made their way back to the gangway.

“Nice doing business with you,” Holland said with a tip of his hat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been waiting to make use of the facilities for hours, if you know what I mean. Adiós.”

Lozada couldn’t wait to get away from this putrid mess. He smiled wanly and nodded good-bye. When they were safely back on his launch and he could breathe fresh air again, he shrugged at Gao as the operator motored away.

“At least we know now this isn’t the one,” he said.

“You are wrong,” Gao said. “This is the ship you’re looking for.”

Lozada looked at Gao in amazement and then up at the disgusting captain walking back toward his cabin. “You’re joking! That thing isn’t fit to be a garbage scow.”

“It’s all a clever disguise. I have been on that ship before.”

“Look, we’ve all heard the rumors. A normal-looking cargo ship bristling with weapons that is used to spy on countries around the world. Some say it’s British, some say American or Russian. No one knows its name. No one can agree on what it looks like. All we have are vague secondhand stories about the ship getting into sea battles with Chinese destroyers, Iranian submarines, and Burmese gunboats. Supposedly, it has missiles and torpedoes and lasers, armor three feet thick, and can withstand anything short of a nuclear blast. Does that barely floating embarrassment look like a warship to you?”

Gao’s expression was deadly serious. “I didn’t see any torpedoes or lasers, but I was stationed aboard the destroyer Chengdo, and I was one of the Marines sent onto that ship to capture it. We were repelled by a well-trained force armed with the latest weaponry.”

Lozada laughed. “I could return with two men from the police force and seize that vessel without a problem.”

“I advise against that. Your admiral has information that you don’t. I suggest you call and report my conclusions.”

Lozada narrowed his eyes at Gao. “Give me one reason why I should believe you.”

“The ship’s name—Dolos. Do you know what it means?”

“Of course. A ‘dolos’ is a molded concrete block. We pile them up to form breakwaters.”

“There’s another meaning. I did a search on my phone on the way here. Dolos is the Greek god of deception. You are meant to think it’s harmless.”

Lozada checked his own smartphone and came up with the same result. He frowned. It was flimsy evidence, but he could be in serious trouble if he didn’t report back to Admiral Ruiz and then was proven to be wrong.

“All right,” he said, and dialed the number he’d been given. He asked for Admiral Ruiz and was connected immediately. A distinct hiss came over the line before he heard a click.

“This is Admiral Dayana Ruiz,” a female voice said in Spanish. “Who is this?”

“Admiral, this is Commander Manuel Lozada,” he said nervously. “Señor Gao is confirming that this is the spy vessel.”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s nothing more than a cargo ship two voyages away from going under.”

“Did you take his photo as I ordered?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Send it to me now.”

Lozada messaged the picture to her.

After a slight pause, she said, “That’s him. Holland is the same man as the one in my photo. We have intelligence identifying him as the captain of the spy vessel.”

Lozada felt a rush of adrenaline. Admiral Ruiz was the most powerful woman in the Venezuelan Navy and next in line to be defense minister. He could write his ticket if he captured a foreign spy. “I’ll have them arrested at once.”

Her voice stabbed through the phone like an ice pick. “You will do nothing, Commander. I’m aboard the frigate Mariscal Sucre. We are currently three and a half hours from Puerto La Cruz. If the rumors are true, we will need all the firepower at my disposal. I plan to capture the vessel myself.”

Lozada swallowed hard at her bloodcurdling tone. “I must warn you, Admiral, the Dolos is carrying four thousand tons of fertilizer. Ammonium nitrate is volatile. If a fire is started by gunfire, it could blow up and destroy the entire harbor.”

“How long before she is scheduled to depart?”

“Four hours.”

“Then we’ll lie in wait outside the harbor. Let her get her cargo on board and set sail. We’ll intercept her in open water.”

“And if they do have all those mythical weapons on board?”

“It doesn’t matter. Mariscal Sucre is more than capable of sinking her.”

Once he was sure Lozada wouldn’t be returning for an even bigger bribe, the man who had introduced himself as Captain Buck Holland returned to the office and set his hat and wig on the desk, revealing a blond crew cut.

“Okay, Max,” he said to the air, removing the latex prosthetic appliances from his face as he spoke. “I think we’re clear. You can turn off the odorant vents.”

Silent fans kicked on and the foul smell was sucked from the room in seconds, replaced by a crisp pine scent. Max’s disembodied voice said, “You like my new concoction?”

Next to go were the fake teeth and glued-on mustache. “‘Like’ is not the word I’d go with. If you were aiming for eye-watering, you blew right through it and hit vomit-inducing. I’m surprised the harbormaster didn’t lose his dinner.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

Last to be removed were the brown contacts. His eyes were now back to the crystal blue that he had gotten from his mother. Juan Cabrillo smiled. “It sounds like he bought the story. I’ll see you in my cabin in a few minutes.”

He shoved the disguise—including the rubber belly that had covered a muscled torso sculpted by a daily hour of swimming—into a trash bag. He wouldn’t be using it again.

The black man who’d barged in during the meeting returned, carrying the rat less gingerly this time. He tossed it on the desk, where it bounced against the wall. The stuffed animal looked so real that Juan could imagine it coming to life and scurrying away.

“Not a fan of rats, Linc?” Juan said, deliberately avoiding the implication that the former Navy SEAL was scared of them. If the massive Franklin Lincoln was afraid of anything, Juan sure never wanted to meet up with whatever that was.

Linc smirked. “Are you kidding? Back in Detroit, we’d call one this size a mouse. Ours were nearly as big as raccoons.”

“They sound like they’d make great pets.”

“Where do you think I got the name Charlie for this one?”

Juan laughed, and checked his watch. “We’re scheduled to sail as soon as our cargo of fertilizer is unloaded in three hours,” he said, leading them down the corridor, where he stopped at a tiny utility closet crammed with mops and cleaning supplies that had never been used. “What’s our equipment status?”

“Everything is prepped and ready to go.”

“Good. I’ll check in with Max and then meet you at the moon pool.”

“You got it, Chairman.” He continued down the corridor, humming Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” as he walked.