“Could be,” Gamay said. “But until we get a closer look, all we can do is guess.”

Kurt considered this. It was strange, but it didn’t really tell them anything. For all they knew, whatever they’d found in this residue had been deposited on the boat after the fire.

“Could this strange discovery, whatever it is, have caused the fire?” he asked.

“I tried to burn it,” Gamay said. “The residue isn’t flammable. It’s oxidized carbon and metals.”

“If that’s not the cause, then what was?”

Gamay looked to Paul, who looked at Joe. No one wanted to deliver the bad news.

Joe finally spoke up. “Gasoline fire,” he said somberly. “And we can’t find either of the five-gallon tanks they had listed on the manifest.”

Kurt’s mind put the facts together quickly. “The crew set the fire.”

Joe nodded. “That’s our guess.”

Gamay turned toward Leilani as if to make sure she was okay. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Leilani replied. “I’m okay.”

“Why would anyone light a fire on their own boat?” Kurt asked.

“Only two reasons we can come up with,” Gamay said. “Either it was an accident or something on the boat seemed more dangerous than setting a fire.”

“The residue,” Kurt guessed, “and whatever’s inside it. You guys think they were fighting that?”

“I’m not really sure what to think,” Gamay insisted. “I honestly don’t see how it could have presented such a danger, but Paul and I have an appointment with a professor at the university here in an hour to get a better look at whatever’s in this sample. Maybe that’ll tell us more.”

“All right,” Kurt said. He looked to his wrist to check the time and then remembered his watch was in hock.

“What time you got?”

“Four-thirty,” Gamay said.

“Okay,” he said, “Joe and I will take Leilani back to the hotel. We’ll check in with Dirk and wait for you guys. Go see your professor, but be careful.”

CHAPTER 9

PAUL AND GAMAY TOOK A BUS FROM THE WATERFRONT TO the Maldives National University. It pulled to a halt at Billabong Station, and the two Americans stepped off the bus with a group of students as if they were attending night school.

“Ever want to go back to the university?” Gamay asked.

“Only if you go with me and let me carry your books,” he replied.

She smiled. “Might have to consider that.”

They made their way inside. The National University courses ran the gamut from traditional Sharia law to engineering, construction and health care. Its maritime engineering curriculum was widely known to be excellent, perhaps spurred on by the low-lying nation’s desire to prevent the rising seas from drowning it.

A colleague at the maritime school, who was familiar with NUMA, received Paul and Gamay. He introduced them to a female faculty member in a purple sari, Dr. Alyiha Ibrahim, a member of the sciences department.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Gamay said.

She took Gamay’s hand in both of hers. “In the ocean, like in the desert, travelers in need are not turned away,” she said. “And if there is a danger to Malé in what you have found, I would not only be selfish to ignore you, I would be a fool.”

“We don’t know if there’s any danger,” Gamay insisted, “just that something has gone wrong, and this may help us determine the cause.”

Dr. Ibrahim smiled, the mauve color of her wrapping highlighting the green tone in her eyes. “Then let’s not waste any time.”

She led them to a laboratory room. The scanning microscope was set up and ready to operate. A panel showed all systems green.

“May I?” Dr. Ibrahim asked.

Gamay handed her the vial and she drew out a sample. With great precision she placed it on a special tray and slid it into the scanning compartment.

A few minutes later the first photos came up on the screen.

The image was so strange, it caused each of them to pause. Gamay squinted, Paul stood with his mouth slightly open, and Dr. Ibrahim adjusted her glasses and leaned closer.

“What is that?” Paul asked, staring at the monitor.

“They look like dust mites,” Gamay said.

“I’m not sure what they are,” Dr. Ibrahim said. “Let me try increasing the magnification.”

The bulky electron microscope whirred and took another scan. As the second picture emerged on the screen, their surprise only deepened.

Dr. Ibrahim turned to Paul and Gamay. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”

WITH PAUL and GAMAY at the university and Joe watching over Leilani, Kurt went through the personal effects of the missing crewmen. It felt wrong somehow, like picking over the bones of the dead, but it had to be done if just on the chance there was some clue hidden in them.

After an hour of working that thankless task, he was ready for it to be over. He found nothing to help him but at least one item that might be helpful to Leilani: a printed photo of the crew, her brother front and center, filled with joy, as if the world were his oyster.

He put the crew’s effects away and stepped out into the hall with the photo in hand. One door down he found the suite he’d booked for Joe and Leilani. It was divided into two adjoining rooms, but to reach the second room one had to make it past the first.

He knocked, heard nothing, and knocked again.

Finally the handle turned. Leilani’s face appeared, framed by the door, and it hit him just how strikingly beautiful she really was.

“Where’s your bodyguard?”

She opened the door wider. Joe was sound asleep on his bed, snoring softly, still in his clothes and even his shoes.

“Top-notch security,” she said. “Nothing gets past him.”

Kurt tried not to laugh. It had been a thirty-hour day for Joe. Even if his animal magnetism didn’t have an off switch, apparently the rest of Joe did.

Kurt slipped inside. Leilani closed the door gently and padded silently across the carpet in bare feet, black yoga pants, and a green T-shirt.

Kurt followed her to the adjoining room, which had the shades drawn and the lights dimmed.

“I was meditating,” she said. “I feel so out of touch with any kind of balance right now. One minute I’m angry, one minute I want to cry. You were right, I’m unstable.”

Funny thing, she seemed okay to him. “I don’t know, you seem to be hanging in there.”

“I have something to put my mind to now,” she said. “Finding out what happened. I have you to thank for that, however grudgingly you agreed. Any leads?”

“Not yet,” he said. “So far, all we’ve found are inconsistencies.”

“What kind of inconsistencies?”

“Kimo and the others were looking for temperature anomalies,” he said. “They found them, but not the way they expected. Ocean temperatures are rising all over the world, but they discovered reduced temperatures in a tropical zone. That’s the first odd data point.”

“What else?”

“Strangely enough, reduced ocean temperatures are normally a welcome thing. Cooler temps lead to higher oxygen content in the water and more abundant life. That’s why warm, shallow seas like the Caribbean are relatively barren while the dark, cold sections of the North Atlantic are where the fishing fleets congregate.”

She nodded. And Kurt realized he was going over basic data and conclusions that she would be easily able to make for herself, but they knew so little it seemed best to leave nothing out.

She seemed baffled. “But Kimo told me they were finding lower levels of dissolved oxygen, less krill, less plankton and less fish in the water even as the temperature dropped.”

“Exactly,” Kurt said. “It’s backward. Unless something was absorbing the heat and using up the oxygen as well.”