"No, sir," he said through a yawn. "I am aware that seawater would invade the coiled copper wire inside the insulation, and corrupt it. However, would it not cool if cocooned in rubber, the same material as your batteries and inside a metal guard, inches from the cooling waters of the sea?"

"You mean as veins, like in a human arm, just under the surface?"

In answer, the twelve-year-old yawned once more, nodding his head.

"You must get your intelligence from your mother, for I am constantly overlooking the obvious," he said as he tousldeged the boy's thick black hair. "You have a remarkable spark of intelligence bouncing around in that head of yours."

The admiration and love for his son was evident. The boy had been with him throughout the summer months, and was here with him now instead of enjoying his winter break for the Christmas holidays. Ever since the breakthrough in the spring, when his revolutionary electrical storage system began to show promise, the boy had been by his side, forsaking even the warmer company of his mother, Alexandria.

The boy had only been ten years old when he had completed the final assembly of the combustion motor. Converted from a steam piston drive, the motor was also revolutionary and very, very secret. Still, even at that young age, Octavian had figured out that the pump used to relay fuel into the combustion chamber was inefficient, just by studying its operation. He had tinkered with his father's design, and in three months, using only scrap parts, the boy had pieced together what he called a distilled kerosene-injection pump that utilized the motor itself for power. Kerosene derived from the recent discovery of crude oil from America. It had failed the first three times, and then when they had figured a way to filter the fine spray of kerosene, removing the impurities of the refined oil, it had not failed since.

Professor Heirthall smiled at his son and then pulled his pocket watch out of his white coat once more and examined it.

"Almost three A.M. Octavian; your mother is going to throw me into the fjord."

"Of all people, Mother knows you get lost in your work. She will be fine and fast asleep."

"Yes, I suspect so, but nevertheless I will call the carriage and have you taken home."

"Father, my time is wasted at home. Mother only talks of what a great man I will one day be."

The professor replaced his journal and smiled.

"The part of her that needs it will never feel the spray or touch of the sea again. This is a sad fact to her, son. Your mother, well--part of her is a very special woman, from very, very special people. And because they were special, and are still so, we have this," he said as he gestured around the laboratory. "All this is for them. We are dedicated to the sea, Octavian--it is in your blood, quite literally. Without that special part of her, your mother would have died a very long time ago."

The boy had ceased listening and was instead standing in front of the mountain of black rubber-encased batteries. He pulled the blanket around him tighter and was lost in his own world.

"Are you dreaming your underwater dreams again, Octavian?"

The boy turned toward his father and smiled, embarrassed.

"Is the story true--I mean, what people are saying about you?"

Heirthall was taken back by the sudden change in topic.

"You mean my magical escapades upon the sea, and of being a prisoner of Napoleon? Yes, it is all true. As for the treasure of King Richard--no, I'm afraid our wealth is derived from a long line of inheritance. Nothing as dashing and daring, I would think, as the rumors from France or other tall tales told in other countries."

Heirthall knew he wasn't fooling Octavian. The boy was just too smart for his own good. Not once did he ask about portraits of family heritage from either side--even though he knew other families of wealth had them. Yes, the boy knew the stories were true, but he had yet to guess the real secret of the Heirthall family. That would take a delicate touch.

Deveroux had met Alexandria after his escape and revenge upon Napoleon. She had been young, vital, and loving toward him at the first moment of meeting. Then, after the birth of Octavian, she had become weak and bedridden. Consumption, the doctors had told him. Only the intervention of the Deveroux angels had kept her alive all of these years. Now, even their grace from death was ending. The solution to her health was now her killer. He now feared Octavian--their precious offspring--might be cursed to the same fate as his mother. He was physically weak, and his blood held too much of his mother's.

The sound of loud footfalls, possibly that of several men, came through the thick double doors. The professor held his index finger to his lips to make sure Octavian quieted. Then he hurriedly took his son by the shoulders and pushed him toward the cot. He wrapped him tighter in the blanket, shoved him to the floor, and looked deeply into Octavian's deep and beautiful blue eyes.

"You stay under here and come out for no reason, am I clear, my son?"

"Father, who could these men be?"

"I don't know, but I have noticed strangers around the university, and several have been following me the past two months. Now, Octavian, answer me, do you understand?"

"Yes, Father." The boy looked up into Heirthall's tired features. "I can be of help."

"I know you could, but sometimes you must know when to use silence as an ally, not strength. Understand me, son, stay under the cot."

The boy nodded.

With his answer, Heirthall helped the boy slide under the cot until he could go no farther. Then he stood and faced the double doors. The hallway beyond the framed window was dark, but he could still see moving shadows there. A loud knock sounded.

"Professor Heirthall, this is Dr. Hansonn. May I come in?"

Heirthall walked to the door, started to reach for the handle, and then stopped short.

"Why would the dean of biology be here at this hour, Doctor?" he called through the thick wood. "And why is he accompanied by others?"

"I have a friend that wishes to speak to you."

"My work is not for examination by anyone, including you. Now please take your friends and go away, I wish to--"

"Professor Heirthall, I assure you, this is not about your fanciful dream of underwater vessels--it's about your fossil."

"The fossil has been lost since the last time you inquired about it. I see no reason--"

The doors split apart and crashed inward. Two very large men quickly entered, followed by three more. Dr. Hansonn was there, and standing beside him was a man that Heirthall recognized immediately.

"Why have you brought this profiteer of history to my laboratory?"

The rotund man removed his top hat and pushed by the Norwegian biology dean.

"I will be happy to answer that," the man said as he handed his hat to the larger of the two men. "Professor, we care not for your dreams of underwater fantasies, sir; we have come to buy the fossil from you. I am willing to pay handsomely for it, I assure you."

"You have already decried it a hoax. Why would you want it if no one believes it's real?"

The man turned and took a few steps away, deep in thought; he held his right hand to his lips. "I have to have it, Professor. Not for any public display, I have plenty of tomfoolery to enthrall the public. The unique specimen in your possession is for me alone--to amaze myself as to the wondrous nature of our world. I will not harm it or display it, only love it."