Prologue

      Peterson Shipyard

      Norfolk, Virginia

      “You heading out, Cam?”

      Cameron leaned back and glanced at his watch. “A little early, isn’t it?”

      Frank shook his head. “Boss told us to knock off at four for the holiday weekend. Didn’t you see the announcement posted in the elevator?”

      “I must have missed it.”

      Frank shifted his thermos to his other hand and pushed his hard hat back off his forehead. “So are you coming, or what?”

      “Yeah, just gimme a minute.” Cameron began to gather up his tools, stuffing them into the tough canvas bag that served as his carryall. He was done installing this toilet, and the others would keep for the weekend. The boss didn’t give them a break very often, so he wasn’t about to pass this one up.

      Frank waited patiently while he got his tools in order, then the two of them set off, joining the steadily growing stream of workers headed for the main exit of the ship. She wasn’t a huge ship, by industry standards, but Cam had caught a glimpse of the master plans and knew she was going to be overflowing with features and amenities galore. Her beauty was already starting to take shape in the clean lines of the cabins, the elegant scrollwork adorning the walls of the common areas, and the large, open spaces scattered throughout the ship for guests to congregate and socialize. Even the toilets he was installing were top of the line. There was no way a man of his salary would ever be able to afford a voyage on this ship, but he felt a quiet pride at the knowledge he had helped build her.

      Cameron and Frank chatted amiably as they walked until they reached the parking lot. Both men paused, each one searching for his respective vehicle in the lot.

      “A bunch of us are getting together down at the Crow’s Nest,” Frank said. “Want to join us?”

      Cameron thought of his small apartment and the frozen TV dinner waiting for him there. Not the most appealing way to spend a Friday night. “Sure thing,” he said, patting his pockets for his keys. His stomach dropped as he realized they weren’t there. “Damn,” he muttered.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “Left my keys inside.”

      “That’s a bummer,” Frank said, shaking his head in sympathy. “Want me to wait?”

      It was a nice offer, but Cameron could tell by the way Frank glanced toward his truck that he was anxious to get going. “Nah, you go on ahead. I’ll meet you there.”

      “Thanks, man,” Frank said, the relief in his voice confirming Cameron’s suspicion. “I’ll save you a seat at the table.”

      Cameron gave him a wave, already turning back to the gangplank that led to the ship. It didn’t take long to make his way back on board; the crowd of workers had thinned substantially, all of them eager to get home to their families or to head to the bar to unwind.

      The keys were exactly where he thought they’d be, sitting on the floor next to the last toilet he’d installed. They must have slipped out of his back pocket while he was on the floor working; he really should just clip them to his belt...

      He scooped them up and began to retrace his steps, heading back for the parking lot and the promise of a relaxing evening with the guys. He was halfway down the hall when the shadow of a movement caught his eye. He stopped and leaned back, glancing into the cabin he’d just passed. Was it just the dying rays of the sun shifting through the window, or perhaps something else?

      At first glance the cabin appeared empty. Then he caught a glimpse of a boot dangling from the ceiling and did a double take. Who was working, and why were they in the duct above the room? As far as he knew, that work had already been completed.

      Cameron stepped inside, craning his head to try to catch a glimpse of what was going on. “Hello?”

      The man in the room froze, and Cameron had the sense he’d startled him. “Everything okay in here?” He glanced around, noting the absence of a ladder. How did the man get up there, and more important, how was he going to get down?

      “Hello?” he repeated, stepping fully into the room. “Need any help? Your ladder seems to have wandered off.”

      The man didn’t respond, which was odd. Cameron felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise as he glanced around the cabin. The small black box that should have been mounted near the ceiling was lying in pieces on the built-in dresser. It was the in-room hub for the ship-wide Wi-Fi network, and he hadn’t seen any electricians on board today...

      Was someone trying to tamper with the ship? The thought sent a jolt through him, and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was alone in the room with an unidentified worker, one who probably shouldn’t be here.

      He took a step back, keeping his eye on the man’s dangling leg to make sure he didn’t move. Best to get off the ship and call security, let them deal with this. He took another step, feeling his way toward the door.

      The blow to his head came without warning. A flash of pain, an explosion of light. A last, desperate gasp. And then nothing.

      * * *

      “What did you do?”

      Harvey lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug, his gaze locked on the floor and the body at their feet. “He was snooping. Thought he’d seen something.”

      “Did you know that for sure, or was it just a guess?” Terrence didn’t bother to hide the impatience in his voice. This wasn’t the first time Harvey had caused trouble, but he couldn’t get rid of the man. Blood ran thicker than water, and since Harvey’s brother was a well-connected member of the Organization, Terrence was stuck with him.

      “Couldn’t take that chance, now, could I?” He sounded a little indignant, and Terrence decided not to press the issue. Arguing with Harvey wasn’t going to change the fact that there was now a dead body to deal with, and since Terrence was in charge of this little operation, it was his problem to solve.

      It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The project was simple and straightforward: go throughout the ship and “enhance” some of the black boxes, adding a few chunks of gray, putty-like material before sealing them back up. He’d been given a set of plans marked with the locations of the boxes to be altered, several bags of the mysterious substance and a bag of unmarked bills. His instructions had also included a list of suggested precautions, ominous statements that warned he shouldn’t directly touch the material or breathe in any of its dust. It was almost enough to give him pause, but then he’d counted the money and decided the risk was worth the reward.

      Things had started out well. The team had come aboard in the late afternoon