“Why in hell would I want to join you?”

“Because I’m going to show you something that will change everything you thought you knew about your life. And because, deep down, you trust me.”

She stared at him, then laughed. “The comedy never stops, does it?”

“I wasn’t fair to you, Lore. I’m not proud of what I did—you deserved better than that. But there was a reason. I said you haven’t changed, which is true. That’s why I brought you here. I need your help. I can see why you’d say no, but I hope you won’t.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Where exactly is Dunk?”

“This was never about the trade. I needed money and manpower. More than that, I needed secrecy. Five weeks ago, Dunk and all his lieutenants went into the channel. There is no trade anymore. Only me, and those loyal to me.” He nudged the gun toward her. “The mag is full, and there’s one in the pipe. What you do with it is up to you.”

Lore accepted the pistol. For a long moment she looked at it, until, with a heavy sigh, she slid it into the waistband of her jeans at the base of her spine.

“If it’s all right with you, I’m keeping this.”

“That’s fine. It’s yours now.”

“I must be out of my mind.”

“You made the right choice.”

“I regret it already. I’m only going to say this one time, but you really broke my heart, you know that?”

“I do. And I apologize.”

A brief silence. Then she nodded, just once: case closed. “So?”

“Brace yourself.”

—

He wanted Lore to see the Bergensfjord from below. That was the best way. Not just to see her but to experience her; only then could her meaning be grasped. They took the stairs to the floor of the drydock. Michael waited as Lore approached the hull. The ship’s flanks were smooth and gracefully curved, every rivet tight. Beneath the Bergensfjord’s massive propellers, Lore came to a halt, gazing upward. Michael would let her speak first. Above them, the clang of footfalls, men calling to one another, the whine of a pneumatic drill, the ship’s vast square footage of metal amplifying every sound like a giant tuning fork.

“I knew there was a boat…”

Michael was standing beside her. She turned to face him. In her eyes a struggle was being waged.

“She’s called the Bergensfjord,” Michael said.

Lore spread her hands and looked around. “All this?”

“Yes. For her.”

Lore moved forward, extended her right hand over her head, and pressed it against the hull—just as Michael had done on the morning they’d drained the water from the dock, revealing the Bergensfjord in all her rusted, invincible glory. Lore held it there, then, as if startled, broke away.

“You’re scaring me,” she said.

“I know.”

“Please tell me you were just keeping your hands busy. That I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.”

“What do you think you’re seeing?”

“A lifeboat.”

Some color had drained from her face; she seemed uncertain where to direct her eyes.

“I’m afraid it is,” Michael said.

“You’re lying. You’re making this up.”

“It’s not good news—I’m sorry.”

“How could you possibly know?”

“There’s a lot to explain. But it’s going to happen. The virals are coming back, Lore. They were never really gone.”

“This is crazy.” Her confusion turned to anger. “You’re crazy. Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I’m afraid I do.”

“I don’t want anything to do with this.” She was backing away. “This can’t be true. Why don’t people know? They would know, Michael.”

“That’s because we haven’t told them.”

“Who the hell is ‘we’?”

“Me and Greer. A handful of others. There’s no other way to say this, so I just will. Anybody who’s not on this boat is going to die, and we’re running out of time. There’s an island in the South Pacific. We believe it’s safe there—maybe the only safe place. We have food and fuel for seven hundred passengers, maybe a few more.”

He hadn’t expected this to be easy. Under ideal circumstances, he would have softened the blow. But Lore would cope, because that was her nature, the meat and marrow of Lore DeVeer. What had passed between them years ago was, for her, a painful memory perhaps, a quick jolt of anger and regret that touched her from time to time, but not for Michael. She was part of his life, and a good part, because she was one of the few people who had ever understood him. There were people who simply made existence more bearable; Lore was one.