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They were a strange procession down the hall of the hospital of the Antilles
Oil platform. Star was at the center, taking baby steps, hanging on to the handles
of a walker. Kaz, Adriana, and Dante matched her slow pace, leaning into the
hushed conversation.
“Captain James Blade,” whispered Star. “How cool is that? I wonder what
he was like? Maybe some kindly grizzled old sailor, hobbling around on a cane
with a bone handle.”
“He was a privateer, Star,” Adriana reminded her. “They were as bad as
pirates, sometimes worse. He may have hobbled, but he wasn’t kindly.”
“Or he was a maniac with a whip,” put in Kaz.
“The point is, he was a rich maniac,” said Dante. “Or he would have been if
his boat hadn’t sunk. Can you imagine that feeling? All your dreams are coming
true, and then — ”
“I can,” Star said huskily. “I’ll never dive again.”
Kaz didn’t mean to snap, but the thought of Drew Christiansen set off an
avalanche of emotion. “Don’t you think that’s a little nitpicky? You could be in
a wheelchair right now!”
Star’s eyes flashed, but she nodded sadly. “I know how lucky I am.”
“When are you heading back to the States?” Adriana asked Star.
“Friday morning. Poseidon doesn’t want me on the catamaran, so we have to
wait for an oil company helicopter to Martinique.”
“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” said Kaz.
“My dad can’t miss any more work,” Star mumbled. “The choppers don’t
run every day. We’ve got to grab this one.”
They nodded lamely.
“The thing is” — Star looked from face to face — “people like Cutter,
treasure hunters, they spend decades searching, all for nothing. But between
Dante’s eyes, Adriana’s smarts, and Kaz’s guts, we did the impossible. I mean,