copilot. After an examination, the rig’s doctor found that the pilot had suffered only a concussion that could wait for treatment on the mainland, so the Coast Guard chopper, which had been cruising in the vicinity on standby, returned to St. John’s instead of attempting a risky landing in the fog. The doctor also treated the copilot’s broken arm, and the rest of the passengers suffered only mild hypothermia. Locke was amazed that no one was seriously injured. He’d only been in the water for a minute, but he was still shaking off the chill.
Dilara Kenner declined to see the doctor and seemed to regard everyone warily. Other than insisting on talking with Locke, she had been tight-lipped since mentioning Noah’s Ark. He offered to meet her for breakfast the next morning, but she said she had to talk to him right away. All she wanted was a shower and some fresh clothes.
Locke and Grant escorted her to a guest cabin where Locke supplied her with a jumpsuit and boots. While she refreshed herself, Locke retrieved his bomber jacket, then went back to his own room and got into a dry shirt and jeans. He met Grant outside Dilara’s cabin and told him what Dilara had said on the lifeboat.
“Noah’s Ark, huh?” Grant said. “Now that’s out of left field. Is there something you haven’t told me about your past? Doing a little archaeology on the side?”
“Not unless you count that time I was looking for something to eat in your refrigerator.”
“That moo shu pork
“I think it was an entirely new life form. I was scarred for life. Some of that stuff was old enough for your fridge to be considered an historic landmark.”
“So if she isn’t here to pick your brain about archaeology, what’s her angle?”
“Hell if I know,” Locke said. “She doesn’t seem like a nut to me, and her credentials check out.”
“She’s nervous about something. Wouldn’t say squat to me.”
“You better let me talk to her alone. I’ll fill you in later.”
Grant and Locke had been friends since they served in the Army together, Locke as a captain, and Grant as his first sergeant before leaving to join the Rangers. A few years after Locke was honorably discharged and had started his engineering consulting firm, he convinced Grant to leave as well and become a partner in the firm, which had since been merged with another company. They been working together for two years now, and Locke trusted him with his life, but he sensed Dilara was on edge for some reason beyond the helicopter crash itself. She might not be as open with both of them listening to her.
“No problem,” Grant said. “I’ve still got work on that ballast problem. Should be able to solve it by tomorrow. That’ll give you two time to get acquainted.”
Dilara stepped out of the guest room, and despite the dark circles under her eyes, she wasn’t the bedraggled form Locke had rescued. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and although her cheeks were still ruddy from the cold and wind, she had a golden tan that suggested long periods of time spent in the sun or a Mediterranean background, possibly both.
Locke could tell she was hiding her weariness just below the surface and wouldn’t be surprised to see her collapse right in front of them. Treading water while holding up a man twice her weight must have been exhausting.
He had picked out her clothes and had guessed her height well — about 5’10”—but the jumpsuit was baggy. Her survival suit had been so bulky, he hadn’t realized how slender she was. The belt was cinched to its limit.
“If you want,” Locke said, “I can find you something that fits a little better.” Grant, who was standing behind Dilara, raised his eyebrows and nodded as if he’d like to see her in something tighter. Locke tilted his head, and Grant got the hint.
“I’ve got some things to take care of,” Grant said. “Nice to meet you, Dilara.” He winked at Locke as he left.
“How about that coffee you promised?” she said.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to rest first? You look dead on your feet.”
Dilara straightened up and took a deep breath. “Believe me, I’ve been through worse plenty of times. Once, I hiked through the Sahara for two days with no water after my truck broke down. I can stay awake a little longer. But I wouldn’t say no to a cheeseburger to go with that coffee.”
“You got it.” He pointed her in the direction of the mess hall. Dilara strode ahead of him with the purpose of someone who didn’t like to waste time. Locke didn’t know what was going on with this woman, but he liked her toughness.
A few stragglers from dinner lingered in the mess hall, a cafeteria-style facility with a made-to-order grill and a carpeted eating area with long laminated tables. It reminded Locke of a corporate dining hall. He poured two steaming cups of coffee and ordered burgers for both of them. They found an empty table in the far corner of the room. Dilara settled into a chair across from Locke and eyed the people around her. Satisfied that no one was listening, she turned back to Locke.
“I appreciate your friend letting us talk alone.”
“I trust Grant with my life. He saved me when I got this.” Locke pointed at the scar on his neck. “But I asked him to give us some space. I got the feeling you’d want some privacy.”
Dilara squinted, apparently searching for a memory. “He looked familiar to me. Where have I seen him before?”
“When he was at the University of Washington, Grant was a three-time NCAA freestyle wrestling champion. After that, he went pro for three years.”
The light went on in her eyes. “He’s The Burn! The guy who left it all behind to join the Army after 9/11.”
“The same. Doesn’t bring it up much, and most people don’t recognize him without the dreadlocks.”
“That’s amazing! I don’t know anything about wrestling, but even I’ve heard of him. I even knew his catchphrase.” She switched to a gravelly voice. “‘You’re going to feel The Burn!’”
Locke laughed. “Great impression, but it works even better if you grimace.”
“What’s he doing here? Didn’t he want to go back into wrestling?”
“No, it was too much punishment on his body after years in the Army, so he’s out of the scene now. But next time you see him, ask him about his signature moves. He loves talking about them.”
She seemed to be stalling with the small talk, and she paused when Locke didn’t go on. He let the silence grow.
“You want to know why I’m here,” she finally said.
“You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity.”
“Look, I’m not some kook.”
“I don’t think you are.”
“I made a mistake earlier mentioning Noah’s Ark so quickly. When I was drifting in that ocean, all I could do was think about why I came out here. So when I heard your name, I just blurted it out.”
“So your original plan was to butter me up first and
“It sounds even goofier when you say it. Look, I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of crazy person.”
“You seem sane enough to me.”
“The problem is that I’m not even sure you can help me. All I have are a few words that a family friend, Sam Watson, told me.” She said the name as if Locke might recognize it. “Do you know Sam?”
Locke shook his head. “Should I?”
“I thought you might. He said to find you.”
“Why?”
“Sam said, ‘Tyler Locke. Gordian Engineering. Get his help. He knows Coleman.’”
“The only Coleman I know,” Locke said, bewildered, “is John Coleman at Coleman Consulting. He’s another engineer. We compete for work occasionally, but I haven’t talked to him in over a year.”
“So you don’t know what the connection between you and Coleman is?”
“Not a clue. Did your friend mention anything else?”
“A few random words. Hayden. Project. Oasis. Genesis. Dawn. Do they mean anything to you?”
Locke thought about them, but nothing was familiar. “Beyond the obvious, none of them are jogging my memory. But you’re saying all of this has something to do with Noah’s Ark?”
