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She blinked. Her words played back in her head. Her face flushed red. Everyone was staring at her. She slowly sat back down.

Clarence turned to face Murray’s screen.

“Director Longworth, Doctor Montoya is under considerable stress.”

Murray nodded. He looked less than pleased.

“I can see that,” he said. “Doctor Montoya, get some rest. Doctor Cheng, a.s.sign more people to look at that stem cell therapy, as Doctor Montoya requested.”

Cheng couldn’t hide his smirk. He stared right at her.

“Of course, Director Longworth,” he said.

“Good,” Murray said. “That will be all.”

His side of the screen blanked out, leaving just Cheng’s face.

“Good day, Doctor Montoya,” he said. “Enjoy your time away.”

“Go f.u.c.k yourself,” Margaret said, then she stormed out of the mission module.

PORT

Cooper and José worked to tie the Mary Ellen Moffett to the long pier. Jeff was in the pilothouse, managing the fine maneuvering that brought the s.h.i.+p into place.

Waiting at their slip were three vehicles: a white van, a long, black limo and a pickup truck. Four Chinese men stood outside the white van. They wore jeans and sweats.h.i.+rts, very nondescript, but Cooper wouldn’t have wanted to b.u.mp into any of them in a bar. Hands in pockets, shoulders shrugged against the cold — they clearly hadn’t understood that the temperature at the docks was usually the same as the temperature out on the water. Maybe they were here to help Steve and Bo Pan?

The pickup truck’s doors opened and two men — properly dressed against the cold in work jackets and insulated pants — stepped out. They had the burly look of dockworkers. They approached the Mary Ellen. Cooper had no idea who these men were, either. He noticed that when the dockworkers came forward, the Chinese men shrank back, just a little bit.

The limo was the most interesting of all: a man in a chauffeur suit — the driver, obviously — stood in front of it, a drop-dead-gorgeous woman on each arm. The women were laughing and smiling, but also s.h.i.+vering beneath thick fur coats. Past the hem of their coats, Cooper saw sparkly dresses and high heels.

The hanging b.u.mpers on the Mary Ellen’s port side ground against the seawall.

Cooper was about to greet the two approaching men when a voice called out from behind him.

“Wait!”

He turned to see a bundled-up Steve Stanton rus.h.i.+ng out of the cabin door. Steve ran across the deck, two overstuffed laptop bags strung around his shoulders. And not far behind Steve, Cooper saw Jeff descending from the bridge.

Steve slid to a stop, pointed at the dockworkers. “I hired these men,” he said in a rush. “And a bonus for you!” He pointed to the limo. Or maybe at the girls, Cooper wasn’t sure.