He didn’t look arrogant anymore. He just looked small.

Helen Cross stood on the deck of the Coast Guard cutter, waiting for me. She didn’t smile, but she gave me a curt, respectful nod.

“Jonas?” I asked as I stepped aboard.

“Arrested at the safe house,” Helen replied. “And Martin Cole was picked up at a bus station in Maryland.”

I looked down at the gold coin in my hand. The red compass and the black wave. Truth is a rank no one outranks. My father had been right.

“What about your mother?” Helen asked softly.