The intimate little picnic at Crab Bay was nothing compared to the grand buffet that had been set up on the beach. The dive crew had been successful with providing a sumptuous feast, fresh from the pristine waters around the island. There were spiny lobsters, split and basted on the grill, along with freshly speared albacore and blue and green abalone, pounded thin and tender, brushed with butter and cognac.
At the head of the table, Rémy had regaled the group with tales of far-off adventures, of meetings with world leaders, of discoveries important and personal—all part of the web that was Calliope’s spell. Kip and Anna sat in the place of honor, next to the Captain, flanked by Derrick, while Christophe sat alone at the far end of the table, his expression dark.
“I would like to thank a
