The Triton code, answered—again.
Finn rolled and hooked on to the dorsal fin to his right, carried now by a single dolphin. The animal responded to his willing participation immediately, bursting through the surface, arcing through the air, and plunging back into the sea. It chittered playfully while airborne. Finn gave a spontaneous cry of joy.
“Ooooo-weeee!”
But it was a girl’s voice he heard, not his own.
To his right, between his dolphin and the ship, Willa was straddling her dolphin like a pony, one hand on the dorsal fin, one high in the air like a bucking- bronco rider. The dolphins closed ranks, side by side, diving beneath the surface, then busting loose in high, acrobatic flight.
Glancing up, Finn saw the ship’s port rails filling with spectators. This was what he’d hoped for: word spread quickly aboard the Dream, especially around whale or dolphin sightings. If their fellow Keepers were still looking for them—and Finn had every reason to believe they were—there was no way they would miss this.
Equally important, however, was that not too many passengers see the two kids riding the dolphins. Better that the sighting seem like the ramblings of someone who had drunk too much, or be taken as a Disney special effect. The Panama Canal cruise had been designated a Kingdom Keepers cruise, after all—excuses could be made.
Finn leaned down to his pilot, having no idea where a dolphin’s ears were located. “Stay under!” he called out.
Having no idea what Finn had just said, the dolphin rose and leaped again. Finn saw that the flippers by his legs aimed upward as the dolphin dove; he reached out and held the flippers up, then let go. The dolphin got the message, diving deeper. Finn pulled the flippers to horizontal—using them as an equestrian would reins. The dolphin responded, leveling off. Its companion dolphin, carrying Willa, caught up, staying abreast of the leader, both submerged.
Willa’s short hair streamed behind. She glanced over at Finn, eyes white with exhilaration.
The passengers on deck would be scouring the waves, hoping. But by now the crowd would be growing. Finn didn’t need witnesses comparing notes: Did you see the two kids riding the dolphins?
The dolphins sped forward, racing through the water like torpedoes. Willa and Finn held tight. Thirty seconds underwater… Forty…
How long until the Keepers heard about the sighting and communicated with the Radio Studio to attempt a Return?
Willa motioned a thumb up, toward the surface. Finn, in weighing exposure to the passengers against the chance to return, had neglected the needs of the hardworking dolphins, who were mammals and required fresh air. He pressed the dolphin’s flippers down, holding them there briefly. The dolphin responded, raising its head, kicking its fluke, and exploding into the night. Water sprayed from its blowhole, fresh air filling its lungs.
Finn heard shouts as viewers called out to one another.
Then his arms tingled. He looked over at Willa, but it was like looking at her through a shower curtain; her image was faded and dull. She reached for him, and he for her. Their fingers wiggled, trying to touch. They connected.
Finn woke in an empty stateroom. Bone dry. Panting. A dream? A nightmare? Or had he returned? Nearly always the same sensation—mystical, mysterious. Awash in disbelief and not trusting his own powers of observation, he briefly wondered if he’d imagined everything.
Or had he lived it?
Where did the potency of possibility give way to the power of persuasion?
FROM THE MOMENT Finn and Willa had jumped off the deck, the situation on board the ship had gone from bad to worse.
As he’d leaped, Finn had thrown a small object back onto Deck 4. It had been spotted by Amanda and Jess, two girls with unusual abilities who had joined forces with the five Keepers. The “sisters” had been crossed over onto the ship hours earlier as holograms at the instruction of Wayne’s daughter, Wanda. Wayne supervised all the Keepers’ activities and missions; he had the final word on everything.
The four hyenas in pursuit of Finn had seen it as well. Nasty creatures intent on reducing Finn to a midnight snack, the hyenas were homicidal maniacs. The lead hyena was so determined to catch Finn that it misjudged the traction on the slippery deck and plowed headfirst into the metal railing, knocking itself unconscious. The second beast bounced off the rail, but recovered. Hyena number three aimed for whatever it was Finn had tossed behind, and snapped it up in its frothing mouth.
Maybeck arrived on deck wearing a kitchen costume: white pants and pullover shirt. “Don’t ask,” he said to the bandaged Charlene at his side. The ship’s doctor had patched her wounded shoulder.
A big kid for his fifteen years, and fearless to the point of stupidity, Maybeck dove for the hyena but missed. None of the kids knew exactly what the hyena had stolen, but Finn had tried to save it, which made it important.