The general stepped forward. “Shut up,” he said. “How long are we going to listen to this?”

“Treasure?” the commander asked incredulously.

“That’s right!” Corrie cried. “He’s been searching for it for years! Our investigation uncovered where it was hidden, and he forced us to take him to it! His soldiers are emptying the treasure chamber right now as we—”

The general smacked her across the mouth. “I told you to shut up.” He turned. “Commander, I appeal to your sanity, if nothing else. FBI? Spanish treasure? Do you really need any more evidence to show these are intruders at best, and spies at worst?” He took a deep breath and continued in a more reasoned tone. “And now, Commander, would you be so kind as to turn them over to me? This is an army problem that has taken place on army land, and I think you’ll find it difficult to explain why you disobeyed my direct order.”

The commander, who had frowned disapprovingly when the general struck Corrie, hesitated. Then he turned to the masterat-arms. “All right. Turn them over.”

“No!” cried Skip. He started struggling with the handcuffs behind his back.

“He’s got a weapon!” somebody cried.

But even as they spoke, Skip managed to shove one hand into a pocket and pull out of fistful of something. There was a sudden glitter of multicolored brilliance as a half dozen gemstones clinked and bounced and rolled across the floor, along with several gold doubloons.

The silence was electrifying. All eyes had swiveled to the gold and precious stones.

“The treasure,” he explained. “I, um, swiped some earlier tonight.”

The silence continued a moment longer. Then the commander cleared his throat.

“What is this, General McGurk?” he asked, gesturing toward the now-glistening floor.

The general had gone pale, but when he answered, his voice was even. “I have no idea. Some trick.”

The commander gestured to the masterat-arms. “Belay that last order.” He removed his cell phone.

“What are you doing?” McGurk asked.

In a calm voice, the commander replied: “I’m calling our emergency FBI liaison number, to check on the existence of a Special Agent Corinne Swanson.”

“Of course you’ll find there is! This woman’s obviously an impersonator!”

The CO punched in a number.

“I’ll have you court-martialed, Commander!” McGurk turned to his men. “I order you to take the prisoners into custody!”

But the soldiers hesitated while the commander, with steely coolness, briefly spoke into the phone, listened for a long moment, then thanked the person he was speaking to and returned the phone to his pocket. “There is indeed a Special Agent Corinne Swanson working on a case involving WSMR—and she meets the description of this young woman.”

“As I said—an impersonator.”

“Perhaps,” the commander said quietly. “Or perhaps not. But the fact is, she’s in navy custody. I have decided not to turn over the prisoners at this time. If you wish to take custody, General, there’s a process, as you well know, and it involves paperwork.”

The general pulled his sidearm. “Paperwork, you son of a bitch? You turn them over or I’ll take them from you by force!” He turned to his men. “Soldiers, ready arms!”

The soldiers drew their weapons. In response, one or two of the seamen raised weapons of their own, forming a defensive posture around their CO.

“General,” said the commander, “are you aware of what you’re doing?”

The general’s gun hand began to tremble.

“Men,” the CO said, “stow arms.”

The sailors lowered their weapons. But the tension in the air remained almost unbearable.

The commander took a deep breath. “We—that is, the navy—are going to verify the identity of these individuals. And then we will decide the next steps—not in an ad hoc manner, but following the established protocol.”

The general’s hand shook more violently, the barrel trembling.

Lieutenant Woodbridge had drawn her weapon, and it was still pointed at the commander. Now, suddenly, she pivoted, pointing it toward the general. “Sir?” she said. “Lower your weapon.”

The general gaped at her, uncomprehending.

Weapon still trained, she spoke to the CO. “Commander, your investigation will find that these people are who they say they are. The Spanish treasure is real, and the general is having it removed right now. We were forced, by orders and threats, to obey him.”

The general stared at her. “What? You … traitorous, backstabbing bitch.”

“All of us were required to do the general’s bidding,” she continued, and turned to the soldiers. “But it’s over now. Lower your weapons, gentlemen.”

The soldiers complied.

“General,” she said in a voice that to Nora seemed impossibly cool, “you, too.”

But instead of obeying, the general backed toward the open door of the hut, trembling weapon still trained on the naval CO. He reached the door, ducked out of it, and disappeared into the night.

“Let him go,” said the CO.

A silence. And then the CO said: “Lieutenant Woodbridge, contact WSMR’s second in command. Explain the situation, and get your men to halt the looting of that … ” He swept a hand across the floor, where the gold and gems continued to gleam. “And get them to call off those damn drones circling overhead.”