August 19th, Ketchikan

Francis knocked at the door, and passed Laura another hot carafe of coffee. She poured herself a hot cup and settled back into her Eames chair, looking at the sun rising over the open ocean through her open balcony door, laptop balanced on her lap. Then Laura slid her headphones on and continued typing the rest of her findings from her first round of interviews with the crew. The sun steadily rose above the ship as the distant Alaskan coast came into view. Laura felt a small pang of hunger interrupt her concentration and decided to take a break for lunch.

Laura rode the silent elevator toward the 24-hour buffet. The impeccably clean elevator swished open, and she stepped onto the sun deck stocked with teak furniture and natural linen cushions. A small pool in the middle sat empty, but the deck furniture buzzed with subdued conversation as loungers reclined and nursed fruity drinks.

Through another mahogany door, the buffet opened in front of her. An imposing ice sculpture of a grizzly bear stood in the entryway, fat beads of water dripping from its claws. Round tables set with elegant place settings and multiple wine glasses stretched out to her right. To her left, different stations brimmed with food. Guests carried plates away, and crew members in chef's whites and checked pants hurriedly restocked the chafing dishes from large pots and pans.

She scanned the stations, and spotted a Mongolian stir fry grill. A chef in a white hat stood in front of a large flat top grill, seasoned brown from use. He held two large metal spatulas, tapping one idly against the grill's edge. She filled a red lacquered bowl with thin shaved slices of beef, bean sprouts, onion, red peppers, celery, and noodles. She slid it across the counter to the chef, who nodded and tipped it onto the grill. It hissed and sizzled, and erupted in steam as he added sauces from a squeeze bottle and tossed the ingredients from one side to another.

Her still-steaming bowl in hand, Laura scanned the dining area for a spare seat. She saw a hand shoot into the air and heard a faraway "Laura!" It was Brian, waving her over. At the table, she saw his daughter and a woman she didn't recognize. Brian looked like a techy Clark Kent, sharply dressed in a black mock-neck sweater and heavy-framed dark glasses.

"I'd like you to meet my daughter, Juni." Juni smiled and put her small hand up in a mute, shy greeting, her hair in neat braids. She picked up a colored pencil and resumed scribbling intently in a small spiral book. "And this is my nanny, Annaliese. Juni and Annaliese, this is Laura."

Annaliese regarded Laura with a cool, passive gaze, her tall, blonde, nordic frame draped in a chunky cardigan. Her hair hung in a thick, single braid. She must have braided Juni's hair, thought Laura.

Annaliese spoke in a precise, Germanic accent. "Pleased to meet you too, Laura," She leaned forward. "Brian told me all about you after dinner. He said you were very charming."

Brian shot her a small don't tell her that look.

"What? I don't think it's a big deal. I see the hard time he has meeting anyone. When you are wealthy, there is a certain caution you must use. But here?" She spread her hands, "everyone is wealthy. You don't have to have the same worries."

"Not everyone." Said Laura with a small smile. "I'm on board as a favor to the captain. It's more work than pleasure."

"Ah, I see. No offense meant. I'm sure you understand."

"Not entirely, but I can imagine."

"Of course."

Juni continued coloring through the small, awkward pause. Her plate sat disused, covered in small piles of white rice. A half empty mug of hot chocolate cooled beside it. She leaned into Brian's ear and whispered loudly. Brian nodded to her and to Annaliese. "She wants to go back to the room to watch a princess movie." He looked at Annaliese. "I'll meet you there in a little bit."

Juni and Annaliese got up from the table. Brian hugged Juni and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you in a little bit, sweetie. Listen to Annaliese, OK?" She nodded earnestly, and tucked her drawing pad under her small arm.

When she was out of earshot, Brian leaned forward. "She's been watching Frozen on repeat. She thinks her nanny is Elsa." They both laughed.

"I can't blame her. It's uncanny."

"True." Brian leaned back and leaned a hand against his face, pensively. "I have to tell you, Laura. I was thinking about you after our dinner the first night. I was hoping I would run into you again."

Laura felt her pulse quicken. "If I'm being honest, I was too."

Brian looked out the windows at the coastline gliding by, then turned his eyes to Laura. "This might be a little forward, but would you like to join me for a drink later?"

"Sure."

"Great. Stop by my room at five."

"Your room?"

"Well sure. If that's okay. It's honestly the size of a condo. I haven't had anyone to show it off to."

Laura left the buffet in a slight daze. She thought, what am I doing with Brian? I'm not here for fun. Then she shook the thought from her mind and released a long breath. I can have a little fun after work hours. I'm not in uniform.

When the sliding doors quietly slid open to the sun deck, a deafening roar greeted her. She instinctively ducked to take cover behind a solid handrail. When she looked up, she saw the underside of a small helicopter. The downdraft whipped her hair around in wild shapes. To her surprise, the crew didn't seem phased at all. Bemused, maybe, but not surprised. Guests looked surprised, but settled quickly at the sight of the calm crew.

The helicopter slowed, turned, and touched down for an expert landing on a small helipad at the foredeck. Laura had seen it when she boarded, but she had assumed it was for emergencies.

The rotors slowed down and the engine roar subsided to a low whine. Laura found a crew member, and asked them about the helicopter.

The woman nodded understandingly. "Yes. We have regular helicopter tours directly from the ship. Some of the areas we visit are ecologically sensitive, or remote. Glacier Bay, for example, is a National Park with no port or facilities. We aren't allowed to dock there, or actually even stop. The boat just keeps moving slowly. So, we partner with local tour companies who land on the ship to pick up passengers for the excursions."

Laura thanked her and continued walking, lost in thought. Back in her state room, she opened her laptop and closed it, picking up the phone instead. She ordered tea and fruit to her room. She opened her laptop again and started to type.

Risk factors of helipad use

Crash risk, passenger injury...

Francis appeared with a silver tray and his flirty smile, and quickly left. Before she knew it, it was nearing five o'clock.

She stopped in the bathroom and inspected the state of her makeup. It was workable, but she shrugged and thought what does a person really do to get ready for meeting up with a billionaire? How many people in the world could even answer that question?

She made her way to the end of the ship, down a few floors, and to his door. It was at the very stern of the ship, past all of the other rooms at the end of the hallway and behind a double width door in dark wood. Next to it, a placard listed it as the Owner's Suite.

After she approached, the door swung open silently. Brian appeared in the doorway wearing a crisp white tuxedo shirt with french cuffs and cufflinks, and black dress pants. A tux jacket and bow tie hung on a nearby coat hook behind him. He saw her surprise and shrugged. "It's a formal night in the dining room. Juni wanted to dress up, so why not go along?"

Laura smiled. "Where is Juni, anyway?"

"Oh. I booked Annaliese an adjoining room. They're watching a movie. We have the place to ourselves. Speaking of, can I show you around?"

"Sure."

Brian held the door as Laura walked in. She felt her breath catch when she saw the gorgeous room. It opened into a two-story tall atrium, with a swath of gigantic windows looking over the stern. They tipped outward, curving over toward the surface of the water in a gigantic arc. To her left, past the surprisingly large kitchen, a staircase led to bedrooms. To her right, the living room looked larger than hers at home and dotted with sumptuous furniture. A library alcove beckoned with stacks of leather bound books.

Brian strode over to the kitchen. "Amazing, isn't it? Couldn't ask for a nicer room. Can I make you a cocktail? I make a killer old fashioned."

"I don't mind a good old fashioned. I feel like everyone has a trick to it. Do you have a special twist?"

Brian shook his head. "I forget you were a chef. Maybe it won't wow you, then. But I do have my own twist." He smiled over his shoulder at her before pulling bottles of bourbon and bitters from the cabinet. "I muddle the bitters, sugar, and water first." He set the wooden muddler down and removed the lid from his ice bucket. "Then a few large ice cubes and a splash of bourbon."

He pressed a paring knife into an orange rind and spun it, shaving delicate curls of peel. "Now, for my secret twist." He picked up a lighter from the counter and lit the orange rind on fire, let it crackle briefly before blowing it out. A small wafting smell of citrus smoke filled the kitchen. He rubbed the rind on the inside of the rim, and then placed it carefully inside. He handed her a glass. "Some smoke."

She accepted the glass, greeted by the sweet and rich smell. She tipped it toward him. "Not bad, Brian." She sipped it slowly. "Oaky, fruity, with a hint of smoke. Perfect."

They carried their drinks to the chestnut colored leather couch, and sat down together. Brian leaned back. "Is it your first time to Alaska?"

"No, actually. I worked in the Seattle field office for a long time. They cover some cases in Alaska on occasion. I had one long case up here, but it might be a story for another day."

He rested his hand on the back cushion comfortably. "We have time."

She paused. "No, it's not so much that it's a long story. It is. It just involved multiple murders, some of them gruesome. I wound up taking down a large criminal operation. Perversely, a nice career boost. But not a good introduction to Alaska."

He sipped his drink and nodded "I'm sure. I can't imagine the things you've seen. I'm sure it was hard."

"It was. But in a strange way, I was actually the most worried about the day it would stop being hard. Because if it feels easy, does that mean you stop seeing the victims as people, or having empathy for them? Is that how you lose some of your humanity?"

"Did it ever stop being hard?"

"No."

He looked at the ceiling. "In a way, I can imagine it made you better at it, too. If you don't stop caring."

"Exactly. Did you ever feel the same way, when you were an MP?"

He shrugged slightly. "It was a long time ago. But generally I was just breaking up drunken fights and domestic problems on base."

There was a pause. They each sipped their drinks, the ice tinkling softly. Laura looked at him and started to speak, then stopped.

"Wondering about Juni's mother?"

"I am. Maybe we don't need all the niceties."

"I figured you would ask. You're an investigator." He set his drink down and rubbed his face. "Earlier, I told you something happened, but didn't fill it in. I can imagine you're used to having complete stories. Maybe it's uncomfortable if you don't. Not that that's wrong."

"It's true. Maybe not first date fodder though."

He smiled ruefully. "Yeah. I would be curious too. I like that you're direct, though, honestly. It makes me feel like I can trust you."

"Empathy and trust. Believe it or not, they were my secret weapons in the FBI."

"Wait, really? Even with criminals?"

"Especially with criminals."

"But you can't trust a criminal. And how do you empathize with someone who does horrendous things?"

She nodded. "It sounds strange. But everyone wants to be heard and understood. Even the worst of us. Sometimes the terrible things they do are a way of wanting to be heard. So you make them feel like they can trust you, and you'll hear them."

Brian paused. "I can't imagine. I couldn't do that." He picked up his drink and gently swirled the melting ice. "Anyway, I can tell you the story. My ex wife, Jasmine, and I met in college. She's Korean too, second generation. An American, officially. We had a great life together. We were compatible in a lot of ways. Juni came along before my company went public, and I thought she would be our glue for a long time."

He paused and sighed. "But, things started to go sideways."

"How?"

"When you prepare to take a company public, you get assigned to a large investment bank to underwrite you. They prepare you, and it's grueling. It's not just financial. It's image, marketing, security. Everything that might fall apart under public scrutiny."

He set his drink down. "The bankers were white men, hot shot Ivy Leaguers. They honed in on my being a foreign national. They pushed me to give up my Korean citizenship."

"Oh," said Laura. "Was that the issue?"

Brian laughed, mirthlessly. "No, it gets worse. Much worse. When I didn't want to, they pushed me to resign to a board seat so they could appoint a white, American man as a CEO. They said the stock performance would make me happy enough. I fought back hard. Jasmine thought maybe I should quit, if this was the world I'd be working in. In hindsight, maybe she was right. In the end, they hired a dialect coach. A famous guy from Hollywood. They asked me to get rid of my accent. I couldn't stand meeting with him at work, around my employees. I was ashamed. So he met me at home, and Juni had to see her dad trained to sound like a midwestern American."

Laura nodded. "So, she thought you were a sellout?"

"More or less. She was furious that I would turn my back on who I am to get rich. That I would keep working with people that wanted to fire me. From my perspective, though, this was a company that I built from the ground up. Giving it up would have also been a betrayal." He rubbed his temples with his hands, and then stood up.

"It was your baby."

"Exactly. Anyway, I'm sorry. That's not something I share a lot about."

Laura stood next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's hard to know sometimes if you're doing the right thing."

"It is."