Page 109 of Hidden Depths

Ward nodded slowly.

"He looks familiar."

Storm turned the photograph toward him.

"From where?"

"I can't place it."

"But I swear..."

He looked at the smiling man standing beside Grandpa Sinclair.

"...I've seen that face before."

Nearly five miles away...

Inside the trawler's wheelhouse...

The older man sat alone.

A worn photograph rested in his hands.

The same photograph.

Only this copy wasn't faded.

Two young captains stood shoulder to shoulder.

James Sinclair.

And himself.

He smiled sadly.

"You finally found it."

Outside...

The Pacific rolled endlessly beneath the afternoon sun.

The younger man stepped quietly into the wheelhouse.

"Sir?"

The older man slipped the photograph back into an old leather journal.

"What is it?"

"The black RHIB."

He looked up.

"We've found it."

"Where?"

The younger man's expression hardened.