Tuesday – 7:26 p.m. Northwest Coast of Costa Rica The wind had died down, yet the ocean surface remained a choppy blue. The sun was setting at their back. Tolen guided the boat back toward the docks along the northern shore of Costa Rica. Gordon Nunnery’s jet ski had come in handy. Tolen used it to ferry Jade, then Diaz, back to the dinghy to avoid any more shark encounters. Diaz was sequestered below deck, a self-imposed confinement after succumbing to another bout of seasickness. After what they had been through—being shot at, nearly drowning, and swimming through a school of sharks—it seemed nonsensical that it was the pitching of the boat in rough seas that once again incapacitated the Spanish law officer. Standing beside Tolen at the helm, Jade removed the small jar from the plastic bag. For the first time, they would be able to examine the five-inch-long relic in detail. The bulbous cap was fashioned into a tiny human head.
