Under the stillness of the full moon, Jeremiah dove into the bay. He paid silent thanks to the yacht for delivering him this far, and turned to the task at hand.

A small raft containing the man’s only earthly possessions was covered with a black cloth. He tied a lead rope around his waist and swam for the darkest point on the shoreline, ducking calculatedly beneath the water whenever nearby lighthouse beams came near.

Presently he arrived on the beach and darted, crouching, to the thick vegetative cover atop the dune, towing the raft over the sand behind him. He stopped to catch his breath.

In the raft was a carefully wrapped laptop computer. He retrieved the machine and checked that it was still functional. Surely there was a wireless hotspot active somewhere in this town, even in a place so quiet. Jeremiah cloaked the raft beneath the sea grapes and headed for the coffee shop on the hill.

In the alley, away from streetlamps, he typed a simple message:

Have arrived.
43.06°N, -70.72°W

He clicked Send.