JONATHAN EARL VERNALL was having the dream again. He was aware that he was dreaming but he allowed himself to go along with it. It was a good dream and he didn't have it often.
In his dream he was ten years younger, a few months shy of his fortieth birthday, and—as always—the dream began back in his old house. It was the monthly all-night poker game, and Vernall was winning.
In those days he always won. And not just in the dream. The boys all agreed: no one could bluff like Jonny Vernall. He could be holding the worst hand imaginable, or a royal flush, and there was no way even the most experienced poker player could guess. Jonny Vernall had no tells.
But the monthly meetings weren't about poker. That was just a cover until Jonny's wife Karen went to bed.
In the dream, five of them were sitting around the large table in the den in Jonny's old house. On his left was Ruben Sanderson. Small-eyed, cheerful, always scrounging for a couple of bucks to "see me through till the weekend."
Next to Rube sat KP, average height, average build, but with a deeply-lined face even though he was only thirty. KP had a young son and he was forever joking that KP junior was going marry Lorraine, Jonny's five-year-old daughter.
On KP's left there was Steve Amend. Steve had once been seriously overweight but a series of crash diets had left him with size-eighteen skin covering a size-twelve frame. His jowls shook when he laughed and reminded everyone of a basset hound.
Last, completing the circle on Jonny's right, was Gordon Boam, known to everyone as Gordie. Jonny didn't much like Gordie but he was good at his job. Gordie chain-smoked cheap cigars and he was always the first to leave the meetings.
Jonny Vernall himself was a large, barrel-chested man with powerful fists and thick black hair. He was almost always placid, rarely moving unless he needed to. But his deep-set brown eyes were constantly in motion. Very little escaped his attention.
At midnight Karen decided that enough was enough. She had to be up early in the morning to take Lorraine for her swimming lesson. She kissed the top of her husband's head and said good-night to the boys.
Jonny looked up from his hand—a pair of twos, a three, a ten and a jack—and told Karen they'd try to keep the noise down.
The game continued. Steve Amend folded first, followed almost immediately by Rube. Gordie stared at his cards for a full minute then called it. KP raised. Jonny said nothing. Gordie held fast.
Then they heard the familiar creak of the floorboards in the room above as Karen climbed into bed.
All the cards were immediately dropped. Jonny said, "Rube. The door."
Rube obediently leaned back in his chair, reached out and pushed the door closed.
"All right," Jonny said. "Something's going down next Friday. Something big. Pretty much every one of the big players is going to be dealing with it. It's the perfect time to go after the shipment."
KP said, "Jonny, six days ain't a lot of notice." He shook his head. "Can't be done."
Jonny looked at him. "It can be done and it will be done. We're not gonna get a better chance."
Steve ran the tip of his tongue over his upper lip. He always did that when he was interested in something dangerous. "So this thing you say is happening... What is it?"
"I don't know all the details," Jonny said. "He wouldn't tell me. But he wanted me there. Asked for me specially. He said—"
Steve sat back. "Wait, wait... When you say 'he'... You're talking about Ragnarök? You talked to him? Personally?"
Jonny nodded.
Steve and Rube whistled at the same time. "Man," Rube said, "That's big-league stuff. I mean, he's the man, you know?"
Jonny turned his unblinking eyes towards Rube. "Who's the man?"
Rube swallowed. "Jonny, I didn't mean..."
"Relax," Jonny said, his face as impassive as ever. "That was a joke. Yeah, Ragnarök talked to me."
KP asked, "How did he know where to find you?"
"He's a smart guy," Rube answered. "He prob'ly figured it out. Right, Jonny?"
"I didn't ask. He said he wants me on his team. Get myself to New York State by Thursday." Jonny paused. "Like I said, it's the perfect time to go after the Wanderer."
The boys fell silent, and Jonny knew what they were thinking. You don't say no to Ragnarök. Sure, Jonny was pretty powerful himself, but even so.
Then Jonny Vernall's wife Karen rolled over in bed beside him and the movement snapped him out of his dream, woke him up.

Morning light streamed through the window and for a few seconds Jonny didn't know where he was. The bedroom seemed huge, the window was the wrong shape, on the wrong side.
He swung his legs outof bed and smiled to himself. The dream again. He missed those days. He missed the thrill of a job. The planning, the execution, the escape...
Karen muttered, "Honey?" followed by something unintelligible, and fell asleep again.
He heard the hiss of heavy tyres on the long gravel drive, then pulled on his robe and padded barefoot over to the window. A delivery truck was coming to a stop next to the one that was already parked outside. Jonny sighed. Thought I told Stuart to make sure they delivered around the back.
He opened the windows, stepped out onto the balcony, and then closed the windows behind him. Below, the half-dozen catering people were unloading large flat boxes. "Hey, fellas," he called down.
The caterers looked around, puzzled for a moment, before they realised where the voice was coming from.
"Kitchen's round the back, guys."
The driver from the second truck pulled an order form out of his back pocket, unfolded it and held it up. "Just says to deliver the stuff here. Doesn't say nothin' about which door."
"That so?" Jonny jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Round the back."
"Yeah, only the guys already unloaded—"
Then the front doors below opened, and Stuart, the Vernalls' butler—a slight man with thinning hair and thick, horn-rimmed glasses—strode out. "Gentlemen... Next March Mister Vernall's daughter will be celebrating her sixteenth birthday. It will be very a large event, with four hundred—perhaps five hundred—guests. Whether your company is chosen to cater that event is very much contingent upon your success today."
The driver immediately turned to his colleagues. "You heard the man. Load it up."
Jonny nodded down to Stuart, who returned the nod and went back inside.
He watched as the men worked, leaning forward with his forearms resting on the stonework. He knew that most people in his position wouldn't even have talked to the delivery guys. Instead, they'd have phoned the catering company's owner and given him serious grief. But Jonny remembered what it was like to work for a living.
He hadn't always been rich. Back in the old days... Sure, it had been a lot of fun. But now he had more money than he could ever spend and nothing could make him trade the present for the past.
The echoes of the dream were still hanging around the back of his mind. It happened every few months, and sometimes he got to the end of the dream without waking up. It was good when that happened.
Sometimes the dream just came on its own, or segued from something else. But this time, on this date, Jonny knew exactly why the dream had recurred. He'd even been expecting it.
It was ten years exactly since the big heist. The last job he and his boys had pulled. It had cost them almost everything they had just to set it up, but it had paid off.
Close to a hundred thousand dollars to rent a trawler and disguise it as a Spanish coast-guard vessel. The same again to buy the equipment, the uniforms, and another three hundred thousand in bribes to the right people.
And we wouldn't have been able to do it if it wasn't for Ragnarök, Jonny thought. Man, you couldn't have asked for a better diversion than that. Almost every single superhero on the planet came running to stop him.
Jonny had been working on the plan for months.
In August 1751 the Danish ship Sophia Magdalen had been travelling from Africa's Gold Coast to Jamaica. It was carrying two precious cargos: slaves and gold.
The Sophia Magdalen was only a week into its journey when it vanished. Two and a half centuries later the wreck was found, hundreds of miles off-course. The salvage operation was carried out by a British team in what should have been complete secrecy.
But word of the salvage had reached Jonathan Vernall. Almost half a billion dollars worth of gold coins and ingots had been recovered.
The bedroom windows opened and Karen walked out, hugged him from behind. "You're up early." Her cheek was pressed against his. "And you haven't shaved yet."
"Plenty of time," Jonny said. "The guests won't be here for four hours."
"You got the presents for the kids?"
"Stuart picked them up in the city yesterday," Jonny said. They had five children now; Lorraine, twin boys Alvin and Robbie, and two more girls, Claire and Zoë.
Karen squeezed him tighter then kissed his cheek and went back inside.
Jonny Vernall watched as the catering trucks drove off to the left and disappeared around the side of the house, then he stared out over the land.
Ten years. He couldn't help smiling. He was almost fifty years old now, and had what he believed was the perfect life. But it hadn't always been that way.