She handed me her purse, then took off her blouse and began handwashing it in saltwater. Dark as it was, I couldn’t see any blood. She scrubbed her hands and arms and shoulders slowly, as if she were washing up after a tennis workout. She was calm. Dead calm. I was worried about her. Wondered if she’d crack.
I suppose I should have been horrified about what she did to Ragnar, but I wasn’t. If she hadn’t been in that penthouse, I would have shot him. Good-bye, and bang. Can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Hell, all these pirates deserved it. Arch Penney would swear to that. One of the great philosophical issues of our time is why so few people get what they deserve. Good or bad.
Grafton was waiting for me when we walked off the beach. He was standing beside the pickup. The Israelis were not in sight. Grafton’s headset was draped around his neck. He must have had a dozen questions for me and Neidlinger, but he didn’t bother. One of the lessons he had undoubtedly picked up somewhere along the trail was that you can’t testify about things you don’t know about. It was a thing to remember.
“The Shabab will be here in five minutes,” he said. “I’ll stay to meet them. Tommy, you get Ms. Neidlinger up to the fort. Get her some food and a place to lie down.”
“Too bad we can’t gun them and waltz our people out of here.”
“Too many of them, and the planes won’t be here until tomorrow evening. Getting the radio controls to that trench bomb was the best we could do tonight. And eliminate some of the opposition.”
“What about that ship full of fertilizer, the Susan B. Grant? If she explodes—”
“She won’t. The SEALs blew a dozen holes in the side of the ship while the battle was going on. The seawater will ruin the fertilizer. Ship’s still there, of course—can’t sink, since she’s already resting on the bottom.”
“What about—”
“No time. Hustle out of here and get that leg looked at.”
I went. Got Nora to march. We got into solid darkness and walked as fast as my leg would allow. The wound was bleeding again. We were climbing the hill when a dozen or so pickups rolled into the plaza, one after another, and braked to a stop. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Grafton wandering over to the first one. I quit watching and climbed on up the hill, steering Nora along.
Yousef el-Din watched as armed men from the pickups behind him piled out and ran for Ragnar’s lair. Others set up a perimeter. Men at the machine guns mounted in the bed of every truck kept their weapons moving as they searched for targets. The vehicle headlights lit up the plaza as if it were a baseball field.
More pickups rolled through the plaza and took the road to the fortress. The bed of each contained eight to ten men, all armed, all hanging on tightly as they bumped and rattled up the dirt road.
Jake Grafton stood watching with professional interest. Any ambushing force could have decimated the column as it drove up. Yousef had a lot to learn, if he lived long enough. On the other hand, he obviously knew more about ground combat than the pirates—he was still alive.
El-Din climbed from the passenger seat of the lead pickup and was instantly surrounded by a small retinue of armed bodyguards. They kept their AKs at the ready.
Grafton stood with his arms folded. El-Din strolled over, in no hurry.
“Your men made short work of these pirates,” Grafton remarked, looking around. One of el-Din’s aides translated.
The bearded terrorist sneered. “Where are your men?”
“Not here. We used drones for this.”
The word “drone” threw the translator.
“Little unmanned airplanes. They carry weapons.” Grafton pointed toward the sky.
“Are they up there now?”
“Of course.”
From his pocket Yousef el-Din produced an object. He displayed it to Grafton, who recognized it. It was a modified garage door opener. Yousef talked, and the translator jumped in without waiting for a pause.
“With this I can set off Ragnar’s bomb around the fortress, and collapse it. The explosion and falling stone will kill everyone inside. My men will kill everyone outside. If the British or Americans attempt to betray us, or fail to pay the money, I will kill all these people, including you. Allah akbar.”
Grafton donned his headset, which had been arranged around his neck. He keyed the mike with his belt switch. “Toad, this is Jake.”
“Roger.”
Grafton repeated el-Din’s threat. As they discussed it Grafton heard a shout. He looked up in time to see a body falling from the penthouse balcony. It hit with a dull splat. Then another, and another.
Several of el-Din’s entourage ran over for a look. They came back with the news. Jake didn’t need a translation. Ragnar and his sons were dead. Yousef el-Din’s eyes crinkled, and inside his beard his lips twisted. This was his smile.
He spouted more words, either Arabic or Somali, Jake didn’t know. The translator said, “You come with us. You will talk for us. Any tricks, and you die.”
Jake repeated that to Toad Tarkington, then added, “I’m turning this headset off to save the battery. I’ll call you tomorrow to find out when you are ready to deliver the money.”
“Fine.”
As the pickups came up the hill toward the fortress, I put my weapons in my backpack and set it inside where it was hard to see. Thank heavens someone had dragged off the bodies of the sentries I’d killed. No doubt there were small bloodstains, but who would know? Or care?
Here they came, a couple dozen of Allah’s finest. Ahmad the Awful spouted gibberish at Captain Penney as I listened on my headset to Grafton talking to Admiral Tarkington.
I heard Grafton say el-Din was making him a prisoner. So they were kidnapping the negotiator!
One of the pickups was backing toward the entryway. It stopped twenty feet or so away, and the man at the machine gun pointed it at us, scowled fiercely and wiggled the barrel. If the trench bomb went off while he was sitting there he was going to join the ranks of the recently departed. Maybe he didn’t know that.
The three network reporters were trying to get an interview, but the head dog wasn’t having any of it. Maybe he didn’t speak English. He smacked a light with his rifle barrel, breaking it, and pointed toward the fort. The message was unmistakable. Get inside!
The media people obeyed with a lot of wasted motion. Generators died and lights were extinguished.
I keyed my headset. “Red Control, this is Tommy. Can you track Grafton with the drones?”
“We should be able to do that.”
“Wilbur, Orville?”
“We’ll try, Tommy.”
“Everybody, I’m going to turn off the headset to save the batteries. I’ll call before dawn for a report.”
“Roger.”
I switched the thing off, passed behind Captain Penney as I retrieved my backpack and headed for the stairs to the roof. I needed a few hours’ sleep. I wondered if I would get any.
Julie Penney escorted Nora Neidlinger to where Suzanne and Irene were trying to sleep, after the battle sounds died away. Marjorie was there, too. The women made a fuss over Nora, whose clothes were still damp.
“We must find her something dry to wear.”
As they did that, Suzanne got right to it. “How are you, Nora? Are you okay?”
In the gloom, it was impossible to read her face. “Fine,” she said. “Fine.”
When her daughter was led in a few minutes later, Nora grabbed her and held on tightly.
Someone asked, “Have you had anything to eat?”
“I’m not hungry. Honestly.”
“Pirate adventures are a good way to lose weight,” Irene remarked.