“Don’t call them quite yet. Look. The ship is starting to list to starboard.” As the right side of the hull edged lower, the left side rose, pulling with it the platform on which unloaded supplies were waiting, and those boxes started to topple. More men leaped overboard and were picked up by circling small boats.
The tilt continued as water rushed unchecked into the ripped hull and all of the volatile material burned hard and fast, heating enough to burn the paint throughout the interior. The crew had not had time to block all of the watertight compartments, and tons of rushing seawater flooded through the open ports. The ship was not only tilted but was also going down by the stern.
“It’s going to sink right out there in the harbor, isn’t it?” Tianha’s voice was hushed.
“Yes, it is. The Iranians are not going to be happy. I think the time has come for us to leave, Tianha.”
“I’ll call London. Then we can go.” The telephone on the polished bedside table rang.
25
“Hello?”
“Am I speaking with Dr. Tianha Bialy?” A man’s voice, rather deep, his accented English crisp. She snapped her fingers to Omar, motioning for something to write on.
“Yes, it is. Who is this?”
“My name is Major Mansoor Shakuri, and I am commandant of the Iranian peacekeeping forces in Sharm el-Sheikh. A thousand pardons for telephoning at such a terrible hour.”
Bialy turned and sat as Omar handed her a small tablet and a pen. “It is no problem at all, Major Shakuri. I doubt if many people in Sharm have gotten much sleep tonight. There has been so much going on.” It was a little jab at having so much trouble with his command.
“It has been rather noisy,” he admitted with a subdued chuckle, “which means I will be very busy today hunting terrorists to protect this beautiful city from further harm.”
So you can execute more civilians, you bloody monster? Instead of asking that question, she said, “Why are you calling?”
“Perhaps we can help each other,” he answered. “It has come to my attention that you are trying to contact an intelligence agent who goes by the name of the Pharaoh. I can help you with that.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“In fact, Dr. Bialy, I do. And I’m willing to share that information with your British intelligence service. Everyone knows you are with MI6.”
“And what do you want in return for this man’s name? You said we could help each other.”
“I want your friend Kyle Swanson, of the American CIA.”
“Kyle Swanson is no friend of mine, Major. We had to work together on a financial project for a few days, but afterward, he immediately left for England.”
The voice hardened. “He did not get on a plane before the airport was closed. Therefore, he is still around somewhere. I want to find him for a few questions.”
“Then I’m sorry, Major. As I said, we were not friends, and I have not seen him since dinner before the hotel was attacked. He told me good-bye. I told him the same thing. I cannot tell you something I do not know.”
“I am sorry, too. The Pharaoh will not be disclosed unless Swanson is available.”
Tianha let the moment of silence extend. “Major, give me a bit of time. Let me talk to some locals and make a few discreet inquiries back in London.”
He changed back to a command voice. “I will arrive at the Four Seasons Hotel at exactly ten o’clock this morning, Dr. Bialy. Whether our visit will be pleasant is entirely up to you. Don’t think of trying to escape, because I have men watching for you. Is that clear?”
“Very clear, Major. Thank you for the courtesy of your call. I will see if we can work something out.” She hung up, threw herself back onto the pillow, and rubbed her eyes with her palms. Her thoughts tumbled with images of explosions and treachery and an unknown future. One thing was clear: Her mission had always been to find the Pharaoh, and he was almost within her grasp. She explained the call to Omar, who lay beside her, keeping his pistol within reach on the table.
“He wants a straight swap,” she said, explaining the call. “Exchange Swanson to the Iranians for the Pharaoh.”
“Then the major believes he has you boxed in. If you don’t give Kyle up, then you will be arrested and never find the Pharaoh. It could be your death warrant, so in his view, you have no choice,” he said, nuzzling into her hair, and she reached out for him. They lay in silence for a while, thinking.
“Kyle’s still at the safe house?” she asked.
“He should be, but who knows what the man is up to?”
“Then suppose I let the major take me prisoner and force me to cooperate? That would buy time for you to get over there and warn Swanson.”
“That’s much too dangerous for you, Tianha. Once he has you, Shakuri won’t let you go. As an MI6 agent, you could be hauled off to Tehran for interrogation, then buried out in some Iranian desert. C would never approve, and I sure as hell don’t want you committing suicide.”
“I won’t ask C,” she said and gave him a soft kiss. “You, my dear, will let me do it because I want to and because I am ordering you to do so.”
“No.”
“Omar, the major is coming up here with armed security. You are a wonderful bodyguard, but the numbers and weaponry are on his side. I don’t want to see you killed, either.”
Kyle Swanson clung to the waist of Abdel El-Din as the young Egyptian piloted the jet ski in a mad zigzag dash back for the safety of the Gold Sun Water Equipment warehouse, careering wildly around buoys and boats to eat up the distance, finally slowing near the marina, where they scooted inside just as the darkness was giving way to another winter morning’s light. Kyle had kept looking back over his shoulder toward the ship, which had become a ferocious inferno within ten minutes. He had expected damage, but nothing like what was happening aboard that vessel; it had been filled with flammable material and was being gobbled by the fire.
Then they were back at the little pier, tied up, and Abdel lowered the outer door. Both men sat on the waterside pier in silence for a few minutes, just catching their breath after the tension-filled past hour. The strain of the continuing action during the night had left Kyle drained of energy, and he thought about how he far he had pushed his luck by breaking almost every rule in the book on clandestine warfare. With daylight coming, he could get back to the safe house, get some food, and take a break.
“I’ve got to go,” he told his new accomplice. “You did great tonight, kid, and you sure as hell drive a mean jet ski. Your family will be proud that you exacted such a vengeance on those who murdered your brother.”
“Do you have a place to stay? You can stay here, if you wish.” El-Din had not moved from his place on the pier.
Kyle stripped off the dive suit and toweled down hard to restore some warmth to his skin before putting his dirty local clothes on again. “I’m good. I can’t tell you where I’m staying. You understand?”
“Of course. What do you want me to do?”
“You go to the police in about an hour. Report that your dive shop was broken into last night by thieves and two jet skis were stolen.” He thumbed back at the office, where the broken window attested to forced entry. “I left plenty of evidence to back up the claim. You found one ski drifting and abandoned about a hundred yards away, but no sign of the other one. You took a quick look around and went for the cops.”