Storm knew Tommy would be driving with his left leg, if only because the right leg wasn’t an option. He had lost it to an explosion long ago. He had a rotating selection of prosthetics that he changed to suit his mood and he nearly always wore shorts, so the world could enjoy them, too. Storm’s favorite was a crude wooden stump made to look like a pirate’s peg leg. Just because Tommy Harif made his living as a shady international arms dealer didn’t mean he lacked a sense of humor.
Storm grinned and stuck out his thumb. Tommy’s booming voice was already emerging from the window.
“I received a notification this morning that a hundred thousand Euro had been deposited in one of my accounts,” he said. “I made some inquiries and learned it came from a man named Derrick Storm. ‘Derrick Storm?’ I said. ‘That’s impossible. He’s dead.’”
Storm’s smile went wider as the Hummer came to a stop. “Those reports have been greatly exaggerated.”
“He might as well be dead. I already spent half of his hundred grand on hookers and booze. The other half, I wasted.”
“It’s good to see you, Tommy.” Storm stuck his hand through the window and exchanged a vigorous shake with the man who had, quite literally, nursed him back from death’s door.
“Get in,” Tommy said. “Haven’t you heard there’s a hurricane coming? I hear it’s going to be a real wild storm.”
Storm opened the passenger door and climbed in. “Some people like a wild storm,” he said.
“Count me among them,” Tommy said.
“I missed you, Tommy,” Storm said, clapping the man on the shoulder.
“You look a lot healthier than the last time I saw you. Fewer bullet holes.”
“Well, we can’t all be supermodels like you, but I try,” Storm said. His gaze shifted down to Tommy’s right leg, which was a utilitarian titanium model. Tommy was all business on this day. “No pirate leg today?”
“I know how much you like it, but I get lousy traction with that one,” he said glumly. “It’s no good in the rain. Plus, it gets stuck in the mud.”
They took a moment of silence over this predicament. Then Tommy said, “So what brings you to my little city by the strait? A dangerous mission you can only tell me about if you kill me first, or however that little chestnut goes?”
“Something like that,” Storm said as Tommy got the Hummer under way. “I was actually hoping you could take me to your, ah, little warehouse for a quick shopping trip.”
Tommy said nothing for a moment. But Storm knew he was being studied out of the corner of Tommy’s eye. “Are you asking in the capacity of your work for Jedediah Jones?” Tommy eventually inquired.
“Not exactly. As a matter of fact, as far as Jones is concerned, you haven’t seen me.”
“I understand. So are you asking in the capacity of your work for some other part of the United States government?”
“Can’t say as I am.”
“Then who are you working for?”
“Why, Tommy, for the cause of righteousness, of course.”
Storm delivered the line with the same gee-whiz earnestness that Tommy had once used on him, causing Tommy to erupt in laughter. “I understand, my friend. I guess what I’m asking is, can I count on you for a certain amount of discretion where the United States government is concerned? Uncle Sam…might not approve of some of my possessions.”
“Do you even have to ask?”
“Where Jedediah Jones is potentially involved? Yes.”
“Okay. Well, then I can confirm for you I am totally off the books, operating completely on my own, without the backing or authority of the Central Intelligence Agency or any other portion of my government.”
Satisfied, Tommy continued driving them toward his home, a former Moorish castle set on a cliff just outside the city of Ceuta. It was about twenty miles from Tangier on a straight line, slightly longer on the N16, the highway that traced the shoreline of the Strait of Gibraltar.
As they traveled, Storm filled him in on all that had been happening, and what the true nature of his visit was. He did this, in part, to gain the man’s trust. But he also was eventually going to want Tommy’s input. Tommy was not without expertise when it came to the use of force, brute or otherwise.
By the time they arrived, it was midafternoon and the sky was a bruised purple. The rain and wind had slowly ratcheted up in intensity during the course of the half-hour drive. Storm could see the huge ocean swells rolling in the strait below.
Storm felt a familiar pang as the Hummer climbed the stone-lined driveway toward Tommy’s residence. The main keep had been well maintained. Some of the parapets and balustrades had crumbled a bit since he last saw them, during the days of his convalescence. And while it was not a time in his life he particularly cared to revisit, he still felt nostalgia’s grip.
Waiting for them on arrival was the meal Tommy had his chef prepare: couscous topped with lamb and vegetables. Storm demurred, saying he didn’t have time; but Tommy insisted, pointing out that he had to wait until darkness to approach the ship anyway. Storm capitulated easily enough. It didn’t help his resolve that he had eaten nothing more than airline food and that his mouth had started watering as soon as he walked in the door.
They continued talking throughout the meal, and as it reached its conclusion, Tommy summed up the obstacles facing Storm: “So, if I have this all straight, there is no way to approach this ship by air or sea, because anything much larger than a dolphin will be automatically spotted by the ship’s detection systems. Even if you could get close, getting on board would be nearly impossible, because the boat will be thrashing around in heavy seas. And yet you can’t wait for things to calm down because then Jones’s goons will beat you to the punch.”
“Right,” Storm said.
“And then, even if you can somehow get on board, there are an undetermined number of highly motivated security professionals patrolling the decks. You have no idea where on the ship the captive is being kept, nor any idea where the promethium is being kept, nor any reconnaissance on Ms. Karlsson’s personal quarters, including what special security measures might be installed there. Finally, even if you manage to defeat security, subdue Ms. Karlsson, destroy the promethium, and find the captive, you have to get them all off the boat in one piece?”
“That’s about the size of it yeah. Any ideas?”
“Well, I do have one.”
“Please share.”
“Don’t go,” Tommy said. “Stay here with me. This is madness, even for a man of your abilities. Let’s ride out the storm drinking fine wine and then hit Tangier in a day or two and spend some of your new fortune in style. You came inches away from death the last time you came to this country. Are you really that eager to make that last step into the grave this time? Forget everything you’ll face once you get on board that boat; it’s suicide even to head out in this.”
“No, it’s perfect. They’ll never see me coming.”
“That’s not the point. Look, just let Jones win this one. Yeah, so the U.S. military gets a scary new toy and Ingrid Karlsson gets away. So what? What does it really matter to you? And don’t give me this ‘cause of righteousness’ crap. That’s my line, not yours. Why can’t you just let this go?”
Storm shifted a well-gnawed bone around on his plate. “Because the Pennsylvania Three were actually supposed to be the Pennsylvania Four. I was on that fourth plane, sitting in seat 2B. I saw all the people on my flight, people she was going to let die without a second thought. They weren’t anyone’s enemy, Tommy. They didn’t care about the width of the Panama Canal or the excise tax on auto parts heading into Germany. Their only sin was wanting to get back to their families to live a peaceful, happy life. I’m sure the people on the other planes were the same, and yet today their loved ones are burying whatever little broken pieces of them the authorities can recover from a catastrophic crash. The woman who caused all that pain has to face justice. She can’t be allowed to escape punishment simply because she has something that the Joint Chiefs really want.”