Italians and Mazighs and so on, not New Worlders like yourself. This entire project has been twice as difficult since the admiral started bringing in his special contractors. And now they’re murdering our officers?” He glared as he shuffled the papers around his desk, yanked out a clipboard, and began scribbling notes. “I’m issuing a warrant for Fabris’s arrest. No doubt you and your husband will be summoned to testify against him, but that could be months away. No need to worry about it now.” Ortiz paused, then resumed writing on a fresh page. “And I’m shutting down the science experiment in the warehouse. No more nonsense on my watch until we get this foreigner business under control.”
Qhora smiled her best high-society smirk of flirtatious conspiracy. “A science experiment? Here? How bizarre! Whatever do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s this machine they brought in, apparently on Fabris’s orders. Something that he found out on the road last week.”
“What sort of machine? Like a locomotive? I visited Marrakesh once and saw two locomotives crash straight into each other. Can you imagine?” Qhora loathed the act right down to the little giggle and smile at the end of her questions, but she had no other leverage with this man and couldn’t risk being turned away empty-handed.
Ortiz shook his head. “No, ma’am, I cannot. But this machine is no locomotive. It looks like a damned bird. Lord knows why those Mazighs keep building these flying contraptions. If God wanted us up in the clouds, that’s where he would have put us in the first place.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Qhora rested her gloved hand on her chest, just below her little golden triquetra.
Ortiz offered her a polite smile and nod. “Well, Dona Qhora, I can’t thank you enough for coming all this way to report this Fabris matter to me. I promise you, it will be dealt with swiftly.”
“Thank you so much, captain.” She stood to leave. Her hand strayed to her empty purse and she thought of her empty saddlebags. “Oh, look at the time. It’s already so late in the day. Can you recommend a hotel where I might spend the night?”
Ortiz stood up. “Actually, my wife and I would be honored if you would stay the night with us, Dona. It’s the least I can do in return for your services today.”
Qhora smiled. Such predictable nobility. I almost regret manipulating him like this, but a twinge of regret is better than another night out in the cold. “Why thank you, captain, I believe I will accept your most generous offer.”
Chapter 26. Syfax
When the little fishing boat rounded the point, they saw the enormous harbor of Gibraltar and Algeciras glittering with the light of the setting sun. It had taken a day and a half to sail down the coast, fighting with the unpredictable winds of the Strait and then putting in at Marbella for a few hours of rest during the previous night. Syfax squinted into the brilliant white flashes on the dark waves and noted all the small craft coming in off the Strait for the evening. Big fishers, little fishers, sailers and rowers, and even a few trawlers with Mazigh steam engines huffing amidships. His gaze swept from south to north, from the Strait up into the harbor.
“Aw, crap.”
The enormous warship sat at anchor just inside the mouth of the harbor, lying east-west with her bow facing them.
“How the hell did that get here?” Shifrah asked. “The last I heard, the engines were still being tested. I didn’t think it could move at all.”
“They must have moved it right after we flew over it,” Kenan said. “Maybe they were afraid we would report it and send some Mazigh steamers to investigate.”
“But if they meant to hide it again, wouldn’t they have moved it north, perhaps to Barcelona, instead of south?” Nicola asked. “I mean, on a clear day someone in Marrakesh could probably just look across the Strait with a spyglass and see this monstrosity sitting here. There’s no good reason to place a warship so near another country unless you mean to use it, either as a threat or a deterrent or an actual weapon.”
“You’re probably right,” Syfax said. He studied the ship for a moment, staring up at its high decks and heavy anchor chains. They moved it as soon as they knew we’d seen it. And they moved it closer to Marrakesh, damn close. They must mean to use it. People are gonna start dying. And soon. “All right. Slight change of plans. You guys keep sailing to Tingis to report all this to the generals. I’m gonna see what I can do about this boat.”
“What do you mean?” Kenan pointed at the warship. “You’re going to go pick a fight with that thing?”
“Yeah, well, if they decide to use that ship, we’d only have about half an hour’s warning before it started shelling one of our cities.”
“So we get to Tingis as fast as we can and have the council send a military blockade to fence this thing in until the politicians can talk it out,” Kenan said. “You might have noticed it’s sort of a big ship, sir. I’m not sure what you think you can do to it on your own.”
“It’s a machine.” Syfax shrugged. “Open a few valves, rip out some wires, spill some fuel. How hard can it be?”
“That’s insane.” Kenan slumped back against the gunwale with Shifrah huddled close beside him. He muttered, “You’re insane.”
Syfax gave the one-eyed woman a second look. He’d made several attempts to coax her away from the kid and over to his side of the boat during the long sail from Malaga, but she’d pretended to ignore all of his looks and gestures. It was hard to imagine that a woman like that would be cozying up to Kenan on purpose, so it was probably just an accident due to the fact that Nicola had claimed the seat next to the major. Well, I’m sure we’ll have time to clear that up when this is over and we’re all back home.
“Hey, captain?”
The fisherman glanced at him. “Hm?”
“I need you to swing in close to that ship there in the middle, as close as you can stand it.”
“You’re serious?” The fisherman adjusted the tiller slightly, a frown and a squint tightening his face. He spoke around the pipe clenched in his teeth. “All right, but I’m not getting too close. There’re rules about this sort of thing. Rules like, don’t get too close to nothing with guns on it.”
Syfax dragged his fingers through the salt water. A cold wave slapped his skin. It stung. “Don’t worry about it. I can swim this.”
A few minutes later they were sailing west parallel to the warship, still at least two hundred yards away. “Closer than I’d like,” the fisherman muttered.
“It’ll do.” Syfax shed his heavy coat and turned to Kenan. “All right kid, you’re on solo duty now. Get the women into Tingis safe and sound, and then run straight to the head office to report everything. Recommend they send at least four destroyers to blockade this harbor immediately. And don’t forget to send someone to look for Taziri and the others in Madrid.”
“You mean Zaragoza?” Kenan raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, right. Good. Good luck, kid.” The major took one last look at the looming warship with its tall, sheer hull and he slipped over the side into the water. The cold struck his chest with a hammer blow that sucked the air from his lungs, and in the bare moment that his head was underwater the freezing sea burned his scalp. He broke the surface again, already shivering.
For a fleeting instant he tried to remember whether he’d ever done something quite like this.
I must have, some time. Maybe in the army, or when I was a kid.
Nothing came to mind. Syfax turned to face the ship and began long, powerful breaststrokes just beneath the surface. He didn’t dare use an over-arm style that might kick up a spray and attract any attention.
He didn’t look back once. All he focused on was the gray wall of the ship’s hull where it met the dark frothing waves of the harbor. The salt stung his eyes. His fingers felt as thin as icicles clawing through the water, and his boots weighed three tons but he kept them on.
Stroke, kick.
Stroke, kick.
Ten minutes, then fifteen. He scanned the hull for features, for a way up and in other than the anchor chain
