one's ever allowed a woman aboard, and I could not possibly break with that rule. Especially as I'm a rookie submariner myself… can we go out now? I'm starving, and we're meeting Ahmed in five minutes at the Elissar.'
'We can go out when you tell me I can come on the Barracuda to the West Coast of the United States,' said Shakira, flatly. 'I've already coped with the destruction of one family, and I have no intention of losing you, thousands of miles away, when I do not even know what's happening. I'm coming with you, and that's that.'
'Shakira, people could die on a mission like this.'
'I'm not afraid to die,' she replied. 'And I know you aren't either. But if we're going to die, we'll die together. I won't remain here, waiting for someone to tell me you aren't coming home. Either we go together or no one's going.'
Ravi was not accustomed to defiance on this scale. But, of course, he'd never been married before. 'You are asking the impossible,' he said carefully.
'No, I'm not. It most certainly is possible. Because you are able to do anything you like. No one is going to argue with the great General Rashood, Liberator of the Palestinian Martyrs.'
'I am not following rules set by someone else,' he said. 'I am following my own rules. And I would not dream of allowing a woman, any woman, to serve for several weeks in a submarine.'
'Well, then you can tell me why not,' she said. 'Proper reasons, not just too crowded, or too fraught. Proper reasons. In simple sentences. Why can't I work in the Barracuda, like anyone else?'
'First of all, you are not a submariner. You know nothing of nuclear reactors, turbines, propulsion, hydrology, electronics, engineering, mechanics, missiles, navigation, sonar, or torpedoes.'
That slowed down Mrs. Rashood.
'Hmmmmmm,' she replied, not terribly eloquently.
'And to put you in that ship would be to take up precious space. You'd be a passenger, who could make no contribution to the running of a Special Operation, underwater.'
'Hmmmmmm,' she added.
In Ravi's view, Shakira's head of steam was gone. He thought he could see her will for this argument disappearing before his eyes. He should have known better.
'You've forgotten something,' she said.
'Oh. What?'
'The maps.'
'What maps?'
'Exactly,' she said. 'Forgotten. You don't think I'd have a discussion like this without thinking out a proper job for myself, do you?'
'Well, no. I am acquainted with your tenacity.'
'Well, what about the maps?'
'What maps?'
'The navigation charts you asked me to order from England via the Syrian Embassy and then have them sent to that freight company here in Damascus.'
'Oh, you mean the American charts?'
'Yes. You had me order them, and collect them. And I studied them very carefully before I gave them to you. Remember? I even made copies, and marked them up in blue pencil, according to your notes. Back in September, before we were married.'
'Well, yes. I do, of course, remember them.'
'And you probably also remember I plotted certain courses for certain weapons from your notes. Marked up the checkpoints and made a record of the terrain.'
'Well, yes. And I'm grateful, of course. You did it damn well, I remember.'
'And perhaps I might remind you of something else?'
'Yes, but not now. Ahmed's waiting.'
'Ahmed can go on waiting until I'm finished… '
'But I'm starving. We have to go… '
'We're not going anywhere right now. But I want to remind you of how our organization is funded.'
'I know how it's funded. From the banks we hit in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv.'
'And who made the floor plans of those banks, got friendly with the senior teller, drew the maps from scratch, drew up a diagram of the entire alarm systems? Then penetrated Schwartz Locksmiths and drew up the diagrams of the most secure locks in the country, the ones at both banks, not to mention the ones in the Nimrod Jail? Who did all that?'
'Well, you did… I'm not saying you didn't. But what's any of that got to do with the submarine?'
'It has everything to do with it. Because the whole lot of you would probably have got lost, shot, or arrested without my work in the planning department.'
'I accept that,' said Ravi, warily.
'And another thing,' she added. 'In my spare time this past few weeks, I've been looking at American coastal radar defenses, mostly civilian, at sensitive container and tanker ports, but in some cases, ports of the U.S. Navy.
'As it happens, I have a few rather critical changes to make in certain trajectories. And I'll be making them in a small office space, in the Ops Room of the Barracuda, right next to the missile director.'
'But… '
'No buts. Are you ready to take your new Precision Target Officer out to dinner? Lieutenant Commander Shakira, reporting for duty.'
Ravi wanted to laugh. But this was no laughing matter. 'I can't appoint Lieutenant Commanders to the Iranian Navy,' he said.
'I assure you, this is not the Iranian Navy. They'll want to stay well distanced from this. That Barracuda will sail under the Command of the Hamas Fundamentalists. And you are the military Commander-in-Chief of that organization. You can appoint anyone you like, to any position you like. No one will even question it. I'll just go aboard like anyone else.'
'Bloody hell!' said Ravi, in a voice altogether stronger than he felt. 'Where do you think you will live? In a torpedo tube?'
'I shall be sharing your private cabin, as your wife and principal assistant in the area of weapons control and plotting. I know you have a private room, and I know it's got a small shower, basin, and head, because I've read it.'
'It's tiny, just about enough room for one, a bed, and a chair and desk.'
'Then we'll have to work alternative watches. Sometimes,' she said. 'Anyway, we'll manage. I'll bring a double sleeping bag and spend the night on the floor, if you'd prefer.'
'It's not a floor. It's a deck,' said Ravi. 'And anyway, I wouldn't prefer. We'll put the big sleeping bag on the bed, nice and cosy, stop us falling out.'
Shakira walked over and put her arms around him.
She kissed him long and lanquidly. Then she pressed her cheek to his and whispered, 'You're not dying without me. And that's final.'
'I know it is,' he said. 'And I'm going to give it serious thought. But I'd be awfully grateful if you'd hurry up. Otherwise I'll be eating without you.'
Ravi stared out into the drizzle that had made the streets shiny, and tried to come to terms with the rather pleasurable prospect of taking his wife with him on the submarine. Her general arguments had been considered, and well thought out. But she'd managed to get some kind of a jump on him, taking the time and trouble to elucidate her plan, and her reasons, into a disciplined argument.
In the normal run of events, that was his strength; the strength of all SAS officers. Well-thought-out plans. No surprises. Well, it was more than three and a half years since he and Shakira had fled the devastation of the street in Hebron, and she had never stopped surprising him.
He had not caved in to her demand for a place in the crew because he loved her, and could deny her nothing. He had caved in because she had pointed out her talent, and her contribution to the operations of Hamas. And she was correct. Her role in three massive operations had been critical. He had given in to the logic, not his love for
