Of course, there was always the possibility that Birk
As he untied his boat, he saw a large shadow about a half mile away, close enough for him to see that it was a Syrian corvette that operated out of Tartus to the south.
Its guns could make mincemeat of Ferguson’s boat in about thirty seconds, but the ship wasn’t half the threat the two Zodiacs he spotted coming from the shore were. And to prove that particular point, bullets began to fly from their bows.
12
Rankin heard noises inside the room that suggested James was not alone.
He knocked anyway. When James didn’t answer, he knocked again.
“Go away!”
“Hey, James, I gotta talk to you.”
“Rankin, buddy. I’ll be with you in half an hour.”
“Gotta talk to you now.”
“Can’t do it.”
The girl who was with him in the room giggled.
“I’m coming in,” said Rankin. “I have a key.”
He was bluffing, though he did have a set of picks. Unlike Ferguson and Thera, he wasn’t very good at undoing locks. It’d be easier for him to simply break down the door.
“All right. Hold on.”
The girl James was with sat in a chair in the corner when the door was open, watching quietly from under a blanket. She looked awfully young, but Rankin wasn’t in a position to ask for a driver’s license. James stood near the bed in a pair of jeans and no shirt, his pigeon chest heaving. He took a swig from a bottle of red wine.
“I need a translator,” Rankin told him.
“So?”
“Somebody I trust.”
“You don’t mean me.”
“It has to be somebody I trust. The army guys, I just haven’t worked with them. And I’m not working with these civilians.”
“Stephen, come on. This is a different place.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’m not army. I’m not anything.”
“But I trust you.”
“Screw that. I’m kind of busy.” James took another swig of the wine, then offered it to Rankin. “Want some? It’s French. It’s pretty decent. Cost fifty bucks a bottle in the States.”
“I need you to come with me, James. I really do.”
“Listen, Stephen, I love you and everything, but, no.” James went over to the girl and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, then went into the bathroom, her bare behind poking through the blanket as she walked. Rankin started to speak, but James put up his finger to quiet him. The girl emerged a few minutes later in a long Arab dress that made her look even younger. James pressed money into her hand, then gave her a kiss.
Rankin stared at the floor as she left.
“I need your help,” Rankin said when James closed the door.
“Nah, come on. Let’s go get drunk. There’s this really great strip joint a mile from here. Where’s your buddy? We’ll have a party.”
“James.”
“Aw, for Christ’s sake.” James shook his head, but Rankin knew from the way he did it — from the frown on his face, from the look in his eyes — that he was coming. James was the guy you met in Hell who wouldn’t let you down. “Can I write about it?” he asked.
Rankin shook his head.
“Stephen, Jesus.”
“Maybe in a couple of years you could write about it.”
James laughed. It was a bitter, tight, very quick laugh. “I’m not going to be alive in a couple of years.”
“Depending on what happens, you might be able to write about it in a couple of years.”
James cursed. “All right. Wake me up when it’s time. I’m
“It’s time. Come on. I have a gun for you.”
“We’re going
“I have a machine gun. Guns is getting the Humvee.”
“No Humvee.”
“It’s an armored one. We may need it.”
James shook his head, but Rankin had already started out of the room.
13
Ferguson knew Ras’s contacts with the Syrians were good, but he hadn’t realized they were quick as well. He’d thought he would have another ten or fifteen minutes at least before they could get anyone out here, and then it would only be policemen who might fire their guns once a year if that. The people firing at him now were coming incredibly close to the yacht and to his small boat, close enough, in fact, that he decided to plunge into the water and begin stroking toward a group of boats two hundred yards away. By the time he reached them the Syrian marines in the Zodiacs had reached the yacht. Rather than confiscating his small boat, they perforated the bottom and watched it sink.
In the meantime, the corvette drew closer and began playing searchlights across the water. Ferguson saw another pair of Zodiacs headed up from the south and figured there would soon be a boat from the corvette as well. There were sure to be soldiers or policemen on shore. His best bet seemed to be swimming north.
Fortunately, it was a pleasant night for a swim, and he began stroking to the north. Unfortunately, the Syrians had sent another pair of Zodiacs from that direction. He reversed course and did his best freestyle back to the boats, pulling himself into the nearest dinghy as the rigid-hulled inflatables began crisscrossing the area. Lying on his back in the bottom of the boat, he pulled out his sat phone and called 911.
Actually, it was Van Buren, who was orbiting offshore in the MC-130.
“How about we try that diversion?” suggested Ferguson.
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago would have been great. But now will do.”
Ferguson stowed the phone and listened to the Zodiacs approach. His arms and shoulders were sore, and his neck stiff; hopefully his muscles would respond better once he got back in the water. He didn’t particularly feel
