Ha.s.sim glanced at a large diving watch attached to his wrist. "I stopped by to ensure that you were awake. I have one more matter to complete and will return in half an hour, at which time we will leave."

"It will be daylight soon. Is that a problem? I expected to leave in the evening, when we can use the darkness to our advantage."

Ha.s.sim shook his head. "Darkness is only of minimal a.s.sistance, because the warlords patrol at night. Plus, the pirates have night-vision goggles and radar. The best time is at eleven o'clock, maybe noon, when the khat arrives. Nothing gets done after it's consumed. Unfortunately, we cannot waste valuable hours waiting for that moment."

"I know all about khat," she said.

Ha.s.sim reached into the cooler and pulled out the bread. He split one before adding slabs of salmon to each half. He handed one to Emma.

"Not too many Westerners are familiar with khat. Did Lock tell you about it?"

Emma bit into the bread. Salmon was not her favorite, but she wasn't sure when she'd get her next meal, so she was determined to eat it all.

"Lock told me how it's transported, but I already knew about its effects. I'm a chemist. Among other things, my laboratory makes cosmetics for high-end companies throughout the world. I search for plants that may have an antiaging benefit. I looked into khat as a possible ingredient in skin-tightening lotions. To be used as a stimulant. Some clients were adding caffeine to their lotions to achieve the same effect, and since khat has a slight amphetamine action, I wondered if it could be useful."

"And was it?" Ha.s.sim said.

"It didn't do anything beneficial that we could determine, and adding it to a product would have triggered a need for FDA approval, which is way too expensive and time-consuming." She stood up to stretch. "What direction are we taking?"

"We're leaving from the beach. The first part of our journey is the most dangerous. We enter pirate-infested water. I was able to procure a boat, but nothing of the quality most pirates have access to, and I doubt that it would be able to outrun an attack. Piracy is big business here. Some say the only business."

"What do they normally look for in a target?"

"Generally freighters and fishing trawlers. Many countries fish illegally. They take in tons of tuna. When the pirates catch them fishing within the economic zone, the companies pay ransom very quickly and quietly in order not to be caught." Ha.s.sim finished his coffee. "Of course, they learned that the companies pay equally quickly for the lives of their crew members, and they are now hunting the boats outside the economic zone."

Ha.s.sim stepped past Emma holding the percolator's basket. Through the side window, she watched him stroll down the dock. He tossed the grounds onto the dirt. When he returned, Emma asked him the question that had been on her mind for the past hours.

"Any more news on the Price matter?" She tensed, waiting for his answer.

Ha.s.sim turned to look at her. "The jet was gutted. It will take a while to determine if anyone died in there. My understanding is that even a human body would have been incinerated, so they will need to sift through the ash to make the a.n.a.lysis."

"Anyone take responsibility for it?"

Ha.s.sim shook his head. "Not yet, but most think the insurgency is involved. The reasons are murky."

She stared out a slit in the curtained doorway and thought about Stark. She'd heard he had a preteen daughter from his first marriage. She wondered how that daughter was feeling. How hard it must be for a twelve-year-old to learn that her father was dead.

"You look very sad. Is it about the bombed airplane?" Ha.s.sim asked.

Emma felt her throat thicken. She swallowed before answering. "Just thinking about the pain for the families left behind."

"Why did you agree to this mission?"

Good question, Emma thought. Why had she? Because of Sumner, of course, but there seemed more. Ha.s.sim remained silent while he waited for her answer.

"I want to help a friend. His name is Cameron Sumner, and he's on that ship...." Emma's voice tapered off. There was more to the answer, but she couldn't articulate what.

"Were you together?"

Emma didn't really know how to interpret "together." She decided Ha.s.sim meant dating.

"No, our relationship is not like that," she said.

"It's quite a risk to take for a mere friend."

Emma tried to explain. "He saved my life under very dangerous circ.u.mstances. I would return the favor." Even as she said the words, they rang false. She thought about the moment of longing on the airplane but once again veered away from a.n.a.lyzing it.

"And you found that you like the excitement." Ha.s.sim's comment was a statement, not a question. As Emma thought about it, though, she decided that he was onto something.

"Why do you say that?"

"The mercenary business attracts a certain type of person. Usually a wanderer, risk taker, and adrenaline junkie. Most of us have a huge thirst for the excitement that accompanies danger."

Emma thought about Ha.s.sim's insight. During her last ordeal, she'd wanted nothing more than for it to be over. But this one was different. This time she'd chosen the danger, it hadn't chosen her-at least not completely. She didn't want to think about the bombing and the man with the EpiPen. Those problems would be addressed when she got back, after she knew that Sumner was safe.

"How will we find the Kaiser Franz?" she asked.

If Ha.s.sim was surprised at her sudden change of topic, he didn't show it.

"Radar. We have last-known coordinates. We'll head there, then use radar to sweep the area." He put the coffee cup down on the cooler. "I should go. Please be prepared to leave soon."

Emma followed Ha.s.sim off the boat. The battered green jeep sat under the shade of a nearby tree. Two large black nylon carry bags filled the small trailer in the back. Next to them was an aluminum tool kit.

"The kit is for your use. It contains some of the equipment you will need to a.n.a.lyze the vials on the cruise ship."

Emma flipped it open. Most of the equipment looked used but still in good shape. A pair of heavy lead-lined gloves lay on top of the various aluminum bottles, along with three kits labeled HAZARDOUS MATERIALS DETECTION and INVESTIGATIONAL ONLY, NOT FOR SALE.

"Should I check this out? Is there any possibility of getting something different if I should need it?"

"Definitely not in Berbera. Probably not in Hargeisa, and Mogadishu is off-limits completely."

Emma closed the toolbox with a clang and locked the latch.

"Then it will have to do. Let's go," she said.

They climbed into the jeep. The SPUs waved good-bye and headed to the town to hitch a ride on one of the converted land cruisers that regularly drove the Hargeisa-Berbera road.

The sun started its rise, and the darkness took on a slightly gray tone. Emma estimated that it was already eighty-five degrees, and she fully expected it to reach ninety-five before the day ended. She felt like she was in an oven.

"Is it always this hot?" she asked Ha.s.sim.

He nodded. "It will be worse soon, during dry season. Right now, the rains keep it wet, humid, hot, flooded, and cholera runs rampant."

Emma shook her head. "Sounds like h.e.l.l on earth."

"That's a good description of Somalia."

They drove through Berbera. Only a few people were out. Most strolled listlessly in the shimmering heat, their dark bodies creating moving shadows in the early dawn.

"Not a lot of people."

Ha.s.sim dodged a mongrel dog that jogged in a crooked pattern across the street, its back legs bent in a curve away from its front legs.

"Many have already fled inland, away from the heat."

They drove down a pockmarked road, bouncing in holes and spewing rocks and gravel behind them. They turned a corner, and Emma gasped. Suddenly she was looking at one of the most beautiful beaches she had ever seen. White sand stretched in a graceful sweep for more than a mile. Blue waves tipped with cream washed over them, before retreating back. The sun rose, staining the sky overhead with pink. No garbage, people, or other signs of civilization marred it.

"It's gorgeous," Emma said. "I was wrong about Somalia being h.e.l.l on earth. This is heaven."

Ha.s.sim navigated the jeep a little farther onto the sand.

"Some of the best diving in the world is here. The UN workers used to come here to snorkel and fish. There are other beautiful areas of Somalia that could be developed if the country could only shake its perpetual violence."

He switched off the engine, and they sat in silence. The only sound was the pounding of the surf and the occasional cry of a seabird. Emma stared at the ocean, mesmerized by the endless blue, and a thought came to her. Somewhere, out there, Sumner was on a death ship.

31.

BANNER'S PHONE BEEPED ON HIS DESK, INDICATING THAT AN INTERNAL call from Alicia was coming through. He hit the speaker b.u.t.ton.

"What's up?" he said.

"Two men here to see you." Alicia's voice sounded strained.

Banner picked up the phone. "Are you on speaker?"

"No, I understand that the defense secretary is more important. I'll let them know you will only be a few minutes."

They must have been standing directly in front of her, forcing her to talk in riddles. She was giving him a chance to leave through the back door in his office that fed directly into the stairwell. Banner appreciated her quick thinking, but he wouldn't even consider leaving.

"Do they look strange?" he asked.

"Yes. But that computer hasn't been quite right in a long time." Her cryptic words, coupled with the strain in her voice, told Banner that something bothered her about the visitors.

"Got it. Send them in. Just give me a chance to activate the camera." Banner reached under his desk and hit a small b.u.t.ton on the console's interior portion. A short click confirmed that the camera hidden in a vase on the credenza behind him was on and recording. The feed went straight to Alicia's and Stromeyer's desktop computers, with an additional stop at another location where it was downloaded and stored.

The door swung open, and Alicia walked in trailing two men behind her. One was dressed in a trench coat, the front unb.u.t.toned. The second was the rough-looking pa.s.senger in the Crown Vic that had tailed him from Stromeyer's house. Banner felt his fingertips tingle with a little fizz of adrenaline-generated electricity. He stood but made no move to shake their hands.

"Gentlemen, how can I help you?"

The rough-looking character smirked. The other man stepped aside for him. So Rough-Looking was the leader, Banner thought.

"We're here to talk about your security operations."

Banner waved them to the chairs positioned opposite his desk. "Please sit down."

The leader shook his head. "This isn't a social call. We're going to give you the facts of life. First"-the man held up his index finger-"we know you're running an operation in the Gulf of Aden. An illegal operation. You're arming your security guys in violation of international law. Second"-another finger went up-"you're putting hundreds of lives at risk by placing that guy on a civilian cruise ship."

Banner raised an eyebrow. He'd bet the rough-looking character wouldn't know international law if it came up and bit him on the a.s.s. "What's your name?"

"Agents Tarrant and Church."

Banner raised an eyebrow. "Agents? Of what?"

"None of your business."

The other guy snickered.

Banner had had enough. "Listen, Agent Tarrant. I have a lot on my plate today, and a visit by two men making vague threats is not on my to-do list. Tell whoever sent you that I'm operating within international law, I'm not impressed with either of you, and get the h.e.l.l out of here." Banner moved toward his office door. Church stepped into his path. Banner stood his ground, which resulted in his getting a potent whiff of stale cigarettes and bad patchouli cologne that wafted off the second loser.

"We know you're doing your vice president. I'd hate to see her get hurt." Tarrant gave Banner a sardonic grin.

Banner rarely lost his temper-a source of pride, because he thought losing one's temper was the mark of an amateur. He looked at the sn.i.g.g.e.ring Tarrant and wondered just who was behind the intimidation, because it was clear neither Tarrant nor Church was the brains of any operation. He wondered if they had any idea how difficult it would be to take out Stromeyer. In a straight fight, he'd bet on her every time. Before he could say a word, the office door opened and Stromeyer strode in holding a cup of coffee and a gun.

"Edward, would you like some coffee?" she asked.

Banner raised an eyebrow but remained quiet. Stromeyer never called him by his first name-no one did. It was their personal code that meant be prepared. She was going to either shoot the gun or throw the hot coffee-or both. He tensed. He watched her turn toward Tarrant, who took a look at the gun and shoved his own hand into his jacket.

She threw the coffee. It flew at Tarrant in a perfect arc, her body flying with it. He dodged to the side, whether in an attempt to avoid the coffee, Stromeyer, or both, Banner couldn't tell. Stromeyer stumbled two steps forward before catching herself. She still held the gun, but now she stood over Tarrant, who had fallen onto the floor. Two more drops of coffee fell on his sleeve from the cup.

"Don't move, Mr. Tarrant. If it's a gun you're reaching for, it had better be licensed, because you're on Candid Camera." Her voice was calm, collected. Behind her, Church took a step closer.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Mr. Church. The camera feeds directly to a security station that will notify the D.C. police," Banner said.

Church stepped back.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, aiming a gun at a federal officer." Tarrant's voice was harsh, but he'd pulled his hand out of his coat and stayed put.

Stromeyer looked at the gun in her hand, and an expression of surprise came over her face. "Oh, I am sorry. I forgot I was even holding it. It's been misfiring, and I was going to have it checked out after I delivered the coffee to Banner. But of course then I slipped." She bestowed a solicitous smile on Tarrant. "It didn't burn you, did it? And what agency did you say you work for?" Tarrant remained quiet. He got up, brushing coffee off the sleeve of his trench coat, only managing to smear it instead.

Banner walked to the door and held it open.

"This meeting is over. It's been informative. Next time you two agents decide to come here spouting threats, you'd better have a warrant."

Tarrant laughed an ugly laugh. "I don't need a warrant to beat your a.s.s."

Banner pointed at the door. "Get out."

Tarrant walked over to Banner. When he came even, he leaned in close. "Shut your operation in the Gulf. It's illegal, and after the Colombian matter no one's gonna believe you when you say it ain't. Darkview's finished. Better find yourself a new job quick." He sauntered out the door. Church followed, his face suffused with red from suppressed anger. He managed to b.u.mp Banner's shoulder as he pa.s.sed. Banner wanted to brush himself off to rid himself of any part of the man's touch. Instead he stood still and watched them both leave.