A steward poured his coffee, then prepared a plate of scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and biscuits. After a decade and a half as a schoolboy in England, he swore he would never have another kipper for breakfast. The sheikh preferred the American style except for bacon and sausage. The meat of pigs was one prohibition of the Koran he believed in.
The steward set the plate in front of the sheikh, then stepped back to the serving table to await his master's next summons. Jambarah swept up some scrambled egg on his fork and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, then said, "Go fetch Mikael Assad for me. I would like to have his company while I eat."
"I am sorry, Sheikh Omar," the steward said. "I went to his cabin earlier and he was not there. It appears the American brother did not sleep in his bed."
Jambarah laughed. "He was on the yacht, that's where he was! I think he has become quite infatuated with that German woman. Ah, well! I shall just have to speak to him later."
A knock on the door sounded, and the steward responded. Alif the bodyguard stepped into the room. "A thousand pardons, Sheikh Omar. A disturbing event has occurred."
The sheikh stopped eating, frowning at the bodyguard. 'This had better be important."
"Somebody attacked Baa during the night on the yacht," Alif said. "He is badly injured and is in the dispensary being treated. Taa is staying with him."
The sheikh put his fork down. "Now how could such a thing happen? Is the ship damaged?"
"No," Alif said. "Everything is fine. I checked with the watch officer. The crew knew nothing of Baa's predicament."
Jambarah started to speak again, but was interrupted by yet another knock on the door. The chief of security came into the suite with the usual report he personally delivered to the sheikh each morning. The sheikh turned his attention to him. "Did you know one of my bodyguards was attacked on the yacht during the night?"
"No, Sheikh Omar," the man said, then quickly added, 'The yacht is not included in our area of responsibility."
"I know it is not!" Jambarah snapped. "But perhaps one of your men heard a noise or something. Surely they are able to see and hear beyond that area of responsibility."
"Of course, Sheikh Omar," the security chief said. "But nothing was reported except that someone took a whaler boat out."
The sheikh leaned back in his chair. "Now why would anybody need a whaler boat?"
"I thought to tend to a freighter" the chief of security said. "But there has not been one here since the Liberian tanker a week ago."
The sheikh got to his feet. "Something strange is going on, and I intend to get to the bottom of it."
.
WHALER BOAT
INDIAN OCEAN
VICINITY OF 5deg NORTH AND 55deg EAST
0900 HOURS LOCAL
MIKE Assad stood at the wheel maintaining a course of due east on the compass. Three things were irritating the hell out of him. The first was that the radio in the boat was not hooked into the vessel's power. Instead, it ran on its own battery, which seemed to be quite low. That meant he could not maintain a continuous attempt to contact American warships. From the way things looked, the commo gear could possibly be completely dead within three or four hours.
The second vexing problem was navigation. Without a chart he could not plot a course to any particular point in the watery world he moved across. The GPS gave him accurate readings on his longitude and latitude, but he did not know the exact coordinates of the nearest landfall or where he might run into a U. S. carrier battle group. As it was, he hadn't seen so much as a single aircraft in the sky to give evidence of a nearby task force.
The third and most aggravating and exasperating part of this escape was his companion. Hildegard Keppler had begun the trip in a high frame of mind in spite of some preliminary nervousness. She'd thought it exciting to run away from the sheikh's fortress, but now her attitude had evolved into a petulant, demanding mood. Mike now realized she was an immature woman who demanded instant gratification for her wants and needs. The temperature was relatively temperate when the sun was on the other side of the world, but now it had been steadily climbing. The heat had increased markedly and without a bimini over the cockpit, the rays beat down on them in perceptible waves of stinging heat.
And it was only nine o'clock in the morning.
Hildegard reached into the tote bag for a bottle of the Evian water. Mike snapped at her. "Hey! Let's take it easy with that stuff, okay? We don't know how long it will have to last us."
She pouted. "But thirsty I am."
"I don't give a shit if thirsty you are," Mike said, mocking her in his anger. "If we drink up all our water in one day, then pretty damn quick it'll be dead we are. Understand?"
"Why you want to bring the water if drink it we are not?"
"We came with a case of that stuff, all right?" Mike said, forcing himself to calm down. "That's twenty-four half-liter bottles, see? Each of 'em is a little over a pint."
"A pint I don't know what it is."
"Look at the godamn bottles!" he growled. "You can see how big they are, right? Okay. Now we got to each drink no more than one of them a day, see? That gives us twelve frigging days. After that, we better find somebody within sixty to seventy hours or we're gonna die from thirst."
"Already I am dying of thirst," she protested.
"You just think you are," Mike said. "You ain't near thirsty yet."
"If a sandwich I eat, it is thirsty I get."
'That's another thing," Mike warned her. "If we eat a sandwich a day, we'll have food for five days. I figure we can go two or three weeks without eating anything at all after that."
"You did not anything say to me about this when you take me on this trip," Hildegard said.
"I took you because you wanted to go," Mike said. God! he thought. You stupid broad. I guess you just want to keep being a punchboard for a goddamn Middle Eastern letch! "When we get back to civilization, you'll forget all about this hardship. When the sheikh is nailed for your friend's murder, you'll be happy."
"But I am not being happy right now!" "Please, God!" Mike said, looking up to the sky. "Just get me back to the Brigands! That's all I ask."
.
ROYAL YACHT SAYIH
FORTRESS MIKNBAYI
1030 HOURS LOCAL
THE five European women were terrified.
The Italian Lucia, Frenchwoman Blanche, the Portuguese Teresa, and the two Russians Olga and Adelaida had been herded into their lounge and now sat on the sofas and chairs. The Russians huddled close together. All the women were dressed relatively modestly, wearing halters, shorts, and sandals. The rules were that they were to never go bare-breasted with thongs when aboard the yacht at Mikhbayi. Even an accidental sighting of a woman's body was punishable according to the tenets of Islam, and Sheikh Omar Jambarah didn't want any morale problems with his mujahideen or their families.
The modem courtesans knew something was wrong, and expected to be blamed for it whether they were really at fault or not. It had to have something to with Hildegard Keppler. The German bitch had already caused trouble when she made a row over her stupid friend Franziska, and now both were gone. Hildegard had gotten uppity when she caught the attention of the American. The sheikh put her off-limits to other men, allowing her to have Mike as a lover while keeping her on the payroll. Hildegard continually boasted to the other women she didn't have to take battering and rape from the sheikh anymore or service any of his friends who came aboard.
The door burst open and Sheikh Jambarah stormed in, startling the women. He was followed closely by Hafez Sabah and the two bodyguards Alif and Taa. The women feared the sheikh for his power, the bodyguards for their cruelty, and the Arab Sabah for his hatred of them as infidel whores. None of the women dared look up, and kept their gazes on the floor. Nothing happened for a few moments; then Alif suddenly grabbed the Portuguese woman and pulled her to her feet.