Dave’s call hadn’t been about Edie though. It’d been about something else — someone else — entirely. A single match, a single name, returned by the most powerful computer on Earth in response to a type of deep analysis of the unfolding events. Scott honestly didn’t understand the science that led to the result, but the name was another matter. He not only knew a David Owen Blake, but knew that David had been aboard the Bardot.
Scott’s eyes moved to Edie’s, realizing they were about to part ways and yet he couldn’t help feeling as if they’d still have unfinished business when it was done. “Was I your target or just a means to an end?” He’d suspected she was an operative for some agency, but had been thinking MI-6, British Intelligence, and not Israeli Intelligence — and certainly not Aleph Bet. In truth, he hadn’t really cared one way or the other as long as she did her job and whatever else she was doing didn’t interfere with his own op aboard Sea Shepherd. “Get this over with if you’re going to. I’ve got dinner plans.”
Her short-lived laugh was followed by a blank stare, as if she was seeing through him. Everything was silent for what seemed a full minute, the air between them growing heavy, as if the next thing either said or did would be the last thing they ever said or did to each other.
A knock on the door cut through the silence. “You okay in there?”
“It’s going to be a while. Some privacy appreciated. Not exactly easy to do in my condition,” Scott said loudly.
“Thanks,” she whispered, turning her sad eyes to his.
“Get on with it.” He tried to picture the nurse who attacked him, wondering if she too was Mossad, but he’d only glanced at her when he’d been talking to Peyton and later she’d attacked him from behind. “I am going to fight you.”
“You’re going to try,” Edie said, coolly, almost casually. “You kept saying the blood wasn’t all yours, and then when we were being medivaced out, I figured it out. Someone wanted you off the Kearsarge as badly as I did.”
Chapter 4
Adrenaline, amphetamines, sedatives and more coursed through Scott’s system, making a jumble of his thoughts while driving the fight or flight instinct that was telling him to run. “Medivaced? What are you talking about?”
Edie suddenly straddled the chair, practically sitting in his lap and forcing Scott to pull his arms together in front of his chest. “We’re not on the Kearsarge. You were medivaced out as soon as you stabilized after your surgery.”
If Edie wasn’t pinning him down, Scott would’ve jumped up at that moment and started screaming. He’d probably be dead before the MAs broke down the door, but the distraction might have helped even the odds. “Where are we, Edie, exactly?”
“We’re in Luqa, Malta. St. Vincent De Paul Residence hospital,” she said, looking as astounded by the statement as he felt. “Do you remember telling Master Chief Roberts to take the Kearsarge to Malta?”
He didn’t, not really. Much of what happened was a fog. He remembered being attacked, not much else. His thoughts spun and associated. Malta was an island nation in the middle of the Mediterranean, independent from nearby Italy and yet a place where Italian was nearly as widely spoken as the official languages of English and Maltese.
“You’re not safe here,” Edie said.
Scott looked around, suddenly noticing the spacious room he was standing in with its double stalls, sinks, showers and high windows. Luqa was home to Malta’s only international airport and he’d been through the airport many times. Many of the buildings in the area dated back to WW2 and the days when the British RAF operated out of nearby Luqa Barracks. The fixtures he was looking at certainly were old. “I can see that, so what are you waiting for?”
Edie put her hands on his shoulders, each an inch from his throat. “Scott, I think the attempt on your life was sanctioned by your own government.”
The touch of her fingers on his skin was electric, like fire. No, it was his senses that were on fire. “You’re not making any sense.” Scott thought for a moment. Academi, formerly Xe and Blackwater Worldwide, was rumored to run operations for the CIA out of Luqa. “That’s not possible.” He shook his head. “No, that’s…” He didn’t finish the thought, and he didn’t have to. The implications were chilling. Was she trying to kill him or recruit him? Was she a double agent for the CIA?
“How else can you explain it?” Edie said, jumping up. She motioned to the door. “I don’t think we can trust them either.”
What had she given him? What was in those pills? His heart raced along with his thoughts. “Are you going to kill me or not?”
“What? Kill you? You think I’m going to kill you?” Edie said, her voice shrill. “What’s gotten into you? Scott, I came clean with you because I need you. That woman who attacked you, she wasn’t who you think she was, and they found a body. Well, two bodies actually — all in uniforms. It’s the excuse they used to get all non-military personal evacuated from the Kearsarge.”
“So you’re not going to kill me?” He frowned. He eyed the surgical wraps on his hands. “Sounds like a good enough reason for me. When you don’t know who the enemy is, you get rid of all possibilities. You lock down the ship.”
They grew quiet, eyeing each other. An insistent knock startled them.
“Toilet,” Edie said, her voice filled with alarm as she pulled Scott up from the chair and to the toilet.
No sooner had Scott sat down than the door burst open. Both Master-At-Arms entered, their pistols drawn.
Edie held out the toilet paper to Scott. “Want to wipe too?” she said, glaring at the MAs.
“Sorry… Very sorry,” the MAs said backing out and closing the door behind them.
“We don’t have long,” Edie said. “You need to make a decision. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you distrust me. Either trust me or don’t, but there are things you need to know.”
Scott stood unsteadily, glancing at Edie. He thought he knew her once, but now he wasn’t so sure. “Kill me, if you’re going to. Get it over with.”
“Whatever’s happening, I want to be a part of helping you fix it.” She put a hand on his chest. “I’m willing to forget this mistrust ever happened because you’re not yourself, but if you make me say it one more time…”
He took a tentative step, put his back against the frame of the bathroom stall. “Okay, okay. Message received.”
Edie told Scott about the Navy’s retaliatory attacks. How the SEAL teams survived what otherwise would have been deadly ambushes because Master Chief Roberts had listened to Scott’s protestations. “With what was lying in wait for them,” she said, finishing, “they would’ve been lost to a man, but they weren’t because of you. Not my words, the chief’s and he’s the one who got us off the Kearsarge. Not to argue in some bathroom, but to let you get out there and fix this.”
“Chief Roberts told you this?” Scott paused, momentarily losing his train of thought. He had just remembered something about white sails and black smoke. Normally, the fishers would have been sailing southwest to go home to Tunisia, but the sails weren’t headed southwest. They were headed northwest, and the speck of black chasing them wasn’t an NSW RIB. It was the zodiac with the Kid, Lian Qu, giving chase, and maybe he had Kathy and Angel with him.
Edie was about to respond.
“I know why I told the chief to go to Malta,” Scott said.
Scott heard Edie let out a soft gasp. “And?”
He told her what he’d pieced together. Afterward, she was oddly quiet. He walked to the sink, pointed with his elbow at the faucet. “You mind?” He leaned down so she could splash cold water in his face. “The tactical map, that’s how I put it together, but I figured it out too late, didn’t I?”