Scott nodded. The first floor landing was ahead and through the glass of the exterior door, green grass and concrete. The outdoor air was moist and fresh compared to the stale air of such an old building. He couldn’t see the Mediterranean but he could smell salt in the air as he opened the door. Edie, ahead of him, was already at the bottom of the exterior steps.
“Not another step,” said a voice behind him in perfect, but accented, English. The words were backed up with the barrel of the gun close to the side of his head.
Scott put up his hands. “American. I can explain.”
“Drop the weapon. Turn around slowly.”
Scott complied, his eyes darting to Edie who saw his predicament but didn’t seem to know what to do. He shook his head subtly as she beaded her eyes and mouthed something. Shoot him, perhaps.
There was a burning intensity about the Armed Forces of Malta soldier. He was sweating, panting. “Knees! Knees!”
“I can’t—” Scott started to say, but he complied when the pistol pushed into the side of his head. He was still trying to assess the situation when the soldier shouted, “Papers? Papers?”
Papers, passport. If the soldier was asking for his passport, he was reacting to the gun he’d been carrying and not the situation. “No papers, I can explain,” Scott said. “Don’t you know what’s happened?”
“Spiegare, spiegare! Provate, provate!” the soldier shouted. Explain, explain! Try, try!
The soldier didn’t trust him. Scott didn’t expect him to, but he wasn’t about to be shot execution style either, even if by mistake. The soldier hesitated, then lowered his sidearm — Scott’s cue to make his move. He swiveled on his knees and lunged, using his weight advantage and his one good hand to get the pistol away from the solider.
It wasn’t much of a match, even in Scott’s condition. He pressed his knee into the soldier’s throat, his good hand holding down the soldier’s right wrist. “I’m sorry about this,” he said as he released and brought his fist around to the side of the man’s head.
Standing, he recovered his weapon and tucked the extra pistol into the back of his pants. He breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of the distant sea. As he dashed after Edie, he felt more than himself, almost superhuman.
Chapter 10
Saint Vincent De Paul Residence housed over a thousand sick and elderly and its complex circuit of buildings sprawled over an area the size of a college campus. Edie moved north, into a building that stood like an endcap compared to the large square she’d just run through. Her weapon concealed, she did her best to move casually, past central reception and out the back where a fountain sprayed the air with a fine mist.
“Slow down,” Scott called out, coming up beside her and grabbing her arm. “The shooter’s gone or we’d have seen her by now.”
“I know. I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about you.” It’s what she said, not what she felt in her gut. She didn’t like the way he twisted her arm back, even though her pulse quickened at his touch. She thought about telling him everything right then, but knew she couldn’t — wouldn’t. “Keep your voice down.”
“Look at me,” he said, turning her to him. She stopped walking when he did, reaching out to brush back his hair. “My hair, really? You think you can fix everything? I know you know more than you’ve told me.”
She started walking, even faster than before. “I don’t know anything you don’t.” She expected at any moment to hear a shot ring out — a shot that might force her to a decision she didn’t want to make.
“What was your op?” he said angrily. “Was I your op?”
She wanted to tell him about Aleph Bet, Mossad, everything. She kept going, but pulled him closer. “Keep your voice down,” she whispered. “Staff parking ahead.” As they crossed the street, she watched warily. “Which one, red or blue?”
She let Scott chose a white fiat. Nondescript and perfect for what was ahead. She got them in with nothing more than his belt and its buckle. A pull at the wires under the steering column, a twist of red and black and they were driving away.
North out of the parking lot was the fastest way to a main road. She could tell Scott was still trying to make sense of how he was a target in all this. One of several, but still an unquestionable bull’s eye on his back. If she knew, she told herself she would’ve told him, but the rest of it wasn’t something she was willing to share — yet.
“Gotta love the classics,” she said, rolling the window down. “Where to?” She could see the thoughts turn in his head, the confusion too. “Earlier, when you were coming around, you kept repeating something about white sails and black smoke.”
She saw him work through something. “After the attack,” he said, “when we came up to the surface, I saw one of the fishing boats trailing smoke. It was far off and being chased. The zodiac I’m thinking.”
The zodiac! She hadn’t thought about that at all. Scott put the zodiac in the water with Lian Qu, who everyone called the Kid, just before everything went to hell. The Kid was going after Kathy and Angel, who were out in scuba gear cutting the nets of the Tunisian fisherman. “You think the Kid…” Her voice trailed off. “Kathy and Angel too?”
“I don’t know what to think,” he said. “I know a lot of maybes. Think about this… You’re out in the middle of the Mediterranean where we were, on a Tunisian registered vessel. Home is west or southwest, but you sail northwest when pressed. To where? Sicily? Sardinia? Corsica? No, too far, but Malta’s right there, even closer than Djerba or Sharqi Island.”
She turned left at the intersection even before he said another word. The road ahead would take them south past the airport and then wind its way around to Malta Freeport. “It’s not like anyone sailing up from the south is going to climb the Cliffs at Hal-Far, is it?” She said with a smile.
“There are a few places. Blue Grotto maybe… Others too,” Scott said, “but it’d have to be someone who knew Malta pretty well. Otherwise those cliffs and high walls — pretty scary.”
“Would’ve been full daylight,” she said. Malta International was visible ahead of her now and there was a small aircraft coming in for a landing on the auxiliary runway. “It’s not like they’re going to drop anchor behind the seawall or in the port itself. It’s all industrial, cargo vessels.”
Scott shook his head. “Wouldn’t risk sailing past all those big ships, would they?”
Edie chewed on that thought for a moment. “If they did though, there’d be lots of anchor points. A few marinas too.”
Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We need a helicopter.”
She swerved to the side of the road, bringing the fiat to a dead stop. “We need that helicopter,” she said, pointing.
Scott grinned. She saw him note the industrial area, the buildings around the heliport and the distance from the airport. It was as if someone had giftwrapped the perfect way to travel discreetly.
Chapter 11
“The singularity is near,” he told himself as he looked around the crowded room. His thoughts roiled. All he could see in his mind’s eye were big waves crashing ashore and he almost wished he’d already unleashed the storm that would bring about his ascendance beyond the mundane. But what good was a storm felt by few, when a storm felt by all was his for the taking if only he would be patient?
In mathematics, a singularity was the point at which an object went beyond the boundaries of standard definition — the point at which the object became infinite or equally titillating, not differentiable. But in scientific terms, a singularity was a point in spacetime where the laws of physics broke down and no longer applied — the point at which matter could have infinite density and zero volume.