“Come this way.”
Gideon followed him once again through a maze of stifling concrete passageways to a door with a single meshed window. When the officer opened it, Gideon was surprised to see a large gym beyond with several dozen people in it, mostly women and children—evidently the survivors rescued from the boat. Forty out of five hundred. And most of these people, he noticed, were ones he and Garza had saved.
The door shut behind him and he heard the bolt shoot. He was locked in. The people around him looked frightened, confused, and miserable. And now some of the women recognized him and came over, murmuring in Arabic and pressing his hands in thanks.
“No, no. Don’t do that. Please.” He shook his head. “You’re mistaken, it wasn’t me. It was my friend.” Gideon knew if word got out that he had helped save them, he’d be drawn into this mess and God knew what might happen. But they couldn’t understand what he was saying and continued to cluster around him, pressing his hands, murmuring, some with tears streaming down their faces.
“No, no, really…” He stood up, trying to get away. “I want to be alone. Alone.” He looked around and saw, in the corner of the room, a man sitting on the floor, his back to the crowd, curled up, seemingly half dead. Gideon’s heart turned over in his chest; the man had no head covering, and even from behind his salt-and-pepper hair looked familiar. He strode over and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. The figure looked up stiffly.
“Manuel! My God!”
With a weak smile Garza staggered to his feet, and they instinctively embraced.
“I thought you were dead!”
“Not dead,” Garza said in a weak voice. “Just almost dead. Christ. And I was sure you’d drowned…”
“How…how did you survive? I saw you go down.”
Holding him up, he led Garza to the wall and they sat down together, leaning against it.
“I did go down,” said Garza. “I thought it was over. But that sinking ship belched out a mass of air that must have carried me back up. At least, I think that’s what happened. When I broke the surface, there was stuff floating everywhere and the vessel was gone. I grabbed a bale of clothes and held on. About three hours later some fishing boats arrived, collected the survivors, and took us to an army base north of here. Then the army showed up and drove us here in buses. And you? What happened to you?”
“I swam to shore. They picked me up on the highway. Listen, Manuel, I have to tell you how impressed I was with what you did. When push came to shove, you were willing to give up your own life.”
Garza shook his head. “How could I have lived with myself if I’d left those children to drown?”
“Don’t make light of it. You’re a hero.”
“Well, I have to tell you, the fact you’re so surprised is a bit offensive to me.”
Here it was: the old, prickly Garza resurfacing. So much the better, thought Gideon. “No offense meant. But is it true? That you really can’t swim, I mean?”
Garza’s face abruptly changed expression. He looked away and down, his face darkening, and didn’t respond.
“I only ask because you’ve been on at least three ships that sank: the Rolvaag, the Batavia, and now this ferry. For a guy who can’t swim, you’ve had one hell of a run of bad luck. Why didn’t you ever learn?”
Garza gazed at him, his eyes narrowed. “None of your business.”
“I think it’s a legitimate question.”
“No, it isn’t,” Garza said in a low voice. “And don’t ask me again.”
Now, clearly, was not the time to press the man. “Why didn’t they tell me you’d survived?”
“I lost my passport and gave them a fake name. You do realize a cover-up is going on.”
“Yeah.”
“And they’re not going to let us go until the whole thing is officially put straight. They don’t want anyone talking.”
“They can’t just keep us. We’re Americans.”
“Why not? We don’t look like important people. Fact is, we look like bums, confirmed by our traveling on that scow.”
“We should demand to speak to the American embassy.”
Garza laughed. “Are you crazy? That’ll blow everything. We need to stay under the radar.”
“What the hell for? The expedition’s finished.”
Garza leaned in. “Why?”
“How can we continue? We’ve lost all our gear. Our maps. And a lot of our money.”
“How can we not continue? You’ve still got the money in your belt, and I’ve got mine.”
Gideon returned the look. “What about our maps?”
“I’ve got the exact location in longitude and latitude committed to memory.” Garza gripped him by the shoulders. “We’re almost there. Why the hell not go the rest of the way?”
Why not? Gideon thought to himself. Being reunited with Garza changed the equation considerably. “Just one thing.”
“Shoot.”
“We couldn’t have expected that ferry to sink. Who knows what’s still waiting for us up ahead? I’m on a clock, but you…” Gideon took a deep breath. “Anyway, promise me that, if this mission ever falls apart and we get separated for good, you’ll find a way of letting me know you’re alive.”
Garza considered this a moment. “Okay. If you promise to carry both our knapsacks from now on.”
“I’m not fooling around! I went through a pretty rough patch just now, thinking you were dead.”
“All right, all right. I promise.”
“That’s better. Now: how the hell are we going to get out of here?”
“Baksheesh,” said Garza. “How else?”
Gideon shook his head. “We can’t spare the money. And if they see we have money, that might raise even more questions. We’ll have to talk our way out.”
“Talk our way out,” Garza echoed. “Figures. To think I was almost relieved to see you again.”
15
THEY REMAINED LOCKED in the gym as the evening lengthened. The food ran out quickly and there was only water to drink, along with a single bathroom whose plugged-up toilet soon became a foul nightmare. Nobody told them anything. The survivors huddled, confused and frightened, on the hard floor.
As the last of the afterglow died in the gym’s clerestory windows, Garza said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m damn hungry. No one is being fed. God knows what’s going to happen to them. I still think we ought to bribe our way out.”
Gideon shook his head. “Bribing them only puts us more in their control.”
“Maybe we should just escape.”
“Shalateen’s a small town. We need to operate openly here to outfit our expedition. We can’t do that if we escape.”
“What’s it to be, then, Einstein?”
“Bullshit. I’ve been thinking about it over the last hour or two.”
Gideon laid out his plan. When he was done, Garza said: “I don’t think it’s going to work. The risk is too great.”
“Got a better idea?”
Garza hesitated. “No.”
“Then trust me. Bullshit is my area of expertise. This will work.”
Gideon went to the locked door of the gym and shook its crash bar, peering out the grimy meshed-glass window. “Hey!” he cried. “Hey! Someone! Hey!” He pounded the door with his fist, but no one arrived.
He glanced around the gym and saw some stanchions propped up in a far corner. He went over, picked one up, carried it to the door, braced himself, then drove it through the window with a crash.
He cupped his hands and yelled out the shattered window: “Hey, come here! Now!”