The Devil's Waters - By David L. Robbins Page 0,100

stuck.”

“I hear you. Hold.”

“Holding.”

LB swiped the knife and his palm across his bent thigh, adding more smears to his uniform. He slipped the blade into its sheath around his calf. Wally checked his watch again, calculating. A red glisten seeped onto his wrist, under the watchband, into his glove.

The stench of rust off the anchor chain blended with the tang of so much loose blood. The combination was heady for LB, tempting his nausea. He was relieved when Wally led him and Jamie away from cover under the white light, into the open wind.

They approached the port corridor the same way they’d shot their way to the bow along the starboard rail: Jamie on point, LB in the middle, Wally covering their six.

Chapter 36

The claps of gunfire reached Yusuf first, then the sound of sandals flapping on the deck. Next on the wind came the metal clatter of a gun rattling against a running man’s chest.

“It begins,” Suleiman said.

The pirate ran out of the dim corridor, up to Yusuf’s leveled weapon. Suleiman caught the man by the shoulders, as if he might run past.

“Jama, slow down,” Suleiman urged. “What has happened?”

The pirate’s blouse had slid off one shoulder like a woman’s. His rifle hung askew. He’d run for all he was worth. He nodded excitedly at Yusuf and Suleiman, catching his breath, too much to say.

“Jama, tell us.”

The man looked up from his feet. “Soldiers.”

Yusuf stepped away from this news, putting Suleiman between himself and Jama. He turned his back to drink in a last look into the night, the stars above the gulf no different than in the desert. The thin moon rose like a scimitar tonight. There must be a place for peace inside a violent man, or he is too dark and lost and he cannot make violence do his bidding.

Suleiman asked, “How many?”

“I saw only three.”

“Where?”

“On the bow. Ahmad, Beni, and the fat one, they are dead.”

Soldiers. Not omens or ghosts, but men with guns. Suleiman was right.

Yusuf spoke above his cousin. “How did they get on board?”

Jama rattled his head. “I do not know. There was no ship, no plane. Nothing.”

Suleiman adjusted the man’s khameez. He straightened the Kalashnikov by its strap. He pushed the gun into Jama’s belly until the pirate’s hands took it.

“You are Darood. These soldiers, they have killed your clansmen. There are only three. Can you fight them?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Go tell the rest what I have said. Surround them and kill them.”

Even with his firm answer, Jama did not turn away on his own. Suleiman spun him to push him back into the corridor.

Jama ran off. Suleiman watched him go. “As you say. These are not regular soldiers.”

“We have to warn Guleed.”

Suleiman gazed up the side of the superstructure. Far on top, the bridge remained without gunfire or lights. “There’s no fighting anywhere else.”

Yusuf moved for the stairs. “I’ll go.”

Suleiman stopped him. “Guleed is always ready. No, cousin. We should stay on deck. We have enough to handle three soldiers, even these. But I know our men. They’ll need to be commanded.”

“Why only three? How did they get on the bow?”

Suleiman did not pause with the questions. He rushed past Yusuf to the stern.

All three lay dead. Each bore the same signs of their killing. A bullet to the body, then two more like fang marks into their hearts.

They found none of the men’s weapons.

Suleiman lagged among the bodies, standing in blood. Yusuf eyed the skiffs trailing behind the freighter in the roar of the wake and propeller. He could shimmy down a rope ladder, awaken an engine, and chance an escape. Only fifty miles to the coast.

He spat into the water. These men had followed Yusuf to this ship, for wealth and Qandala. In the end, it was for Robow and secret machines. For two holes in their hearts.

Somewhere in the ribs of the freighter hid the passenger scientist Iris Cherlina. Was she behind this as well? Had she brought down the soldiers the same way she’d beckoned Yusuf? Did these dead bodies stack at her door? She would do well to stay in hiding.

Yusuf wanted to make a vow. He’d done this in the war when comrades fell, had sworn to fight on. The war became a folly, and he became a pirate. There were no oaths for pirates. Now, with dead clansman at his feet, all he could do for vengeance was hold this ship.

“Come,” he called to Suleiman.

Yusuf turned the corner to the starboard rail. Suleiman caught up