You’d think I’d have learned my lesson after you popped me with that Derringer back in ’06.”
Court looked again at the two men at the foot of the stairs. Both had shotguns by their bodies, but a small automatic handgun also lay next to one of the men’s hands.
The man appeared clearly dead now, but Court shot him in the back of the neck anyway, and then slipped his Glock back into his hip bag. “Whose boat is this?”
“Dunno. The GOS has boarded everything they can up and down the coast, pulled a lot of people into Port Sudan, trying to find someone with knowledge of the president’s kidnapping. I figured if I got on board one of the empty yachts, the GOS goons wouldn’t come back and check them again. There was no reason for these dudes to be here. I figure they came back to loot it, and we just all got unlucky to bump into each other.”
“What about the mini sub?”
Hightower looked Gentry over through thin eye slits for several seconds. “I scuttled it. Denny’s orders. I was going to use this boat to get down to Eritrea.”
Court regarded his former team leader for several seconds. He said, “I can stop the bleeding. Stabilize you. Get us out of here.”
“No, thanks.”
“Suit yourself. You’re going to die if you don’t get some help.”
“There will be a GOS naval gunboat on top of us in a few minutes. The pilot of the skiff that brought these guys is probably on the horn to the navy already.”
“Then I’d better get busy. I’ll patch you up, but before I do anything, I want some answers from you.”
“Give it a rest, Court.”
“Why was I burned? Who put out the shoot on sight? What the hell did I do wrong?”
“When the gunboat gets here, they aren’t going to board us, they are going to blow the living hell out of this prissy yacht. All that sexy Court Gentry, Gray Man, faggot ninja shit isn’t gonna help you when their deck gun opens up.”
“I thought you wanted me dead.”
“Hey, it’s not what I want; it’s my job. If you put a pistol in my hand right now, I’ll shoot you, but I don’t guess that’s gonna happen, so maybe you’ll take a little professional advice and go for a swim. This yacht might be able to do twenty-five knots; a Sudanese coastal patrol boat can run thirty-five, chase us down in no time.”
Court wasn’t listening. He wanted answers. “Who burned me? Was it Matt Hanley?”
Zack’s eyes were glassy, but they rolled in frustration nonetheless. “I don’t know.”
“Was it Lloyd?”
Zack’s brows furrowed now. He looked up. “Who the fuck is Lloyd?”
Court’s shoulders slumped. Then shrugged. “That’s what I said.”
FORTY-NINE
“Zack! Listen. You aren’t too far gone. I can treat you. You can walk away from this. Just tell me who put the hit out on me and why.”
“Fuck it, Six. I ain’t walking, and I ain’t talking.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m a good soldier, Court. My orders are to make you dead. Not to make you dead, unless you can save me, at which point my mission is no longer valid. Look, man, you are a good guy. I’m rooting for you here, I really am. But I’m not lifting a finger to help you out. Can’t do it. It would go against my op orders.”
“You are fucking crazy.”
Zack smiled. Gentry could see the pain on his face. “I just do my job. More sons of bitches should do their jobs. No offense, Violator.”
“Dammit, Zack!” Court shouted it in frustration. He stood there over his former boss, thought for a long moment, and then he left the saloon and ran up two levels to the cockpit of the ship. Here he found a first aid kit. In seconds he was back, and he knelt down next to Sierra Six.
Zack turned his head slowly to face him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing. You are an asshole, but I can’t just stand here and just let you die.” Gentry ripped open Zack’s shirt, exposed the wound. It was small, two inches below his right nipple, Court knew the bullet would have gone through the lung. He reached under Zack to feel for an exit wound.
“You patch me up, and I’ll kill you!”
“No, you won’t.”
Hightower looked up at the ceiling with his half-mast eyes and shook his head slowly in disbelief. “You are a terrible judge of character, Court.”