language he claimed, but if it was, the tanker crewman paid no attention.
The hijacker lifted the man up and pushed him over. Long way down to Davy Jones. At least fifty, sixty feet just to the water. And the sharks. Oh, God, the sharks. Birk’s groin tightened. With all the body bait that Raggedy Ass had dumped overboard, Birk figured there had to be a feeding frenzy down there by now. God knows, there were plenty of those deep-blue devils in the Maldives: The country had declared itself a shark sanctuary.
Raggedy Ass wiped his bloody hands on his bloody pants as he walked over to Birk. The correspondent did his best to keep his tone supplicating when he said, “Please, Mr. Raggedy Ass, scum-fuck terrorist, please don’t miss my vitals when you shoot me.”
Raggedy Ass peered at him suspiciously, as if trying to unlock the secrets of this severely sunburned old wreck.
“That’s right, needle dick, blow my brains out proper when it’s my turn.”
“Dick? Dick?” Raggedy Ass asked.
Oh, sweet Lord. Fucker knows one word of English and it’s got to be that one.
Raggedy Ass stared at him, and Birk offered his most craven smile. The jihadist grabbed his shoulder and dragged Birk to his feet. Emaciated, but strong. Raggedy Ass turned him to face the wall, kicked Birk’s feet apart as sharply as any NYPD tactical officer, and searched Birk’s pockets, finding his cell phone, notebook, pen, a fistful of blank receipts so he could cheat on his expense account, and, finally, Birk’s most prized possession.
Raggedy Ass unscrewed the flask, smelled the gin, and pulled his nose away in disgust. Birk looked over his shoulder, watching the jihadist pour out the liquor in a slow, tantalizing stream. The correspondent almost sank to his knees to try to intercept the precious, fragrant flow. But no, he held back and watched the flask empty even as he filled with longing deeper than the sea itself, thinking, Bastard. Asshole. Shitface. Scum fuck, and every other deprecation that came to mind.
Raggedy Ass cracked him on the head with the flask, then hurled it into the ocean.
Goddamn him. That flask had more miles on it than a gypsy caravan. Is nothing sacred anymore?
Raggedy Ass kicked the backs of Birk’s knees, collapsing the old sod into a heap before he walked back up the stairs. Another body to retrieve, no doubt.
How many more before it’s my turn?
Birk’s eyes dropped to the gin-soaked deck. His tongue followed.
* * *
Jenna hurried out of Elfren’s office. Marv rushed after her, puffing audibly.
“Lucky break for you, huh?” he said, resentment poorly contained.
“Yeah, too bad for the planet.”
Jenna took the stairs rather than endure the elevator with him, guessing correctly that he wouldn’t follow her if it entailed any physical effort.
She rushed into her office, giving Nicci a joyful jolt with the news about the Maldives assignment. She stayed in the office only long enough to answer a few e-mails while waiting for her Ford Fusion to be brought around, then sped home. Arriving at her apartment, Jenna was immensely pleased to find Dafoe waiting for her on the sidewalk. After her telephone call from Marv last night, Dafoe was so certain that the network was going to send her overseas that he said he’d “move mountains” to try to see her before she left.
“You made it,” she exclaimed, giving him a quick kiss.
“Just got here. You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“I am.” A distinct stirring bloomed in her belly. “I’m really glad you’re here. Was Forensia able to cover for you?” She led him into the lobby.
“With Sang-mi, this time. Those two don’t go anywhere without each other these days. In fact, Richtor and three other Pagans are camped in their living room. They figure group living is the first line of defense against whoever killed GreenSpirit.”
She nodded. “Makes sense to me.”
“How’s your time?” he asked with a smile whose meaning was easy—and delightful—to divine.
She glanced at her watch as the elevator doors opened. “I’ve got a small window.” Her driver wouldn’t mind a short wait.
The first kiss began as the doors closed and didn’t end till they arrived at her floor. To hell with the security camera, she thought.
In a minute they were in her apartment, playing another round of bedspring boogaloo. She loved every second of it. He had the richest scent, and tasted so good.
But the real intimacy came after their most intense pleasure, when they lay on their sides, facing each other. Her finger trailed the line of