Essai put the cell to the assassin's mouth, and he made sounds like a cow in distress.
"Who is this?"
Something had changed in El-Arian's voice, a febrile element that Essai, the cell to his ear again, was able to catch.
"I estimate you have thirty minutes before your assassin dies. His life is in your hands."
Essai closed the cell and, standing, ground it to bits beneath his heel.
Then he addressed the assassin for the last time: "You will tell Benjamin El-Arian what happened here, and then he will deal with you as he sees fit. Tell him that the same fate awaits anyone he sends after me. That's all you need to do now. His time - and yours - is over."
Moira, standing on the starboard side of the yacht, watched the exchange of infrared signals through the night glasses the captain had handed her moments before. She could see the cigarette boat lying to as the yacht came up on it. Moving her field of vision slightly, she saw two figures in the cigarette besides the signaler. A man and a woman. The man was almost certainly Arkadin, but who was the woman and why would he have someone else on board? Berengaria had told her Arkadin came out to meet her boats with just a mate, an old Mexican named El Heraldo.
The captain continued to keep the yacht's engines idling as it slid through the black waves on its own momentum. Now Moira could make out Arkadin's face, and beside him was - Soraya Moore!
She almost dropped the night glasses overboard. What the hell? she thought. For every plan there was a wrench that could jam up the works. Here was hers.
The quiet lapping of the water was all she heard as the cigarette came up alongside the yacht. A crewman tossed down a rope ladder; another manned the winch. Meanwhile two other crewmen were busy hauling up the cargo from belowdecks. Berengaria had explained the routine in detail. A crate was loaded into the net to be winched down to the cigarette so Arkadin could inspect the contents.
As this was happening, Moira leaned over the rail, peering down at the people in the cigarette. Soraya saw her first, her mouth forming an O of silent surprise.
What the hell? she mouthed up to Moira, who had to laugh. They'd both had the same reaction on seeing each other.
Then Arkadin caught sight of her. Frowning, he climbed the ladder. The moment he swung aboard the yacht he drew out a Glock 9mm and aimed it at her midsection.
"Who the hell are you?" he said. "And what are you doing on board my boat?"
"It's not your boat, it belongs to Berengaria," Moira said in Spanish.
Arkadin's eyes narrowed. "And do you belong to Berengaria also?"
"I belong to no one," Moira said, "but I am looking out for Berengaria's interests." She had thought about the possible answers to his questions during the entire trip up the coast of Mexico. What it boiled down to was this: Arkadin was a man first, a homicidal criminal second.
"Just like a woman to send a woman," Arkadin said, as disdainful as Roberto Corellos.
"Berengaria is convinced you no longer trust her."
"This is true."
"Perhaps she no longer trusts you."
Arkadin gave her a dark look but said nothing.
"This is a poor state of affairs," Moira acknowledged. "And no way to run a business."
"And how does the woman who does not own you suggest we proceed?"
"For a start, you might lower the Glock," Moira observed.
By this time Soraya had made her way up the ladder and now appeared, swinging her legs over the yacht's brass railing. She seemed to size up the situation immediately, looking from Moira to Arkadin and back again.
"Fuck you," Arkadin said. "And fuck Berengaria for sending you."
"If she had sent a man, the chances are good the two of you would have killed each other."
"I would have killed him, certainly," Arkadin said.
"So sending a man would not have been the smart thing to do."
Arkadin snorted. "Fuck, we're not in the kitchen." He shook his head in disbelief. "You're not even armed."
"Therefore, you won't shoot me," Moira said. "Therefore, you will be willing to listen when I talk, when I negotiate, when I propose a way to go forward without suspicion on either side."
Arkadin watched her as a hawk watches a sparrow. Perhaps he no longer