He slipped inside.He appeared to have wondered into an armory.Racks of weapons lined one wall—rifles, handguns, even a crossbow.A large metal case sat against the far wall, secured with a heavy padlock.
This was either very good or very bad.
He moved to the case and examined the lock.Commercial grade, nothing too sophisticated.He could pick it, given time and the right tools.Neither of which he had.So he pulled out his pen.It looked like an ordinary fountain pen, but it housed a small spy camera.He snapped a few quick photos, making sure to capture the serial numbers on several weapons.He wouldn’t be able to upload them under they were back on land, but at some point, Potomac could run them to see if any been flagged.
He was returning his pen to his pocket when he heard voices in the corridor outside.Close.Coming closer.
He scanned the room.No other exit.No closet to hide in.Nothing.
The voices were right outside now.Arabic.Two men, maybe three.
The handle turned.
Omar pressed himself against the wall beside the door, hand moving to his waistband where he’d tucked the small knife from his toiletry kit.It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.
The door swung open and two guards walked in, deep in conversation.
Omar didn’t wait.He moved fast, slipping through the open door behind them before they could react.
“Hey!”
He heard the shout but didn’t stop, didn’t look back.He walked quickly but didn’t run—running would draw attention, make him look guilty.
Behind him, heavy footsteps.The guards were coming after him.
He turned a corner and nearly collided with a crew member carrying a stack of towels.The collision bought him a few seconds as the guard had to dodge around them.
Omar made it to the main stairwell and climbed, taking the steps two at a time.He could still hear the guard behind him, closer now.
He emerged on the main deck just as Idris and Brad came out of the salon, drinks in hand.Omar slowed immediately, forcing his breathing to even out, and walked toward them as if nothing was wrong.
“Oscar!”Brad called out, already drunk despite it being barely noon.“Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Just working off breakfast,” Omar said, aware of the guard emerging from the stairwell behind him.The man stopped when he saw Idris, his expression dark.
Idris looked from Omar to the guard, his eyes narrowing slightly.“Everything all right, Bashir?”
The guard hesitated.Then, he nodded.“Yes, sir.Just making sure Mr.Irfan didn’t get lost.”
Irfan appraised Omar coolly.“The yacht can be confusing.Best to stay in the common areas.Fewer places to accidentally wander into.”
The phrasing was almost identical to what the Secret Service agent had said.A warning.
“Good advice,” Omar said easily.“I think I’ll go find my wife.”
He walked away, feeling multiple sets of eyes on his back.As he climbed to the upper deck, he heard a woman crying—loud, hiccuping sobs.
The sound was coming from the direction of Idris and Hanna’s stateroom.Almost certainly Hanna.
Bashir heard it too.His dilemma played out on his face: would his boss want him to following Omar or investigate the crying?Finally, he muttered something under his breath and headed toward the stateroom.
Omar kept walking until he found Marielle on the aft deck, sipping a glass of pomegranate juice.She took one look at his face and abandoned the glass on the bar.
“Walk with me?”she asked, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear.
They strolled to the rail, away from where Poppy was sunbathing, although she appeared to be oblivious to everything around her.
“That bad?”Marielle murmured.
