Then she saw the smaller United States cruiser just past the fortress on the mole. Alex blinked.
And she prayed it was an omen, a sign of good luck.
Alex again looked at thePearl.It appeared deserted.
She looked down at the wharf where the Turks were gambling—a pastime forbidden by strict Moslem law. She did not smile. Instead, she patted her hip, where a mixture of sulfur, nitrate, and charcoal was tied to her waist.
Then Alex haunched over and rushed across the open street to the safety of a dry-docked, single-masted fishing vessel. Once there, she knelt panting. And then, at that precise moment, she saw them.
Two dark, shadowy forms climbing up the side of the ship.
Xavier paused one heartbeat, the oilskin between his teeth, hanging on to the railing of his ship. He heard no warning shouts. He hoisted himself up and over the railing and onto thePearl’sdeck, where he lay but a moment, panting.
He looked to his right and saw Tubbs dropping onto the deck with his oilskin parcel. Xavier got to his hands and knees, swiftly unwrapping the oilskin.
Tubbs did the same.
Alex hesitated. The men were not in sight. But she knew what they would now do, being as there were just the two of them. One would go to the bow, the other to the stem, and both men would light their explosives, and flee the ship. At that point, detection no longer mattered.
Oh, shit,Alex thought, her mouth dry, her heart beating so wildly she felt faint.
Then, determination swelling inside of her, she got to her feet and dashed the short open distance from the fishing boat to a moored sailing vessel. Alex knew no one saw her. But her foot hit a stone and sent it flying onto the wooden dock. It made a loud, surprising noise in the absolute quiet of the night.
One of the Turks said something, his tone sharp, and everyone stopped talking, heads jerking up, listening.
Alex crouched by the sailboat, in spitting distance of thePearl,too frightened to even pray.
“Who the hell is that?” one of Xavier’s men whispered, staring toward Alex.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Allen muttered. “Dammit, boys, forget the captain and the goddamnedPearl.TheVixenis here. We can swim out to her, I know we can!” Allen started to rise.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Benedict said, clamping his hamlike hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
Alex’s heart was hammering. It roared in her ears. How was she going to get on thePearlto help Blackwell? She could not risk slipping into the water and swimming to the anchor lines at the bow and climbing aboard there. She did not dare get wet. Which meant that she had to sneak past the soldiers without alerting them to her presence. It seemed, in that moment, to be an impossible task.
Alex knew that she needed a diversion now.
The four seamen crouched behind the vinegar barrels, nearly holding their breaths. They could not detect any movement on board thePearl,but by now Tubbs should be at the bow, their captain at the stem. The Turks had resumed their gambling. But someone, an Arab, was hiding near the sailboat moored next to thePearl.
“It must be that slave Murad,” Benedict finally said in a very low voice to no one in particular.
The words were barely out of his mouth when Allen suddenly leapt to his feet and began running toward the dock.
Benedict also stood, realizing what was happening. The other two seamen began to rise. Then he ducked back down, crying, “Get down,” to the other two men. He cocked his pistol.
The Turks cried out, their game forgotten, having spotted Allen.
Scimitars flashed as they rushed after him, shouting.
Allen dove into the water and began swimming.
Alex rushed from the sailboat, down the wharf, and leapt aboard thePearl.
“Jesus Christ!” Benedict shouted now. “What the hell is going on?”
27
XAVIER KNELT ANDwith steady hands he struck the flint and set the tinder to the fuse of the firebomb. The small flame continued to burn, and then it went out—the fuse unlit.
