Woolsey thought McKay sober was bad enough. “Captain, Sir, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. We need to keep our wits about us.”

After taking a drink from the bottle in his hand, Lamoreaux looked up at Woolsey and studied him for a moment. “I do not think you understand the situation.”

“I know I’m not ready to give up. There’s got to be something we can do. Surely some of your men remain loyal to you.”

Lamoreaux closed one eye and looked up at the ceiling with the other. He appeared to be running through the list of men in his head. At last, he spoke. “No, not a one.” He took a long pull on the bottle.

Woolsey knocked the bottle out of the man’s hand, and it broke when it hit the deck a few feet away. The sharp, fruity smell of the wine filled the compartment.

“Lieutenant, that was not wise. There is not so much wine here as you might think. Not for what we need.”

What was the man talking about? There were cases and cases of wine. “Captain, you can’t  sit here and get pissed while your men take over your command. Get hold of yourself, man. There are four of us here. We can overpower the guards next time they come in. This is your boat.”

Lamoreaux had reached for another bottle and was in the process of screwing the metal coil into the cork. He paused. “Lieutenant, there is no way that the four of us are going to succeed against one hundred and twenty-five men. Either, they are going to feed us to the sharks en route, or they are going to send you three to prison camps and they will hang me for treason – for joining DeGaulle. My boat — the Surcouf, the pride of the French Navy will go off with the Huns. You don’t think that is enough reason to get drunk?”

“Captain, there is something aboard this boat that your men know nothing about.”

Lamoreaux set the bottle aside and aimed the torch beam on Woolsey. “You know? What is this?”

“This thing, Captain, involves a third possible fate for us all – and it will sink your precious boat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Captain Lamoreaux, there is a bomb on this boat and it is going to go off in about twenty hours.”

The captain threw back his head and laughed. “Psshht. Lieutenant. For a moment I thought you really knew something secret about my boat. But this? Non. You cannot trick me into trying something with you English.”

“This is no trick, I assure you, Captain. I set the thing myself.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Le Gosier

March 26, 2008

1:05 a.m.

Diggory counted the revolutions of the ceiling fan blades spinning over the center of the room and tried not to think about the naked woman lying next to him, face down on the bed, her right leg draped across his thighs. He could feel the sweat pooling in the spaces where her skin touched his. When she inhaled, the soft tissue at the back of her throat vibrated and the snores seemed to rise out of her open mouth like the bubbles of cartoon speech. There would be no sleep for him.

He had arranged to meet the school teacher — her name was Ulrika — at the casino, leaving himself enough time to return to his rooms and change into the clothes, slicked back hair and glasses of the Peruvian business man she had met in St. Francois. After a few drinks, they went to the La Cheyanne in Le Gosier where the gyrating crowds, pulsing lights, and blinking images on the big screens had excited her more than any pharmaceutical could. He didn’t enjoy dancing, not in amongst the throngs of filthy French and Creole young people who crammed themselves into beach discos on the weekends, but he was good enough at it so as not to be noticed as either too good or pitifully bad.

She had suggested they go back to his room, and instead, he gave her a handful of euro notes and had her check in to the Hotel Arawak under her name. Once in the room, she had torn off her clothes and been more willing than most to do what he asked of her. She had not needed him to touch her like so many women did, and she had been very good at squatting over him on the floor and taking him into her. He watched her as she rocked and bounced, her fingers touching the glistening flesh where she held him, her nipples erect, breasts swinging. She’d called out in German as her muscles squeezed around him, her contractions sending him over the edge, her face contorted, her damp hair stuck to her skin with sweat.

Watching them, knowing that he had the power to turn them into animals only heightened his pleasure. So long as they did not put their hands all over him.

When he could stand it no longer, he lifted the sleeping woman’s leg and climbed out of the bed. He crossed the plush carpet to the sliding glass door. After opening the panel on its silent rollers, Diggory stepped out onto the cool tiles of the balcony and left the door open behind him. The trade wind breeze that cooled his sweat-covered skin was ripe with the briny smell of low tide. On the distant horizon, white lights winked as vessels traversed the waters between Pointe-a-Pitre and the Iles des Saintes.

Though Ulrika had been a pleasant distraction, even when he had been inside her, his thoughts had drifted to Riley. In Peru, when he had discovered the attractive Marine’s pedigree, he had been unable to resist bedding her. This secret knowledge gave a new dimension to his pleasure. But in the end, she became cloying like they all did. They’d meet for a meal at one of the trendy cafes in the El Barranco section of Miraflores, and while he was cutting his steak, she would reach across the table and touch his arm, caress his cheek. She started to talk about love and their future together. He’d had to end it before anyone caught on. Granted, things hadn’t played out as he’d expected, but the end result was the same. The affair ended and she had disappeared as a threat to him; yet he knew there was still unfinished business there. He’d always known she would play a part when the time came for him to seize control of the organization.

From inside the room, he heard Ulrika’s voice. She called out a name, but not the one he had given her.

“Thor? Someone is calling for Thor?” she called out in her accented English.

He slipped back into the room, and though the bed was lit only by what light passed through the gauzy curtains, he could see her sitting naked and cross-legged on the bed holding his satellite phone out to him, the small screen aglow.

“What kind of phone is this? What’s this thing stuck to it?” She was wiggling the voice encryption device that snapped on to the dataport of his sat phone.

He grabbed the instrument from her hand and stepped back out onto the balcony closing the door behind him this time.

“Yes.”

“I am surprised at you, Thor. Letting a civilian have access to your secure phone.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You do understand the gravity of the situation.”

“I do.”

“Yes.” He paused and Diggory knew that he was saying more through his silence than he could have with words. “I understand you told them to follow some woman. I want to know what it’s about.”

So Caliban had contacted the barbarian to check up on him. He wondered if the older man was following orders or merely trying to assert his power by keeping Diggory on a short leash. The late hour led him to believe the latter.

“It is a woman sailor who knows Thatcher. I have reason to believe she will lead them to him if they follow her.”

“I see.”

“You brought me in to do a job. Either leave me to do it or get someone else.”

“Yes. Absolutely. I understand, but you do need to keep me informed.”

“As soon as I have something concrete, I’ll be in touch. Is there anything else?”

“Thor, I know I don’t have to tell you this, but —” Caliban began.

Dig held the phone a distance from his ear, disgusted with the man’s pedantic tone. He was losing patience.