The Geneva Decision (17 page)

Tania stood up and waved to al-Jabal.

“What happened to our hostage?” Pia asked.

“He started shouting,” Marty said, “tried to alert his men. So I darted him. What do you want with this loser anyway?”

“I need information,” Pia said and pointed at the darted captive. “This guy will trade for it because I have two things he needs. Badly.”

Rounding the bend, they found the
Limbe Explorer
dead ahead, churning the water and stretched across the river sideways. Marty hailed the Major on the phone.

“We ran aground trying to turn,” The Major said. “The other Zodiac went down river. We’re not sure if they went to block the mouth or get back to the trawler for reinforcements. You stay there. Captain Whittier hopes to have us out of here in another couple minutes. We’ll lead with the armor. Whittier doesn’t want to bring you aboard until we’re clear of the sandbar—too much weight. We’re already sitting ducks if they come back.”

“Any sign of the coast guard?” Pia asked.

“At least two hours out. Hey, captain says we’re almost free. Stand by to follow us out to sea.”

The
Limbe Explorer
began rocking and churning. It turned ninety degrees in the river. Once straightened out, it began accelerating forward. Marty stayed back, center of the channel. As the
Explorer
gained speed, he allowed a larger gap between them. The big ship lumbered up to forty knots and left the jungle behind. Open sands on the left and a wide beach on the right looked to be clear of hostiles. Only a few tiny islands remained between them and the open ocean.

“All clear,” the Major said. “Like they’ve gone home.”

“Mangrove islands, could make good cover,” Miguel said. “Plenty of those.”

Out in deeper water, the
Limbe Explorer
slowed. Miguel and Tania kept their eyes on the islands while Marty guided the Zodiac alongside the ship. Monique and the Major attempted to pull Big-gut’s dead weight over the railing, but he was too heavy. Miguel pulled, Marty and Pia pushed. With the toughest angle topside, Marty jumped over the railing and grabbed a hand.

“Here they come,” Tania called out. “Dammit! They were waiting for us.”

Marty, Miguel, and Pia stopped tugging and looked out to sea. Fifteen seconds away, a Zodiac sprayed a rooster tail as it headed straight for them.

Tania called to the others for extra magazines—the Major had emptied everything on board. They had sleeper darts and handguns. Marty tossed one magazine to Tania. Miguel’s was empty. Pia had two darts in her M4, one in her Glock, plus two magazines in her pack.

Miguel yanked their hostage one more time and finally got him half over the railing.

“What am I gonna do with darts?” Tania shouted. “I’m about to face down a rubber boat and all I got is quarter-inch needles? How about a harpoon? Does Ahab have one of those? Fuck.”

Tania stormed to the back of the Zodiac, cranked the throttle over, and headed out to meet the enemy head on. Pia knelt in the bow, trying desperately to train her M4 on the approaching pirates. Their boat bounced, the pirate boat bounced, her gun bounced.

“Hey!” Miguel shouted from the
Explorer’s
deck. “Get back here!”

Tania pulled away, her eyes on the enemy. When she finally looked at the only passenger onboard, she did a double-take.

“Holy shit! I got the rich bitch too?” Tania said. “And you can’t aim worth a damn? Get back here and take the helm, dammit. We need someone up front who knows how to use the ammo. Get your ass over here.”

Her attitude made Pia’s skin crawl, but her logic made sense. Pia dropped the M4 and took the helm.

“Run straight at them,” Tania shouted above the engine noise. “That worked for you in the jungle, scared that guy for a second, let’s see if it works again. Oh, and, uh, thanks for saving my life.”

Tania staggered forward, knelt, and rattled off a few shots. Nothing hit. They held their fire. The gap closed fast. Both boats bounced over the waves. Both groups eyed targets in the other boat—then they were on each other. Tania rose on her knees and fired. Nothing.

Pia swerved to avoid their first salvo. The other boat mirrored her move at the same time. Pia’s boat bounced up and crashed down over the bow of the pirate boat. Tania was tossed into the enemy boat and landed on a pirate. Her gun flipped into the ocean.

Pia ran up the pontoon onto the other boat. She chose to fight the man grappling Tania first over the unarmed coxswain. Tania did not appear to be winning. A man with sun-bleached hair and leathery skin rose to his feet, one arm around Tania’s waist and a knife under her chin. Tania’s eyes were wild with anger. The blade bit into her skin, ready to slice her throat open. The pirate eyed Pia.

“Put the gun down or I cut her,” he said.

She did.

“American, huh?” Pia asked.

She put her hands up and steadied herself, her left foot forward. She bent at the knees, rolling with the waves. He eyed her, then glanced behind him. The coxswain tugged on a rope looped across the floor of the boat. Pia felt something tug at her ankles—probably the rope—but kept her eyes on the pirate. The instant he glanced at the coxswain, she launched her attack. Three violent jabs hit home, the first to his windpipe, the second to his right eye, the third to his temple.

He ducked her blows and slashed out with the knife. His method was a crude swipe, typical of a fighter who counted on an opponent’s fear instead of any technique or form. She knew she could win this one. She ducked and came back up with two fast body blows. Tania rolled right as a wave pushed the pontoon into her shin. She tumbled face first over the side with a scream that was silenced mid-syllable when she hit the water.

Stunned, the pirate managed to slash at Pia with the knife again. She stepped back and felt the coxswain at her feet but didn’t look down. She’d have to finish them off one at a time. She feigned a left hook. When his knife slashed in that direction, she smashed his throat again with a right cross. His knife came back too late, slashing at the open space left by her retreating fist. He swiped again, across his body. She stepped closer, trapping his knife arm against his chest. In the split second he needed to pull his arm free, she let loose a barrage of blows into his throat followed by an uppercut. Unable to breathe, he reeled in pain and dropped the knife. She spun left and slammed her elbow into his head. He crumpled in a heap on the pontoon.

Pia felt a hard tug at her ankle and looked down.

A slipknot in a rope led from her ankle to the outboard motor. The coxswain threw the motor overboard. The rope zipped over the pontoon. Pia reached for the fallen knife. The sinking motor pulled the slack out of the line. Her fingertips touched the knife. The knot tightened on her ankle and yanked her overboard.

No knife.

She flew into the water as the line went taut. She turned and dove straight down, swimming for all she was worth, trying to get ahead of the rope. If she could catch some slack, she could untie the knot before the dead weight dragged her to the bottom.

This far out, Pia figured the bottom could be anywhere from forty to a hundred feet. The motor hit bottom and the line jerked against her ankle. She was closer to the ocean floor than the air above.

Pia reached for her foot and felt the knot. She could see little more than light and dark at this depth. No detail at all. The surface above was barely visible through a brownish-green haze of water. The ocean pressed in on her from every angle. It pounded her ears and squeezed her body—her muscles felt the weight of a thousand tons of water. Already she longed for air.

She wrenched the rope. The knot had to be simple because the coxswain had tied it so quickly, yet she couldn’t figure it out. It was just a tangled clump of rope, swollen by salt water and yanked tight by the weight of the engine below. She cursed herself for not watching the man more closely. She drew on the knot—too tight. She’d need to use fingernails. She felt the shape of it, trying to imagine which direction she should pull each piece of rope. After some effort, she thought she had it right and dug her nails in.

Her lungs were complaining about the lack of oxygen, that same burning sensation she’d felt in Geneva—only this time she was in much deeper water with much greater pressure. She felt the knot loosen a hair and tugged with renewed energy. All her veins and arteries burned. The weight on her chest and abdomen squeezed the life from her. Even her spinal cord felt crushed. Her eardrums pounded
. Fight the panic, panic burns oxygen.
She felt the knot loosen another hair. She tugged harder. She kicked her foot. Bad idea—the knot pulled tight again. She tugged and regained the lost ground but precious time was slipping away. Then another piece of rope slid almost imperceptibly. Another loosening. How many more before she was free? She had no idea.

Her lungs demanded air.

Above her she heard a boat zoom away, leaving a wake behind it. Had one of the pirates survived and stolen her Zodiac? The coxswain. Tania had shot up his engine and he lost his gun. That’s why he tossed his motor overboard.

Pia’s hopes dimmed.

The knot wasn’t loose enough to free her foot.

Would the Major come looking for her? Was Tania up there somewhere? Had any of them even seen where she went under? She didn’t care. The only thing she wanted was air, just one sweet breath before she drowned.

The knot finally pulled loose.

She tugged her heel through the loop only to have it snag on the ball of her foot. Loosening the knot a little more, she pulled it free and began her awkward ascent. Above her, she could see a dim circle of light through the murky water. Or was tunnel vision setting in?

She swam, moving her arms with the efficiency practiced in Geneva. Yet the surface stayed far away. Too far. Her vision narrowed to a small spot. Swimming was an effort that required oxygen and she had none left. She’d spent it all fighting the knot. The water was heavy. Dense. She was much deeper this time, had been under much longer. Stroke after stroke, she headed to the top and yet the top was no closer than when she’d started.

The burning sensation in her lungs was replaced by a pleasant sensation. Being held tight in the ocean’s embrace seemed comforting, relaxing. Wonderful, now that she thought about it. She began to feel light. She could float the rest of the way up. Maybe even light enough to float into the sky. She felt sleepy. And the ocean made a soft pillow. She forgot about the surface. She forgot about al-Jabal and Jonelle and Dad and Tania and Alphonse and everyone else. She even considered forgetting about soccer. If she lived, could she play in the World Cup one more time? But then, nothing matters once life is over.

And there it was—a dim shadow crossed the light above her. A silhouette hovered, graceful and beautiful, like an angel swirling down into the depths to carry her home. Home to a better place.

“Mom?”

Chapter 25

Bight of Bonny, Cameroon

26-May, 2PM

T
he light stung Pia’s eyes. Her body rolled to one side and a hundred gallons of water spewed out of her. More water than one stomach could possibly hold. Nearby, noisy voices argued. Strong hands grabbed her, tugged her into the light. A figure blotted out the light for a moment—a familiar figure. Hair slicked back in a low bun, dark skin, penetrating eyes. Those eyes stared at her and everything in the world stopped for a moment. The voices stopped and the waves slapping against the boat stopped and the rocking sensation stopped.

Then they all started again, louder and closer than before.

The figure above her laughed, her mouth opened wide, showing white teeth, pink gums. Two hands clapped together followed by the roar of a “Hallelujah!” Someone else laughed long and honest and sustained. The laugh went on, stopped for air and continued. Other voices whooped and yelled. And when it finally ended, hands clapped again and again.

She knew the voices. She knew the laughter.

The Major looked down at her and smiled. Then she looked at someone else and said, “One more time, Miguel. Just to be sure.”

Miguel placed two hands on her abdomen and pushed down firmly, then rolled her onto her side. More water spewed out, a good deal less this time.

The Major stood, her arms outstretched to the blue skies above. “Thank God!”

“Thank…” Pia could only croak the one word. Her stomach flipped over. Speaking was not going to happen right now.

“Save your strength,” the Major said. “Besides, it was Tania who pulled you out.”

Tania’s face, hair dripping ocean goo, came into Pia’s line of sight.

“Yeah, you thought colored girls from Brooklyn couldn’t swim, huh. Well, this one went to the Y, baby. Brooklyn Mako Swim Team for eight stinkin’ years!”

“Thank…” Pia’s croaked again. Her hand flopped out weakly toward Tania but missed and fell back to her side.

Tania picked up her hand and squeezed it between both of hers. She said, “You saved my life twice in one day, girl, so I owed you one. I’m beginning to like you. Heck, Ezra only saved my ass once.”

Agent Marty leaned into view, his left arm wrapped in a bloody towel. He said, “Thank God you’re alive—I did NOT want to call your father.”

Pia smiled on the edge of a laugh. “Thank…”

“Don’t talk,” The Major said. “You drank half the Atlantic. You’ll be very sick this afternoon. You’ll have diarrhea.”

Pia’s eyes snapped to the Major and zeroed in.

“Just the messenger,” she said.

“Jacob and…” Pia struggled.

“We’re on our way back to Limbe now. Jacob caught a round in the hip during the first assault. The last bullet fired in this whole thing snapped one of the bones in Marty’s arm. Ezra … you know about Ezra.”

Pia shook her head, rolled onto her side, and threw up more sea water.

“The Coast Guard is chasing the trawler out to sea,” the Major said. “They’re in a race for Nigerian waters. They’ll try to make the open Atlantic. Try to get some rest.”

“Call … Yeschenko.” Pia gasped and gulped air. “He … has people.”

“Whoa. You want me to call in the Russians? You know that’s a death sentence for all of them, right?”