by Davis Bunn
“Go, Pilot.”
“We’re airborne, one minor injury, looks like shrapnel. Be advised, militia are crossing the bridge in force.”
“Roger that. One out.”
Theo asked, “Is that an engine on fire?”
“He’s got three left,” Bruno said. “Those Constellations can fly on two, no problem. One will keep it airborne in a pinch.”
Theo leaped down before the truck stopped rolling. When she tried to rise, Della discovered her legs were not obeying her mental commands. Theo actually seemed to expect it. He was there waiting for her with his arms outstretched. “Easy does it.”
She wanted to say something nice, make light of a terrible moment, show she was as in control as he evidently was. But Theo had already turned away to help Avery clamber down. The man almost fell off the back, then frantically waved off Theo’s help. “You don’t understand! There’s no ship! The research vessel left to handle another contract! There’s no place for us. . . .”
Avery stopped yelling, because Bruno walked up and mashed his own faceplate against Avery’s. “What would you prefer? Stay here and spend a few months being interrogated in the Ziguinchor prison?”
“What? No . . . I . . .”
“I’ve been there. Once. I’ll tell you straight up: I never want to go back.” Bruno turned away, the discussion over. “Let’s get these craft in the water.”
Theo helped Bruno’s crew haul the inflatable down to the shore. Two’s group arrived carrying fuel canisters. Together they dragged the heavier dinghy into the water, then loaded the canisters. Bruno said, “Remind me to thank the next fisherman I meet.”
When the two boats were in waist-deep water, Bruno directed most of his team into the inflatable and placed his second team leader and two others with Theo, Della, and Avery in the dinghy. Theo thought it was the right move. The dinghy was more stable, though it was also far slower. Which meant most of the shooters were situated in the faster vessel. Bruno allowed the dinghy to set the pace. The waves were small and feeble and slapped like little hands at the vessel’s sides as they motored away from the beach.
Team Leader Two handled the dinghy’s engine. “One, we have boots on the shore.”
“I see them. Can you push that dinghy any faster?”
“We’re topped out.”
“Understood.” Bruno steered the inflatable over to the left of the dinghy. “Get ready to return fire.”
When Theo looked back, the westering sun glinted off weapons. A lot of them. The troops were dressed in bits and pieces of jungle fatigues, mostly green sweat-stained T-shirts and bush pants. The sun was setting directly behind Theo, which made the soldiers stand out in stark relief. As they lifted their weapons to their shoulders, the gun barrels looked close enough to touch. A man slightly removed from the others yelled something and fired a handgun in their direction.
“Rapid-fire,” Bruno said, calm as ever. “Fire at will.”
The nine-person crew let loose. The sound of automatic fire hammered at Theo. He unholstered his pistol and shot with the others, yet he doubted he damaged anything except maybe a few palm fronds. His hands were shaking too badly to take proper aim.
The soldiers scattered, some flattening themselves into the mud while others dashed for the palms. The officer’s voice rose to a falsetto shriek. The shore became lit by brilliant flashes that would have been lovely to watch had the bullets not been aimed at them.
The boats continued to pull away. Finally, Bruno said, “Cease firing.” Theo could still see occasional flashes from the shoreline, but then they too gradually stopped. Bruno asked, “Anyone hit?”
The massive second team leader left the tiller long enough to step to each person, touch them lightly, and inspect them through the faceplate. “We’re good here, One.”
As they powered into the setting sun, Avery fretted, “I don’t see anything whatsoever good about this situation. We’re sitting ducks out here.”
Neither Bruno nor his second-in-command saw any need to respond.
“What happens when they bring out a boat of their own?” Avery’s volume gradually rose. “Or a helicopter? What happens then?”
The team leader handling their outboard chuckled. “Then we die, little man.”
“That’s enough, Two.”
“We die quickly, no problem.”
“Two. Enough.”
The man kept chuckling but said no more. Avery’s shudders were visible through the hazmat suit.
Theo realized his breath was coming in tight gasps. “One, I’m getting low on air.”
In response, Bruno released the shoulder catches and pulled off his helmet. He sat there for a time, breathing the evening air. At last he said, “All right, everybody, it’s safe to remove your gear.”
The dinghy had three benches that ran from gunnel to gunnel, and a fourth fit snugly into the bow. One of the armed crew sat there and faced toward the rear, scouting the sea behind them. Their crew’s leader shared the rear bench with the smallest of his team. The air felt very good on Della’s skin. The salty breeze tasted wonderful. Every breath carried the faint promise of life. No one spoke for a time as they motored away. The shore became a faint green shadow on the eastern horizon. Della couldn’t see the soldiers anymore, but she had to assume they were still around, and that Avery’s fears were very real. Even so, logic could not disturb the simple pleasure of being alive.
Avery, however, remained agitated and fearful. “Why were they shooting at us?”
When no one spoke, Theo offered, “My guess is, we represent a different version of events.”
Della had been thinking the same thing. Still, Avery demanded, “What do they want to claim happened?”
Team Leader Two shrugged his broad shoulders. “Senegal is putting on a happy face these days. They pretend to the world that the south is under control. They want to bring in tourist dollars.”
They all still wore earpieces with mics clipped to their collars. Della heard Bruno say, “They may just want to avoid giving the Jola tribe another reason to revolt. All this might simply be their way of sweeping bad news under the carpet.”
The sun melted slowly into the water. Della had seen her share of beautiful sunsets, but none had affected her like this one. Journeying west toward she knew not what. And just then she did not want to think ahead. Having survived this terrifying day was enough.
From the next bench, Theo said, “‘They sailed upon a wine-dark sea.’”
“What?”
Theo gestured to the brownish water now turned to ink by the descending sun. “Readers of Homer have wondered for centuries what he meant by those words.”
The second team leader surprised them all by saying in his deep voice, “‘And now I have put in here, as thou seest, with ship and crew, while sailing over the wine-dark sea to men of strange speech.’”
Theo revealed a truly lovely smile. “Well, what do you know.”
“Hey, man.” The second team leader’s accent was stronger now. The word came out as mon. “Homer wrote his poetry with warriors in mind.”
“You don’t say.”
“Absolute truth, what I’m telling you.” He lifted the automatic rifle propped against his thigh. “If he were alive today, he’d have something beautiful to say about this.”
Theo studied the man. “Can I ask your name?”
Two glanced to his left, where Bruno observed them from the inflatable craft. When their leader did not speak, he replied, “I am Henri.”
“Nice to know you, Henri. I’m Theo. Thanks for saving our lives back there.”
“All part of the service, man.”
Theo gripped the bench to either side of where he sat and recited, “‘Sing, oh muse, of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Aegeans.’”
Henri’s smile grew broader still. He chanted the words, “‘Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.’
”
Theo replied with, “‘Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again.’”
Henri almost sang the words, “‘Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate. And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward.’”
Theo responded, “‘Fool, prate not to me about covenants.’”
Henri joined in with him, and together they called to the first stars, “‘There can be no covenant between men and lions. Wolves and lambs can never be of one mind, but hate each other out and out and through. Therefore there can be no understanding between you and me, nor may there be any covenants between us, till one or other shall fall!’”
Their laughter spilled across the waters. Della thought they all traveled easier after this exchange. Even though they motored away from land, defying the death and danger that lurked just beyond the horizon.
Then a voice Della did not recognize came through her earpiece. “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”
Avery leaped to his feet, then had to be steadied by warriors’ hands. “I know . . . that’s Trevor!”
Della asked, “Who?”
“The skipper of the boat that brought me here!”
“Rule one of surviving combat,” Bruno said. “Always keep a secret back door.”
eleven
Theo had never been on a research vessel before. A female crew member led him down a steel causeway to a small single cabin. Everything was spotless, and the shower worked beautifully. The bathroom was so small he knocked up against the sink as he washed his hair. The drain was a simple hole in the middle of the whitewashed floor. Which explained why the towels had been set on the narrow bunk. He wiped the steamy mirror and inspected his face. Theo decided he looked exhausted. Which was hardly a surprise. Not after he had packed the weight of disappointment and defeat into days without beginning or end—only to be rescued at the very last moment by a brother he did not know at all.
They ate dinner in the crew’s mess. A pair of portholes looked out over a black night. The ship’s crew had already eaten. Theo, Avery, Della, and their security detail had the galley to themselves. The separation between Bruno’s team and the three of them remained in place. Henri grinned at Theo as he departed. Otherwise there was no contact, nor anything spoken. Theo did not mind. Now that he was safe, the fatigue rested on him like a thousand-pound weight. Avery’s hands trembled slightly as he lifted each mouthful. Della ate sparingly. She and Avery both spent the mealtime staring at scenes they painted on the opposite wall.
As they walked the corridor back to their cabins, Della surprised him with a touch on his arm. When he stopped, she waited as Avery and two of Bruno’s crew continued down to their berths. The female soldier smirked at them before unlocking her door and stepping inside.
Once they were alone, Della said, “We need to talk.”
“Can it wait? I really want to hear what you have to say. All of it. But I need to be awake for that. Right now I’m so tired it wouldn’t register.”
She gave a reluctant nod. “Rest well.”
Theo slept as deeply as he had in his entire adult life. He woke with the disconcerted sensation of having no idea where he was or why his forehead rested against a painted steel wall. He showered again, trying to scrub away the odors of burning cordite and smoke rising from a silent town.
When he returned to the mess hall, the clock over the kitchen-access window read 10:14 a.m. Theo was glad Della was the only one seated there. She wore a sailor’s T-shirt and denim shorts. Her feet were bare and her hair was still damp. Theo thought she looked stunning. She offered a tentative smile and said, “Coffee’s in the urn, if you’re interested.”
“Desperate, more like.” He filled a heavy ceramic mug, added milk, and accepted the cook’s offer of eggs and toast. “May I join you?”
She waited until he seated himself, then said, “Avery’s spoken by sat phone with his wife and kids. He was pretty broken up afterward. He’s back in his room, resting.” She pointed to a plastic case on the table. “Bruno left it there in case you want to reach out and touch base with someone.”
“Thanks. But there isn’t anyone except my brother. And I want to give myself a little while longer to work through what just happened.”
Della rocked her mug in a little circle and waited as the cook’s mate brought over a plate and silverware. As Theo started eating, she said, “There’s something I need to tell you. Only I don’t know how.”
“Take your time and start from the beginning,” he replied. “It’s always worked best for me.”
“I’d basically be putting my professional life in your hands, doing that.”
He set down his fork. Wiped his mouth. Took his time, waiting until she lifted her worried gaze. “Della, there’s no way I can say it clearer than this. I’m not my brother. Whatever you tell me stays between us.”
She took a long breath. Nodded once. “Everything you think you know about why I’m here, working with Bishop Industries, is a lie.”
There was a surreal quality to the conversation that followed. Or rather, to sitting there and listening while Della talked. On one level, the longer Theo was in this woman’s company, the more he felt drawn to her. On another, what she told him would define a scandal in the making, if he actually represented his brother’s company. Which he didn’t. But more important still, he felt them moving into sync. It was an illogical sensation, given what she was saying. Even so, he listened to Della reveal her secrets and felt his own brother gradually coming into focus.
Della spoke in a voice deepened by shame. The confession cost her terribly. Theo found himself as impacted by her willingness to come clean as by what she told him.
She had studied business with a minor in journalism. She had always had a head for figures and intended to go into accounting in graduate school, acquire her CPA license, and make a comfortable if somewhat boring existence for herself. But she had also enjoyed writing, and while in school she had submitted a couple of pieces to the Baltimore paper. These had led to a job offer, and soon Della found herself enthralled by the world of journalism. Yet her employer faced the same financial troubles as most other newspapers of late, and being a recent hire, Della was the first to go.
The problem was, by that point she knew she wanted to continue as a reporter. The only journalistic work she could find was writing for an online business blog. The pay was awful, and the work was often demeaning. Della tried to convince herself it was a temporary gig. Three years later, she was still sending out résumés and hunting down journalistic crumbs.
Then she had been struck by the big idea. The one that might just fast-track her into a real journalistic position. She had applied for a job in Bishop Industries’ PR department. And she was hired. She worked as hard as she ever had in her entire life and was promoted as a result. Four times. Until she was finally in a position to start doing her real work—hunting for the company’s ties to illegal activities. The ones often rumored about but never proven. Bishop Industries was squeaky clean these days, but in years past rumors had swirled about Kenneth Bishop secretly owning shares of opioid outlets through bogus holding companies. And paying bribes to doctors. And overcharging Medicare through unscrupulous clinics and hospitals. And so forth. She was now senior enough to begin scouring old records. It was time to make her move.
Della had approached the business editor at the Washington Post and been offered a freelance contract with the understanding that if she delivered the goods, the position would become permanent.
But then the editor went on maternity leave, and her replacement was a numbers cruncher who disliked Della and the whole concept of taking her on. Since their very first meeting, Jerry had been looking for a reason to revoke her contract and cast her adrift.
Della reached this point in her telling a
nd just stopped. Her head had gradually lowered as she talked, until her hair formed a dark veil that completely blocked her face from view.
Theo wished there were some reason to keep things as they were right now. The two of them deep inside a steel-hulled vessel plying the Atlantic off the western coast of Africa. Della talking, and him leaning against the inner wall. Just loving the look and sound of this woman.
He knew there was no way he could simply say the words, that what she told him didn’t really matter all that much. That her subterfuge was unimportant as far as he was concerned. She probably wouldn’t believe him. Theo was, after all, brother to the reason why she was involved at all.
So he said, “Truth for truth. All right?”
Della did not look up. Which was a shame. He could dive into those blue-gray eyes and swim forever. She nodded at the table between her hands.
A couple of the ship’s crew came in, talking loudly. Theo shifted around so that he sat closer to her, near enough to lean in and make sure what he said was for her ears alone. He began, “What impacts me the most is that you need to tell me at all. And that touches a very deep level.”
While she did not look up at him, Theo could tell she was paying careful attention. He went on, “I made this journey partly because I wanted to repay Kenny for bailing out my company. It was the only thing he asked in return. The first thing he had ever asked of me. Plus, I thought it would be a real kick. An adventure. And after the year I’ve had, it appealed to me more than I could possibly say.”
Della leaned back and studied him. “But that isn’t the real reason, is it?”
He liked the sense that they were in sync now. That somehow she had already figured out where he was going. “I don’t know my brother. At all. Before, I had a reason not to care. Now . . .”
Avery and one of Bruno’s team came in then and started toward their table. Della turned to them and said, “Could you sit somewhere else, please?” After they moved off, she said to Theo, “Go on.”
“We are seeing fragments of a puzzle,” Theo replied. “And part of why we can’t put it all together is, we’re looking at the wrong Kenny.”