Dark clouds rolled toward the Star of the Sea, black thunderheads across the Pacific, pushing him closer to the coast of North America. The promised land. To have been so close to success. The bitch would have undoubtedly led his men to Rakkim, or failing that, her capture would have drawn Rakkim from hiding. Instead, she had somehow disappeared into the crowd, clutching a small boy. A child. That was good news. She would stick close to home now, wherever that was. Good luck and bad, as though Allah himself could not decide whether he favored the Old One at this most crucial hour.
The Old One braced himself, knees slightly bent. The massive luxury liner could weather any storm, but old habits died hard. He had been caught once in a sudden squall off Djibouti, caught in a leaky boat, the small sail of the dhow ripped to shreds as he rode the waves…
Still no sign of Rakkim. Whether he was in hiding or on a mission, the Old One didn’t know. Even his most trusted spies, men planted twenty years earlier and privy to the most intimate secrets, remained in the dark about Rakkim. And so did the Old One. It rankled. No, worse than that, it made his joints ache, as though he had slept badly, restless as a woman. Once before Rakkim and Sarah had upended his plans. Ruined decades of work. The Old One had been cautious in those days, slowly moving men into position, believing in the inevitability of his ascension. A one-world caliphate under the green banner of Islam, the Old One’s destiny at last complete. Yet those two had ruined his plans, and these last two years, the Old One had found himself hurrying, taking chances. He knew now that even he could run out of time.
The Old One felt light-headed for an instant at such a thought-it felt like champagne bubbles rising, toasting a New Year’s Eve a hundred years ago. He might as well have been a mayfly, doomed to die with the dawn, a small, buzzing creature unaware of tomorrow. He and the rest of his companions had counted down the seconds until the New Year, mindless pleasure seekers, fallen from grace. All of them gone now. Long gone. Returned to the dust, no wiser than when they became flesh.
He put such thoughts away, tucked them into a quiet corner of his mind with the rest of his ancient memories. Wives and children gone, fortunes won and lost, friends abandoned. Nothing remained now save his goal and his purpose, the path lit by glory, his footsteps guided by God. A solitary path to be sure, but the Old One had long since gotten used to that.
The Old One felt the Star of the Sea shift slightly as the edge of the storm reached it, and wondered yet again if he should have had Rakkim killed when he had the chance.
“How are you doing?” asked Colarusso. “Everything going on, I forgot to ask.”
Sarah ignored him. She had a line of welts across her back where the Black Robe had flailed her last week, and even worse, a nagging suspicion that she had been seen, her presence noted. She had used every precaution getting back home from the Saint Sebastian Day fair, even had her mother take Michael a separate way so that she could observe them approach the house and see if they were followed. They weren’t, but the welts on her back still burned so badly she could hardly stand to take a shower. She would have liked to have stayed and given the Black Robe a few jolts from the stunner. Set it to max and made him sizzle. She shook her head, amused. Such language, Sarah. The price one pays for keeping company with infidels.
“Sarah?”
“I’m good,” said Sarah, finishing her walkabout of the shop. She had taken plenty of her own photos. “Keeping busy.”
Colarusso peered at her, probably noting the bags under her eyes. He took her hand, ran a thumb over her chewed-short fingernails. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’m a gentleman and all, housebroken after twenty-eight years of marriage, but, Sarah…you don’t look good.”
She swatted him. He laughed but it didn’t help. It didn’t help either of them. “I miss him, Anthony.” Her voice shook slightly. “I hate going to bed alone. I hate waking up alone. I miss him. And I’m scared for him.”
“He’s good. He’s the best.”
“Those other shadow warriors who disappeared…they probably thought they were the best too.”
Colarusso held her, the two of them standing there, just breathing.
“You’re his friend, his best friend,” said Sarah, hanging on, her voice muffled against his beefy chest. “He asked me…before he left, he asked me if I thought he was different lately.” She pressed her cheek against him, hiding. “I lied to him, Anthony. I love him, but he’s not the same now and I don’t know why. I couldn’t tell him. Not when he was leaving for the Belt. He’s got…he’s got so much to worry about.”
“Marriage changes a man,” soothed Colarusso. “Most ways for the better, but there were times after Mary Elizabeth was born, I’d get off work and couldn’t decide whether to drive to Canada and not look back, or just drive off the nearest dock.”
“It gets better, though, doesn’t it?”
“Sure.”
“He’s not going to be like this forever, is he? I’m sorry, Anthony…I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
“He loves you, girl, that’s all I know. You just hang on a little longer. You’ll see. He’ll be his old self again. Then, being a good wife and all, you can complain about that.”
They finally broke the clinch. Sarah wiped tears from her cheeks, still feeling Colarusso’s comforting, bearlike heat.
“No sign…” Colarusso cleared his throat, embarrassed. “No trace of explosives in the shop, but plenty of exotic materials and metals, titanium, Carborundum, lithium, palladium…man could have been building anything.”
“Did you run a radiation scan?”
“Jesus, lady, you got a dirty mind.” He grimaced. “State Security must have checked, but I’ll get right on it and make sure.”
“We should go. I’ll let you know if I have any ideas.”
“How about coming for dinner tonight?” Colarusso rubbed the back of her arm. “Bring your mom and the boy and we’ll have a barbecue. Marie’s a lousy cook, but even she has a hard time screwing up a steak.”
Sarah smiled. “Thank you, Anthony, but I’m working late again.”
“The president?”
She sighed, half closed her eyes. Wished for a moment she was back home…not her home now, but her home when she was a girl. Home with Redbeard, her uncle…her protector after her father was murdered. The head of State Security, Redbeard was harsh but loving. Always demanding, turning every incident from spilled milk to a misplaced book into a damned learning opportunity. The training never ended in that house. People like us can’t afford to be surprised, Sarah. We don’t have the luxury of making mistakes or being caught unaware. We have to sense who’s on the other side of the door before they knock, and we have to know if they’re a friend or enemy. Then Redbeard would kiss her hair…or get down on the floor and play dolls with her, until he was called away on business.
“Sarah?”
Sarah put her hood up. “The official state visit to Mexico City is a nightmare. Amistad por Siempre! Friendship forever, my ass. Every senator up for reelection is begging for a spot on Air Force One and the president wants to minimize the political footprint. He’d leave the vice president here if he could, but it’s best to have a Mexican-American beside you when you’re groveling before the Aztlán Empire.”
“It’s that bad?”
“It’s worse. The president’s using the visit to try to negotiate a compromise-giving Aztlán all gas and mineral rights from Southern California, Arizona, and New Mexico, in return for them renouncing all claims to the territory itself.”
Colarusso stared at her. “That’s the best we can do?”
“That’s the best we can hope for. It’s going to take all of Kingsley’s skills and Mendoza’s folksy barrio stories to convince the Mexicans to accept the deal. They don’t need to compromise. They could take the territory if they really wanted to.”