Chapter Forty-one

 

 

February 25

Overboard Prince Al Khater’s yacht, Lusail

Off the coast of Larnaca, Cyprus

 

Justin tried to pull his arms and legs close to his body, to avoid breaking anything in the fall. Still he plunged hard into the cold dark waters. His lips split, and he tasted blood mixed with salt water. He closed his mouth quickly and ignored the agonizing pain over every inch of his face as he sank further down. I’ve got to swim, swim up, if I want to live.

His right hand was still holding the pistol. He let it go, then pushed his body toward the surface. The white robe clung to his body and obstructed his movements. He kept his eyes open, but everything around him was dark. He threw his right arm upward, followed by his left arm, ignoring the pain stabbing him. He kicked with his legs and advanced a few feet.

Justin felt his lungs beginning to burn. He had swallowed some of the water and had not been able to breathe in enough air before the fall. He looked around to gather his bearings, to determine which way he should go. He needed to go up, but he also needed to avoid being too close to the yacht. The guards might try to take shots at him.

He thrust his body upward, struggling to reach the surface. Justin disregarded the bursting sensation developing deep in his lungs. He would have to surface for air soon.

A few more seconds, he encouraged himself.

He kept swimming, although his movements had slowed. Justin finally reached the surface. He drew in a long deep breath, filling his lungs with precious, life-giving air. He kept his nose just an inch above the choppy surface of the water, avoiding the waves splashing against his face. Then Justin looked to his right at the yacht.

It was sinking.

Flames had swallowed the bow and most of what was left above the water. Two or three silhouettes were trying to escape the vortex swirling around the yacht and growing larger and stronger by the moment.

Yes, get out of here, Justin. Now!

He turned and began to swim away from the yacht as fast and hard as he could. He advanced maybe five or six feet, and he felt the unmistakable pull of the whirlpool. He redoubled his efforts, although pain shot from every part of his body. You can do this. You will do this.

Justin swam as he had never done before. He covered a few more feet. He reached the edge of the vortex and did not feel the pull any longer. He drew in a series of deep breaths, then turned around.

The yacht was gone. A cloud of thinning smoke hovered over the wreckage site, which was littered with debris. No one was moving.

“Justin, Justin,” someone shouted.

He thought he heard Carrie’s voice, but he could not tell her location. Justin glanced around then saw Carrie waving her arms about fifty yards or so to his left. “Carrie, Carrie,” he shouted back.

“Stay, stay there.”

He saw Vale steering the motorboat toward him. Justin glanced around for Ali Mansour and his speedboat. It was on the other side of the wreckage site, circling around the debris. Ali Mansour was standing near the bow, and then he fired a quick burst into the waters.

What about Mossad’s boat? Where are they?

A few seconds later, Vale stopped the motorboat a foot away from Justin and reached with his arm. “Justin, come on.”

Justin grabbed Vale’s arm and mustered all the strength left in him to climb aboard. He then rolled and lay on the deck.

“Justin, how are you?” Carrie crouched over him.

“Oh . . . okay, just . . . out of breath and . . . strength,” he said in a low voice in between gasps and shivers.

Carrie pulled out a couple of thick blue blankets from one of the storage compartments. She wrapped one around his body, then began to dry his head and shoulders with the second one.

Vale turned the motorboat around and began to steer toward Ali Mansour, who was still going around the area where the yacht had been floating only moments ago.

Justin looked at Carrie. “Thank . . . thanks. What . . . what exactly happened?”

“We came along the side, as planned, as soon as we got the green light from Mossad’s operatives.”

“Yes, where did those guys go?”

“As soon as they brought the system down, they sped away to safety.”

Justin nodded.

Carrie continued, “I saw you walk along the side of the deck, then fight with the guard. We drew nearer, and when the fighting started, we joined in.”

“How did the yacht sink?”

Carrie shrugged. She nodded toward Ali Mansour, who was glancing toward them. “He’ll have to tell you all about it. He fired a couple of RPGs. One of them must have struck the engine room, causing the fire and the huge explosions.”

Justin nodded again.

The motorboat bumped gently against Ali Mansour’s speedboat. He glanced at Justin and said, “Justin, brother, how’re you doing?”

Justin coughed. “I’m . . . I’ll be okay, Ali Mansour. Tell me how you brought that Goliath down.”

Ali Mansour shrugged. “They opened up with machine guns. Almost blew my head off.” He showed a few bullet holes on the speedboat’s port side. “So I repaid them in kind. An RPG tore through the engine room. The explosion . . . Wow! Did you see it?”

Justin shook his head. “No, but I felt it. It knocked me off the yacht.”

“Ouch. Anything broken?”

“No, thankfully.” Justin’s body shivered. “Bumps and bruises, but nothing serious. Once I’ve warmed up, I’ll be okay.”

“See if this helps.” Carrie offered him a small thermos. “Hot coffee.”

Justin smiled and sat up slowly. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Carrie shook her head. “No, coffee never hurts, right?”

“Of course, not.” Justin took a long sip. “Mhhhh, good, very good.”

Ali Mansour looked at the yacht’s fragments floating around. The whirlpool was all but gone. “No survivors,” he said with clear satisfaction in his voice.

“You took care of a couple who almost made it,” Justin said in a flat, nonjudgmental tone.

“I did, and I don’t regret it. One of them still had a gun in his hand. These were the people who tried to kill you and us. Besides, we can’t have any witnesses.”

Justin frowned. “Yes, this . . . this mess will be difficult to explain to Prince Al-Taweel. He’ll be furious.”

Carrie shrugged. “Well, the fact that there are no witnesses will definitely help. No one will find their bodies; even if they do, this won’t be connected to us.”

Justin glanced again at the dark swirling waters. Then his eyes went up, to the dim lights of Larnaca, flickering on Cyprus’ coast. Yes, we’ll be able to create a credible coverup.