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Eight miles away, Zephyr pitched violently as a huge wave hit. In the control room, the Sheikh, Ali, and Hassan were watching The Weather Channel. The pitching yacht threw them against one another.

The door flew open and in strode the captain, Blain Shaffer. The South African balanced perfectly on his stocky sea legs, honed by over thirty years working at sea.

Captain Shaffer addressed the Sheikh. “Sir! Sheikh Ali, with the greatest respect, I insist we depart now. This storm is building. We are not invulnerable. If we stay here, I fear we shall be sunk.”

The Sheikh turned to him, contempt in his eyes. He despised fear—in himself, in others—but knowledge he respected and he knew his captain was correct.

“Even if we run now at full speed, I am not even sure we can evade the storm. We should have left hours ago,” the captain added.

For a second, the Sheikh wanted to snatch the Makarov pistol from Ali’s waistband, pull the trigger, end the captain’s impudence. Then through the haze, reason prevailed.

“Have more faith, Captain Shaffer. Zephyr can outrun this storm.” Al Baharna smiled then. “As soon as the helicopter has returned, from what is only a short journey, we leave. Full throttle.”

The captain nodded, feeling only partial relief. He did not share the Sheikh’s confidence that Zephyr could outrun the storm. The winds were accelerating. Storm warnings were being upgraded to severe/extreme by USGS. Their window of escape was narrowing.

The Sheikh watched his captain depart, then he walked to the windows, braced himself against the bulletproof glass, and gazed out at a mayhem of gray.

He took up his encrypted BlackBerry and he called the ayatollah. When he believed the encryption process was complete, he spoke.

“Assalam Aleikum. Prepare to watch the wrath of Allah raining down on the Infidel.”