Sheik's Revenge(65)
“You better get through it, my brother,” Zakir replied. “Nikki went into labor an hour ago, and when those twins come out into this world, they’re going to want to meet their uncle, understand?”
Emotion tightened Omair’s chest. He glanced at Faith. He wanted to share their news with Zakir. But now was not the time to tell his brother that he, too, was going to be a father.
Signing off, Omair said to Faith, “Best-case scenario is air support from Al Na’Jar within three hours—they’ll need to get through Moroccan airspace to the coast, and then fly over the ocean.” He zoomed the image out as he spoke.
“The closest mainland is the coastline south of Casablanca to the east, over here.” He pointed. “The next closest land is the island of Funchal, there to the west of us.”
“And miles of nothing but ocean in between,” Faith said. “The sun will set before reinforcements reach us.” She began to pace, tying her robe closed. Then she whirled back to face him.
“You’ve got dive gear on board—I saw it.”
“What are you thinking?”
“That we’re not going to get backup before those jet boats move in. Either they’re going to blast us right out of the water with RPGs, or they’re going to board with weapons. Either way we’re outgunned and outnumbered. Once they start to move closer they risk us picking them up on radar, even in the dark, so I figure the most efficient way for them is to come in at high speed, and fire some kind of handheld missile. Boom, we’re gone.”
“What do you suggest?”
“The only way for us to survive is to go underwater, below the boat. Way below. At night they won’t likely pick this up on satellite. And if for some reason they don’t try and blast us out and come aboard instead, we can surface, come over the backs of their crafts, and use the element of surprise.”
She moved to the door. “I’m going to get the scuba tanks. I saw them on the deck—”
But he grabbed her, his face going serious. “Faith, you can’t do this.”
“Of course I can, I’ve worked scenarios like this before.”
“No, I mean, I can’t allow you to do it. You’re pregnant. Diving is not safe, the fetus absorbs as much nitrogen as the mother and can’t get rid of it.”
She hesitated.
“Are…you sure?”
“There’ve been no official studies done, but the consensus is that depth and pressure increase risk to the fetus. This information I got from a medic with the FDS—we had a military diver who got pregnant, and they made her take maternity leave as soon as they knew.”
She dragged her hands over her hair, going suddenly pale. “Dammit, Omair, you’ve just given me all the reason in the world to live, to change, to try something new. I’m used to being in control—I can’t just sit here!”
Conflict tore through Omair.
He didn’t want to risk harming his child, but she was right, their chances were not good above water. Then it hit him. He jerked back, holding her at arm’s length.
“The diver propulsion vehicles! They’re like underwater jet skis—the DPVs can be set to shut off at a predetermined depth. It’s not breathing the compressed air from the tanks that’s dangerous, Faith, it’s depth. We could use the scuba tanks, stay no more than eight feet below the surface and travel out from the yacht. If we leave right now we can put in some good distance before nightfall. Go get suited up!”
Omair quickly called Zakir, outlining their strategy. “We’ll set a direct westerly course toward the island of Funchal.”
“The batteries on the DPVs won’t last that long,” Zakir replied. “You won’t reach land.”
“We’ll take the individual survival rafts with us, inflate them once the coast is clear. We’ll need long line evacuation from the ocean when the helos get here. The rafts have personal locator beacons that are activated upon inflation. And I’ll have my sat phone.”
He gave Zakir the yacht coordinates.
“I’ve got you on satellite now, I can see where you are.” He paused. “Be careful.”
“The twins?”
“Not yet. By the time we pluck you from the ocean, they’ll be waiting for you. Don’t disappoint Nikki, Omair.”
Omair heard the subtext and worry in his brother’s words.
“I won’t.” Omair signed off, raced to the next deck. Faith was pulling a wetsuit over her naked body. He stalled for a moment at the sight of her full bare breasts as she zipped the suit over them.
“Not exactly comfortable,” she said. “But no time to find a bathing suit.”