I know something is wrong even a couple hundred meters from the villa. The gate's open, and even if Larissa and Jessica's training went long, there's no way that the two of them would have been out for ten hours without giving me a call. I speed up a little, jamming my brakes and hopping out, my pistol ready as I get out. The villa is quiet, the sun's gone down and I sweep the yard, making sure there's nobody waiting for me before climbing the steps towards the door. The window in the back door's been broken open, and I find on the kitchen counter a brown envelope, my name written on it. I tear it open to find a single sheet of paper in Omar Al Gazi's refined hand.

I feel a flare of anger and something else inside me as I re-read the note and then glance at the clock. It's almost eight forty five now, I've got enough time to get to The Sultan's boat, I know where it's docked in Termini Imerese. I head to my room, changing clothes quickly. There's no time to waste but at the same time I'm not going into a nearly assured gun fight wearing a thousand dollar suit with leather loafers on. Instead, I go to the back of my closet and hit the catch that releases my secret panel, opening a small storage area that even Jessica doesn't know about. Inside I pull out my SWAT boots and pants, standard military issue along with my tactical holster with spare magazines and my Kevlar vest. I've never had to use any of this in three years, I've only cleaned it and made sure everything still fit.

Pulling it on, I know that regardless of whatever happens, tonight's going to mean one of two things. Either Rodrigo Camponini dies, or Omar Al Gazi dies. He took Jessica from me, and as I buckle the holster around my thigh, I realize that I care for her more than The Network, more than the FBI... more than my own life even.

“Somehow, some way, you'd catch me and save me before I drown. I trust you with my very life Master. So... let's walk that tightrope. I know you won't let me fall,” she said right before taking the most intense experience of her entire life. She trusts me, and as I double check my holster and pull a baggy t-shirt over top of my Kevlar, I vow that I won't let her down.

I hurry out to my truck, where in the glove compartment I change out the magazine, exchanging the normal rounds for a clip of alternating armor piercing rounds and hollow point magnum rounds. It's a super-hot load, more than I should carry in this pistol, but as I slip it into my holster, I know that I'm going to need it and a lot of luck.

The drive to Termini Iverese seems surreal, and I know what's happening, I'm in panic mode. We went through this at Quantico, how to keep calm when you're in a stressful situation. Of course, Quantico never prepared me for keeping calm when the woman that... the woman that's the most important person in the world to me is being held hostage by an evil man with no morals. I can't even call The Sultan crazy, at least at crazy he could be dismissed. No... The Sultan's as sane as anyone else on the planet. The problem with him is, he's just evil. The church can talk about original sin, about choice, about whatever... I just say Omar Al Gazi's an evil motherfucker.

The docks for Termini Imerese are in two sections. The larger section is near the actual port itself, and is used by most of the larger ships such as the cruise ships that dock here. It's not as popular a tourist dock as Palermo, but some of the smaller ferries and local cruises use Termini's location to bring people to Caccamo and away from the more crowded cities.

The second portion, what I want, is another third of a mile along Viale Targa Florio, the seaside road. I see them up ahead, the series of small artificial bays that were built when the port was put in, and the local fishermen and pleasure craft owners were pushed out. It's at one of these, almost all the way at the end of Targa Florio that I see the lone light that is the running lights on the Ali Baba. It's perfect for Omar Al Gazi, as he can run it with a small crew and dock nearly anywhere.

There's nobody on the deck when I pull up, but I didn't expect there to be, Al Gazi's never been the type to do things in public. The gangplank takes me to the main deck, where I see the crates on the cargo deck, strapped and covered, ready to go.

Above me on one of the crew decks there's movement, and I level my pistol, aiming carefully. The crewman is surprised when he goes to head down the walkway, but recognizes me quickly. “The Sultan is waiting for you.”

“Take me to him,” I order roughly, pulling back the hammer on my pistol. “And pray none of your buddies decide to do something stupid.”

He nods, his hands up as I climb the steps, keeping my pistol on the sailor. When I get up, I gesture with my pistol. “Okay, move it.”

We make our way into what had been one of the passenger decks of the ship, redone into Al Gazi's personal quarters, extravagant with Turkish rugs, hardwood paneling on the walls, and other such luxuries that you'd expect on a billionaire's yacht and not the headquarters of a smuggler king. The sailor points, and I nod, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing. His larnyx crushes easily before I pistol whip him, knocking him out to choke on his own blood. I don't need to have anyone possibly coming up behind me.

I open the door to The Sultan's stateroom to find him and two of his thugs waiting for me. Also, to my joy, is a very alive and very pissed off Jessica, her mouth gagged but her eyes widening when she sees me. “Al Gazi!”

“Come in, Rodrigo,” The Sultan says, ignoring my pistol. “And shut the door behind you.”

“Let her go, Al Gazi,” I demand, raising my pistol, but two of The Sultan's thugs raise their own guns, pointing them not at me but at Jessica. I immediately lower my gun and holster it, knowing that I'm not fast enough to put them both down before they shoot Jessica. “Let her go, and we walk away. I go to America, you stay here, and we don't fuck with each other's territory.”

The Sultan laughs like I just told a good joke. “Go to America? Oh, the irony of that, wouldn't you agree... Special Agent Campo?”

Al Gazi hits a button on his desk, and the large flat panel display on the side wall lights up. The picture's familiar, I remember the day it was taken. The hair color's a little different, I was into highlighting my hair back then, it was the height of the metrosexual craze. Still, I remember that face, back when I was innocent.

“Roderick Corleone Campo, second in his class at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virgina,” Al Gazi says, his voice rising slightly but still he sounds so under control it's creepy. “Born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, graduated from The United States Merchant Marine Academy before entering the FBI.”

“I never did like that portrait, the goddamn look on my face is so stupid,” I admit, Al Gazi tapping the button on his desk again and the slide changing to my grad photo from King's Point. “Bad haircut, but much better. You can see why I did the highlighting though, you ever try living at a service academy?”

“Enough with the jokes,” Al Gazi says, switching off the slides. “You're very good Campo, but not perfect. And while I would normally let Scoglitti take care of this, the fact is you've been threatening me directly for far too long.”

“A job is a job, Al Gazi,” I reply, keeping my cool and closing the door to his stateroom before crossing the room and standing in front of his desk. It gets me closer, which is what I need. “You've been pissing off the US Government more than the rest of The Network.”

“I see. I assume this was about the sales to the 'freedom fighters' in the Mideast? It doesn't matter,” he says. “You could have gotten away with it too, but you made a mistake. This woman. You bought her, gained my personal attention. Before that, I thought you were just an ambitious pup trying to kiss Scoglitti's ass.”

“She's no mistake. She's a better person than any of your men. Better than you, better than me,” I reply, looking over at Jessica. “She's one of a kind.”

“Then she can watch you die first,” Al Gazi says. “Put your pistol on my desk.”

I reach for my pistol, one of the thugs taking his gun off of Jessica to point it at me, and I know that now's the time. I draw, depending on the skills that I've ingrained in myself over the years, the quiet hours in the hills that were as much a part of my training as the running, the lifting, everything else. I disregard the gun that's pointed at me and fire at the thug who's still covering Jessica, my first round taking him in the gun shoulder, making him pull his pistol up even as he fires. The round misses Jessica and hits Al Gazi's desk, and before he can do anything I fire again, this time taking him high, just above his upper lip, the bullet smashing through his teeth before blowing his brains out.

A feeling like a sledgehammer hits me in the chest at the same time I hear a roar, and I roll back, dropping at the same time I go to aim at the other thug. He's got a hell of a piece, a ten millimeter most likely, but my Kevlar stopped most of the bullet's energy and more importantly the slug itself. I come up in a kneeling position and fire, hitting him in the throat and dropping him as his spinal column is torn out by the hollowpoint round. My ears are ringing, but I can see through the pain, and I level my gun at The Sultan, who's stunned by the turn of events.

“Campo... Rodrigo, we can-” Al Gazi says, but I don't let him finish, firing four times into his chest, killing him. Three dead in less than ten seconds, hopefully all of them burning in hell.

My ears start to come back to normal and I hear Jessica screaming behind her gag and I go over, kneeling in front of her and stroking her face. “Shhhh... Jessica, I'm here. I'm going to get you out of here.”

Jessica's eyes go wide and she tries to say something through her gag as I hear the hatch behind me start to open. I spin, firing as I do to catch the two men trying to come through before they can even get the hatch fully open. I empty my clip and drop it, doing a combat reload, just in case. The ship is silent though, and I turn my attention back to Jessica, loosening the cloth around her mouth. “Rodrigo, what is....”

Her words are cut off as I kiss her, a knot that's been forming in my chest dissolving with every second we're pressed together. I finally pull back when we have to breathe, going around behind her. “I know you've got a ton of questions, Jessica. And I promise, I will answer them. But first, we've got some things to do.”

“What?” she asks, and it hurts a little that she didn't use the term Master. But I guess after learning I'm not who I've told her for months I am, I deserve it.

“First, we have to get you untied. Then, we need to make sure the batteries are good in one of the crates so that we can do something else.”

“What's that?” Jessica asks. I go behind her and find the knots that they used to tie her. Part of me has to note... they were a bunch of amateurs, I'm much better at tying up Jessica than these idiots. I have to chuckle, then slip the knot free. “What?”

“Sorry, just a thought,” I explain. “As for what... I need your help blowing this fucking boat up.”