EYE for eye, a western film, in the editing bay now!

I check the Mumin guy, just to make sure the 9mm took out a chunk of skull and see gray matter mixed with the pooling blood on the carpet, then turn back to Alistair.

He’s speaking in Arabic and motioning with the muzzle. When I make the door, I see another raghead. This one is in a traditional white robe and even has a jambiya, the traditional dagger, stuffed into the sash wrapped around his waist.

Alistair obviously knows his stuff and has stayed back from the creep with his long arm. So, I close and jerk the dagger from his belt. It’s a nice piece with a jeweled grip. 

“Where’s the fire control box,” I ask.

“Fuck you,” he says, in perfect English.

He’s sorry. My instantaneous reaction with the butt of the Glock has shattered his front teeth. He’s bent over, hands on knees, spitting blood and shards of teeth, but it doesn’t keep me from asking again. “The fire control box?”

But all I get is a gurgle from the haji with the perfect English. But then I understand as he straightens. He’s pointing to his own chest. “American, McCord…Sean McCord,” he’s trying to say.

Then I realize this is guy Connie turned up when she was hacking sites to check out passengers and crew on the Blue Pearl. This is the first time I've come face to face with him. It makes me angry with myself that I wasn't more diligent.

“No shit, a true-blue American?” I ask, and he nods as hard as he can, looking hopeful, hand over mouth, blood seeping between his fingers.

I can't help myself from hitting him face-on with the butt of the Glock, bust his nose which sprays like a garden hose, and he tumbles to the floor. “Fucking traitor,” I manage, glad I'm not impeded by rules of engagement.

Alistair taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to see a wall-mounted panel with a Plexiglas cover. Under it is a series of switches under little individual fold-up Plexi covers, and each of them is numbered to match a deck.

“You see any reason to wait?” I ask my new running mate. “Shall I close them?”

“Jolly good,” he says, and I flip them all.

If we’re going to take the ship back, it has started here.