“The Saviz is in the Arabian Basin, under ten thousand feet of water.”

“You have confirmation?”

“Pickens picked up the photographs today.”

“What about the cargo?”

“The crates were all labeled and Yaxaas’s men did spot checks. It was small arms: rifles, machine guns, and grenade launchers—plus some unguided rockets.”

“Perfect. The source who tipped us off just earned himself a ten-thousand-dollar bonus.”

“Ted . . . Was there anything else on that ship we should be looking for?” said Jake.

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure, just a hunch. There’s nothing we should be worried about?”

“Well, if there was something else, you don’t need to worry about it, because as you just pointed out, it’s all under ten thousand feet of water.”

FORTY-NINE

STEVE, THE ARMY Special Forces major, arrived at the safe house and spread several surveillance photos across the kitchen table. He was giving Pickens context on the images and hoping the veteran CIA officer could help him identify some of the men.

“I’ve seen this guy before,” Pickens said. “He’s a weapons smuggler based somewhere outside Mogadishu, but I don’t know his name.”

“Any issues with us rolling him up and asking him some questions?” Steve asked.

“Have at it,” Pickens said. “Somalia has enough arms dealers.”

Jake and Clap joined the conversation and the four men chatted for a few minutes about the challenges faced by the various parties who were trying to stop the civil war. So many people were getting rich from the bloodshed that there was little desire from the entrenched interests in seeing peace take hold.

“The problem,” said Steve, “is that the border is just too damn porous to stop the flow of weapons. Just yesterday, we intercepted a shipment of small arms coming out of the Port of Kismaayo.”

The CIA men didn’t react visibly, because Steve wasn’t read-in on their operation, but they all had the same thought.

“What were they moving?” Clap asked.

“Iranian AKs and RPGs—garden variety stuff.”

“Anything else?” Jake asked. “Anything unusual?”

Steve hadn’t mentioned the rockets or the machine guns, and the crate with the condensation was still on Jake’s mind.

“No,” said Steve, “but there was other vehicle traffic that night, so I suppose they could have snuck something out before we established cordon.”

“Any idea who was moving the guns?” Jake said.

“No. Cawar is the biggest dealer around, and we’re questioning the drivers, but I don’t expect much to come from it. In this fucking country, it could literally be anyone.”

After Steve had left, the CIA team reconvened in the living room.

“So Yaxaas stole the weapons from the Saviz before he sank it,” said Clap.

“I should have pushed Ted harder to find another way,” Jake said.

“Don’t put this on yourself,” said Clap. “You told him we couldn’t trust Yaxaas.”

“Besides, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” said Pickens.