When they got to the garage, it was packed with people being helped aboard the boats one by one.

Finally, Dima let Nir stand, although he was essentially holding him up.

“Bring me the captain,” Nir said.

Doron found the man and brought him over. “I’m counting on you to get these people safely ashore. Do you understand? If you double-cross them or any harm comes to even one, I will find you, and I will kill you. Tell me Yes, sir.”

“Ye-yes, sir,” the man stammered.

Nir held him with a hard stare, then said, “Go.”

“Excuse me. Excuse me.”

Nir turned and saw a young Filipino man. Although he couldn’t recognize his face, his voice brought tears to Nir’s eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” the young man said, shaking his hand.

Nir pulled him close and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you.”

As he held him, the Filipino whispered, “Jesus, friend. Jesus, friend.”

Nir released him and said, “Yeah, you just might be right about that.”

The rest of the staff and crew were loaded onto the boats, and they set off for shore. The Shayetet 13 and Kidon teams left soon after, heading the opposite direction.

ARABIAN SEA, OFF MUMBAI, INDIA—AUGUST 24, 2021—00:43 / 12:43 A.M. IST

The two hadn’t stopped arguing. Saad was doing his best to tune them out, as well as the incessant sniveling of the doctor, whom the Israelis had left hog-tied on the salon’s floor. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to die, but he was positive he would—and soon. He didn’t want to spend his final moments on this earth caught up in a blaming squabble. Ultimately, it really didn’t matter whose fault it was. That would be for Allah to sort out.

His eyes focused on the ugly brown globe contained in the fruit bowl. He’d finally looked it up last night and discovered it was a jicama. A perusal of Wikipedia informed him that it was not a fruit but a root vegetable, like a turnip. That was so odd to him. Amidst all these colorful, exotic fruits, Marcos had painted a colorless edible root. Something about that was so profound. Was that representative of her? Was that how she felt in her life or in the art world?

If only I had her back on my boat. The questions I would ask her. There’s so much I still don’t—

CARL, MOSSAD HEADQUARTERS, TEL AVIV, ISRAEL—22:45 / 10:45 P.M. IDT

The fireball was spectacular. It filled the large monitor on CARL’s wall with light. When the concussive wave hit the drone, it briefly went off course but then soon reacquired its position.

All those months of work, thought Nicole. It was all for this moment. Nir must be going out of his mind watching it from the water.