The stock of the sniper’s rifle was just six inches and a half second away from the optimum firing position when Cabrillo found the safety and trigger and loosened a twenty-round burst through the shattered driver’s window. Several of the shots never made it out of the SUV, but enough did, and his spray and pray worked.

The sniper shook as if he’d grasped a live electrical cable when eight of the erratically fired bullets raked his body from hip to head. Juan didn’t have the strength to stop the AK barrel’s inevitable rise on auto, and his last shots punctured the UAZ’s roof. He finally willed his finger off the trigger as the gunman collapsed in the sand.

He let the AK drop from his hand and he sagged to the ground, his back leaning against the truck. He gulped lungfuls of air. He had no concern about the sniper miraculously coming to get him. This wasn’t a movie. The man was clearly dead. Still, Juan gave himself only ninety seconds before levering himself back to his feet.

He rounded the SUV and then staggered to the sniper. Like his clothes, the sniper didn’t have the facial features of a native. He looked—

The explosion knocked Cabrillo off his feet, and the concussive wave blew rust scale off the old fishing boat as if it had been hit with a hurricane-force wind. The sound echoed and rolled across the desert like thunder, and, seconds later, bits of rock and stone and steel rained from the sky. Cabrillo lay on the ground, his hands clamped behind his head to protect it until the hail of debris stopped and just dust and smoke drifted over him.

He stayed on his hands and knees and crawled over to the fishing boat and looked beyond. The prow of the eerie ship was simply gone. All that remained was a smoking hole in the desert floor, a crater the size of an Olympic pool. Thermite, he thought. The sniper had used thermite and a timed detonator to do this much damage. Juan realized now that the largest piece of the ship remaining was the door he himself had used.

He went to it now and gave it an affectionate pat. “Didn’t know I was saving you while you were saving me.”

It was only then he noticed the small brass plate that had been affixed near the door’s lower side. He hadn’t seen it when he was unpinning the hinges because the passageway was so dark, and the inside of the door had faced the sniper the entire time he’d used it as a shield. He had to wipe away a smudge of dirt to read what had been etched on the old identification tag.