He was still holding the plate he had bought from Salim. He stepped out of the doorway, curled the plate into his wrist, and snapped it like a Frisbee over a nearby rooftop. There was the sound of the plate shattering and the rattle of gravel kicked up by running feet.

Austin and Carina veered off the main thoroughfare through the village and followed a rocky goat path back to the road. Staying close to the side, they walked about a quarter of a mile back to the village entrance.

They headed for the Renault and saw the car that the two men had driven up in parked tight next to theirs. Austin told Carina to wait and went to the snack bar. He came back a minute later holding a corkscrew in his hand.

“This is no time for wine,” she said with a sour look.

“I agree,” Austin said. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “A cold beer would be better.”

He asked Carina to keep watch. He ducked down between the cars as if tying his shoe and jammed the corkscrew point into the other car’s tire. He worked the point around until he felt a rubbery puff of air on his hand and mangled the valve for good measure.

“What are you doing?” Carina said.

“I’m making sure our friends get the point,” Austin said with a wolfish grin.

He slid behind the wheel of the Renault, started the engine, and pulled out onto the road with spinning tires.

AUSTIN DROVE as if he were in the Grand Prix. With Carina map-navigating, they headed toward Fethiye, a coastal market and resort town. He drove directly to the harbor. They walked along the quay past the wide-beamed wooden boats that took tourists out on day trips for fishing and scuba diving.

He stopped at the tie-up for a wooden boat about forty-five feet long. A sign said that the Iztuzu, the Turkish name for Turtle, was for hire on an hourly or daily basis.

Austin crossed the short gangway and called out a hello. A man in his forties came out of the cabin. “I’m Captain Mustapha,” he said, with a friendly smile. “You want to rent the boat?”

The boat was not new, but it had been well maintained. Metal was free of rust, and the wood was highly polished. Lines were neatly coiled. Austin surmised that Mustapha was a competent mariner. The fact that he was still in port suggested that he might be hungry for business. Austin pulled out the map he had shown Salim and pointed to the coastline.

“Can you take us here, Captain? We might like to do some snorkeling.”

“Yes, of course. I know all the good places. When?”

“How about now?”