In a relaxed manner, Dirk brought an open hand to his mouth and tilted it up as if drinking. “Water?” he asked in a raspy voice. “L’eau?”

The gunman eyed Dirk closely. The NUMA marine engineer carried no visible weapons, his hair was full of sand, and his jumpsuit was caked with dust. He wore no shoes, only dirty, frayed socks. Emerging from the desert in such a condition, he seemed anything but a threat.

The gunman relaxed slightly and slowly turned to the workbench, where a khaki daypack sat on a stool. He pulled a canteen from the pack’s side pocket and tossed it to Dirk.

Dirk unscrewed the cap and gulped down several swallows of the water. It was warm and somewhat foul, but he would have gladly consumed a gallon of the stuff. He smiled at the gunman, then savored a few more gulps.

“Thank you,” he said, and replaced the cap.

He took a cautious step forward and reached out with a long arm to return the canteen. The gunman hesitated before stepping forward and extending his free hand. Dirk waited for the young man’s fingers to come within a hair of his own, then let the canteen slip.

The boy lunged forward, but the canteen bobbled from his outstretched hand and fell to the floor. He suddenly caught himself and rose up, only to be struck by a left hook that tagged him on the cheek. He staggered against the workbench but quickly pulled his weapon up.

Dirk didn’t give him the opportunity to shoot. He dove into the guard, pinning the assault rifle between their two bodies. The gunman tried to spin and knock Dirk clear, but he didn’t have the strength.

Dirk ignored the weapon aimed inches from his face and clutched the young man’s fatigues, drawing him tight to keep the gun aimed clear, while with his other hand he groped the top of the workbench. Feeling a hard metallic object, he pulled it up and swung it against the gunman’s skull. It took three blows before he fell limp and slumped to the floor.

Dirk looked in his hand and saw he was holding a piston and connecting rod from the disassembled engine. “Definitely a knocking problem,” he muttered, and tossed it onto the workbench.

He sprinted to one of the all-terrain vehicles parked by the door. Each had a small mesh trailer attached for hauling parts and equipment, but more importantly, each had a key in the ignition. He straddled one of the vehicles and turned the key. The motor spun to life just as three men appeared at the doorway.