“Mary, mother of God, Janson. This extraction was for one. This craft can’t seat another person. Dammit, we’re already at the limit of our fuel capacity. We can’t take another hundred pounds of cargo without running out of fuel before we reach the landing zone. That’s how fine the tolerances are.”

“I understand.”

“You should. It was your plan, bejaysus. So give me an alternative LZ.”

Janson shook his head. “There’s no place nearer that’s safe, or it wouldn’t be an alternative.”

“And what does your plan call for now?” the Irishman demanded.

“I’ll stay behind,” Janson said. “There’s enough fuel in the RIB to get me to Sri Lanka.” Hennessy looked incredulous, and Janson added, “Using reduced speed, and taking advantage of the currents. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“Sri Lanka’s not safe. You said so yourself, be the holy.”

“Not safe for Novak is what I said. I’ll make do. I’ve prepared contingency plans, in case something like this came up.” He was only half bluffing. The plan he had specified would work, but it was not an eventuality he had foreseen.

Now Donna Hedderman, gasping and sputtering, was brought on board the aircraft. Her face was flushed, her clothes drenched from the spray of the ocean.

“Mr. Janson?” The Hungarian’s voice was reedy and clear, even through the pulsing rumble of the nacelles. “You’re a very brave man. You humble me, and I’m not easily humbled.” He clasped Janson’s upper arm. “I won’t forget this.”

Janson bowed his head, then looked straight into Peter Novak’s brown eyes. “Please do. In fact, I’m going to have to ask you to do so, for reasons of my security, and that of my team.” It was the professional response. And Janson was a professional.

A long pause. “You’re a good man,” the humanitarian said. Katsaris helped Peter Novak up the ramp and into the aircraft and then walked back down it.

The Greek’s face was stern as he faced Janson. “I stay. You go.”

“No, my friend,” Janson said.

“Please,” Katsaris said. “You’re needed there. Mission control, yes? In case things go wrong.”

“Nothing can go wrong at this point,” Janson said. “Novak’s in capable hands.”

“A hundred miles on the open sea in an inflatable boat—that’s no joke,” Katsaris said stonily.

“You’re saying I’m too old for a little sailing?”

Katsaris shook his head, unsmiling. “Please, Paul. I should be the one.” His black hair gleamed in the dawn light.