"Djibouti?" Ava repeated guardedly.

"Yes, Djibouti," Adam stated matter-of-factly. "A short detour. I'll drop you off and pick you up later. It'll be safe for you there."

"And where, exactly, will you be while I'm vacationing in Djibouti?"

"Aden, of course."

"Are you crazy, Adam? You can't return to Aden. Ali Khan will be there. And Mahmoud will have communicated with Badaki, informing him that you're still alive, and that you've rescued me. You'll be toast!"

Ava had piloted Vendetta, under power, throughout the night. She had gotten Adam to provide a compass heading and she had done her best to stick to it; juddering along into a headwind with no idea where they were, or where they were going. Adam had awakened in the early morning hours. She had changed his dressing and then managed to help him get below decks. She'd prepared soup for him and he appeared to be regaining strength.

Now, he had lumbered his way topside and was working with her to help hoist the sail. He said, "Don't worry, I won't be there long enough to get toasted. I have a few things to clear up. I wanna donate The Beast to some deserving soul, re-fuel Vendetta, maybe find a replacement tender; then, off I go."

"You're suggesting that's why you're sailing to Yemen? To give away that old rattletrap bike and gas up? That is total BS!"

"Not at all, it's gotta be done." He took the wheel and edged Vendetta a few degrees off the wind. He close-hauled the sail; they were beating north-west. The skies were low and eel-colored and the wind was gusty, they bucked and reeled over the dark swell. Adam was managing to balance most of his weight on his good leg.

Ava seated herself on the cockpit banquette, lowered her head. She drummed her fingers on her lap. She sighed deeply then addressed Adam with conviction in her voice, "Adam, I told you I know why you came to Aden. And we both know that's the reason you're headed back. Admit it."

"There's nothing to admit. And you know jack-shit about my reasons for being in Aden."

"Really?" Ava hesitated, thought about it for three beats, then plowed ahead, "Okay, how about this: Your brother, Cole, was one of the sailors killed a decade ago in that terrorist attack in Aden; Badaki was one of the architects of that hit; it was his al-Qaeda initiation; the Yemen authorities captured, tried and promptly acquitted him; later, they made a sizable payout to the bereaved American families to shut everybody up. But you're not the shut-up type; you came here to murder Badaki, and avenge your brother's death."

Adam gripped the wheel more firmly. He tilted his head back and looked into the tarnished-silver sky. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He dropped his head, responded, "So you know. That doesn't change one friggin' thing. We each came here for our own reasons, good reasons. But you're mistaken about one thing, Ava. It's not murder I'm intending; it's execution." He did not make eye contact with her.

"Yes, we each did come here for our own reasons. And believe me, Adam, I am so, so sorry about Cole. It's a tragedy, a horrible thing. I can only begin to imagine your tremendous grief and anger. But more violence will not make it go away. And I was beginning to think... maybe hope, that we have a reason to leave together before you do something we will both regret."

"I'll have no regrets. You'll be in Djibouti. I'll come for you afterwards."

"Afterwards? Sure, if you're not dead, or Inspector Guma hasn't locked you up for life in some rat-hole prison."

"Ava." Now Adam looked at her with determined eyes... determined, but glassy with nascent tears. "I must do this thing. You've got to understand. Cole was my younger brother. He deserves justice. I swear: Badaki will not get away with it; he'll pay dearly. My family and I deserve closure. When they learn what I've done, they'll be at peace and the Old Man will have gained respect for me."

"I don't know your father, Adam. But I seriously doubt that cold-blooded murder will make him proud, or provide closure. And what about us? Or, is there an 'us'?"

"Works for me, Slim," Adam said, then added resolutely, "soon as I finish what I gotta do."

"Adam. I can cope with, and maybe even appreciate, a certain degree of male pattern badness. But do you think for one instant I could be with a stone-cold killer?"

"That's something you'll have to decide for yourself, Ava. Listen, I'm not in love with the idea of killing Badaki. But somebody's got to do it. If you're not in Djibouti when I return, I'll know what your decision was."

"Fine," Ava snapped back. "But I can tell you right now, Mister East: I won't be in Djibouti."

Ava saw Adam's shoulders go slack and his lips purse regretfully before she added, "I won't be in Djibouti, because I'll be in Aden. You've got unfinished business? Well so have I. I'm getting my story... shoot, I'm part of the story now. And I'm clearing myself of Zalmay's murder. So stuff that in your effing pipe, Popeye. And, change course."

"Whoa! Hold on. No friggin' way you're going to Aden with me. I took you on this trip and almost got you screwed blue. It was a crack-brain move; I shoulda known better. Nope, I'm dropping you off in Djibouti."

"You do that and the second I'm on shore I'll contact Inspector Guma. You'll be arrested before you can step one vengeful foot on dry land."

"You'd betray me?" Adam looked at her, his entire being exhibiting the sting of it.

"You'd kill? In cold blood?" Ava retorted. "I'll tell you what, Adam East. If that's what it takes to stop you, I will betray you."

"And if you go to Aden with me you won't rat me out?"

Ava offered a little shrug, said, "That's something I'll call... let's wait-and-see."

"I'll make a note," Adam said drily. Then he looked away from Ava. His jaw hardened. He drew in two deep breaths then lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Adam stood erect, spun the wheel four revolutions to starboard. Vendetta turned right-angled to the big nor'wester, heeled hard-over, and lunged fearlessly towards Aden.