The Aden Effect Read Online Free Page A

back. But . . .”
    â€œNo ‘but,’ Connor,” she interrupted. “I’m not letting you go.” She walked a few paces and then turned when he didn’t follow. “Are you coming?”
    â€œI need to get something from the boat. It shouldn’t take long. Wait here for a few minutes, OK?”
    â€œI’ll meet you at home,” she answered.
    â€œI’d feel better if you at least carried mace.”
    â€œIn Ullapool?” she laughed in disbelief.
    â€œYou’re right. I should be more worried about the other guy.” He’d seen her drop drunken sailors at the pub who were twice her size—usually foreign sailors because all the Ullapool men knew better than to mess with Maggie.
    â€œGo on and get what you need from the boat. We’ll talk later.” Maggie turned and walked away in her determined Maggie walk. Her boots hit the ground hard with every confident stride, her bottom swayed in tight jeans, and her long red ponytail swung from side to side. She turned back only once to give him a quick smile. She always seemed to know when he had lingered to look at her. The sound of her self-assured footsteps faded around the corner; they were the only sounds in the still of early-morning Ullapool.
    He pivoted and headed toward the piers.
    His boat was near the end of the wooden B Dock. Stark paused to peer out over the darkness that was Loch Broom before carefully climbing on board. Nearly twenty years had passed since a terrorist attack in Italy had given him his first brush with death, but he still hesitated to put his full weight on his bad knee.
    He unlocked the fore cabin and stepped down, electing not to turn on the light because he already knew where to find what he wanted. He pushed aside a stack of books and removed the thick envelope from the small storage compartment; he passed his hand over the sealed envelope and then placed it in his jacket.
    The unmistakable pattern of a car’s headlights dimly appeared in the starboard window, passing from fore to aft. Stark frowned. It was still too early for the fisherman to arrive on the pier and ready their boats. From the direction of the concrete pier, he heard three car doors open; none shut as an engine idled. Deciding it was no concern of his, Stark left the fore cabin and was about to lock it when three men stepped from the pier twenty yards away onto thewooden dock. The idling car’s headlights were still on behind them, and he could see only their silhouettes—tall and thin. Another few yards closer and he could tell that they were not Caucasian or Asian. And all held something at their sides—arm-length rods that appeared to be of metal. His heart beat faster as they continued to approach. Only two could walk abreast on the four-foot-wide dock. The third man was behind them.
    â€œCan I help you?” he asked, testing them as well as to buy time. They were fifteen yards away now, and he could distinguish their features. They appeared to be East African. They did not answer him and continued to advance. They had almost reached the boat now, and he had nowhere to run.
    Stark grabbed an orange life vest and passed his left arm through its straps, holding it like a shield. He took a long knife from the tackle box with his right hand. The first two men raised their rods like clubs. Standing near the wheel, Stark used his left elbow to press the button for the boat’s horn. A loud squeal broke the silence of the night, temporarily distracting his attackers. He leapt up on the boat’s starboard built-in external locker and steadied himself. The boat’s freeboard was a foot above the dock at high tide; he would have the height advantage that Sun-tzu had advised twenty-five hundred years before.
    The first two charged him. One clumsily swung what was now clearly a tire iron. Stark blocked it with the thick life vest and brought the knife up into the East African’s chest. The