"I told you, I told you, I told you."

"What?"

"I told you that when Hassan got here Sully was going to be in trouble." Molly said.

Nate swerved to avoid a large pothole in the road. Immediately following their brief conversation with Sully after escaping Jack Ward's bunker, they had jumped in the jeep and made tracks for the boat. It was a 48 foot cabin cruiser that Sully had rented, since his plane was all the way back in the States, and it had been a comfortable ride down the coast of Africa. But if Hassan's men were coming in force, there was very little chance of Sully being able to fend them all off with nothing but his revolver. After all, if there was one thing he'd learned about Hassan, it's that he wasn't the type to bring a knife to a gun fight. He was more the type to bring a bomb to a knife fight.

"We'll get there," Nate said with forced cheer, "I promise." Nate found himself hoping once again that his bravado held up. The last thing he wanted to think about was what would happen if Sully ever died on one of these adventures, but he was pretty sure he'd never forgive himself. "Sully?" he hailed into the radio. "Hey Sully, how's it going?"

Sully's gruff voice crackled over the radio in response. "Christ, kid, where you at?"

"We're almost there. Just getting into town now, so maybe five minutes."

"I don't know if I've got that long, Nate. These guys must've been tipped off about us, 'cause they're scouring the marina for us. Three boats, one of them's got a turret on deck." There was a pause, then Sully spoke with alarm "Aww, shit, one of them's pointing right at me!"

Nate's heart sank and he lowered the radio, his mind racing. They were quickly running out of options. He lifted the radio to his mouth and said with determination "Sully, get out of there."

"What? I can't leave you two behind!"

"We'll catch up, Sully. But you've got to leave now."

"What are you going to do to catch up, swim?" Sully asked in exasperation.

"If that's what it takes," Nate replied.

"Kid, I am not leaving you. We've been over this, we stay together-"

"Which is exactly why I need you to leave," Nate cut in. The sound of gunfire rattled across the radio, and Nate's eyes widened. "Sully, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. These guys went to the 'more is better' school of aiming." There was a brief silence, then Sully added "Nate, if you don't make it back, I'm going to give the eulogy at your funeral, and it's going to be all about what a stubborn jackass you were."

"Knew I could count on you, Sully." Nate smiled and put the radio down

"You two have quite the endearing relationship," Molly commented.

"What do you expect from a couple delinquents like us?" Nate asked with a grin.

Traffic suddenly came to a complete stop, and Nate screeched on the brakes to avoid plowing into the car in front of them. "Damn tourists," he muttered. "Probably a sale on swimsuits or something." He quickly formulated a plan, then said to Molly "Hold on tight."

"What the bloody hell-" Molly gripped the sides of her seat as Nate turned off the road and down a steep embankment, then through somebody's back yard, crashing through a privacy fence on the other side. They crossed a side street without looking for oncoming traffic, cutting several people off. With horns blaring angrily behind them, they sped down a grassy hill toward the ocean and off of a short retaining wall, landing heavily on the boardwalk near the marina.

"So much for my bad driving," Molly said.

"We'll call it even for now," Nate replied, putting the car in park and hopping out.

Together they ran toward the marina and quickly spotted Sully about a mile off shore, surrounded by three smaller boats all rushing around him like a swarm of gnats. Occasionally the crack of gunfire echoed across the water.

"What's your plan?" asked Molly.

"I don't have one yet," Nate said.

Molly wiped the sweat from her brow as they reached the floating docks. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

Their feet pounded down the docks as they desperately looked for a way to reach Sully. They scanned the rows and rows of very well kept, very expensive, and very alarm-equipped boats, wishing to no avail for even a rowboat, under the circumstances. Near the end of the pier a man stood gaping at the battle taking place on the horizon, his boat idling in its slip nearby. It was a golden opportunity for the likes of Nathan Drake. He tapped Molly's shoulder and mouthed "Follow my lead." They slipped quietly past the unsuspecting boat owner and leaped into the open cockpit, where Molly deftly cast the docking lines. Startled by the splash of ropes hitting the water, the man turned around just as Nate put the throttle in reverse. "Please and thank you!" he shouted as the befuddled owner screamed and cursed at them.

The motor roared as Nate pushed the throttle as far forward as it would go, and they sped across the water to help Sully.

"You must be friends with a lawyer," Molly said, raising her voice over the sound of the outboard.

"Nope," Nate said. "Just a priest."

Suddenly two more boats appeared from around the bend and headed directly into the fray. Nate's heart sank as he wondered if they would really escape from so many enemies at once, or if their latest stop would be their last. The new arrivals were plowing water as they closed in, and Nate watched as someone on deck pulled out a high-powered rifle. "Aww, crap," He muttered. But his despair turned to surprise as the man fired at one of Hassan's boats instead of Sully.

"Who in the bloody hell is that?" Molly screamed.

Nate strained to see any identifying features of the boats or their occupants. "I, uh, think it's my friends with the F.B.I."

They watched in astonishment as the man Nate could now identify as Lee Turner, looking sharp as always in a white button-down shirt, khakis, and sunglasses, continued fire on the boat, destroying its outboard motor and quickly dispatching its crew, who had been caught completely off guard. Turner's crew then quickly moved on to the second of Hassan's boats, while the boat with the turret slipped over to the other side of Sully's boat. Sully hadn't noticed it slip away, and came running out of the pilot house and began shooting at the goons who were already being tag-teamed by the F.B.I. Meanwhile Nate watched as a beefy thug in a tank top and sunglasses raised the turret and took aim. His eyes widened in horror as he realized he was aiming right at Sully.

"Sully!" Nate screamed. He cut the wheel hard and sped directly toward the turret boat, striking it directly on the bow. The jarring impact sent Nate and Molly flying forward into the bow of their stolen vessel and knocked the thug off balance. Searing pain shot through Nate's right shoulder as his gunshot wound from Molly smashed into the rail of their boat and he landed in a heap together with Molly. Ignoring the pain, he shoved himself to his feet and vaulted the rail onto the enemy boat.

The thug was just scrambling to his feet as he landed on the deck, and Nate wasted no time. He lunged at the thug, landing a punch to his jaw. Molly was right behind him. She had picked up a boat hook and used it to attack a goon who was just coming out of the cockpit, a metallic twang reverberating as it connected with his skull.

Nate swung again at his opponent, but the thug dodged his blow. Nate's momentum sent him staggering and he was caught by another of Hassan's goons who held his arms behind him. The man stank of sweat and alcohol. Smiling a wicked smile, the thug who had been at the gun stepped up to Nate and punched him hard in the stomach. Nate grunted and doubled over from the gut-wrenching blow. He felt the burn of stomach acid rising in his throat and fought the urge to vomit. "Ugh, I felt that," Nate groaned. As the thug reared back for another devastating blow, Nate lifted his feet , transferring his weight to the man holding his arms, and lashed out with both feet, striking the thug square in the belly. The force knocked Nate and the man holding him backward while the gunman reeled from the blow.

"An eye for an eye," Nate wheezed, "and a gut for a gut."

Meanwhile Molly had been disarmed by a pair of henchmen- one particularly swarthy looking man with a greasy goatee and one with dark beady eyes. They squared off by the rail, the two thugs standing between her and Nate.

"This isn't a place for little girls," the beady-eyed thug sneered.

"But I know where you belong," said the one with the goatee. "Right in my-"

Molly interrupted him with a kick to the teeth. He sprawled backward onto the deck, stunned, while the other looked on in shock. A moment later Molly laid the other one flat also with a couple well-placed punches. She blew aside a lock of bright red hair from her face and went to step over the two thugs, but was stopped as the one with the goatee staggered groggily to his feet.

"Not so fast, my dear," he snarled, a trickle of blood running down from his mouth.

On the other side of the deck, Nate and the gunman were still fiercely battling. The thug was expertly blocking most of Nate's attacks, and Nate was getting desperate. He swung wildly at the thug, but the man caught his forearm and redirected his motion as he sidestepped his punch. At the same time he grabbed Nate's collar and shoved him towards the rail, pushing Nate's face down toward the water. Nate felt the top of the rail dig into his aching stomach as he was forcibly bent over it and his face was pushed underwater. The gunman twisted his arm behind his back and up towards the opposite shoulder and leaned his entire weight on Nate. The salt water stung Nate's eyes as he squirmed to try to break the thug's grip on him. The rail pressing into his stomach under the weight of the man was excruciating, and it constricted his airway to a great degree. Nate knew he wouldn't last long unless he could get his head above water. He felt the thug's hand grab hold of his hair and shove his head further under until his face was pressed up against the cold, steel hull. All Nate could hear was the sound of the prop chopping the water behind him as his vision began to gray, and he could feel himself beginning to black out.

Suddenly the weight was removed, and someone yanked him up by his shirt and threw him down on the deck. Nate's lungs burned as he coughed and spluttered and clutched at his aching stomach. Molly was ferociously beating the gunman with the boat hook, and the thug was laying on the deck, shielding his face with his hands. As she raised the hook high above her head for a finishing blow, the thug recovered just enough to catch it as it came down on him, and he shoved it to the side. Grasping further down the handle with his other hand, he used his leverage to throw Molly aside while pulling the boat hook out of her hands. He tossed the hook over the side of the boat and stepped forward to meet Nate who had pulled himself to his feet and was coming toward him. Nate was immediately thrown back to the deck, and the thug took control of the turret once more, swinging it around to finish Nate off.

"Ma'is salama," the thug spat.

"No!" Molly screamed.

A shot split the air. For a tense, horrifying moment Molly watched, waiting to see Nate slump lifelessly to the ground. The gunman's eyes were locked on Nate's, and for a breathless moment they just stared at each other. Then the thug's knees wobbled, and he slowly fell back onto the deck. Molly looked on in astonishment, her gaze slowly turning to see Lee Turner standing on the bow of his boat, pistol drawn and pointing at where the gunman had stood seconds before.

A wave of relief washed over Nate, and he clambered to his feet and placed his hands on the rail. "Well, look who's the man of the hour!" he crowed.

Turner slowly put his gun away, and his hard scowl cracked into a smug smile. "Not the first time I've heard that. And," he shrugged, "probably won't be the last."

Nate forced a smile, not wanting to find fault in the person who just saved his life, but he could tell Molly was a bit put off by Turner's arrogant introduction. "How'd you find us?" Nate asked.

"Drake, you are not a hard man to find," said Turner as he pulled his boat alongside Hassan's gunboat. "Just follow the trail of destruction."

Nate grinned. "I suppose I resemble that."

"Whoo! You kids sure know how to trash a rental!" Sully hooted from the deck of their boat.

Nate smiled up at him. "Sully! Glad to see you're alive."

Sully shook his head, am unlit cigar hanging out of his mouth. "That was never even a question. You on the other hand..."

"So Drake," Turner said, stepping onto the gunboat with him. "What did you find?"

"Well, we found Jack Ward's bunker," Nate said, glancing at Molly. "And a map. And treasure. Lots of treasure." He jutted a thumb over his shoulder. "But of course Babyface had to come and blow the whole place sky high. The treasure's all over the jungle at this point."

"I'll send men to collect what they can," Turner said. "What was on the map? Do you still have it?"

Nate shook his head. "Hassan stole it. It had a mark along the Blue Nile, in Ethiopia. That's it."

Turner cursed under his breath. "Do you know where he is going?"

"He mentioned that Winters is in Alexandria, but that's all we know," Nate said.

"I pulled files on our man Hassan after you sent me the name in Sale," Turner said lighting a cigarette as he spoke. "We've got a real case on our hands."

"Believe me, we've noticed," Molly said tersely.

"He's a religious fanatic who believes he was commissioned by God to protect important archaeological sites, and in particular Solomon's grave. He was born Asim Hassan, but adopted the name Aiden- a name with Hebrew origins- as a reflection of his supposed God-given task." Turner exhaled a puff of smoke. "He formed a group he called 'The Order of the Watchers'"

"The Order of the Watchers?" Nate repeated.

"There are three instances of confirmed involvement of the Watchers in terrorist activity, and it's likely that they were involved in many more." He paused to take another drag on his cigarette. "These guys are dangerous. We have to get to Solomon's treasure before them"

Nate's brow furrowed. "What about Winters?"

Turner reached out and put a hand on Nate's shoulder. "Don't you worry, we'll get to Winters too. Just hold up your end of the deal, and-"

"Winters is my end of the deal," Nate cut in.

"Nathan," Turner's voice dropped low and he removed his sunglasses to look Nate directly in the eye. "There are things in this treasure which cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Trust me."

Nate held uneasy eye contact with him for a moment, them Turner returned his sunglasses to his face. "I need you to go to Alexandria and find that map. The Watchers have their headquarters there. And hey," Turner said with a shrug. "You might find the good doc while you're there." With that he climbed back onto his boat and stepped up to the helm. "We'll be close by," he said. "Stay in touch." Then he pushed the throttle forward and was soon gone.

Nate and Molly watched as Turner and his crew disappeared over the horizon. "You know you can tell the quality of a man by the quality of his friends don't you," Molly said.

"Hey," Nate said defensively, "don't be making it sound like Turner and I are buddies or something. This is all business. Besides," he added, "he's probably just doing his job."

Molly scoffed. "All I know is that is one arrogant bastard."

"Are you two gonna stand there all day or are we going to get the hell off this goddamn rock?" Sully called. He threw a Jacob's ladder over the side of the boat.

"Also," Nate said in a boastful aside to Molly, "I'm friends with Victor Sullivan. That's gotta count for something."

"You know what it counts for?" Sully said, his cigar still clamped between his teeth. "A dollar in the hand, none in the bank, and a lifetime of second-hand smoke."

"I rest my case," Molly said as she climbed the ladder.

"Not real helpful Sully," Nate called.