The ferry chugged toward the dock and groaned as the engines reversed to slow it down. From the rail, bracketed on both sides by Lee's arms, Amanda watched a few workers scramble at the dock to catch rope and tie the lumbering boat off to its moorings.
The dock was long enough for a couple dozen boats comparable to their ferry and some smaller private yachts, speed boats and skiffs. Off to the right, a string of smaller docks jutting out perpendicular to the wharf, with mooring for small, personal watercraft. Twenty yards inland, a row of single-story warehouses faced the water. They housed a handful of businesses – the dock office, a couple that stored freight, one that repaired boats, and a couple more that handled produce and seafood. They weren't large, but they were tidy and in good repair, which spoke of a busy community that catered to the tourist trade. Here and there, orderly piles of wooden crates in various states of use dotted the ground.
Right in the middle, an archway spanned a 20-foot gap between two of the buildings. Beyond it, an open gate gave way to a colorful bazaar, thick with the aromas of various spices and delicacies. Once colorful awnings, faded but still functional, rippled in the breeze.
After docking, the ferry passengers squeezed down the crowded gangway. The distant screech of gulls, and the slap of water against the pilings greeted them. Over the salty air and low hum of diesel engines puttering away by the dock, you could smell the catch of the day.
Since they had watched from the bow, they were among the last to deboard. Amanda pulled Lee along with the crowd, anxious to immerse herself in the novelty of it. Lee had been here before, but enjoyed it all anew through the curious, wondering eyes of the woman stretching his grasp to the fingertips, their arms spread across the pathways as she attempted to take in every new thing. Somewhere in the bazaar, Omar's man would find them. Until then, they were tourists.
They wandered for a while, sometimes hand in hand, other times apart, through booth after booth, always at least keeping an eye out for where the other was standing, and aware that someone was looking for them. The bazaar was organized in rows, so they worked their way up and down, from the end by the dock, to the other, and back again. Among the new and fascinating, it was easy to pretend they didn't have an agenda beyond exploring. They bought a kabob from a vendor whose grill was fashioned from an old oil drum, and took turns picking a bite off of the skewer as they walked. Lee browsed through a stall full of dusty books and looked at a table of fine leather belts and bags. Amanda spent some time looking at a wall of hand-painted seascapes and commented that they might come back through this aisle later, because her mother would like one of them very much.
In one colorful little booth on the row end by the water, there were vibrant linen scarves and woven handbags. A small girl sat behind her parents and carefully knotted a handful of bright cotton strings into a bracelet. A basket of her completed work sat on the little table in front of her. Amanda admired them, murmuring a soft greeting to the adults and smiling as the young one glanced up at her. Sifting through the varying bracelets she drew out one comprised of vivid blues, purples, and greens. Like a peacock. Knotted in between braids of alternating colors, a few dark purple glass beads shimmer in the sunlight.
"These are lovely. Did you make them?" Amanda smiled, holding the item up at eye level.
The mother spoke a few words to the little girl, who smiled shyly and nodded.
"How much?" Amanda selected a couple more from the basket and paid the mother more than she asked. "Please tell her how beautiful her work is?" She tucked them into her pocket and turned back to look for Lee.
At a distance of maybe sixty feet, he was engrossed in conversation with a man over a table of jewelry. She caught Lee's eye, and for a moment, he looked at her so intently, she had no doubt that the man with Lee was their contact.
Behind them, newly arrived from the next ferry, shoppers by the dozens were descending on the front gate. The already crowded market was about to be inundated.
The first gunshot didn't sound like one at all, drowned out by the blast of the departing ferry's horn. A few tourists looked up in alarm as a wooden post a few feet to the right of Lee and his companion splintered and rained chips of wood over them. Two more shots shortly followed. Shouts of confusion erupted and en masse, more than a hundred people flooded the aisles, diving under tables and trying to find cover.
Amanda worked her way along between the booths, trying to stay low and get a fix on Lee. He had been much closer to the main aisle than she was, but now the spot where she'd last seen him was in chaos. In the pushing and shoving, several people had fallen and as more people pushed into the space, a logjam of bodies made getting through the aisle impossible. Somewhere in that tangle of people, Lee was likely trapped. If she could only get close enough, she might be able to pull him out. Another shot rang out, much closer to her than before.
Amanda crouched behind a stack of boxes that while miserable cover, at least provided some concealment. From her position, she had a narrow view of the front entrance. Two armed men shouted and brandished their weapons, driving forward through the crowd. While they fired at random to clear their path, they did seem to be searching for something. One of them cut to the left and was moving in her direction, searching the booths further away from the entrance.
Two individuals broke through the knot of people in main aisle, and like opening a faucet, a stream of people spilled after them in Amanda's direction. In short order, her whole side of the market began to fill with people running toward an exit in the far back corner. One man in a total panic plowed through her hiding place, scattering the boxes and knocking Amanda to the ground. As she scrambled to her feet, the gunman on her side of the market, still a good two hundred feet away, looked right at her, and immediately shouted for his partner.
Oh no.
Lee was still unaccounted for, and if the crush of people was as violent as it appeared, potentially injured. If she could lead them away, he might have a chance to crawl out to safety. With only a moment to consider her options, Amanda ran.
She had a good head start. When it came to physical skills, hand to hand was a disaster, but when Amanda put her mind to it, she was faster flat out than half of the agents she trained alongside. A lifetime of tennis and jogging and the last decade of baseball practice had kept her in good form, and these goons didn't look much like runners.
"No straight lines," she said to herself as she ducked back and forth through the stalls and other people, all the while praying that Lee was safe. A bullet whizzed past, several feet wide of her, driving many of the people around her to the ground in fear. The men were shouting to one another. While it cost her a few seconds, she kept weaving between the aisles, knowing that a direct path was as good as standing still if they were halfway decent shots. The exit was within reach. She had a fair chance to get lost among the streets and buildings, if only she could get out of this ridiculous shooting gallery of a market.