Chapter 33

December Twenty-third

Dimitri Konstantinopoulos was a ship captain from a long line of ship captains. It had been his father who had purchased the freighter Palinouros and passed it on to his son. Dimitri's entire adult life, and much of his youth, had been spent plying the ports of the Mediterranean, the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf. It was a rewarding life, if not necessarily in a financial sense, and he had never had to call another man his master. At least that had been the case a mere three weeks ago.

Now, after a number of trips back and forth between Basrah, Iraq, Mumbai, India, and Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, the Palinouros was tied up to a pier in Ashdod, Israel, and he was watching as a single cargo container was carefully lowered into its hold. Earlier that night, he had stood by behind a warehouse as more than fifty men, most in the traditional garb of Orthodox Jews, but a few in the uniforms of the Israeli Defense Force, had shuffled into it, their faces filled with despair. Like his did now, their eyes had reflected oddly in the moonlight.

Once the container was loaded, he and his crew would join its occupants. In the morning, a crew hired by the things he now served would board the ship and take it through the Suez canal, as there was not a southbound convoy available until then. After docking at the port of Duba, Saudi Arabia, the temporary crew would offload some cargo and depart the ship. Then, at dusk, he and his men would cruise south to the port of Jeddah, just to the west of Mecca, where a truck would be waiting for them.