Chapter 10
Port of Tripoli, LibyaTwo men sat close together at a table beside the docks in the Port of Tripoli. Each had a tendency to seize his cup of coffee like a bear seizes her cub; not with fingers on the handle but by palming the ceramic vessel and wrapping his thick fingers around it.
Their conversation went in spurts, several comments exchanged in seconds, terse words with few syllables, followed by long moments of silence. Both were grizzled and muscular, although the attractive muscles of youth were now shrouded by the folds of midlife's layers.
One wore a close-fitting flannel hat; the other wore a stocking cap familiar to men who spent their lives on the sea. Both were veterans of hard times and knew not to turn down money where it could be found.
“We're to sail up to Geno
