The Pirate (6 page)

But tonight that was something he didn't have time to think about. He was patrolling. He seldom went on raids anymore. He saved his presence for times when he was dealing with cargo that couldn't be trusted to one of his lieutenants.

Tonight he was out on the Indian Ocean waiting for his prey. The
Maersk Angus
was a ship they'd taken before, and they had gotten a fair amount of ransom. This time they'd heard rumors that there was a different crew in place—the type of crew that only went out with heavily insured cargo. And that had piqued Samatan's interest.

He had one of his men—a Dane named Fridjtof—onboard. Fridjtof had been an asset to his group for a while. At first he'd relied on gut instinct to find ships to attack, but now he liked having inside information.

He also had several contacts in the ports in the Gulf of Aden, which helped him decide which ships to attack.

He was currently on his own ship. A tanker that housed machine guns, rocket-propelled grenades, speedboats, parts for repairing speedboats, and two helicopters. His ship even looked like the Maersk tankers they often captured. He had spent the last three years perfecting every detail of his operation.

Many nations had their navies patrolling the shipping lanes now to protect the ships so Samatan had had to up his game. He was now using nighttime attacks and men on the inside so that the alarm couldn't be raised.

Instead of taking his hostages to the pirate town of Eyl, Samatan preferred to keep them on his ship. It was easier because his location couldn't be traced to any of the on-land locations. He'd seen his former leader captured that way, and Samatan had no plans on being tried in a Kenyan court for his crimes.

“Sir, we have word that the
Maersk Angus
has been taken,” Habeb said, joining him on the bridge. Habeb had been his first mate for the last eighteen months. He was a tall, skinny African who'd grown up in one of the poorer areas of London.

They'd met in the early nineties when Samatan had attended university in Rome. It had been a troubled time for Samatan, whose father had been a vocal opponent of the dictator. Samatan had lost his scholarship money for school and his visa. Habeb had offered him a place to stay and had helped him find papers to stay in Rome and continue his schooling.

“Very good. Was there any trouble?” Samatan asked.

“The Captain had a gun but we were able to capture him and the entire crew. There is also a group of doctors onboard from the U.S.”

Samatan hadn't planned on hostages that weren't members of the ships' crew. The crews were easy to manage because they'd been operating in this area long enough that most of the men understood that killing wasn't the objective of the pirates.

“That could be bad. Does Fridjtof know who they are?” Samatan asked.

“I'm not sure. Do you want me to get him on the radio?” Habeb asked.

“Yes. I want as many details on the hostages as he can get,” Samatan said.

He had always been careful to keep close contact with his men. He knew that loyalties could quickly change. His men were loyal to him because he paid well and on time but also because he was quick to deal with anyone who betrayed him. And he never showed weakness.

Walking down to the radio room, he knew that he was close to having everything he wanted. The life he'd always craved. It wouldn't be in Somalia. Somalia was a land of broken dreams and death and he'd never bring the family he intended to have there. Instead he'd go to Sardinia, where Mare lived, and marry her. She knew nothing of this life. Of the man he was here. But he'd leave that all behind once he had his fortune.

He could have stopped a year ago but he had made promises to his older brother and his mother. His promises were that he'd try to change the lot of their clan so he was still roaming the seas and taking his fortune from the countries that had turned their backs on Somalia because they didn't want to aid a people whose land had no oil or precious diamonds to offer in exchange.

“Come in
Maersk Angus
,” Habeb said once they reached the radio room.

“This is the
Maersk Angus.
P1 speaking.”

All of the pirates who'd taken the ship were given a number from 1–5. P1 was the man who would stay on the radio and maintain communication with Habeb.

Samatan had drilled into his men that they could never use their real names or speak in their native tongue. For the most part his crews spoke in Portuguese—a language spoken by many who roamed the seas. Even though Samatan realized that many of the captains whose ships they took realized the pirates were Somali, Samatan liked to think it gave him plausible deniability to pretend to be Portuguese.

“P1 please find M-insider. I have a need to question him,” Habeb said.

“Right away, sir.”

Samatan and Habeb waited four minutes. Both men were standing looking out at the sea. “It's a nice night.”

“Yes, sir, it is. I've always loved a night like this.”

“Why?” Samatan asked.

“Feels like we're the only ones in the world and that we own it.”

Samatan laughed. “Yes it does.”

“M-insider here.”

“We need further information on the U.S. hostages,” Habeb said.

Samatan preferred to let his second in command speak on the radio. He knew that once they broadcast their voices they had no idea who else was picking up the signal.

“I know only that they are all from the States and got on the ship in Madrid. I can try to find more information but I'm not sure how cooperative they'll be,” Fridjtof said.

Habeb glanced at him.

“We need to know what we are dealing with,” Samatan said.

Habeb nodded, then spoke into the radio. “Use whatever means are necessary to find out who they are. We need to know what we are dealing with. We've already sent a ransom message to the Maersk shipping company.”

“I'll contact you as soon as I have the information,” Fridjtof said.

“We will await that information,” Habeb said.

“Do you think this is going to be a problem?” Habeb asked Samatan.

Samatan shrugged. “If it is, we will deal with it.”

He had learned early on that if he was going to lead this group of men he could never show doubt or fear. Even when he wasn't sure of himself he always projected confidence. In his world it was kill or be killed and a weak man died a young man.

And he had plans to live to be an old man—something that few of his countrymen ever dreamed of. He doubted they even had a chance to dream when every day was a constant struggle of surviving and dreams felt like a frivolous luxury. Samatan had always dreamed of bigger and better things. He'd always dreamed of a life outside the poverty and the violence that was Somalia.

And he'd do whatever he had to in order to ensure he got it.

D
aphne was frightened. Although she'd learned as a mother to mask her own fears, right now she couldn't. Armed men had gathered them all together like cattle and forced them into the main hold of the tanker along with the crew. All around them in the dank and dark hold were large crates. Some she recognized as the supplies her team was bringing with them.

She felt trapped belowdecks, and an insidious panic was starting to grow inside her.

She needed to focus on something.
Laz.
He was something she could do something about.

“Why are you glaring at the Captain?” Franny asked as she came up beside Daphne.

“I just don't understand what happened. I think he should have been better prepared to defend us,” Daphne said.

“Look, he's locked up with us,” Franny said. Her long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She had the same worried look on her face that Daphne was sure she wore too.

“I know that but I don't like…I just need someone to blame for this. I guess I'm scared and looking for a fight.”

Franny laughed and wrapped her arm around Daphne's shoulders. “Me too. I almost took Bob's head off because he said that I should put on a sweatshirt so I didn't look too feminine to the pirates.”

Daphne tried to smile but she was scared. There was a knot in the pit of her stomach that simply wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried to focus on being positive.

She'd never been in a life-and-death situation before. She didn't count the times she'd been in the operating room and had a patient code, because in the operating room she was a god and she knew she had the skills to bring a patient back.

But on this ship…out here in the real world, she wasn't as sure.

She had no experience in what to do here. And she needed to do something. She needed to be active and not just sitting around waiting for something to happen.

“What did the Captain say?”

“Not much. I still don't really trust that man,” Daphne said. “I know that his first priority is our safety and the safety of his ship but…”

“I'll go talk to him,” Jerry said. “I think maybe he's used to dealing with men.”

Jerry walked away and Franny snorted. “That remark had machismo all over it.”

Daphne shook her head. “Maybe that's what we need here. Maybe I'm just borrowing trouble by worrying about him, but I need to do something to make us all feel safe.”

“Us all? Or yourself?” Franny asked.

“Myself. I hate feeling like a victim.”

“Me too. But in this case”—Franny said, gesturing at the room they were locked in—“I don't think there is anything we can do except wait.”

“I stink at waiting,” Daphne said.

“Well, that's all we can do,” Jerry said, returning to their side.

“Why?”

“Because the Captain doesn't want to take a chance on getting us killed.”

“So he thinks we're safe,” Daphne asked.

Jerry shook his head. “I didn't say that. I think he's not sure of our skills and wants us to just be good little passengers until the pirates make a move so he can see how they are going to treat us.”

Daphne couldn't explain it but just hearing that they were to wait and see made her feel like she was going to explode. That was not a plan in her mind. That was like saying an abused woman should sit quietly so she didn't incur the wrath of her abusive husband.

She didn't admit to them that her real anger with Laz stemmed from the fact that he was treating her like everyone else. But then again, why shouldn't he? She was just like everyone else on this tanker—a passenger and his responsibility. She was nothing more important to him then that.

She didn't fool herself that just because they'd had sex anything had changed between them. It hadn't for her. Really, it hadn't.

Laz looked at her for a second and then turned away.

“I can't believe this.”

“What?” Bob asked, coming over to join her.

“The Captain wants us to just sit tight and wait this out. See how the pirates treat us.”

“Well, it makes sense. These men are unpredictable,” Rudy said. “They remind me a lot of the guerrillas I met in South America.”

“All criminals are unpredictable,” Franny said.

“Not like these kind of men,” Rudy said. “These are men who have nothing to lose because they have nothing to go home to.”

Daphne understood that mentality. “How do we deal with them?”

“I'm not sure. I think the Captain has the right idea. We should wait this out and get a good gauge of the men who are holding us. Right now they have locked us away, which tells me they don't want to have to kill us,” Rudy said.

“I agree,” Bob said. “These men aren't really killers unless forced to it.”

“So we have no choice but just to wait,” Daphne said.

“Definitely. We are going to have to just wait and see what they do next. I think we should all be on our guard,” Bob said.

“I have some training in hand-to-hand combat,” Rudy said. “And I am damned good with a weapon but we don't have any.”

“No, we don't,” Bob said. “Maybe we should scavenge around this area and see if we can find anything we could use as a weapon.”

“Good idea,” Daphne said. “I'll do that.”

Jerry laughed. “What's up with you?”

“I just can't sit still. If I do I'll think about all I have to lose and just make a long list of regrets about coming on this trip,” Daphne said.

“Me too,” Rudy said. “I have enough regrets to live with already. I'll go with Daphne and see what we can find.”

“Should we involve the crew?” Jerry asked.

“I'll let them know what we're doing. If they want to be a part of it, then they can participate.”

Bob moved off to talk to the others but before any of them could move the door opened and three pirates stood there.

Daphne caught her breath as she looked at the skinny men with mean intent in their eyes. Each of them wore a bandolier with bullets in it and carried two semiautomatic rifles. And though she'd always been a big Second Amendment proponent at home, she'd gladly give up the right to bear arms if it meant she didn't have to face an armed man now.

 

Laz didn't like the tension in the room. He knew he'd upset Daphne. He wished he could reassure her and her group, but he couldn't take a chance on letting anyone know what the real agenda was here.

When the door opened and three of the pirates stood watching them, Laz had a bad feeling. The kind of feeling he'd had before Armand had been killed. Armand had been their seventh man and the team still felt his loss. This feeling was the harbinger of something bad.

Two of the men kept their guns trained on the groups of crew and doctors, who stood in separate areas about fifteen feet apart. The other man approached him and Hamm.

“Come with us, Captain.”

“Sure.”

He looked at Hamm, who nodded at him. Hamm knew he would let Savage and the rest of their team know what was going on, but unfortunately they'd been locked in the hold where radio communications weren't clear. Laz also knew that Hamm would protect the crew and the doctors while he was gone. And since they had gone into this mission with a no-collateral-damage policy that was very important.

The men all spoke Portuguese—something that he'd heard the pirates did to throw off the crews from guessing where they were from. Laz knew, however, that there was no way anyone could mistake the gaunt lost soldiers holding them hostage as Portuguese, mainly because Portugal wasn't the mess that Somalia was.

These pirates looked like they had nothing to lose, and they feared nothing, because death was an everyday reality for them.

Laz's hands were bound behind his back as soon as they were out of the storage area. Laz could fight with his hands behind his back. He hoped that Savage had the team nearby and knew that Mann would be in position as a sniper to protect him. But he couldn't count on that.

He always counted on himself, and then if someone else came to the rescue he was grateful. He'd not only learned early on to look after himself, but also those he cared about. His sister Maureen had been one of the chosen few people that he actually cared about. But that relationship was dead to him now.

“Get up the stairs.”

Laz followed directions. Going up on the deck was what he wanted anyway. He needed to see if Samatan was here. Or if they had been the target of another group of pirates.

Besides the three who'd come to get him, there were four other pirates on deck, including Fridjtof.

He didn't like men who lied about their allegiance. Fridjtof took one look at Laz's face and backed away from him, then seemed to remember that he was in charge here. He stepped forward.

“I need the names of the doctors.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked for them, Captain. You are no longer in charge here,” Fridjtof said.

“And you are?” Laz asked.

He didn't like the idea of giving up the names of the passengers to this man. He knew that they had connections in the U.S. government and knowing their names would only give the pirates more fuel for their ransom demands.

Fridjtof drew back his fist and punched Laz square in the stomach. The impact was forceful and painful but Laz didn't make a sound.

Instead Laz just glanced at the other man; he needed to see how hard he could push before Fridjtof broke. He needed to understand the mettle of the men who held them so he would know what to expect when they took the ship back. And Laz was definitely going to take this ship back.

“Is that all you got?”

Fridjtof backhanded him, hitting him hard on the jaw. He felt his teeth grind together as he caught part of his inner mouth and blood spurted out. Damn it, he hated the taste of blood, especially his own.

“I need their names. You can tell me or I can pull them up here…how long do you think they will last? Especially that nosy lady who captured your attention?” Fridjtof asked.

Laz narrowed his eyes, knowing he had to be referring to Daphne. Damn, he knew that sexy woman was going to be trouble the moment he laid eyes on her. Fridjtof was very determined to get the information. Laz wondered if he was trying to prove himself to his superiors.

“I don't think their names are important to this situation,” Laz said. “They are a group of humanitarian aid workers going to Somalia. I'd think you could appreciate that and let them go.”

“I'll decide what's important,” Fridjtof said.

“You don't seem capable of deciding much.”

“I can decide if that little doctor talks to me before or after I give her to the crew as a prize.”

Laz jerked out of the hands of the men holding him and slammed his shoulder into Fridjtof's stomach. The other man grunted and fell off balance. Laz kicked him to the ground and kicked him in the stomach twice before he was hit hard on the back of the head with the butt of a rifle.

He shook his head to keep the lightheadedness at bay. He was a damned good fighter but four to one wasn't the best odds. Laz tried to hold his own, inflicting as much damage on the men attacking him as he could. But he was outnumbered, and as he continued to take blows to the head he knew he wasn't helping anyone.

He wasn't about to let Daphne or any of the other doctors be “questioned” by these men.

Laz realized that Fridjtof had made up his mind to prove his mettle, and as the other men tried to beat the information out of him, he promised himself that he'd have a very special type of revenge for the man who had betrayed them and threatened Daphne.

Each hit he took just strengthened his resolve. Laz had learned a long time ago how to push pain to the back of his mind. It had been that training and his ability that had cemented for him the fact that he was meant to be a warrior. He'd always suspected it but having the skills of a warrior had made him realize that he was uniquely qualified to be one.

Each blow to his abdomen would have brought another man to his knees, and later Laz knew he'd feel it but right now he stood straight and tall and kept his eyes focused on the man who was hitting him.

It took no skill and little honor to beat on a defenseless man. And it showed Laz exactly what Fridjtof was…a coward.

 

Daphne was worried and scared as the minutes ticked by and Laz didn't return. Their search hadn't netted any weapons. She wished she'd contained her anger toward him and oh, hell. She didn't want anything to happen to him. It didn't matter that he'd told her they'd be safe and then had seemed to go back on his word.

Hadn't she learned that no one could protect her? Hadn't the ending of her marriage reminded her that there were no guarantees in this life? She shook her head and continued pacing the floor.

Bob and Franny were huddled close to each other in the corner. Arms wrapped around each other, taking comfort, she imagined. She wished she'd done that with Laz. Made him stop being in charge and just hugged her before he'd been taken away.

What if he didn't come back? What if the pirates felt like they had to sacrifice someone to make the men they were demanding ransom from take them seriously?

“Pacing helping?” Rudy asked her.

“Not really. I feel…”

“Helpless. Believe me I know that emotion well,” Rudy said.

She sensed that Rudy needed to talk. That somehow maybe this situation was bringing back to the surface whatever had happened to him in South America.

“Have you been in a situation like this before?”

Rudy shrugged. He was a solidly built man, and in his eyes she saw the same brokenness she'd felt for so long. She reached over and put her hand on his wrist to comfort him and he looked down at it before drawing his arm away.

“I have been held hostage before. And it wasn't the kind of experience I want to repeat. I'm not going to let myself be—”