Running Dark ec-2

by Jamie Freveletti

Sumner spoke up. “Not Clutch. I haven’t seen him in hours.”

  “Come to think of it, you’re right,” Janklow said. “When we’re done here, I’ll go look for him.”

  Hassim’s boat made it to the side of the Kaiser Franz. Janklow and two crew members lowered a ladder. Hassim came up first, Stark second, carrying Emma’s duffel.

  “Hassim, what happened?”

  “We never got far. They’re everywhere.”

  Stark climbed over the railing. Emma couldn’t read his face. He looked as tired as she felt.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “To stop it.”

  “What are you stopping?”

  Stark sighed. “Can we go belowdecks? Speak in private?”

  Emma shook her head. “No. There’s no time. In case you weren’t aware, there are thirty boats coming this way. Besides, I’m not going anywhere with you in private. You tell me what you know now, in front of these witnesses. Which one of the vials has ricin in it?”

  Janklow and the crew members stayed where they were, listening.

  “None. There is no ricin. It was a hoax. It’s the AX 2055.”

  Emma thought a moment. “That was an experimental drug Price was testing.”

  He nodded. “It’s an investigational drug that had a small effect on those with neuromotor problems. It also increased one’s endurance dramatically, by as much as eighty percent within a few minutes of injection, while acting on the dopamine receptors. Like many dopamine drugs, it had the side effect of increasing addictive behavior. But, unlike others, it worked too well. Rather than taking years for a person to develop that particular side effect, with this drug it happens quickly and with an aggression we’ve rarely seen. And it has a dark side.”

  “Other than the fact that it can ruin people’s lives by driving them into destructive acts?”

  Emma let her sarcasm show. She was so furious she was having a hard time even looking at him.

  “Much worse. On the second application, it kills.”

  “How do I figure into all this? Why did you hire me?”

  “I knew several months ago that Cardovin didn’t work. With Cardovin dead in the water, we needed a cash infusion fast. I went to an investor known for his interest in undercapitalized companies. The investor offered to keep us afloat while we tested AX 2055 but insisted that your company be hired in the bargain. The investor was a major contributor to Cooley’s campaign, and he claimed that Cooley wanted you hired to keep an eye on you. I didn’t mind—your reputation was solid, and I’d get the money. The company would survive.”

  “Who would buy such a drug?”

  Stark took a deep breath. “At first we thought of athletic teams, people weakened with immune disorders, Parkinson’s, or any group that required an endurance or a dopamine boost. We ran mice tests and were preparing for approval to begin human clinical trials, but the mice died on the second stick and precluded that completely. Then it disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  Stark nodded. “The drug and its files were stolen from our lab. We reported the theft, and I considered that to be the end of it. Until you told me that you’d been stuck and what happened after. I knew it was our drug. Before it was stolen, we’d been preparing a trial using endurance athletes. We’d inject them after they’d exercised to exhaustion and see if the drug served to boost performance. Whoever stole it was running their own back-alley clinical testing.”

  Emma didn’t believe his claims of complete innocence. “You mean to say that you knew I’d been hit with an illegal, untested substance that kills on the second ingestion, yet you neither warned me nor told anyone else of your suspicions?”

  Stark got angry. “I wasn’t sure! It was only after I was kidnapped in Nairobi that I realized the stolen product was out there, ready to be sold on the black market. They wanted to know where they could get the formula and some more product. They were going to hit world leaders. Get them to behave irrationally, then either blackmail them or stick them twice and kill them. I insisted that we didn’t have any. After it was stolen, we didn’t make any more.” The ship ground to a halt. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re out of time,” Sumner said. He looked at Stark. “You’re going to the bridge deck.” He turned to Block, who had walked up a few minutes earlier. “Take him with you. Keep him in your sight at all times.” He pulled the duffel out of Stark’s hands and gave it to Block, who opened it and looked inside.

  Block’s face lit up. “Now, ain’t that a beautiful sight? It’s an RPG.”

  “Have you ever shot one?” Janklow asked.

  Block looked annoyed. “Why do you keep insisting that I don’t know how to shoot?”

  “I’ll teach him,” Hassim said.

  Block nodded at him. “Thanks. Harry Block here. I’m from Texas.”

  Hassim almost smiled. “Hassim. I’m from Kenya.”

  “Now that the formalities are over, let’s fire up these babies and blow the bastards away.”

  Hassim turned to Janklow and Sumner. “How many boats are coming?”

  Sumner grimaced. “Between twenty and thirty.”

  If Hassim was frightened, he didn’t show it. Neither did Sumner. Emma thought them both the most unflappable men she had ever met. She turned to look out to sea. The pirates, if they were out there, could not be seen by the naked eye just yet. Then she looked down at the water next to the boat and gasped. Hundreds of jellyfish floated next to them. Huge schools of the gelatinous creatures passed by, their pulsing bodies moving them through the water with their long tentacles flowing out behind.

  Sumner came to the railing to stand next to her. “What are you looking at?” he said.

  “Jellyfish. Masses of them.”

  Sumner gazed at the schools, saying nothing.

  A thought occurred to Emma. She turned toward Hassim. “How will the pirates board us?”

  “They use grappling hooks to attach themselves to the ship’s side, usually near an existing ladder, but if one is not available, they will place their own after they’re sure the skiff is attached.”

  “So we’ll know where they’ll be coming over if they do get that close.”

  Hassim nodded. “Affixing the grappling hooks, attaching a ladder, and climbing up all takes a little time, so yes, you can predict where they will appear.”

  “Can we collect these jellyfish without killing them? Use a net?”

  Hassim strode over to the railing. “Those are box jellyfish. Terribly dangerous. Too many stings—”

  “Too many stings and a human will go into a form of anaphylactic shock. It’s perfect.”

  Hassim shook his head. “These fish will not help us. The pirates will board directly from the skiff. They won’t go into the water first, so there is no chance that the jellyfish will sting them.”

  “That’s not what I’m thinking. I’m thinking we collect a bunch of these, put them in shallow pans at the top of each stationary ladder. When the pirates swing a leg over to board, they step on the fish and get stung. I’m not suggesting we wait around for this to work, but it will be quick and easy to set up and we have very little to lose.”

  Hassim frowned in thought. Janklow moved to the railing to check out the jellyfish.

  “Jellyfish won’t always sting. There’s a good chance the majority of them will be too shocked themselves to do any harm to anyone else,” Janklow said.

  “I would never underestimate the sting of a box jellyfish. People have been stung by fish that have been baking on the sand for hours,” Hassim said.

  “And if we pour fresh water on them, it may encourage them,” Emma said. “Nematocysts fire from all sides if they’re hit with water, even dead or dying ones.”

  Block marched to the ship’s rail and looked over. “You sure about that?”

  Emma shook her head. “Not entirely. But I’m fairly certain that the tentacle will react to the water with a sting of its own.”

  Cindy touched Emma’s
arm. “Let me work on this. I’ll ask some crew members to help me net them. The kitchen should have bus pans we can use.”

  “And could you leave some bottles of water nearby?”

  Wainwright emerged from the door that led to the bridge. He looked grim. “They’re massing in formation just on the outer fringes of radar. It’s as if they’re preparing to mount an assault on an aircraft carrier, not on a cruise ship.”

  Sumner nodded. “I think we need to arm the passengers.” Wainwright looked about to interrupt, and Sumner put up a hand. “We can tell them to fight only if threatened by an unarmed man. Warn them to surrender to anyone holding a gun.”

  Wainwright thought a moment. No one spoke. Stark stood off to the side. Emma noted that he looked as serious as the rest. Wainwright appeared to reach a decision.

  “This doesn’t feel like an ad hoc attack, it feels like a planned offensive. Let’s get all the passengers back into the casino. I still won’t arm the passengers, just the cruise-ship employees. I’ll have them guard the casino entrance. The repair crew is working on the oil-pressure problem. With any luck we’ll regain some mobility.”

  Emma stared out to sea. Nothing broke the endless blue water except the cresting white tips as the waves undulated. She turned back to analyze the deck, the stairs up to the bridge level, and the control room within. An idea came to her.

  “Cindy!”

  Cindy stopped and turned, half in, half out of the entrance to the stairs.

  “Can you also get me some buckets, a jug of bleach, and a bottle of ammonia?”

  Cindy looked perplexed. “Sure, but why?”

  “We’re going to make a chemical weapon.”

  Sumner gave Emma a considering look. “Mix them?”

  Cindy started, her eyes wide. “You can’t mix ammonia and bleach. My mother told me that when I was little. You mix them and you get—”

  “Chlorine gas,” Emma replied.

  “—dead,” Cindy said.

  “You’ll need an enclosed area.” Sumner was looking upward, toward the bridge.

  Emma pointed to the stairway. “When they board”—she shook her head—“if they board, we retreat up that way. They should follow us. We set the bucket at the top. Is there a second exit?”

  Sumner nodded. “At the far end of the bridge room. It leads to the ship’s interior stairwells.”

  “Last person in mixes the cleaners, retreats through the stairwell into the bridge, and slams the door behind himself. Or herself.”

  Sumner turned to Emma. “I’ll fill everyone in here about the chlorine idea, but where’s Clutch? Could you and Janklow go find him? Maybe do a quick sweep of his room. I’d feel a whole lot better if I knew where he was. I’ll take Block, Hassim, and Stark to the bridge to watch for the pirates’ approach.”

  Emma jogged next to Janklow, who moved through the halls with the alacrity of someone familiar with every nook and cranny. They reached Clutch’s door five minutes later. Janklow banged on it, and they waited. They were met with silence. Janklow slid a master pass-key into the electronic door lock and pushed the handle. The door swung open. They stepped inside.

  Light streamed through a porthole, illuminating the small crew quarters, accompanied by the sickly sweet smell of decaying flesh. Clutch lay on the bed, one arm flung outward. His eyes were open, his face immobile in death. In his hand was a white EpiPen.

  Janklow jerked backward. “Jesus!” he said.

  Emma stepped closer. She peered at two puncture holes in Clutch’s arm, right above the wrist. At his feet lay two more open boxes filled with EpiPens. They looked unused.

  “He stuck himself, I think,” Emma said. “He must have liked the initial dopamine surge and wanted to try it again.” She went over to the porthole and closed the covering. The room descended into gloom.

  Janklow shook his head. “This is creepy. Let’s get out of here. I’ll tell Wainwright.”

  Emma bent down to pick up one of the boxes. “We’ll bring these with us. You never know when we may need them.”

  Janklow took the second. “I hope not. I don’t want to get close enough to those guys to be able to use these.”

  They closed the door and left Clutch there. Emma hoped he was happier in the next life. She also hoped she wouldn’t be joining him anytime soon.

  52

  MUNGABE SAT IN THE LEAD SKIFF ROARING TOWARD THE KAISER Franz. He wanted to show his crew that he was determined to take the ship. While the other attempts had proved futile, this one would succeed. Talek rode with him. He held an RPG that contained a loaded grenade and had a red scarf attached to the tube. He thought the scarf, given to him by a woman three years before, was good luck, and so he carried it everywhere. Abdul and the American Somali made up the rest of the boat.

  The tiny craft bounced along the ocean in a constant banging rhythm. Mungabe jumped along with it, keeping his eyes forward. He determined not to show any weakness before his men. He hefted an AK-47 onto his right shoulder, his intention being to kill the sniper who was causing them trouble. Mungabe thought himself a very good shot. No Westerner would beat him. Not when he had a Kalashnikov in his hand.

  As they neared the boat, he gazed at it with the pride of someone who already believed he owned it. It was magnificent. Small by oil-tanker standards, but still large enough to be imposing, sleek enough to be elegant. Mungabe could now understand why the Vulture wanted the vessel. But Mungabe had already decided to take it for himself. The Vulture hadn’t fulfilled their deal, and so neither would Mungabe. This much he knew.

  The ship floated in the ocean, still. Mungabe’s men had managed to disable it. It was like the large bulls he had seen on his one visit to India. They were considered sacred and so had lost any instinct to fight. No longer smart enough to move when something bigger, more ferocious was approaching them, and too stupid to care.

  Mungabe gave an order to stop when his men came within four hundred meters of the boat. He wouldn’t risk an RPG attack until everything was prepared. He leaned toward Talek.

  “Tell the rest to surround it.” He watched as his crews separated, forming a circle with the cruise liner in the middle as the target. The satellite phone rang. Mungabe waved an aggravated hand at the device. A crew member grabbed the receiver and handed it to him.

  “It’s me,” the Vulture said. “Do you have control of the ship?”

  “Have you destroyed Darkview?”

  “Yes.”

  Mungabe felt his anger erupt. “You lie! I’m taking the ship, the passengers, and the poison. If you value your life, you won’t come to this part of the world again.”

  Mungabe heard fast breathing over the line, as if the Vulture were running a race.

  “You cross me and you won’t live to see the next month,” the Vulture warned.

  Mungabe laughed. “Come and get me, Vulture. But don’t wear those fancy suits when you do, because you had better be prepared to fight.” He hung up the phone. He’d deal with the Vulture later.

  He waited while his men gained their positions. The large craft hadn’t moved.

  “Hand me some binoculars,” Mungabe said. A crew member dropped a set into his hand. Mungabe peered at the Kaiser Franz. There was no movement on any decks. The satellite dish and the spinning dish that operated the radar were gone. They were off the grid, then. He skimmed the glasses over the boat’s windows, looking for passengers, crew, anyone. He saw nothing. Talek moved up next to him.

  “Where’s the crew?” Talek said.

  “It’s a trick. They’re on that boat, you can be sure.”

  Talek lowered his own binoculars to look at Mungabe. “It’s a foolish decision. Better to fight us off with grenades.” Talek eyed the ship. “Perhaps they don’t have any? It’s against the law for such a ship to carry heavy arms.”

  Mungabe doubted that the ship had no weapons. Darkview fought without honor, ignoring the laws of its country in favor of winning. “Darkview ignores international law whenever they dec
ide to. They have grenades, you can be sure.”

  “They have never shot them before.”

  Mungabe pondered that. It was true. In all the prior skirmishes, the cruise liner had yet to fire a grenade. Only the sniper had shot at them. Mungabe shook his head. No, that was wrong. Darkview had grenades. He wouldn’t allow them to lure him in with such a trick.

  “Are the men in place?”

  Talek nodded.

  “Then let’s move. Tell them we fire the first grenades in unison. After that may the best boat win. The first crew over the side gets a bonus.”

  Talek grinned. He put his RPG on his shoulder, its red scarf hanging down his back. “That will be me. I could use a bonus.”

  Mungabe laughed. He picked up the walkie-talkie, depressed the button, and said, “Go!”

  EMMA WATCHED THE PIRATES mass around them from her hidden position behind a deck door. There were almost thirty boats, each with a crew of four. She couldn’t see the men’s faces that clearly through the small crack she allowed herself to peer through, but she didn’t have to. That they were vastly outnumbered was apparent. Emma’s tiny gun, Sumner’s Dragunov, Hassim’s RPG and few grenades—these were not going to be enough to win this battle. Emma patted the leg pocket of her cargo pants. She held ten EpiPens. Stark had made it clear that although someone would die from two sticks, it would take too long for death to occur for the pens to be of any help. In fact, Stark thought that using the pens would work against them, due to their tendency to heighten the fight-or-flight response.

  “We’ll be adding to their rage, not diminishing it” was how Stark put it. Nevertheless, Emma had handed out all the pens from the boxes they found in Clutch’s room, with instructions to stick the pirates twice if they could. Likewise, everyone was given a squeeze bottle of fresh water spiked with rubbing alcohol to shoot at the pans of jellyfish or into the eyes of the boarding pirates. Emma’s sat on the floor at her feet. Sumner sidled up next to her.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Good as I’ll ever be,” she said. “I wish I had an RPG instead of a small gun and some pens.”

  “You think the pens will work?”