King Pirate

by Tom Stern

“Nothing.”

  “Then your opinion on the matter has little value.”

  “Not true. We all fuck up sometimes. It’s just a matter of learning from it, changing yourself and moving on. If you don’t like the person you were before, become someone else. It’s very rare to do something that’s so bad anyone’ll care about it in a hundred years. That’s less than the blink of an eye for the sea. It’s just a matter of fixing in your heart what’s important, and living in the present moment. Every moment. Every day.”

  “What’s important to you, Kelley?”

  “You already know.”

  Anastasia didn’t answer. She took the clip from her blonde hair, letting it fall over her shoulders. The clip was gold. It had pearls in it. The clip cost a lot of money. A gift from the lover? She put it next to the earrings.

  “You’re leaving KL. Where are you going, Kelley?”

  Kelley hesitated before he replied: “I can’t tell you.”

  “So, that’s it? You show up and say you’re leaving, but you can’t tell me where you’re going?”

  “That’s about it.”

  “Hardly seems fair. Why tell me at all?”

  “Because you won’t see me for a while. And I wanted you to know it wasn’t because I was leaving you.”

  She refilled her glass. “And why do you think I care?”

  “If you don’t, I could just split.”

  “Don’t get up and walk away so I have to chase after you. That trick’s getting old.”

  “I don’t play games.”

  “You’re playing one right now.”

  Kelley was sitting on the couch. Looking up at her.

  Anastasia lifted a boot and stomped the heel down onto the couch between Kelley’s legs. She missed his packages by an inch. Kelley jumped back. “What the hell?”

  She leaned her elbows on her up-propped knee. A smile oozed across her ample Russian lips. Anastasia took a sip of wine. It stained the corners of her mouth red.

  “I asked you a question, former agent Kelley. Where are you going that’s such a big secret?”

  Kelley could see up her skirt, saw that her sheer black stockings were knee-highs affixed with laced garters. Why did she dress like this for a law enforcement job? Every day?

  When Kelley didn’t say anything, Anastasia pressed the toe of her boot into his jeans. He caught her knee with both hands. “Stop it!”

  She lessened the pressure, but didn’t move her boot. “If you won’t talk, I have to apply interrogation techniques. This can be as easy for you, or as hard as you make it. Don’t make me resort to torture. It won’t be pleasant for either of us.”

  “You’re the last person in the world I can tell, Anastasia,” he gasped as she leaned forward again.

  “Hmmmm. Perhaps we need to incorporate positive reinforcement with the negative.”

  Kelley cocked an eyebrow.

  She continued, “I’ll ask you a question. If you give me a clue, I’ll let you undo the zipper of my boot. If you don’t, you know what will happen. But consider what you say. I’m an intelligent woman, and I’m a professional investigator. I can surmise a lot from just a little. Ready?”

  Kelley nodded.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out to sea.”

  She applied pressure.

  “Ow! What the fuck, I gave you a clue!”

  “Telling me that a man of the sea is going onto a watery surface covering seventy percent of the planet doesn’t count as a ‘clue.’ Give me something!”

  “Fine! I’m taking a ship down the Malacca Strait!”

  Anastasia seemed to consider the value. Just as Kelley was about to shove her away in desperation, she let off on the pain. She flicked at the zipper with one red nail. Making in bounce and jingle. An invitation.

  Kelley slowly drew the zipper down to the arc of the boot. “Now hold onto it,” Anastasia said. He did. She drew her black stocking’d foot from the boot.

  “You’re not done yet, Kelley.” With perfect strength and balance, she shot the edge of her foot into his throat. Again, pressing in with just enough pressure to cause him exquisite pain.

  She was like a statue. Only a ballerina or martial artist could pull off this move. She had been one, and became the other. Anastasia was a dangerous woman.

  Kelley could hardly breathe. She crushed down on his voice box. It was still ragged from the choking Cuchulain had given him. What is it with these people? Even in his tumultuous life, he’d rarely run across a group of people given to such erratic sadism.

  The skirt rode up farther. He could see the thin slip of black lace material that passed for her panties. It didn’t do much to cover her in the front.

  “Question two. Give me a good clue, and you can undo the other zipper. Give me your shit, and you know what happens.”

  Kelley waited. There was nothing to say.

  “You said a ship. What ship?”

  “The Ghost.”

  “You’re lying! I check the ship’s port callings every morning. There’s no Ghost in Kuala Lumpur.” Anastasia pounded her foot into his neck and started strangling the life from him.

  Kelley pushed back. She was strong. It was like fighting off a steel bar. He got just enough air in to croak, “Yurei!”

  “Ah, tricky. You didn’t think I’d know yurei is Japanese for ‘ghost.’ So much for your carefully-worded clues, former agent Kelley,” she mocked.

  But true to her word, Anastasia brought her foot from Kelley’s throat. For a moment, she stood, balanced on one foot, while the other hung poised in a striking position. If she wanted, Anastasia could have whipped out a kick and struck Kelley unconscious before he could move.

  Instead, she switched her position. Stood on the opposite foot while she brought the second boot back to Kelley’s crotch.

  Kelley undid the zipper. He held the boot while Anastasia freed herself from it.

  “One more question.”

  She lowered herself onto him. Knees bracing his waist. Curled her hands around his neck. Hair in his face. He breathed deep of her scent, the same perfume she always wore. She kissed him where his jaw line met his left ear. With excruciating softness. Pecked at his cheek. Nuzzled his still-pounding throat.

  She whispered, “What are you going to do with this ship in the Malacca Strait?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?

  “Both.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “No clues?”

  “None,” Kelley said, with a white-knuckle grip on his self-control.

  Anastasia suddenly stood up and turned her back on him. Arms folded across her chest.

  “Get out.”

  Kelley’s head reeled. “Whu-what?”

  “I said get the fuck out!” Screeching at the top her lungs.

  Kelley stood up. Face hard. His entire body humming with flaming go-juice. Jeans tight. Throat tight. Skin burning.

  He got a hold of himself. Kelley laughed.

  Anastasia whirled on him in a fury. “What are you laughing at?”

  “Now who’s playing games?”

  Anastasia’s eyes folded into stilettos. She crossed the room and picked up the phone. “I’m calling the police. If you’re still here, I’ll have you arrested for attempted rape. They’ll believe me over you, throw you in prison for years and cane you until you beg for mercy.”

  “Put down that goddamn phone.”

  She didn’t. She dialed.

  Kelley snatched the cordless out of her hand. He tossed it away. She slapped him.

  Kelley smiled. “You’re pretty free with those slaps.”

  “You don’t know how nice I am,” she said. “You’d better hope I don’t close my fist.”

  Kelley suddenly moved into her personal space. She tried to step back to give herself room. He didn’t let her. Kelley maneuvered a hand around to the base of her back.

  “Let me go.”

&nbs
p; “No.”

  He slid his hand up her spine. First with the whole palm. Then, when he got to her shoulder blades, with only his fingertips. She shivered. He held her by the back of the neck.

  “I’m going away, Anastasia.”

  “Good.” Not so forceful, this time.

  “But I’m coming back.”

  “Why?”

  “For you.”

  “Why?”

  He kissed her.

  She punched him in the chest. But not hard. She punched him again while he still kissed her. Kelley grabbed that wrist. Held it against his chest until she uncurled her fingers from the fist. Hand flat against his chest. He let go. She kept her hand there. Slowly stroking him. Slid the hand up to circle the back of his neck. Holding him in the kiss. Rested her other hand against his stomach. Tracing the contours of his abs.

  Kelley eased his free hand inside her top. Touched her bra, light as a memory. She made a little sound like mmmmm. He massaged her. Finger and thumb on her nipple. Pinched just hard enough.

  He broke off the kiss to say, “Where’s your bedroom?”

  And she said, “The floor’s fine.”

  He swept an arm down behind her knees. Picked her up. Knelt. Gently bringing her to the floor. Straddled her waist as he worked the buttons of her top.

  When her breasts were free, she sighed. Kelley leaned forward until they were eye-to-eye. Wicked grin. Anastasia chuckled, low and throaty. Whispered, “What now?” Even as she hooked her fingers inside the front of his jeans. Flipped the button open with her thumb.

  Kelley hiked up her skirt. She reached down to take off her panties. Kelley said, “Leave ‘em on.”

  “But…” He reached under her skirt. Got a finger around the lace. Pulled it aside. Kept his hand there. Moving up, down. Inside.

  She laughed again and said, “That’s good.”

  “I know.”

  Anastasia wrapped her legs around him. They were strong, smooth from the black silk stockings. She hooked her feet together to hold him. Hold herself against him.

  Kelley took his hand away. He got a hand behind her head. Supporting her. The other pulling her ass toward him.

  Anastasia was right. The floor worked out just fine. At least the first time. The second time was in the hall. The third time, they actually made it to the bed. The fourth, fifth and sixth times were wild cards.

  …

  The next morning.

  “Are you really coming back?”

  “Yes.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “You won’t tell me because you don’t want to lie to me.” A statement. He nodded. Kissed her again.

  “You’ll never lie to me.”

  “Not our whole lives.”

  “You’re going to spend your life with me?”

  He kissed her again.

  “Don’t do this. To me or you. I’ve done terrible things.”

  “So have I.”

  “Not like this. I could hurt you.”

  “I’ve been hurt.”

  “Not this badly. Our hearts would break.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You’d better be sure of that.”

  “Sure as my name.”

  “You’re not lying.”

  “I’ll never lie to you.”

  “Not for our whole lives.”

  “That’s right.”

  This time, she kissed him.

  …

  Kelley couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something so hard as leaving Anastasia behind. But he had no choice. Instead of killing himself over it, he turned his mind to the purpose of the present moment. Our entire lives are nothing but the immediate purpose of the present moment, in one long string until we die. Kelley understood this. He turned his face into the biting winds of his future. He moved forward. Nothing could stop him.

  Magic hour as the sun rose red over the sea. Kelley stood at the top of the gang plank leading up to the Yurei’s deck. He looked down to the dock.

  Tsung was there. Dao Jia was there. And thirty men were there. They had answered the summons. Spoke to Kelley, getting a feel for the job. Stepping forward. Thirty-two faces of various ethnicities and cultures stared up at Kelley. Expectant. He picked out the Leungs, five Malaysian brothers so similar to each other they were almost identical siblings. He saw the Chinese tong thugs, tattooed former Japanese yakuza, small and skinny Thai killers, Malaysian gangsters, Burmese guerillas, Filipino pirates and one Indian assassin. They were a sampling of the Asian underworld, scooped from the darker corners of the ports and deposited before Kelley for inspection. Somehow, he would have to forge these disparate, dangerous men into a loyal crew.

  Doubt passed across their faces as they took in the ship, and the vicious attack dog of a white man who would be their captain on this trip into hell.

  Kelley knew exactly what was going through their minds. He had been these men, standing in these groups, wondering what the fuck he was about to get himself into. On more than one occasion, the slightest bad sign had sent the entire gathered crew away, muttering. He’d split from more than one gig on just a bad feeling. KL was a big city. Asia was a big place, lots of ships, lots of ports. What Kelley said next meant everything. All of his efforts up until now could fly away in the ocean breeze.

  “Men,” Kelley started, “we’re going out there to take on the worst the Strait has to offer. But we’re strong, and we’ll come back rich.”

  They frowned, faces creased. Most of them knew little, if any, English.

  Kelley started again, this time in Malay. “Men! That sun rising over the water is the first morning of our lives as a crew.”

  Most of them knew some Malay, but Kelley’s command of the language wasn’t up to the task of a rousing speech. Some of them even smiled, what a joker.

  Kelley was losing them. This entire mission was on the edge of a knife, and all because he couldn’t communicate with his own men. They shuffled, doubts filling their minds. He only had seconds before he lost them. Tsung’s eyes were wide. Do something!

  Kelley drew his fighting knife.

  This they understood. They paused, curious. A breathless moment of tension. What would this crazy man do?

  Kelley drew the blade across his hand. He held it up so the men could see the blood dripping from his skin. The cut like a red smile.

  Kelley came three steps down the gangplank. Hand still raised. He slapped his hand against the side of the ship. Pressed it in. He brought it away.

  Leaving behind a bloody handprint.

  “My blood is your blood. My blood is this ship’s blood. And this ship will take us into death and danger with our blood in its veins.”

  He went back up the gangplank. Stood on the deck. Waiting to see what the next few moments would bring.

  Dao Jia drew her own knife. Walked up the gangplank. Slit her hand. Leaned over and slapped the hull. Leaving her smaller bloody handprint next to Kelley’s. She went up to the deck and stood next to him.

  Tsung went up the gangplank. He cut his hand. Slapped the hull. Three bloody handprints. He went to stand with Kelley.

  The criminals were riveted. They stood still. Until at last, a Japanese yakuza pushed away from the pack. He whipped out a knife, cut his hand and added his handprint to the first three. He went up to the deck of the Yurei. Paused at the top of the gangplank to find Kelley’s eyes and hold them. Kelley nodded, a small bow of respect. The yakuza answered with a deeper bow. Acknowledging Kelley as his superior. His captain.

  The Leung brothers traded looks. They brought out their knives. One-by-one, all five went up the gangplank. Slapping the hull as they went, leaving their marks. They joined the yakuza.

  The other yakuza, shamed, came next. The Chinese. The Burmese. The Thai. The rest of the Malays. The Indian.

  Not one man left. By the time they were done, thirty-three bloody handprint
s decorated the side of the vessel.

  Kelley had his crew.

  …

  They sailed fifty clicks south. Everyone getting a feel for the ship, and their places within it. Kelley was an experienced seaman. Though he’d never captained a ship, he knew how they ran. He went from position to position. His Malay still had a ways to go. But he could convey what was needed. Though these men were criminals, they were also pirates and former pirates. They knew the smooth and competent operation of the ship meant life or death. They didn’t fuck around when it came to their jobs.

  The majority of men on the ship were Malaysian. It was becoming clear that Malay would have to become the unofficial language of the Yurei. That suited Kelley just fine. It would give him a chance to finally master it.

  Tsung had purchased the speedboats used, to keep the above-board paper trail to a low minimum. They waited for the Yurei at a small Oceanside town.

  Everything went smoothly. No troubles. No hassles. Kelley turned to Tsung and said, “Here’s hoping this is the sign of a good start.”

  “And a good ending,” his friend smiled.

  They arrived at the village. Runners from the same gang that staged the warehouse fights had brought the speedboats down ahead of them. The pirates loaded them into the booms while Kelley paid the gangsters in cash.

  No troubles. No hassles.

  Kelley stashed the rest of their cash in the ship’s safe. Every ship has a safe. In many cases, portage fees have to be paid in cash. If a ship travels throughout Southeast Asia, she has to carry large sums in a variety of currencies. Besides cargo and kidnapping, the cash safes were the primary targets for pirates. Before they shoved off, Kelley had given Dao Jia half of his operating cash. She’d changed it into enough money for enough countries that they could dock wherever needed. Though Kelley intended to ply the Malacca Straits, he wanted flexibility. In almost every situation, the person with the most choices wins and survives. Kelley intended to do both.

  He knew there would come a time when one of the men on his crew made a play for the cash. It was inevitable. He accepted it. He also accepted what he would do when that time came, to make an example to the rest.

  Kelley checked on their radar and ShipLok guidance system. Cuchulain had come through. Any ship coming under pirate attack would operate its ShipLok. The signal would go to law enforcement agencies, including IPC. But it would also go to the set-up in the Yurei. And Kelley wagered he’d be able to respond first.