by Tom Stern
With that in mind, he got on the satellite phone and dialed the nameless number he’d gotten from Cuchulain the last time they met. No message, just a beep. He coughed twice into the telephone and hung up. Cuchulain would get the message: underway.
With the speedboats on board, Kelley’s plan was in place. He had a ship, first and second mates, a crew, supplies, boats, weapons and intel.
Now, all he needed was a victim. Kelley recalled his theory of how King Pirate had parceled the ocean among his subordinates. He also remembered asking Fong Sai Yuk which of the other two lieutenants was the weaker. The answer: Dilip Gaur, the half-Indian Malay with one glass eye. He was a thinker, a planner. But he didn’t have the initiative and ferocity of Fong and the third lieutenant, Yap Chew.
Perfect. He was exactly the kind of man who Kelley could put up against the ropes. Checking the maps, Kelley saw where he’d guessed Gaur’s men worked.
He called out orders. Time for the hunt.
CHAPTER 4
They sailed the Strait. By day, working the ship. Getting used to the vessel, and working together. Kelley watching the radar. One ear cocked for the ShipLok alarm. They passed ships. Nothing they wanted. Kelley noticed some of the men hungrily watching the ships going by.
They practiced raids. Kelley wanted to keep their operations as simple as possible. It was a three-point plan, balanced on fulcrums of single-word commands. After the third try, it started looking like they knew what they were doing.
Evening fell on the first day. Magic hour beautiful on the horizon. To be a seaman put out to ocean is to experience a strange combination of tension and boredom. You went through the paces. Hours dripped from one to the next. Nothing happened. Always, though, there was the threat of immediate action. Kelley had long known of it, of course. But this was different. This was a paramilitary, criminal operation. They could be out here for weeks, and within minutes be plunged into a life-or-death situation. It was a heightened version of what he’d known before. Tsung passed along comments. He saw it in the men’s’ faces. They were feeling it five times harder.
Kelley knew the best way to burn off the nervous energy. As darkness came to rule the sea, Kelley set two men to watch the instruments and brought the rest down into the hold. They gathered in a circle around him. Smoking, wondering. Some of them leering at Dao Jia. Kelley didn’t worry. He knew she could handle herself. But he’d keep an eye out anyway. Him and Tsung.
He passed around bottles of sake. He produced a nylon sack and upended it in the middle of the circle. Out tumbled boxing gloves, wrap and headgear.
“Everyone fights,” he told them in Malay. “Anybody man enough to get in here with me? Or do I have to pick?”
Kelley fought Wa Leung, the biggest of the Leung brothers. It was a good fight. Kelley kept his beast in rein. He wanted this to be fun. He beat Wa to make sure the crew saw he wasn’t a man to mess with. But he gave Wa enough play to make it entertaining.
They loved it. After his fight, Kelley took out his knife. He put it on the floor and spun it twice. Those two men got in the ring.
They loved it. The fighters poured all of their doubts and fears and boredom into their fists and feet. But at the end of each fight, they embraced. It brought the men together. The fights went on for hours.
Kelley sent them to their racks. He wandered back up to the helm. He dialed the satellite phone.
“Ryan?” Anastasia said from the other end.
“Yeah.” It was the first time she’d called him by his first name.
“Where are you?”
“I gave you a clue.”
A pause, and: “The Strait of Malacca. In your ship.”
“I miss you.”
“I… want to see you. When’re you coming back?”
“Don’t know yet. Not too long. I’ll call.”
He hung up. Went into the captain’s quarters and racked out. He lay there, listening to the sea. To be a pirate is to be out, alone in the midst of the sea, with no truly safe harbor. Just one mote of life bobbing in the infinite, uncaring ocean. It was profoundly humbling. He’d called Anastasia because he wanted to know he wasn’t totally alone.
…
Another day. More ships they ignored. More working the ship, finding the rhythm. More practice and practice and practice. This was life-and-death, and they knew it. The crew seriously approached the operations. Kelley was pleased, but knew there was no limit to better.
They boxed at night. This time, Kelley only brought down half of the crew. He wanted the other half alert and sober, in case of a night attack. He made sure the two men who had been left on watch the night before were the first into the ring. They would practice every day they were at sea.
Another short call to Anastasia. Another night of lying on his back, feeling like dust in the abyss.
…
It came late in the third day.
The ShipLok alarm squawked. It took Kelley a moment to realize what it was. He saw the flashing red light on the console.
“Battle stations!”
Tsung called it into the comm. Men ran to their stations, following pre-ordained commands. Boxes of weapons came up from their hiding place in the hold. They yanked the protective tarp off the speedboats. Checked their engines, topped off the tanks.
Kelley got a GPS read on the target. It was hundreds of klicks away. No way they could pull off the raid and get away before a third party intervened. On the off-chance that third party turned out to be a naval or coast guard vessel, it would go badly for everyone.
Kelley made the tough call. “Stand down.”
Tsung didn’t know if he heard right at first. Kelley repeated himself. Tsung relayed the order. Stand down.
After the thrill of their first potential target, the order to stand down was painful. The men went back to their posts, grumbling. It was a blow to morale. These were men who craved action and violence. The tease was far worse than another day of nothing. But Kelley didn’t want to see his campaign being still-born.
Kelley knew the way to turn it around. He got on the comm. “This is your captain. That was a drill. I wanted to see how ready you were to take down some poor son of a bitch. This crew got the job done. You’re ready for a fight!”
That brought a cheer up from the decks. Tsung looked relieved. But now Kelley knew he had to be sure about the next one. He couldn’t play the drill ploy again. These men needed a hit, or he’d lose them all the first time they put in.
…
The next day bore fruit.
The ShipLok scanner sounded. An urgent signal from TI Chrysanthemum, a handy size cargo hauling 30,000 deadweight tonnage. This time, Kelley checked the coordinates before giving Tsung the announcement.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, battle rising in his heart. “Only thirty klicks away.” He grabbed up the comm. “Battle stations! This is the real thing, boys! We’re going on the attack!”
Men and alarms whooped together. Kelley’s crew rushed to their stations. Guns came out. Tarp came off. Five men piled into each speedboat. Dao Jia took hold of the launch controls.
Kelley at the helm. Checked the instruments. Two blips on the radar screen. Clear and green.
He grabbed up binocs. Rushed forward to the railing. Leaned out. Peering. Straining.
Saw them. Tiny, dark shapes marring the horizon. Two ships they fast approached. “There you are.”
He swung for the door outside. Tsung called out, “Where are you going?!”
Kelley stopped only long enough to say, “With them.” He clattered down the steps to the crates, now on deck, holding their weaponry. Got hands on an AKM and two flashbangs. Pointed to the man in front, told him: “Out.”
The men looked at each other, confused. Their captain personally going on a raid? Impossible. Until Kelley reached in and hauled the guy out with his bare hands. “I said get the hell out of that craft!”
The man bounced out. Kelley took his radios and jumped in. They approached. Close en
ough to see the tiny shapes of pirates swarming the deck of their prey.
Kelley clicked on the radio. “Dao Jia! Launch!”
The winches buzzed them down into the ocean. Salt water washed up into their faces. The second they touched, Kelley shouted: “Go!”
Four speedboat engines roared to life. They sliced away from the Yurei. A wolf pack hungry for the kill.
Each sea wolf had an AKM and a side arm. They carried knives and stun guns and fighting batons for the in-close work. Kelley also made sure every man had a stun grenade. He’d seen their powerful effect on Pulau Malak, and wanted to have that kind of striking force at his command.
The speedboats converged on the pirate ship. Kelley looked past it to the merchant vessel under attack. The Chrysanthemum. Some of her crew were still resisting. They had a fire hose at play. Washing pirates off the side of the ship and into the ocean. It wasn’t actual weaponry, but it would do in a pinch. Every year, IPC published a field guide on piracy, including a section entitled: “What to Do if You’re Attacked.” The fire hose appeared in one of the bullet points. Kelley smiled at the irony. As a pirate-fighter, he’d sat in an office and read about it. Now a pirate, he watched it in action.
It was sound advice. Though they were badly out-manned and out-gunned, it looked like they might hold out for a few minutes. Plenty of time.
Kelley looked up to the pirate ship. They’d seen the Yurei on the radar. Thinking it might be a friendly merchant vessel, or a military craft. They didn’t expect the speedboats. Kelley was now close enough to see their surprised faces watching goggle-eyed as his sea wolves swept in on their craft. There weren’t many. They’d sent over the bulk of their crew to assault the Chrysanthemum. Another hunch of Kelley’s that proved right.
Two speedboats moved to either side of the pirate ship. Kelley directed his men to the fore port.
Kelley pulled on his headset and yelled: “Fire!”
They sent up a storm of gunfire. The AKM is a damn loud gun. Its unmistakable clatter hammers the ears. Put ten together, and it sounds like a machine army has arrived to end the world.
Bullets whizzed and sparked at the pirate ship’s railing. The pirates retreated.
“Hooks!” At Kelley’s command, two sea wolves in each speedboat raised a black tube. Almost like a TOW missile launcher. They fired, one after the other. From each, a grappling hook sprang high into the air, propelled by a compressed CO2 charge. The tines of the hook unfolded midair. Clang! The hook hit the metal deck. Men pulled the attached nylon rope until it found purchase. Four boats, eight hooks.
“Up!” Now, with incredible upper body strength, Kelley and seven other sea wolves clambered their way up the ropes. Whenever a pirate appeared at the railing to undo a hook, the sea wolves below unleashed another volley of AKM fire.
Kelley’s longer arms sent him up the side of the ship like one of the spiders he so hated. He was the first over the railing. Kelley immediately threw himself for cover. Rounds flickered after him. Seeing they couldn’t stop the boarding, they’d taken up positions to murder the sea wolves as they appeared.
But pirates are skilled in taking ships, not defending them. They were no more skilled in repelling a boarding party than they were at picking out wedding dresses. That was part of Kelley’s plan, to make the hunter become the hunted. Make them feel fear.
He lobbed a flashbang at the pirates collected behind the central works. Averted his gaze. The grenade went off. Though the light was not nearly as dramatic as a midnight blast on a moonless night, the sonic concussion was enough to send every pirate to the deck in a heap.
Kelley’s sea wolves bounded over the railing. Bullets met them. One wolf dropped, blood spurting from his thigh. Kelley rushed to him. Pulled the man behind cover. Peeked up. Pirates holed up in the command tower, the wretched bastards.
“Stay here.” Kelley took the man’s AKM. He unslung his own. He threw another flashbang. It was too long; the grenade clanged off the side of the tower and dropped toward the sea. It went off over the side of the boat.
“Up there! Grenades!” His wolves obeyed. Three flashbangs hurled toward the tower. Two veered like Kelley’s. A third found itself rebounding off the shatter proof glass. It exploded two feet away. The concussion at that close range was enough to fold in the glass like a fish through a paper towel.
“Take it!” Kelley grabbed up both AKMs. One in each hand, held at hip level. He ran up the metal stairs to the tower. Kicked in the door.
Three pirates reeled in the tower. Kelley lowered his weapons. Until a fourth popped out from his hiding place, handgun up and screaming. He doomed his friends. Kelley crouched and yanked the triggers, both guns set to full auto.
In that confined space the guns were like a thresher. Before the fourth pirate could get his shot off, a dozen bullets ripped through his body. All four pirates jerked like puppets. Blood splashed in a rain. Errant bullets sparked off the metal wall behind them. Kelley kept the triggers squeezed until both guns clicked dry. Barrels hot and smoking, Kelley dropped the AKMs.
No more pirates appeared. Kelley and his wolves had taken the ship. Now for the Chrysanthemum. They swiftly took places at the pirate ship’s controls. Powered it forward, making for the other vessel.
Several pirates who had been blown off the deck tried to swim out of the way of their own oncoming ship. They didn’t move fast enough. They went under the hull.
“Hold on!” Kelley and his men brought the ship directly against the Chrysanthemum. The steel hulls screeched against each other, a mind-rending sound.
Kelley barely heard it. They were in boarding distance. “Go!”
Kelley laughed, wordlessly shouted as he hurled himself across the space between ships. He had never felt so happy and alive.
With his sea wolves at his back, Kelley drew the Chinese sidearm. Cuchulain had come through. It was fitted with a laser pointer.
The pirates had surrounded the beleaguered crew and killed them with gunfire. The last man went down moments before Kelley appeared, letting go of the hose before the pirates had a chance to kill it. Despite a multitude of bullet holes in its length, the hose still spat water at thousands of psi in every direction as it thrashed on the deck like a dying anaconda.
The metal hose head smashed at random against the deck. Men fled in every direction, trying to dodge its sledgehammer blow.
Pirates and sea wolves traded gunfire across the gulf created by the flopping hose. Water slammed men backwards. The mist covered everyone’s faces. It was impossible to aim. They tried to make up for it with sheer volume. Hundreds of bullets crossed the space. Dozens found the hose by accident. Still it flailed.
Kelley dropped to his knees behind cover. Gripped a sea wolf by the shoulder. “Gimme a grenade!” It was the third Leung brother, Chen. He handed over the grenade.
Kelley darted forward into no-man’s-land. Underhanded the grenade forward even as the hole flashed down. He sprang out of the way as the hose head smashed into the deck inches from where his head had been.
The grenade exploded. Light and sound threw the defending pirates to the deck. It also shoved the hose back towards Kelley’s men. Water sprayed into their ranks. A yakuza flew backwards twenty feet, landed on his back and slid for the railing. His fellow wolves immediately ran to save him. They caught him at his knees ten feet from a plunge.
With the blast’s distraction, Kelley was finally able to get himself to the hose’s on/off controls. Brought it to a stop. With weakening strikes, the hose slowly breathed its last.
Doing so gave the pirates time to recover. Not all of them. Being at ground zero of a flashbang is a part of your life for weeks, if not forever; they’ve been known to permanently blind and deafen.
The pirates at the outskirts of the blast caught their breath. They shot at Kelley. He slid onto the deck. Gripped the Chinese pistol with both hands. Placed the red pointer dot between a pirate’s eyes and blew his fucking brains against the metal wall behind him like
a bloody Rorschach test.
Kelley got to his feet. Always be moving. He ducked from one piece of cover to the next. Allowing whatever Irish luck he had to his name to save him from the hungry bullets that came for him whenever he moved.
It was a distraction so the sea wolves could get their shit back together. They moved forward as one, drowning the remaining pirates in AKM fire. Man by man, pirates went down under the hail.
Kelley saw two pirates flee for the life boats. He sent himself after them. Came around the corner. They’d heard him coming. In a quarter-second, Kelley took in the scene: one pirate undoing the connections while the other leapt from his hiding place to put a bullet in Kelley’s chest.
Kelley knocked the pistol aside before it fired. Drew his fighting knife and cut the man’s throat with a back handed iaijutsu strike. Reversed the move and planted the knife in his attacker’s heart. They met, eye-to-eye. Kelley stared deep into his Asian black orbs. Watching the spirit leave the useless clay which was his flesh. It was the last, and most real, moment of this pirate’s life.
Kelley laughed in his face. Knowing Death was here and paying attention to this moment in the human experience. Kelley used this dying pirate to throw a mocking stare right into Death’s boney eye sockets.
He shoved the still-dying man away from him. Whirled and threw his knife at the last pirate. Its vicious steel found the man’s gut. He staggered forward, dropping the gun in his hand. Kelley kicked it away.
Again, as with every fight, the terrible noise and confusion was followed with an incredible, unearthly silence. Kelley knew it only seemed so profound in relation to the preceding chaos. But it didn’t completely throw away the subconscious thought haunting Kelley’s mind: his only true moments of ultimate peace were after true moments of ultimate violence. It was a seductive thought. And dangerous. He would quickly find himself addicted. He would need harder and bigger fixes, throwing himself into increasingly life-threatening situations until he found himself in a fast and foolish grave. He’d seen it happen to other men: police, soldiers, criminals. Kelley swore he wouldn’t follow their path. And he hoped he had the self-control to make due on that oath.
