King Pirate

by Tom Stern

  So he bluntly told her: “I have to kill someone.”

  She stared at him. And said, “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I need you to remember Fong Sai Yuk’s ring. How I got it. That’s the man I am. And nothing will ever change. There may come a moment when you’ll be tempted to arrest me, or beg me not to do it. Just remember that ring. Because, no matter how I feel about you, I am resolved. Nothing will stop me.”

  She was silent. Kelley said, “I have to go away again. For your protection. If I come back alive, there’ll be blood on my hands. And it won’t be the last time. Decide how you feel about it now, before you have to choose on the fly.”

  “You might not like my decision,” she said.

  “I have to take that chance. I don’t have a choice.”

  Kelley drank the rest of the booze and left.

  …

  Kelley redialed Asano’s number for the third time. Making sure he got it right. It was the off-duty contact number he had while Kelley was with the IPC. He got the same message. Disconnected.

  Kelley waiting until dawn. Already knowing it was a waste of time, he called the IPC office. Sanjay picked up. First guy in the office, last guy out. Kelley asked to put him through to Asano.

  “He is no longer with the IPC,” Sanjay told him, failing to hide the smile in his voice. “Please stop calling, Mr. Kelley.” He hung up.

  Kelley mentally added the conversation to Sanjay’s tab. As many men had discovered in the past, Ryan Kelley’s shit list was the wrong place to be.

  Kelley strolled down the Yurei’s gangplank. Headed up the docks. Port Sweetenham served ships from dozens of countries. The local merchants made sure to cater to the needs of the seamen. It took about thirty seconds for Kelley to find a street vendor selling cheap international phone cards.

  Kelley called Miyazaki, one of the ex-yakuza who’d served on the Yurei’s initial run. After four rings, Kelley got dumped to the voicemail. He left a message, hung up and called back. This went on for several minutes, until Miyazaki finally woke his ass up and gruffly answered. His tone changed the second he heard Kelley’s voice.

  Kelley asked him, “Can you come over to the ship?”

  “Sure, what for?”

  “Your Japanese is better than mine.”

  …

  It took an hour of calling around to track down the office of Lieutenant Kenji Asano in the Criminal Investigation Command of the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force.

  Miyazaki put a hand over the receiver and said in Malay, “I got Asano’s assistant. She wants to know who’s calling, and why.”

  “Tell her it’s Ryan Kelley. He’ll get on.”

  Miyazaki did, and Asano did. Kelley grabbed the phone.

  “Kelley-san!”

  “Asano. How the hell are you?”

  “I was just about to leave for the day.”

  Kelley listened to a shuffling and bumping that translated to Asano going into his office and closing the door behind him so his assistant couldn’t listen in on their conversation.

  In a lower voice, Asano said, “My training period with the IPC ended sooner than expected.”

  “How much sooner?”

  “Two months.”

  Kelley felt another tingle. Something here, but he wasn’t sure what, yet. Thinking: Anastasia and Cuchulain had both suspected there was a mole inside the IPC. Did they suspect Asano? Or did the mole find a way to send him back to Japan early? “What excuse did they use?”

  “IPC needed to trim their overall force. They assured me and my superiors that my service had been excellent. There was no disgrace, but it did raise questions.”

  “I bet.”

  “It reminded me of your sudden removal.”

  “Though a lot nicer.”

  “I’m a nicer guy.”

  Kelley laughed. “Most people are.”

  Miyazaki knew a dozen words in English, all of them pertaining to ordering a beer and finding out where he could piss. Realizing that English would be the language of choice of the conversation, he vanished out the door, leaving Kelley alone to talk.

  Asano asked, “What can I do for you?”

  Kelley explained. Asano listened intently. He took notes, and waited until Kelley was done until he started asking questions. They were brief, and to the point. Kelley made sure he had Asano’s personal cell number. They hung up.

  Kelley tracked down Miyazaki on the ship. He’d entertained himself by digging up a six-pack of beer from the Yurei’s mess and methodically polishing it off. The brews seemed to have all the effect of corn flakes on the hard-drinking gangster.

  Kelley said, “I was gonna thank you by buying some beer, but it looks like you beat me to it.”

  “I won’t stop you from buying more,” Miyazaki answered in Malay. Miyazaki kept this questions about Kelley’s conversation with a Japanese naval officer to himself. In the yakuza, idle questions were as dangerous as bullets. He’d since escaped that world for his own reasons. The habit of silence remained. It had kept him alive this long.

  Kelley shrugged and grabbed a beer for himself. They went top-side.

  Kelley said, “I might need you to – “

  The sniper’s bullet found Miyazaki just over his left eye. It came out the back of the former yakuza gangster’s head. The bullet carried a large portion of his brains with it. Blood and brain tissue spattered Kelley. Miyazaki’s head bounced back, tilting to the side just enough that Kelley could meet Miyazaki’s remaining eye. He saw the yakuza’s spirit for one fleeting moment before it was gone. Miyazaki pitched backwards into the Yurei’s railing. His center of gravity caught the top rung and cantilevered over the side. Miyazaki’s already-dead body fell into the ocean below.

  Kelley was already on his stomach, rolling for cover. More bullets pounded the metal around him, ricocheting in random directions.

  Kelley put his back against a steel exhaust vent. Three shots slammed against it, echoing: brang-rang-raaaaaang! Kelley could tell all three were within an inch of each other. If it weren’t for the cover, the bullets would be in his heart. An expert was holding this gun.

  Silence followed the pounding bullets. Kelley knew the sniper was already on the move, getting the fuck out of there. But it could be a trap to make him pop his head up and eat a round. Heart slamming, brain yowling, Kelley forced himself to lie completely still. A chunk of Miyazaki’s brain tissue the size of a tea spoon head slid down Kelley’s cheek and hit the deck with a wet spat.

  More terrible seconds passed. Kelley slid backwards, using the indented vent as cover as he got behind a set of metal stairs. No more shots came.

  Kelley realized that, from the trajectory, the shot couldn’t have come from land. The shooter was in a boat, out on the water. Kelley wagered his life and eased a look out from cover. No shots.

  Kelley dashed up the steps to the control room. Grabbed up the binoculars that were always there. Glassed the horizon, sweeping the lenses across the water.

  There! The white trail of a small boat, moving fast. A speed boat. Heading out to open ocean. Surely getting out of sight of the dock before turning back to land.

  Kelley dove down the stairs. Threw himself into one of the Yurei’s raider boats. Worked the engine. And nothing. The boats were unfueled. Kelley realized gassing it up was a futile gesture. The shooter would be a dozen klicks ahead before he even got it in the water.

  Kelley clenched his fists in fury. And let out a primal scream that was soon interrupted by his buzzing cell phone. It took all of Kelley’s emotional control to keep himself from throwing it out into the water.

  Kelley snapped it open. Caller unknown. He answered.

  “Ryan Kelley.”

  Though it had been months since they’d first spoken, Kelley immediately recognized the inhuman, electronic buzz of words filtered through voice masking software.

  It was King Pirate.

  “First Brody, then Ping, now this,” Kelley said. “Fucking with my friends
is the worst mistake you ever made. I’m going to eat your beating heart while you watch.”

  A chuckle, like a hive of amused bees. King Pirate said: “We were hasty with your friend Brody. You have my apologies. But you’ve taken this ridiculous vendetta too far. Dilip Gaur very much wants you dead. He has never failed to end a life. I’ve let him off his leash. Now, you will lose one friend for each of his ships. My ships. It’s become very dangerous to know you, Ryan Kelley.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Again, that infuriating laugh. Kelley would take it with him to his grave. King Pirate disconnected.

  Kelley felt the berserker rise in him. But he knew King Pirate wanted him to lose control, to surrender to his animal instincts. It was a game, to see which man could break the other’s rational mind first.

  A vast sea of molten hate roiled in Kelley’s heart, pushing steadily against his skin to be let loose. Kelley fought it down. He wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t lose. King Pirate would not defeat him. Kelley forced himself to enter the no-mind. At last, he mastered himself.

  Kelley went to the railing. Looked down, deciding how best to retrieve Miyazaki’s floating corpse before it washed up on shore for Rasa to find.

  …

  Kelley had originally intended to wait until he heard back from Asano. Now it was go time.

  The other yakuza helped Kelley dispose of Miyazaki’s body. Kelley expected Rasa to pull up at any second. They stuffed the dead man into the trunk of a car.

  Kelley asked, “What’re you going to do with him?”

  The yakuza just shook their heads. The less Kelley knew, the better. They vanished.

  Kelley trusted Asano enough to pass along his secure sat phone number. Kelley wanted to hear back the second Asano found anything.

  That done, he put out the call to the Yurei’s crew. Drop everything, we’re leaving. Kelley included a 9-1-1 code: Watch your ass. Time to get the hell out of KL as quick as possible.

  He gave the crew twenty-four hours to settle their shit before they hit the water. Plenty of time to wrap up his business.

  …

  Kelley stood in front of a giant, stuffed crocodile.

  It was in the National Museum. The crocodile was huge. Kelley paced it out. Nine big steps.

  Kelley heard someone clear his throat. A man already moving into the next room. Kelley followed. Despite the voluminous clothes and hat pulled low, he recognized the frame, knew who it was.

  The patron paused. Around the corner, out of earshot. Kelley stepped close. Said in a low voice, “This is stupid.”

  Cuchulain quietly replied, “You wanted these pictures.” He held out a thin manila envelope.

  Kelley kept his hands to his sides. Nervously glancing around. Wondering if, one day, he’d be looking at a black-and-white photo of this hand-off.

  “Why the hell did you wanna meet like this, anyway? You know I probably have guys following me.”

  “I wanted to see ya off.”

  “Don’t fuck with me,” Kelley said.

  “I included some photos of Dilip Gaur as a bonus.”

  “Don’t need ‘em,” Kelley answered. “All I need to know about Gaur is, does he wear any jewelry?”

  Cuchulain grunted a laugh. Thinking about the ring Kelley took from Fong Sai Yuk as a trophy. But he didn’t move. He didn’t answer. Cuchulain seemed lost in his own mind.

  Kelley wasn’t in the mood for Cuchulain’s weirdness. He nodded at the envelope. “Put it down and walk away.”

  “So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

  Kelley shook his head. He didn’t have time for this shit. He started for the door.

  “Fine!” Cuchulain folded the envelope in half. He folded it into quarters. And threw it at Kelley.

  Kelley caught it in mid-air. Staring hard at Cuchulain. Eyes smoldering. Cuchulain had always been eccentric. Now he was getting flagrant. And weird. Which was dangerous.

  Cuchulain saw the open calculation in Kelley’s eyes. “You think I’m getting crazy. Crazy and sloppy, eh? But how do you think I’ve managed this long in KL?”

  Kelley ignored the question. He had no idea where Cuchulain was leading him. He didn’t want to find out. Kelley threw a last glance at the crocodile. This huge, mighty beast that had ruled whatever swamp it lived in. Until someone smarter came along. And now it was dead and stuffed. From king to curiosity in one short step.

  Kelley wasn’t going to be a trophy on King Pirate’s wall. He aimed for the door.

  Cuchulain shouted at his back: “You’re walking away from me?! I can pull this plug anytime I want!

  “An’ since yeh asked – Dilip Gaur wears a bulls-eye amulet on a gold chain! It hangs over his heart, Kelley! Over his heart! I’ll make sure he knows you’ll be looking for it!”

  Kelley got out of there, onto the street. Feeling his body adjust from the air conditioning to the steam cooker that was Malaysian heat. Replaying Cuchulain’s last words in his head. There was a raving there he hadn’t heard before. A tang of desperation.

  Kelley hooked corners until he was out of sight of the Museum. Taking the time to wonder exactly what the fuck he’d gotten himself into.

  …

  Kelley tracked down Tsung at Rojak Klang Gani, a restaurant just off the river running through KL. Tsung tucked into the signature dish. It was a local recipe: squid, tofu, egg, cucumber, potatoes and gravy. Kelley wasn’t as crazy about it. He didn’t like cucumbers.

  Kelley watched Tsung eat. “This is as stupid as it gets. We’ve got guns on us, and you’re sitting out here just begging for a bullet.”

  “Man, I can’t get enough of this stuff,” Tsung said between bites. “If they had it frozen, I’d bring some along on the ship. But they don’t, so I’m eating it now.”

  Kelley fiercely whispered, “Are you even listening to me? A sniper shot down Miyazaki. This morning. Broad daylight. Let’s get out of here.”

  Tsung remained calm. He paused, swallowed and said, “If we keep pulling down this kind of bling from our raids, come the time I ever move back to the States, I’ll open a restaurant and make my own Rojak Klang.”

  “You can cook?”

  “No. But I’ll learn. Or I’ll just hire a guy, and hang around by the front desk all night and look cool.”

  Kelley’s smile came, summoned by Tsung’s cheeky fearlessness. His eyes roved the crowds, the rooftops. Feeling terribly exposed on the sidewalk table.

  Tsung said, “I can’t eat if you’re gonna be paranoid.”

  “You weren’t on the Yurei this morning.”

  “Nope.” Tsung kept eating, unaffected.

  “They’re not fucking around. We have to get some water under us. But first…” He shoved the folded envelope at Tsung. The other man napkined off his fingers. Poked a nose inside the envelope. Quickly closed it again.

  “Who are these guys?”

  “Dilip Gau’rs closest men. His lieutenants. His guards and advisers. Give these to your friends in the gang that runs the fights. Get ‘em out on the street. There’s a bounty. Fifty grand U.S. for each of these men dead.”

  “I suppose you have a reason beyond the obvious.”

  Kelley kept his eyes on the shifting crowd around them. “Seizing the initiative. I don’t want to be the only guy watching his back. Once Gaur starts losing men important to his organization, he’ll understand he doesn’t get to hit us without reprisal.”

  “Then?”

  “Then, when he’s softened up, I come in for the kill.”

  “Won’t be easy. You caught up to Fong Sai Yuk ‘cause he didn’t take the warnings seriously.”

  “Speaking of Fong, I heard he wears a bulls-eye amulet over his heart. I’ll take that for myself.”

  “Dilip won’t be so dumb.”

  “Fong Sai Yuk wasn’t dumb, either. I just work fast.”

  “Fast enough to take down King Pirate before the rest of us get killed?”

  Kelley’s face darkened. “You want out? You can
leave anytime.”

  “No, I can’t. We pulled the tail, and now the tiger’s turning around. Leaving the crew would just ensure they find me alone. There’s no going back. But you knew that.”

  Kelley felt his blood rise. “Something on your mind, Tsung?”

  “Yeah, Dao Jia. They won’t be nice to my sister just because she’s a woman. It’ll be worse. They’ll fucking sell her, man.”

  “Dao Jia’s a big girl. She knew the risks. She took them. Now she has a down payment on the bar. She’ll be her own boss. Because of me.”

  “All I’m saying is this: it’s one thing to send yourself down the road to hell. It’s another to bring a bunch of other people along. You made it seem like our first trip would be almost a one-time thing. Now I know that’s bullshit. It was a trap door, taking us down with you in this suicide mission against King Pirate.”

  “It’s not suicide if King Pirate’s dead.”

  “And how many people have tried to take him down?”

  “I think not anybody for a while. King Pirate’s been in the big chair for too long. He’ll have gotten soft.”

  “You don’t stay in power over pirate gangs by going soft, man.”

  Kelley leaned into his face. “We’re on a death ground with King Pirate. The only thing to decide now is what you’re gonna do. Are you leaving for the States? Fine, go. Are you staying here? Then I’ll see you on the Yurei. But don’t give me some Goddamn guilt trip, like I manipulated you into becoming a privateer. You’re a man. You made a choice, now stand by it. But don’t waste my time making shame-shame fingers at me, ‘cause I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

  “Lighten up, Kelley. That’s not what I’m saying. I just want you to know the consequences of where we’re going.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause Miyazaki’s brains on my face might’ve been a little too subtle.”

  “Sometimes it takes a lot to get through to you.”

  Kelley opened his mouth. Closed it. Tsung was being blunt because he was a friend. He nodded.

  The entire time they talked, vendors wove up and down the street on motorcycles trailing portable food stands. They sold chendul, a local dessert of green noodles floating in sweet iced milk. There were so many that, even on high alert, Kelley didn’t notice the motorcycle shooter until he drew the Sig Sauer 9mm from his waistband.