King Pirate

by Tom Stern

  “I followed up on the lead,” Asano said. “The tankers that had been attacked came from different companies. So I knew if there was a leak, it was coming out of one of the offices regulating Japanese maritime trade schedules for all of the companies.”

  Kelley’s breath quickened. Sensing the hunt. “And you found something.”

  “Not at first. But I knew you wouldn’t talk to me about this unless it was something real. So I kept working every angle.

  “The central maritime office works closely with officials representing the major ports in the Pacific Rim. Just to keep everything working smoothly. Just to be thorough, I checked on the three names from Kuala Lumpur. And,” Asano almost laughed, “it’s always the simple things, Kelley.”

  Kelley bounced to his feet in anticipation. “Dammit, don’t play with me! What’d you find?”

  “Phone records, home and cell. I did a standard check of usage for the past sixty days.”

  “Lotta calls to the pizza guy?”

  “Sure. And a few to Kuala Lumpur.”

  “But that’s who they work for.”

  “Only one of the three Kuala Lumpur intermediaries was making official calls the other two didn’t,” Asano said. “Her name is Nan Patel. I noticed a familiar number.”

  “Which one?”

  “The International Chamber of Commerce building at 27 Jalan Sultan Ismail Road.”

  The address rang like a klaxon in Kelley’s head. Not so long ago, he’d called that building his place of work.

  “Lots of offices in that building, Asano.”

  “I know. Which is why I made sure to track it back to the individual department.”

  “And?

  “You know as well as I do which one I found.”

  Kelley held the phone against his chest. Letting the reality of this settle into him. Kelley didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

  He brought the phone back up and said, “The liaison – she was calling the International Piracy Reporting Center.”

  “Only a few times on that line. Not enough to arouse suspicion. But I was able to get a warrant to investigate her credit card use.”

  Even better. “And you found something of interest.”

  Asano said, “Frequent charges to a Tetsubo Cellular. I tracked it down. Tetsubo’s one of the millions of independent kiosk phone sellers in Japan.”

  Kelley had worked dozens of ports in Southeast Asia. He knew exactly the type. He’d even visited one to buy a calling card before Miyazaki took a bullet. “What kind of charges?”

  “A big number at the front, and the same number a few times since then.”

  Almost to himself, Kelley said, “The first to buy an unmarked phone. And the rest to buy minutes.”

  “My guess exactly. And I thought: perhaps a boyfriend? Someone she didn’t want to call on the official lines without getting into trouble? Maybe.”

  “But you had a hunch.”

  Again, that snicker. “I did. I checked the timing of the phone card minute purchases against the departure of oil tankers headed to Kuala Lumpur.”

  Kelley almost fell down. “And you got a match.”

  “Yes. It was eerie, how close the one was to the other. Within a few hours.”

  “Just enough time to call your boyfriend in Kuala Lumpur and let him know a tanker’s heading his way.”

  “You know what this means?”

  Kelley said, “I want you to say it, Asano. I need to make sure I’m not leaping to conclusions I can’t take back. Tell me. Everything considered. What does it look like?”

  “It looks like King Pirate is getting his info directly from his ‘enemies’ in the IPC.”

  How can a man laugh and scream at the same time? Ryan Kelley figured out a way.

  This was hot. Kelley needed help on the inside. He picked up the sat phone again. He dialed Cuchulain. But Kelley didn’t hit “SEND.” There was a tickle at the base of his neck. Something he couldn’t identify, but it was there, regardless. An almost-memory, like when he was trying to think of what Fei Hong had told him.

  Kelley put the phone down without calling Cuchulain.

  …

  The next morning proved equally bereft of leads on pirates. That was fine by Kelley. He had another errand in mind. He didn’t want any distractions while he worked.

  Kelley found Al Buq on the fore deck. Sitting and smoking when the sonofabitch should have been working. Several of Al Buq’s friends hung around nearby. They smirked at Kelley behind his back.

  Kelley walked straight up to Al Buq. The two men took a measure of each other.

  Kelley said, “Stand up.”

  Al Buq didn’t move. “I’ve been working hard all morning, captain,” he answered in Malay. “Can’t I take a little rest?”

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t work so hard, Al Buq. You need the extra care. Because you’re not like a real man. You’re weak and small. Like a little girl.”

  The men instantly moved back. They didn’t want to get caught up in what was about to happen. One of them ran off.

  Al Buq’s eyes ignited. He stood.

  He was a few inches shorter than Ryan Kelley, but just as wide. Al Buq’s thick muscles bulged against skin as hard and brown as leather, covered with scars and tattoos. The cemetery was full of guys who had fucked with Al Buq.

  The man who had run off came back with Tsung and Dao Jia. Kelley stopped them from interfering with a look.

  Al Buq said, “So you think I’m weak, captain?”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Oh?”

  “A son of a whore usually has birth problems.”

  Al Buq spat on the deck at Kelley’s feet.

  Kelley responded by drawing his fighting knife. Al Buq did the same.

  Al Buq and Kelley were not animals. They followed the traditions of a knife fight at sea. Kelley dropped his knife on the deck several feet in front of him. Al Buq followed in kind, his curved Arabesque dagger clattering against the OKC FF1 Kelley had gotten from Bingham the knife-seller, a killing blade designed for American special forces.

  Kelley had the edge with equipment, but he knew a man like Al Buq was born with a fighting knife in his hand. This would be an equal fight. Not a risk a lot of modern men would take. But Kelley could have it no other way.

  A breathless moment as Kelley and Al Buq faced off. And they both lunged for their weapons at once. Al Buq was faster. He got a hand on his knife blade and kicked Kelley’s away in the same sliding-forward motion.

  But Al Buq didn’t realize Kelley wasn’t aiming for his knife in the first place. The Irishman brought up his elbow in a sweeping move, catching Al Buq on the chin. It sent the Malay sprawling backwards. Kelley followed it with a leg-sweep. Al Buq thudded to the deck on his back.

  With almost careless grace, Kelley strolled over to his knife and picked it up while Al Buq recovered to his feet. Kelley wanted Al Buq to know from the start who was going to win this fight. He wanted Al Buq to twist in the knowledge that these were his last moments on Earth.

  But Al Buq was not a reflective man. He shot towards Kelley. Ducked aside, a feint. Swinging a fist and his knife at the same time from different directions. Kelley blocked the punch and dodged the blade.

  They shifted from the middle. Al Buq stabbed at Kelley’s guts. Kelley blocked the blade with his own, using an underhand grip. They grasped each others’ wrists. Struggling, panting. Sweating. Teeth grit. Straining in a primal test of raw male power.

  Al Buq stomped down on Kelley’s ankle. It threw Kelley off. Kelley was in the no-mind state. As if he’d already experienced it, he knew from which direction Al Buq’s follow-up was coming. Kelley threw up the under-handed knife. A solid block. Al Buq grunted in surprised. How did Kelley know?

  Al Buq’s blade skittered off its edge, slid across the steel and caught Kelley across the forearm.

  It ripped through Kelley’s shirt, opening a six-inch slice along the inside of Kelley’s bone. His bloo
d sprayed in an arc. Spattering both of their faces.

  Al Buq chuckled. First blood. He reversed his stance and came around to finish the job.

  Kelley caught Al Buq’s knife hand in the crook of his elbow. His fresh wound spilled blood onto Al Buq’s knuckles.

  Kelley smiled.

  He head-butted Al Buq to stun him. Kelley brought his opponent’s hand down on his up-sweeping knee. The fragile wrist bones snapped. Kelley wrested the curved knife from Al Buq’s now-useless hand. He performed a spinning back-fist that sent Al Buq reeling.

  Al Buq was tough as fuck, a greasy street rat from the gutters of Kuala Lumpur’s worst slum. He’d clawed and fought his way out of worse situations. Biting back the pain of his broken wrist, Al Buq ducked and feinted to create an opening in Kelley’s guard. He went in, bringing up a leg to smash Kelley’s knee out from under him.

  Again, in the vision of the no-mind, Kelley saw the move coming three steps ahead. He withdrew to extend Al Buq’s strike, shifted into his space and stabbed the sorry motherfucker in the heart.

  Kelley shoved Al Buq away from him, heaving for breath through bloody lips. He was already dead.

  Al Buq stood there. Staring at Kelley with a sense of mild surprise. He looked down. The hilt of the special forces blade extended from his chest.

  Al Buq nodded. This was exactly how he’d always expected to die. Despite his plotting, Kelley had paid Al Buq for his service on the Yurei with the greatest of all gifts: a manly death. Al Buq fell forward, face-down in a pool of his own blood.

  Kelley pulled off his shirt. He wrapped it around his wounded arm. He glanced around at the gathered crew.

  “On this ship, I am your captain. And I’m only going to say this once: we are not pirates. No matter what anyone else says or thinks. I will kill King Pirate. But I will do it with honor. If you are a man, honorable and strong, you belong on this ship. If you’re not…”

  Kelley drew his knife from Al Buq’s chest. He picked the corpse up and threw it overboard.

  “On this ship, there are only two ways to sail. With me. Or with him.”

  He stalked off.

  As he went, the men clasped him by the shoulder. Dao Jia smiled. The Ryan Kelley she knew had not failed in this test. She did not rush to tend his wound. Dao Jia knew better than to unman Kelley in front of his crew.

  Kelley stopped by Tsung. Said: “Set new coordinates. Pulau Rapat at 1-55’53.67” N, 101-46’42.92” E.”

  Kelley left. He didn’t look back. Killing Al Buq meant nothing to him.

  …

  Later. “We’re going after Dilip Gaur’s tankers,” Tsung said. They were on the bridge.

  Kelley told him, “That’s right. I tried to follow up on some leads when we were in KL – “

  Dao Jia: “These leads again.”

  Kelley ignored her and continued, “Know what I found out? Not a damn thing.”

  Dao Jia: “So?”

  “I should have gotten something. Anything. Even a lie. But I didn’t.”

  “Maybe you’re jumping at shadows.”

  Kelley: “No, this is different.”

  “In what way?”

  “I don’t have evidence. Just a gut feeling.”

  Dao Jia: “First sources, and now a feeling. Sure glad we’re doing this the smart way.” Semi-joking.

  Kelley: “I live like an asshole, but I’m still alive because I listen to my gut. And I have a feeling that I’m supposed to forget about where we think those tankers are going. And I’m not. We’re gonna go take a look for ourselves.”

  Tsung: “The men won’t be happy if we go too long without a score.”

  Kelley smiled brightly like an innocent child and said, “I’ve learned that killing someone has an excellent effect on morale. Trust me, they won’t give us any shit.”

  Kelley watched Tsung’s reaction, to see if he got the point. When Kelley saw Tsung shudder and step back, he hoped it wasn’t because his best friend was afraid of him.

  Or, at least, too afraid.

  Kelley: “I have a sneakin’ hunch that we’ll see some action once it becomes clear where we’re going.”

  Kelley left the bridge. He had shit to do.

  Over his shoulder, Kelley heard Dao Jia ask her brother: “’Becomes clear’ to who? Is someone watching us?”

  Kelley kept walking. He couldn’t give them too much information. Not yet.

  …

  Kelley mopped sweat from his forehead. His cheek bones hurt. He re-did the bandages on his wounded arm.

  He’d just gotten back from another late-night bout with the men. They didn’t push him too hard. Now they had a healthy fear of him. Good. But the last fight was tough enough that he’d re-opened the knife cut Al Buq had given him. Fine. Kelley didn’t mind the sight or scent of blood. Even his own. Especially someone else’s. Kelley pulled at the gauze with his teeth as he held the bandages to his arm.

  His laptop blinged. Kelley pulled it open.

  Another email in his inbox. A different numbered account, but Kelley knew it was the same guy as before. Yap Chew? Probably.

  The subject line read: “Go back to KL immediately, or I’m sending this to IPC.”

  The picture of the Yurei again. This time the image was sweetened, even sharper. No question it was Kelley’s ship. In the middle of an act of piracy.

  Kelley thought about what would happen if this picture got sent to IPC.

  He thought, Anastasia.

  He thought, Rasa.

  And then he thought, Cuchulain.

  Kelley hit “REPLY.”

  He typed: “Go ahead, asshole.”

  He clicked “SEND.”

  And Kelley crossed the Rubicon.

  …

  Asano called later that night.

  “You shouldn’t know this.” A smile in his voice.

  Kelley: “There’s a lotta shit I shouldn’t know, shouldn’t have and shouldn’t do, and I just keep knowing, having and doing it anyway.”

  Asano said, “The liaison we’re looking at – her name is Sabina Patel. Ring any bells?”

  Kelley thought hard. He concentrated, touching on the no-mind. Emptying his consciousness to better see its contents. He answered: “No, never heard of her. Why, should I have?”

  “If she’s calling IPC, I thought perhaps you’d – “

  “Whoa, wait. Patel. Indian?”

  “Yes, now a citizen of Malaysia, working in Tokyo on visa.”

  Kelley asked, “Do you remember another Indian guy at IPC? Sanjay Gupta. The office manager.”

  “What are you thinking? That Sanjay’s her connection inside IPC?”

  “Seems obvious, doesn’t it?” Kelley asked. “Let’s get a background check on them both. Perhaps there’s an older connection there.”

  Asano said, “Patel won’t be a problem. But I no longer have access to IPC files. Do you have anyone on the inside you could still ask?”

  Kelley said, “Not anymore,” grinning at the irony. He was on a secret mission for the head of IPC and was sleeping with the head of investigation. But Kelley dared not call either at this stage.

  “Let’s start with Patel,” Kelley said. “Keep an eye on her. If your theory’s right, we should see some action from her pretty soon.”

  “I’ll let you know the second anything happens.”

  “Asano.”

  “Yes?”

  “Outside of your department, keep this to yourself. If there’s a pirate mole in the IPC, we have to be very careful how we handle this.”

  They sailed for days. Avoiding the shipping lanes. Dodging rough weather. Making good time.

  Kelley called Anastasia.

  She sounded worried: “Where are you?”

  “You know better than to ask.”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on things,” she said. Kelley knew that meant she was using her law enforcement connections. “Everyone’s looking for you. They think – “

  “What?”

  Anastasi
a took a breath and said, “They think you had something to do with the shootings in the city.”

  Kelley looked to the sky and said thanks for small favors. She didn’t say, They think you’re a pirate. Whoever scored the satellite photo of the Yurei hadn’t sent it to IPC.

  Not yet.

  Why?

  Kelley asked, “What do you think?”

  “It’s not what I think,” she said, voice rising. “I know you said you were going to kill a man. And then the city gets shot up. I decided to step aside, because I thought it was something personal. But a gang war is something different. This Leftenan Rasa is naming you as a prime suspect. The Coast Guard will arrest you on sight. You won’t last five minutes in KL.”

  “The man I need to kill is still alive,” Kelley answered. Ducking the question of his involvement.

  She wasn’t mollified. Anastasia was just too damn smart for that. “I’m afraid you’re not going to live through this.”

  Kelley changed tack: “Does Rasa have evidence?”

  “No. But he’s – “

  “Rasa doesn’t have evidence, because I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Kelley lied. “Rasa’s out for me, and he’ll trump up anything he can to get at me.”

  “And if he makes something stick? What then?”

  “I won’t talk about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Anastasia angrily hissed. “Of course not. How can you say something so cruel?”

  “I’m coming back, Anastasia.”

  A moment. And: “I need you. Alive.”

  “I’m coming back.”

  “When? Soon? I want to see you.”

  “Not yet. Soon. Don’t worry. I’m coming back.”

  Kelley hung up. He wandered out onto the deck. Letting the strong sea air move across his face and body.

  Anastasia had said something that stuck with him. Kelley turned it over, examining it from different angles.

  An idea formed.

  Kelley had given Asano his satellite phone number. The number only Cuchulain was supposed to have. Kelley no longer gave a shit.

  The Yurei cruised.

  The call came.

  “I have something,” Asano said.

  “Give it to me.”

  “Patel purchased a calling card from Tetsubo Cellular this morning.”