The Devil's Waters

by David L. Robbins

  The woman in the corridor could not avoid him.

  She ran only a few steps toward the stern until he snared her by the back of the blouse. Yusuf yanked her to a stop, then whirled her to face him.

  “You,” he breathed, “are Iris Cherlina.” Yusuf rolled the onyx-handled knife in his fingers. She inched away along the rail. “Don’t run. I’m out of patience.”

  Iris Cherlina crossed hands over her breasts as a naked woman might do.

  “I am Yusuf Raage. The one you sent for.”

  She shook her head, saying no to whatever he might do to her. She said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I should cut your throat.”

  Even with Yusuf’s warning for her to stand still, the woman crept backward. He stepped forward, halting her retreat.

  She said again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would happen.”

  “That is a lie. You knew what was on this ship. You knew soldiers would come take it back.”

  She raised one palm off her chest. “I swear I didn’t. We made the accident a hundred miles from the coast because no armies could get here fast enough. I wanted the ship to reach shore. I’d never heard of these American rescuemen. And if I had, I wouldn’t have believed they could…”

  Iris Cherlina pulled up short in her confession. Yusuf lunged before she could speak more or back away. Snagging her wrist, he dragged her toward the bow, to the dead Darood sprawled nearby beneath the rail. He flashed his hand behind her head, pressing her to kneel into the shadows and stench. Yusuf pointed at the twin black holes over the corpse’s heart glistening like coal.

  “That they could do this? To all of my men?”

  Yusuf squeezed her neck, lifting her to face him. He hauled her to the ladder, where he tugged Suleiman’s body down to his arms. The woman did not move. Yusuf placed his dead kinsman on the deck, then held the blade close to Iris Cherlina’s chin, twisting it to catch the moonlight.

  “You are a scientist.”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you going to Iran with all the Israeli machines? Were you part of the deal?”

  “Yes. I was.”

  “What is the machine in the bow?”

  “An electromagnetic railgun. A weapon. It’s what Iran wants most.”

  “Is that why you brought me here to hijack this ship? To stop it? Your fat sailor says you have a conscience.”

  “That’s correct.”

  Yusuf, as he had with Grisha, pushed the point of the blade under her chin. This backed the woman against the steel wall. She rose onto her toes.

  “I will ask once. You hid this weapon and the machines from the crew. You wanted it hijacked because you couldn’t stand to see it all in the hands of Iran. Is that right?”

  Her answer came without more tremors on the tip of the knife. Iris Cherlina dropped her pretense of fear.

  “Yes.”

  “You wanted me to take this ship back to the Islamists, have them lay it all out for the world to see.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you would be the invisible hand behind it all. Because you are a patriot?”

  Yusuf increased the pressure on the knife into her chin. She tried to nod but could not on the tip of the dagger.

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She grunted. “There is no other answer.”

  He eased the blade from her flesh. She smoothed a pretty finger under her chin.

  An ingenious scheme, if true. Use Sheikh Robow and al-Qaeda to bring forth pirates. Slow the ship to make certain they could board. Stop Iran from getting the hardware, embarrass the governments responsible, blame the pirates, all tracks covered.

  “How much were the Iranians paying you to come work for them?”

  “I’ve been paid two million dollars. I get another million per year.”

  Yusuf’s sandals shuffled backward involuntarily.

  “You must be quite the scientist.”

  “I am.”

  He pointed the dagger at her. A shame not to have been able to ransom her alongside the crew and cargo. She’d be worth a great deal.

  “You’ve failed. The Americans have stopped me from taking the ship. It will go on to Beirut. Nothing has changed except all my men are dead.”

  “This ship is not going to Beirut. Iran will never see any of the machines, or the railgun, or me.”

  “How can that be?”

  “It is going to sink. It can’t be stopped.”

  “How did you—”

  She had the fat sailor’s master key. She could go anywhere.

  “It will blow in less than five minutes. You’ll be blamed for it.”

  It struck Yusuf then that this woman had pulled every string from the beginning. Starting weeks ago, when Robow arrived at the wedding, right to this moment. Suleiman said that Allah rewards those who run to their fate. Yusuf had been running to her.

  He pointed at the dark heap near his feet.

  “That is my cousin. Suleiman Abdikarim.” He said this because everything on the ship belonged to Iris Cherlina, including the corpses.

  She advanced at his raised blade. She brushed it aside, slipping past him in the narrow passage toward the stern.

  “I owe you, Yusuf Raage. Get off this ship. Do it now. If you live, I will find you. I’ll send you money. Again, I’m sorry.”

  She did not break into a run but walked away, confident that Yusuf had been settled. What sort of man did she take him for? A pirate, bought with the promise of money? He’d been that when he came on board the Valnea, yes, but that was when he had a ship to capture, men and kin beside him to do it. All that was gone now. Yusuf was not a pirate any longer on this ship. He was only Darood, the last living on board, and chieftain of his dead.

  Yusuf surged at Iris Cherlina. Before she could turn, he’d wrapped her throat in the crook of his elbow. She struggled. He could squeeze until she choked, or cut her throat. But this woman had value greater than her own death.

  Yusuf tightened around the woman’s long neck enough to still her. He tugged the walkie-talkie from his waistband and brought it to his lips.

  “Americans.”

  Chapter 51

  LB started to answer, but Wally held up a hand.

  “This is Captain Bloom. Yusuf Raage?”

  “I am waiting for you on the bow.”

  Wally sped his gait, carbine up and ready. LB followed close behind. On the port rail, Doc and Quincy would be sprinting forward right now.

  “Captain.”

  “Yes?”

  “I have Iris Cherlina.”

  Off the radio, Wally cursed. LB passed him in the narrow corridor to break into a run. They flew past the bodies of pirates. Nearing the end of the passageway, LB leaped across the corpse of the thin Somali he’d shot ten minutes ago up on the cargo deck. How did he get here?

  Reaching the end of the companionway, LB and Wally pulled up. From behind cover, LB scanned the bow through the NVGs. Yusuf Raage stood in the open between two hawsers, at the point of the hull. In the milky light of the moon and the tall beacon on its mast, the Somali could not see the pair of infrared beams pinning him from Doc and Quincy standing to port, weapons trained, one to his cheek, the other on his chest. Both dots glowed dangerously close to Iris Cherlina’s head, framed inside Raage’s elbow, a knife at her throat.

  LB raised his goggles and lowered his weapon. Wally did the same. Both walked into the open, closer. Doc and Quincy stayed back to keep the pirate covered.

  LB spoke first. “Iris, this is Captain Bloom.”

  Wally dipped his brow. “Ma’am.”

  Yusuf Raage answered by tossing the walkie-talkie overboard. He yanked the back of Iris’s hair, stretching her white neck. He shaved the blade up her flesh. She breathed hard through her nose, blinking wildly.

  LB held up a hand. “You don’t want to do that.”

  Yusuf eased his head beside hers, as if to whisper in her ear. “Ah, Sergeant. You have no idea how badly I do.”


  Wally asked, “What do you want?”

  Off to starboard, the warship Nicholas approached with the great mumble of her engines. Yusuf tucked the knife tighter under Iris’s chin. She stood stiffly, quiet.

  “Have your men lower their rifles. If they raise them again, I will kill her. You may do as you like after that.”

  With a wave of Wally’s hand, Quincy and Doc lowered their M4s.

  Yusuf shifted his dark eyes to LB. “Did you kill my cousin?” Wally gestured for LB to give no answer. LB ignored him.

  “Yeah.”

  The Somali nodded before returning his attention to Wally. “I will make a trade.”

  “No.”

  Yusuf Raage slid the blade sideways under Iris’s chin. She jerked at the sting. A dribble of her blood soaked into his sleeve.

  “You will throw your weapons overboard. Then you and your men will get off this ship. He will stay behind. When I am satisfied, I will release the woman.”

  Wally said again, flatly, “No.”

  The Somali wagged his great head. “Captain. This woman has offended me in enough ways. I will slit her throat and take a bullet for it. So be it. She will die at my hand. Or he will. Either way, I am a dead man, I know that. The question is, who joins me?”

  Wally did not hesitate. He raised his M4, looking keen to put a round between Yusuf’s eyes.

  “Quincy, Doc. Dismissed.”

  On the port side of the bow, both PJs held their ground.

  The pirate did not duck Wally’s raised muzzle. He dug the edge of his blade deeper into Iris’s flesh. He showed his teeth when he said, “Captain, I’ve warned you.”

  Wally yelled at Doc and Quincy. “Dismissed!”

  The two PJs wavered, unsure. Wally did not shout when he said to LB, “You, too.”

  The Somali waited. Another red drip pulsed down Iris Cherlina’s throat.

  LB lifted the Zastava’s strap off his shoulder. With a spinning heave, he tossed it over the gunnel into the night.

  Wally did not shift his stance.

  “Doc, Quincy. Escort LB off the bow. Now.” Wally lowered his voice. “I’ll put you in the brig later.”

  LB called across the bow to the two PJs. “Hold.”

  Doc and Quincy steadied, both fixed on Yusuf Raage.

  “Wally, he’ll kill her.”

  “And I’ll kill him. Now leave the bow.”

  “You got to be kidding.”

  Swiftly, Wally lowered his M4 from Yusuf Raage. In the same motion, he drew his Beretta sidearm to point it at LB’s chest.

  “Back off. That’s an order.”

  “Or you’ll shoot me?”

  “Yes. Then I’ll shoot him.”

  LB drew himself to his full height, still a head shorter than Wally.

  Wally spoke down the short barrel of the pistol. “I’m going to count…”

  “What are you, my fucking mom?”

  LB stepped closer to Wally. The pistol’s muzzle lifted to his eyes.

  “That others may live, Wally. Others. Any order you get or give that contravenes that is not worth following. So go ahead and count. I’ll get you started. One.”

  The Somali’s gravelly voice interrupted. “Captain.”

  Wally did not turn to the pirate; the Beretta stayed on LB.

  “What?”

  “This sergeant you point your gun at. You wear the same uniform. You are clan.”

  “I suppose.”

  “The men you killed on this ship, they were my clan. Two were my family. Aim your gun only at me.”

  Wally glanced for a moment at the pirate. When he returned his focus to his pistol hand, LB had sidestepped away from the barrel.

  Wally holstered the pistol.

  He said to Yusuf, “Let her go. We’ll all walk out of here alive, all right? You’ve got my guarantee.”

  Yusuf did not release his headlock on Iris. “Thank you for that gesture, Captain.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “But you know it’s a lie. I will die here or in some African jail. My life is worth nothing in your hands, just as yours would be worthless in mine. At this moment, I prefer vengeance to keeping my life. I’m sure you think that barbaric. It may be. Now throw your weapons overboard. Leave the bow, then leave the ship. The sergeant stays behind.”

  Wally lowered his head and sucked his teeth. He hardened his stance, spreading his boots on the deck. Before he could bring the M4 up again, LB stepped close to stop him.

  “Listen, listen to me.” LB pushed the carbine down. He urged, just above a whisper. “You lift that rifle again, he’s gonna kill her. You know he is, right in front of us. Let me stay.”

  “No.”

  Before LB could say more, Wally grabbed his tunic to drag him strides away. He dropped his voice to a hiss.

  “It’s your turn to listen. I have orders, direct orders, to eliminate this pirate. This specific pirate.”

  “Give me that order. I can do it.”

  Wally loosed a long sigh. “I can’t say yes.”

  “You can. Just send me in. You’ve done it a hundred times before. It’s a rescue. I’ll do what I have to do, then I’ll come back. I always do.”

  The pirate spoke. “Captain. Your answer?”

  LB leaned his face beneath Wally’s, looking up. “You know that little talk you wanted to have? About what I did in those jungles while you were pissing your pants waiting for me to come back? Let’s have it now.”

  “Now’s not the time.”

  “I think it is. They weren’t just recon missions. They were black ops. There were targets. I killed people in those jungles. Drug lords, commies, revolutionaries, kidnappers, all on orders. All to prop up some local tyrant, or some political bullshit like this ship. After a while I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t blink without seeing a face. So I stopped, Wally. I put it down and I became a PJ. I saved myself. The only way I can sleep at night is knowing I save people.”

  LB spun to Yusuf Raage. “You’ll let her go, right?”

  “My word.”

  “Wally, she doesn’t deserve to die like this. She didn’t sign up for it. We did.”

  Wally pursed his lips. “Shit.”

  LB said again, “I can do this.”

  Wally turned away, to the forward rail. He lifted his M4 off his shoulders to drop it into the black gulf. He gestured for Doc and Quincy to toss theirs. Both PJs looked to LB before following the order. He nodded, and they splashed their rifles.

  Wally had not yet tossed away the Beretta. “It’ll take us a while to get off the ship.”

  Yusuf Raage laughed. This struck LB as a deranged thing to do.

  “I think not.”

  “Why?”

  As if in answer to Wally’s question, an explosion rumbled out of the freighter’s stern, the detonation felt in the deck as much as heard. Doc and Quincy swung around, empty-handed, trying to find the source of the blast, looking to the sky. The freighter rolled to port.

  What had just happened—had the Predator struck anyway? They’d called the drone off; they’d beat the deadline! LB shouted at Yusuf Raage, “What the hell was that?”

  The pirate kept his grip on Iris but eased the knife from her throat.

  “This ship is going to sink.”

  Chapter 52

  The blast rocked the ship so hard the Americans adjusted their stances. Three of them searched the night sky while the captain leveled his pistol at Yusuf.

  “How’d you know that was going to happen? Did you do this?”

  Only for a moment Yusuf considered telling the Americans what he knew, what he’d drawn from Iris Cherlina on the tip of his knife. She set the explosives. She would sink the ship.

  He could ruin the woman, cut her throat, and die after her. Pressed against her from behind, he felt her lungs working, her heart race.

  “I want to know right now. Did you blow this ship?”

  He could tell the truth. But that tale would mark Yusuf Raage as a fool. A wo
man’s puppet, if he named Iris Cherlina.

  He chose instead his own name.

  “Yes.” He spoke left and right at all four soldiers. “I have sunk your ship. I put all the machines you send to Iran on the bottom of the gulf. I send the bodies of my clansmen there too. Stay on this ship with me, Americans. Come to the bottom with us. Or go.”

  He pressed the blade again under Iris Cherlina’s neck. She lifted to her toes.

  “Throw away the pistol, Captain. And Sergeant, you remove your radio and headset.”

  As they were told, the American officer flung his gun overboard, the sergeant stripped himself of his communications gear.

  “Take your men, the crew, your dead, and leave. When I’m convinced you are gone, I will release the woman. Then the sergeant and I can conclude our affairs.”

  No one moved. Out of the breezeless half-lit dark, a great groaning creak from the stern made the Americans shuffle their feet. Inside his arm, Iris Cherlina shivered. The deck rose under Yusuf’s sandals. Even the Valnea was going to die.

  “Go, Captain. The faster you get off this ship, the better this woman’s chances are to survive.”

  The three Americans backpedaled. The sergeant gave them encouraging nods as they abandoned him. Departing, the captain issued orders into his radio to begin evacuating the freighter, for the warship to come closer.

  The sergeant, a short and burly man, squatted onto his haunches like a toad. He spoke to the woman.

  “It’s gonna be okay.”

  Yusuf lowered the knife a bit from her throat. Iris Cherlina came down off her toes. Inside Yusuf’s arm, her head leveled.

  “It will not be okay,” Yusuf said to the sergeant, “for you.” The soldier knit thick fingers between his spread knees. “Don’t talk shit. I have to be nice to you right now. Soon as you let her go, that stops.”

  “Do you have a knife?”

  The man hiked up his pants leg to slide a blade from a hidden sheath. He twisted the knife in the little light, in the fashion of a man who knew how to use one.

  “Excellent,” said Yusuf.

  Chapter 53

  At the foot of the stairwell, Wally ordered Doc and Quincy to stay on deck.