Running Dark

by Jamie Freveletti

  Before Stark could respond, the sound of gunshots cracked through the quiet. A group of birds flew upward from the trees about a hundred yards away. Answering shots followed. Emma pulled the pistol out of the holster attached to her ankle. She handed it to Stark.

  “Can you shoot?” She kept her voice soft and low.

  “I’ve been skeet shooting since I was a kid.”

  “Ever shot a pistol?”

  “I’ll figure it out.” He held the gun in his right hand and stared down the path, as if the discussion were over. Emma reached out, wrapped her palm around his wrist, and pulled his arm sideways, toward her. While she did this, he kept the gun’s muzzle pointed in the general direction of the shots. At least he knew enough to aim the gun away, she thought.

  “Watch,” she whispered. She flicked the safety off, then pushed his hand back so that the gun was once again aligned with the path. Stark colored a little but said nothing.

  They waited.

  The three Somali women who had carried the provisions burst out of the trees, with terrified looks on their faces and running for all they were worth. Their head scarves flowed out behind them. After, with their backs to the path, came two of the four men. They held their assault weapons at the ready. Stark raised his pistol. Emma stilled his arm. He cast her a quick look; she shook her head no, and he subsided.

  The men ran to the Range Rover, flinging open the door. Within seconds Emma heard the engine turn over and then roar as the driver punched the gas pedal but must have failed to release the clutch. The motor whined while the car stayed in place.

  The final two men, the ones who had carried the crate, came next. One turned around and released a volley of shots. The rifle visibly rattled in his hands. Bits of bark from nearby trees burst into the air. When the shooter was finished, he jogged into the Rover.

  The last man headed for the back of the van. He yanked the rear doors open. Emma would have given anything to see his reaction once he realized that Stark was gone, but the panels blocked her view.

  Seconds later the man came around. He had a grim look on his face. He ran to the Rover and leaped into the backseat. The driver finally released the clutch, and the car shot forward, careened sideways as it circled left, and sped down the path, away from the ocean. In less than a minute, Hassim and Nick came into view.

  Emma stepped out from the path. “They’re gone.”

  “For now,” Hassim said.

  “I think I found our hostage.” She waved Stark forward. Both Hassim and Nick stared at him.

  “Who are you?” Nick said.

  “Richard Stark, CEO of Price Pharmaceuticals.”

  Hassim got a knowing look on his face. “You didn’t die in the fire, then.”

  “Thankfully, no,” Stark said.

  Hassim looked wary at this latest piece of information, and Emma didn’t blame him. Stark’s miraculous escape seemed too good to be true.

  “I want to hear what happened, but not now. We only have a few minutes. That crowd will run to the village to collect assistance. We need to get on the boat and out of here immediately.”

  Hassim turned and started a slow jog toward the ocean. Emma, Nick, and Stark fell in behind him. When they reached the area where their own vehicle was hidden, they grabbed the chemistry duffel. The waves crashed on the beach. Along with them came the bodies of jellyfish. Over fifty spread out on the sand—large ones with pink umbrella forms, smaller blue ones in a crescent shape. They lay on the beach, baking in the sun.

  “Watch out for the jellyfish,” Hassim said.

  “Why are there so many?” Emma asked.

  Hassim took the duffel from her and handed it to Nick. “The corporate trawlers are overfishing, removing tons of sea life and upsetting the balance. The jellyfish bloom when their natural predators are reduced or gone. When they migrate in masses like this, they can be extremely dangerous. The ones on the beach are a small fraction of the schools that we will find in the water.”

  Stark stopped when he saw the small craft bobbing in the water. “What are you doing?”

  Hassim indicated to Nick that he should keep moving. Nick continued forward, picking his way around the beached jellyfish. He began wading into the water. Emma paused to listen to Hassim and Stark.

  “We need to get Ms. Caldridge to a cruise ship that requires her assistance. We’ll use this boat to get there,” Hassim said.

  “Are we all going?” Stark sounded suspicious.

  Hassim shook his head. “Not Nick. He’ll drive the car back to Berbera.”

  “I’ll go with him,” Stark said.

  Hassim shook his head again. “No you won’t. Everyone in Berbera knows Nick. His presence there will go unnoticed. But that will not be the case if he appears with a Westerner. I won’t put him at risk.”

  Stark stopped cold. Emma could tell he was going to dig in his heels.

  “I’ll take the risk. Nick can drive me to Hargeisa.”

  “The Hargeisa-Berbera road is monitored by the pirates. Even with SPUs I can’t guarantee that you won’t be subjected to a revenge attack.”

  “SPU?” Stark said.

  “Special protection units,” Emma said. “They’re security guards who ensure your protection along the road. But I think you should listen to Hassim. He knows what he’s talking about.”

  Stark looked aggravated. “Are you sure about that?”

  “He works for Banner.”

  “Ah, the vaunted Banner. Then get him on the phone. Perhaps he knows what we should do.”

  Hassim made a disgusted noise. “You deal with him,” he said to Emma.

  He turned and headed out to the cabin cruiser. Emma gave it one last shot.

  “Listen, I know you don’t want to get any deeper into this, but you’re not safe here, and we have to go. Either you come with us or Nick and Hassim will leave you to fend for yourself.”

  Stark gave her a long, pointed look. “Don’t you understand? I’ve just had the most harrowing twenty-four hours of my life. All I want to do is get to civilization and go home. You’re off on some wild-goose chase for this Banner guy. What makes you think I want to go along?”

  The discussion was cut short by Hassim yelling from the boat. “Leave him! We go!”

  Emma sighed. “You’re right, I’m heading into a mess, but staying here is a mistake, too. It’s yours to make, though, so I’ll leave you to it.”

  She started wading toward the boat. Nick was on the way back toward shore. He high-fived her as he passed.

  “Luck to you,” he said.

  Emma reached the ladder and pulled herself up. She heard a splashing behind her. She looked back to see Stark heading toward them.

  “What did you say?” Hassim said.

  She shrugged. “I left the decision to him. I think he realizes that he’s in an untenable situation. The problem is, I can’t tell if he’s the source of our troubles or another innocent victim.” They watched Stark come nearer. He climbed onto the deck.

  “I really think I’m going to regret this,” Stark said.

  “Ashes fly back into the face of the one who throws them,” Hassim replied.

  “What does that mean?” Stark said.

  “It means don’t press your luck,” Emma said.

  37

  SUMNER WOKE WHEN THE SUN WAS PEEKING THROUGH THE STATEROOM windows. His alarm remained silent, which puzzled him. He turned to look at the glowing numbers, only to realize that he’d slept right through it. He sat up in a flash. He’d slept far longer than he’d intended. He splashed some cold water on his face and headed to the upper deck, where he found Clutch sitting on the port side, cradling a stun gun in his lap while he drank from a steaming mug of coffee. The ship seemed becalmed.

  “What’s going on?” Sumner said.

  Clutch gave a desultory shrug. “Not much. Turbines are off. Wainwright’s hoping to keep some juice in case the pirates come back. But, like I said, they’re gone. They must know by now that we can’t be
taken. This whole sitting-watch thing is a joke.”

  It was all Sumner could do to continue conversing with the guy. Instead of responding, he turned to look out to sea. It was full day, and the heat was rising right along with the sun. Here and there, crew members went about their usual duties, which added to the surreal nature of the tableau. It was as if nothing untoward were happening, or had happened.

  “And Block?” Sumner said.

  “Went to sleep five, maybe six hours ago. Janklow and Wainwright, too. Soon as they come back I’m letting one of them sit watch. This is stupid.”

  “Who has the sniper rifle?”

  “It should be obvious that I don’t.”

  Sumner reined in his anger. “I was asking you if you knew who did.”

  “Probably Block. He was treating the thing like it was his baby. Didn’t allow anyone else to use it, which was stupid, because we might have needed it these past hours while he slept.”

  Sumner noted that this was the first intelligent thing Clutch had said so far, though he couldn’t help being pleased that Block didn’t just give the gun to Clutch. Sumner didn’t think the man had the temperament required to handle the weapon.

  “I’ll go find it,” Sumner said.

  Clutch shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Sumner took another deep breath. The man sounded like a disaffected teenager. Sumner revised that thought almost immediately. A teenager would have realized the danger they were in and would have had the quick reflexes and inclination to be of some help. Clutch had neither.

  Sumner headed to the hallway between decks. Before he could make it there, he heard the roar of a cigarette boat’s engine. He spun around to see Clutch lurch upward. The coffee in his cup sloshed all over the deck. He gave Sumner a frantic look.

  “Go get that gun!” he shrieked.

  Sumner fled back down the stairs, taking two at a time. A loud alarm erupted, and on the PA system he heard Janklow’s voice over the blaring noise saying, “We are under attack. Please clear all decks and return to your staterooms immediately. Repeat—” The burst of a rocket-propelled grenade drowned out the rest of the warning.

  Few people were in the halls. One woman sobbed as she ran. A couple worked their way past him. The man had his arm around his wife, who looked so pale that Sumner thought she might faint. For the first time since the ordeal began, the casino appeared to be empty. He caught a glimpse of a lone bartender restocking glasses. The man shoved the dishwasher crates to the side. Seconds later Sumner heard a noise behind him. He took a quick glance to see the bartender hot on his heels.

  Sumner took a right turn into the hallway that held Block’s stateroom, just as Block stepped out of the door. He held the Dragunov in his right hand and looked ready to kill. A relieved expression passed over his face when he saw Sumner.

  “Here’s your gun,” Block said. He lobbed the weapon at Sumner. “Go get those bastards. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Sumner caught the rifle and spun back to retrace his steps. He heard the blare of the LRAD. He didn’t think the weapon would work this time. The pirates now knew it existed and would have taken measures to protect their eardrums.

  Soon he was back up on the swimming-pool deck right below the bridge landing. Once there, he shielded his eyes from the sun to take stock of the attackers. Four boats streamed toward them. Two were high-powered speedboats, the other two were a more basic design. The first three stayed abreast of each other, separated by about forty meters. The fourth and final boat brought up the rear. It was at least half a mile away from the first three, but moving straight toward them.

  Sumner halted, took aim, and fired at the closest ship in the formation. They were out of range, but he was counting on their hearing the report and responding. They must have, because the two end boats in the formation split off in different directions, while the lead boat visibly slowed.

  He clambered up to the bridge deck.

  Janklow was watching the pirates through a set of binoculars.

  “They’re splitting up to take us from all sides,” Sumner said. “What’s the ETA for some assistance?”

  “Not happening,” Janklow replied. “Three other ships were captured in the last twelve hours. Seems these guys are busy. The CTG 600 is still trying to contain the damage, because one of them is transporting nuclear waste. We’re on our own. But take a look at that last boat, the one bringing up the rear, and tell me if you see what I think I see.” He unwound the glasses from around his neck and tossed them to Sumner.

  Sumner put the binoculars to his eyes. His heart sank at the sight.

  Janklow moved up until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Sumner. “Either that’s a Western woman holding an assault rifle or I’m going crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy,” Sumner said.

  “Then she is,” Janklow replied.

  38

  EMMA STARED AT THE KAISER FRANZ AS IT PLOWED THROUGH THE water. It seemed like a large, slow elephant compared to the quick rabbits that chased it. They’d been following the pirates for two hours on radar, trying to keep their distance in order to be able to surprise them when the time came. During that interval Emma watched the tiny green dots converge on a larger dot that represented the Kaiser Franz.

  Hassim had laid out the plan as they did. “We’ll stay behind until it becomes necessary to reveal ourselves.”

  Stark, however, was not playing ball. “Do you mean to say that we’re deliberately following them?”

  Hassim turned his dark eyes on Stark. “They intend to hijack the cruise ship that Ms. Caldridge needs to board. We will attack them as they do so.”

  Stark sat down abruptly. He turned to Emma. “Did you know that this would happen?”

  She nodded. “I did.”

  He looked incredulous. “You mean to tell me that you intend to insert yourself into this situation?”

  Emma nodded again.

  “My God, you’re as crazy as the rest of them.”

  It was Hassim who cut short Stark’s complaints. “I’m sorry to inform you, but most of the world exists in a realm of constant life-or-death struggle. You Americans enjoy a relatively peaceful existence, compared.”

  Stark put up a hand. “An existence that I’m more than willing to go back to, thank you very much.”

  Hassim snorted. “Then you should have thought twice before you flew your private jet into Africa to sell your products.”

  Stark looked pissed. “What are you saying? That because Price sells vaccines, heart medications, and HIV drugs in the Third World we deserve to be caught up in the maelstrom? Those medications save thousands of lives. I shouldn’t have mine taken because I provide them.”

  But Hassim would not back down. “I’m saying that if you want the benefits of selling the drugs here, then you must accept the risks.” He turned the boat toward the pirates. “They’re close now. Let’s reveal ourselves.” He opened the throttle, and the small craft moved forward even faster. “There’s a rocket launcher in the under-seat storage. Pull it out.”

  Emma lifted the seat cushion. There, nestled in the cabinet, was an RPG. She maneuvered it out of the space, lowered the seat, and placed it on the cushions. She pulled out the grenades and started to assemble one.

  “Could you please show Mr. Stark how to shoot it in case we need to switch weapons?”

  Emma checked out Stark’s response. While it was clear that he was dumbfounded by the circumstances in which he found himself, he visibly gathered himself up and nodded to her. She wanted to sigh in relief at that. She needed him present and willing to assist if they were going to survive this thing. She showed him the launcher. As she talked him through the operation, Hassim added some additional instruction.

  “Be sure to watch your back blast, both of you. I did not have the time to weld a cover on it.”

  “Back blast?” Stark said.

  Emma showed him the rear of the tube. “The exhaust shoots out of the back with a powerful force. It can fry a
nyone too close to it. You need to look behind you to ensure it’s clear before firing. Also, it leaves a visible vapor trail, which has the unfortunate consequence of revealing one’s position in the dark.”

  “Have you fired one of these?” Stark said.

  “Yes.”

  Stark stilled, watching her. Just as she began to feel uncomfortable, he turned his attention back to the rocket.

  Emma heard an alarm in the distance. A barely audible voice chanted a warning. The next warning, though, came through loud and clear. A recorded voice spoke in English and echoed over the water. “Warning! Do not approach. Leave the area immediately.”

  Stark turned to Hassim. “Do these guys understand English?”

  Hassim pursed his lips. “Probably not. But they should be bright enough to figure out that the cruise liner does not wish to be boarded.”

  Out of nowhere came the blast of the most excruciating noise Emma had ever heard in her life. Stark yelled in response, holding his ears and lowering his head. There was another, cracking sound, and the pirates began to split up.

  “They’re going to attack from all sides,” Stark said.

  Hassim grimaced. “We’re moving as fast as this engine will allow. Get ready, we’ll be in firing range soon.”

  Emma held on to a side rail, her assault weapon at the ready, as she watched the Kaiser Franz loom larger. She could see movement on the upper outside decks. One man in a white uniform stood on the highest level. He appeared to be staring at them with binoculars. Another man, slender and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, stood with him. A frisson of recognition ran down her spine as she gazed at the second man. Despite the fact that she was too far away to make out any features, she knew, without a doubt, that it was Sumner.

  39

  STROMEYER TOOK A CIRCUITOUS PATH TO THE ROTARY MEETING. While anyone could have seen from the organization’s Web page that Banner was scheduled to speak that day, the most dangerous time for her would be en route. Once there she’d be surrounded by the other attendees, a much less desirable target. Getting there, though, was going to be time-consuming. She started from her house, leaving out the back door and jumping the neighbor’s fence. The neighbor’s name was Stan, and he took his morning coffee in a sunroom facing the yard. Stromeyer often jumped his gate when working on a particularly sensitive matter, or when she wished to avoid the press. Stan was a sixty-year-old former analyst at a right-wing think tank. Stromeyer considered herself a centrist, leaning toward liberal. Their divergent political views didn’t hinder the relationship in the least. Each of them had worked long enough in Washington to realize that most issues in the world were neither a simple black nor white but a complex shade of gray. They both lamented the violence that pockmarked the globe.