The Tahitian Pearl

by Sean Blaise

  Ingrid, her boss, had made sure that they were never on watch together; and seemed to get overly bossy whenever John was in the room with them. Claire felt that something might have happened between them in the past; but felt like, whatever it had been, it was now over with. John was a free bird, and she wanted to catch him.

  "Hi, Claire,” John said with some trepidation. "What's up?"

  "Oh, nothing, I just took over Marie's watch. She's not feeling so well," Claire replied shyly.

  This was nothing new, John thought. Marie, a kind and sweet hearted girl from the Philippines, was notoriously prone to sea sickness. Although, usually, Ingrid would replace her on watch.

  "Can I get you anything?" Claire asked.

  "Nope, I'm fine. Got some tea right now that Ingrid brought me an hour ago. She apparently heated it with a blowtorch! I might finally be able to drink it now without causing irrevocable damage to my palate," John joked.

  Claire smiled at John's smile, and he looked away quickly. Oh, God, he thought, keep it together John, just two more hours left on watch.

  John sat and kicked his feet up casually on the wooden dash. It was a habit Captain Brown hated. Claire quietly sat in the helm chair next to him. God, she smells like coconuts, John thought. Succulent coconuts....John's mind instantly slipped into a miniature gutter as he thought quickly about various things, he'd like to do to the little coconut goddess sitting next to him. Shit, he thought, this is going to be impossible.

  "Where are we?" Claire asked.

  "Nearly out of the danger zone. We should be in the clear shortly," he replied.

  "Thank, God," she said. "I was so nervous I kept tossing and turning in bed. I couldn't sleep at all."

  John began imagining her tossing and turning in bed, with a light negligee on, before he grabbed his mind by the throat and forced it down. He needed to focus on something else.

  Teach her something, John, he said to himself. "So, Claire, what do you know about navigation?"

  Claire's heart quickened, she tried desperately to control the tremble in her throat. She knew that John was a great teacher, and all the other crew praised his infinite knowledge of all things nautical. She saw his dark brown eyes light up as he spoke, and that twinkle that made her stomach do back flips.

  "Nothing, Obi-Wan, teach me you must," she said, trying to imitate Yoda.

  John smiled at her. God she was flirting, he thought. He wondered how long they would both resist the impossible urge drawing them together. He glanced at her breasts, yet again. Not long, he thought, not long at all.

  Chapter 16

  The little green blip on the radar was tiny. It hid perfectly in the sea of thousands of other green dots that filled the radar screen. Sea clutter, which essentially was radar reflections from ocean waves, was a constant nuisance when operating marine radar. Although the waves could be completely eliminated by raising the sea clutter control on the radar, that, in turn, could eliminate many small targets, like pirate boats. Instead, the clutter was allowed to exist on the radar, in the hopes that a very well-trained eye could pick out the difference between nonsense, phantom targets, and real ones of concern. A trained eye like John Otter's.

  Unfortunately, Otter's eyes were irrevocably glued to Claire's smile, and his mind was drifting further and further from the tasks at hand to the possibilities that lay ahead. He was just finishing recanting the story of one of his most entertaining life stories, this one involving him in high school with a young girl in a car. John had a flare for dramatic story telling; and found it easy to captivate people with his energy. People who were hanging on his every word, anyway, were no exception.

  "And so, we're kissing in the car, when the door opens, and I see this old man's face in the door! And he's got a scraggly beard and he says, ‘Go home, young lady!’ I was shocked!"

  Claire's eyes lit up with anticipation. She had over forty minutes alone with John; and she was learning more and more about him. Not only was he drop-dead sexy, he was a killer flirt and she had never had a date as good as this one. Even though this wasn't a real date, she reminded herself. But it sure feels like one. What am I thinking? He's my boss! But he likes me too and I know it, she thought. She dismissed her negativity and decided to just enjoy the moments she was sharing with John.

  "She gets off of me and starts screaming. She’s going crazy! I'm scared. I tell her to calm down."

  "And? And?" Claire asked impatiently.

  "She says, ‘I forgot my dad patrolled this area!’"

  Claire gasped. "No come on, that can't be true!"

  "It is. She said, ‘My dad is the chief of police!"

  Claire laughed. "What did you do?"

  "I got out of the car. And there was her dad’s police cruiser, sitting with the engine on and the lights off. I just looked at his car, and I was sure he was going to kill me. I was standing there for about ten minutes before I had the nerve to walk away!"

  "Oh my God!" Claire laughed. She wanted to kiss him right then but decided against it. Instead she placed her hand on his arm.

  John felt the soft warm flesh of her hand on his arm. It felt like electric current was being poured into his body. John was tossing the idea back and forth frantically. It was bad idea: professionally as well as personally, and he knew it. If anything happened between them, and it didn't work out, one of them would have to leave the boat. Most likely it would be her. And couples in the crew, at lower than the captain level were generally frowned upon. But he liked her. More than simply wanting to sleep with her, he had realized, during their brief conversation, that she was someone he really liked. She was smart, funny, and definitely gorgeous. He could feel his judgement quickly making up reasons why it could work. Either way, he was going to kiss her he decided. Yes, he was.

  Claire had noticed John deep in thought. She couldn't believe that he might actually be considering going for it. She moved her hand slightly, unconsciously on his arm, trying to prod him into it. He looked at her and smiled sweetly. He was trying to decide she realized, and she wanted to scream out "Kiss me please!". But she didn't. Instead, she relied on her years of experience and instincts and shifted her body slightly to make the kiss easier to obtain. Her small cat-like, pink tongue darted quickly along her lips, as she unconsciously moistened them. The last thing she wanted was a dry first kiss!

  John leaned in, Beep! Beep! Beep! the radar screamed.

  All thoughts of sex, love, and Claire vanished in an instant. John spun towards the radar. He was at it a second later and realized that they had a problem. A very big problem. He reached his hand out instinctively and rang the ship's general alarm.

  Chapter 17

  Abdul had strategically placed the boat over 20 miles ahead of the desired attack point. He knew that the yacht would be highly attuned to the risks of navigating this part of the world; and he knew that the equipment onboard a vessel like the Ivana would be second to none. Abdul had taken as many precautions as possible to ensure that the element of surprise was on his side.

  He had two things working for him. One was the speedboat's size. In flat, calm water, the boat would stick out on a radar like a sore thumb. But in the middle of the ocean swells, it was much easier to hide a smaller boat.

  The second thing he used to his advantage was speed. By placing himself, well ahead of the Ivana, and keeping his speed low, he could close in on the yacht without showing up on their radar as more than another sea wave.

  Abdul was no fool; he knew that he had to sneak up on the vessel undetected for as long as possible. Not only was the vessel well equipped, but according to the files he had received on the crew, the officers were highly experienced in this part of the world.

  But it was the Russian himself that worried Abdul. He was a ruthless and dangerous man according to his enemies. The Sheikh had told him that the Russian was a decorated soldier; and that he had fought in some very bad places before making his money. The last thing Abdul would do was underestimate a survivor. />
  Abdul was not worried about meeting armed resistance. His contact in Yemeni customs had done an extra thorough check of the vessel when it had cleared the port; and he had assured him that there were no weapons onboard. He had also given Abdul the Ivana’s GPS route. Even though he doubted the truth of that statement, he knew that most yachts, and even commercial vessels, in this part of the world refused to arm their crews _ for fear it would increase the likelihood of them getting harmed in an armed confrontation with pirates.

  Abdul never understood that. The recent surge in Somali piracy was mostly due to this loose, international response. Although the area was crawling with destroyers from most countries, Abdul knew of more than a few Somali pirates, who had been caught attempting to attack ships; and had been released later because the countries couldn't take the time or hassle to prosecute the offenders.

  Abdul had not planned much further than the attack. He knew that if he got his boat close enough, within 20 miles without getting spotted, the high 50 knot speedboat could close the gap with the yacht in short order. He knew the Ivana was fast as well; by the Sheikh’s estimation, the ship could exceed thirty knots, which shocked Abdul. Abdul had no choice but to assume the Sheikh was correct.

  Chapter 18

  Alexi was on the bridge moments after the general alarm bell rang. The crew were beginning to muster on the bridge as prearranged by the security plans that John had drawn up. Ingrid moved into the bridge swiftly and spoke Russian to Alexi, in short staccato bursts. She eyed Claire with a red-hot glare when she realized that she had been on watch with John alone. John had a feeling that Ingrid would not forget Claire's deceitful coup.

  Captain Brown was out of breath when he finally appeared on the bridge. He was later than most of the crew; and Alexi looked upset by that fact.

  "What's the situation, John? Talk to me!" Captain Brown yelled.

  John had learned over the previous months that Captain Brown had at some point lost his fearless edge. In the past year, he had changed from a confident Captain to the tired old man you heard about in sea stories. What had concerned John most recently about his Captain was that he seemed to panic more and more frequently.

  "We have a contact, moving fast, on an intercept course, captain."

  "How far?" Brown said with a worried tremor.

  "Roughly 15 miles. He just started moving quickly though, he's opened up full throttle and making over 55 knots."

  "Jesus Christ! Why the fuck didn't you spot him earlier?" Brown asked.

  John looked down guiltily. He knew that he had been distracted; but he also knew that the usable range of the radar was only 30 miles. Therefore, he probably couldn't have done any better if had been standing over the machine the whole time.

  "He was going slow, hiding I think in the swells. Now he's gunning it, making himself obvious, which means he's coming in for us."

  "Don't jump to conclusions John! We don't know that yet, he could be a fisherman, or a security team from a destroyer."

  John looked uncomfortable. He knew he had to correct his Captain, but it was always a delicate matter of decorum. He chose his words carefully.

  "No, sir, I don't think that's possible. The nearest destroyer is 100 miles ahead of us. No way a security team is out that far. And no fishing boat I've ever seen goes that fast. I think we're the target. I think we need to initiate the security protocol."

  Alexi scrutinized Captain Brown carefully. Brown was looking nervously around at his crew. He knew the vessel was in danger. But he was indecisive.

  "Captain, we have to move now, every second he gets closer," John said.

  John looked at Alexi for encouragement.

  "John is right. We evacuate as planned. Let’s go, now!"

  John's plan had been a simple one. If they were attacked, all the women on board, along with Alexi, would board the helicopter. The helicopter had already been made ready for a swift departure and by removing the women, they also removed most of the leverage pirates could use against them while on board. Alexi would leave as well, because he had the resources and the power to get the crew released if they were captured as quickly as possible. Were the pirates to capture him they would have far too much negotiating power and Alexi was the only helicopter pilot on board.

  John hated this idea of pacification and would have preferred defending the vessel himself. But it was considered an unnecessary risk. But just because he was unable to fire a weapon at the pirates, did not mean that he could not try and evade them. The Ivana herself was an incredible piece of machinery and had massive amounts of speed and maneuverability at her disposal. A sharp turn of the Ivana doing 55kts would throw out a nearly 20 ft. wave, deadly to small vessels.

  John turned to Jean Michelle, "Fire up the main turbines, on my mark all stop on the main engines, and engage the shaft breaks." Jean turned and ran to the engine room.

  John was no longer worried about stepping on Captain Brown’s toes, it was obvious that he was becoming paralyzed by fear. But, suddenly, Brown realized that he was being usurped in front of his boss, and self-preservation took over.

  "Belay that order, we need to go full speed ahead right now. John what are you doing? You are not in command here!"

  "Sir, with all due respect, we cannot launch the helicopter at 25 knots, sir, she will fly right into the deck. You know we have to stop, and while it's taking off, we can engage the turbines, and have max power with max speed. I beg you to reconsider."

  Brown looked at John carefully. He knew giving in to John would effectively spell the end of his career. But he had not spent twenty years at sea without knowing when had made an error, and when admitting it would save lives.

  "You're right, I forgot about that. Proceed. I will call the navy."

  John turned to Alexi, "Sir, get to the helicopter now.”

  At that moment, Dmitry burst into the helm station carrying a briefcase with a chain attached to the handle. John looked at it curiously; he had never seen such a case outside of gangster movies before.

  Alexi spoke to Captain Brown. "Please captain, try to outrun them; but do nothing foolish. Take no risk with your lives. I have the money, if you are captured, I will free you as soon as I can."

  Captain Brown mumbled something in response. Alexi spoke quickly to Dmitry in Russian, who handed Alexi the case.

  "Dmitry will defend you, but only he should do anything offensive. You must not provoke them. That goes for you, too, John."

  Alexi did not like the fire in John's eyes. The man was young and impetuous. He was fighter.

  "John, you must listen to me," Alexi said again.

  Alexi grabbed John by the shoulder and looked into his eyes. John saw serious concern in Alexi, and he knew it was Alexi's paternal feelings towards John that were eating at him.

  "I won't do anything stupid."

  Alexi turned without another word and was out the door headed to the helicopter.

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is the motor yacht Ivana,” Captain Brown said into the VHF to anybody who might be listening.

  Chapter 19

  The Tsung Tao was thirty nautical miles west of the yacht Ivana. It was a small, tramp ship. So called for its ability to load and unload itself with small cranes mounted on board. The Tsung Tao was owned by a Hong Kong shipping conglomerate. Its trade was mostly legitimate cargo, pallets of rice, the odd tractor, and heavy equipment for different corporations in the Asia Pacific region as well as the greater Middle East. It was as unobtrusive as a ship could be, and it had a modest length of 480 feet of rusted brown steel. It was like so many other ships in this part of the world, endlessly going back and forth between third world ports in the non-stop cycle of the shipping world.

  Captain Bae was sitting in the officers dining hall, eating a meager meal of canned fish and rice. He was happy to have it. Where he was from, fish was scarce and food in general was hard to come by. With some soy sauce, it tasted heavenly.

  He opened another rusted tin of
the greasy fish and added an extra helping to his rice. Only the Captain dared take a second ration for his meal. Power had its privileges.

  Taking his next bite, Captain Bae felt the presence of a small, gaunt man who appeared around the companionway entrance. The pale, bespectacled man peered fearfully at the Captain, waiting for acknowledgement and permission to enter.

  Captain Bae ignored the man for a second before finally resigning himself with a sigh.

  "What is it, Woo?" he barked in Korean.

  "Captain, sir, I hate to disturb your meal; however, the vessel has just radioed a distress call. I thought.."

  Captain Bae was up instantly, his heavy belly knocking the bowl of rice to the floor. "Move you fool!" he roared as he rushed towards the door.

  Contrary to normal practice in an emergency, the Captain did not immediately rush to his ship's bridge. Instead, he followed the radio operator through a series of hallways that lead along the port side of the ship all the way to the stern engine room. The radio operator opened the door to the machinery spaces. There was an explosion of sound, as the ancient diesel engine blared its protest at having to push the slow vessel through the heavy seas. The engine, once used in a Russian locomotive, was a Frankenstein of recreated, reconstituted, and redacted engine parts from all over the world. It worked, but only just. The Tsung Tao would never dare enter the United States, or the EU countries that imposed much more rigorous shipping regulations. In fact, one look at the Tsung Tao's engine room, and the vessel would be detained in a U.S. port instantly for unseaworthiness.