“Yes, Ali,” Manni said and disappeared down the corridor.
“I will not allow crew members to make threats or instigate trouble among the workers!” Ali shouted authoritatively. “This is not some joyride! The sea is our workplace, not some playground where we cruise like tourists. Just like every boat we traverse the ocean with, this boat is our livelihood, and the crew is expected to do everything I ask of them. If they do not comply, how can I assure that all our business is done smoothly?”
Manni came into the lower cabin with the welder, Aziz. The other four men already present stepped aside to accommodate the newcomer and Manni in the middle of the room. They had sailed out from under the brunt of the tempest, but the sun had already set, so it was dark outside.
“Aziz!” Ali exclaimed cheerfully. “How are you feeling? You look pale!”
The men stared at Aziz, taking note of the dark circles under the welder’s eyes. It was clear that he was sick and weak.
"Not feeling well, captain," Aziz mumbled. He was barefoot. Every time he looked down at his toes the room would start spinning. His legs were shaking visibly, and his lips were riddled with blisters.
“Take a good look, boys,” Ali said, as he put his arm under Aziz’s armpit to support him. “This is what people look like when they are seasick.”
All the men, including Aziz, stared at Ali in astonishment. How could he assume the welder was seasick when he was a professional sailor? When he burst out laughing, they realized Ali had been joking. Without warning, he withdrew his support and left Aziz to gravity. His legs were far too weak to hold him up, and he hit the floor with one thump that fractured his skull.
They could hear the crack as his body met the floor, but he was still alive. With a bleeding nose, Aziz groaned.
“This is what dehydration does, boys. Disorientation, dry mouth…obviously and a gradual onslaught of headaches like the spears of hell!" he bragged. He had kept Aziz locked up for three days since the welder failed to show up on time for roll call soon after they passed the Horn of Africa. Ali's tall, gaunt stature pranced around the welder who was curled up like a fetus, holding his head, weakly wailing in pain.
“Pick him up!” Ali ordered. “And bring him out to the stern. Bring Fakur, too. I want him to see this. The Aleayn Yam had only two of its original crew left now, due to their government’s embargo on trade with Ali and his countrymen. Outside, the sun kissed the horizon goodnight.
The wave crests were remarkably high for the almost gentle breeze, but the sea spray still wet the sailor’s faces as they brought out the chief engineer and rightful skipper of the vessel, Demi Fakur.
“Aziz!” he shouted hysterically. He knew what was coming, and addressed Aziz in Egyptian, so that Ali’s crew could not understand what he was saying. “Aziz, don’t let them break your spirit! You are in the arms of Yam! Praise be to Yam!”
"Praise be to Yam," the weary Aziz forced out. Fakur kept screaming the same words for Aziz to repeat, speaking his ode to the sea deity Yam the tugboat was named after.
“Lift him up!” Ali screamed. “And shut up that fool!”
A deafening blow struck Fakur against the head, dealt with the back of the hilt of a machete. He dropped to his knees and fell silent. He could still hear Aziz’ chanting – over and over to the discord in the melody the ocean waves sang. It was a dirge that permeated throughout nature at the moment they lowered Aziz head first into the waves.
They held him by his ankles, the falling waves sporadically allowing him to take a breath. Hanging upside down and being thrust against the hull by the foaming waves was too much for the injured man, and his body went limp within minutes.
Ali’s mockery and the cheering and the laughter of his fellow pirates were the epitome of evil. Fakur wept bitterly at Aziz’s horrible death, even though he knew it was a relief from his agony. The wicked stick-figured Somali pirate knelt next to the sobbing skipper and rested his open hand on Fakur’s back. “Don’t fret, Fakur. I tell you what: just so you don’t get lonely, I will let his carcass keep you company, how would you like that?”
Fakur choked ay the sick suggestion, but he did not look up. He didn't say anything because he did not want to provoke the irascible pirate who had violently seized his tug boat three days ago east of the coastal city of Djibouti, just as they had entered the Gulf of Aden. On the inside, he screamed in rage, keening in sorrow for the loss of his younger brother. He made a decision. He was going to remain quiet. No more attempts to bring Ali to see his side of the matter. From now on he would play it straight until he would find a way to warn Mrs. Meyer and her South African clients. If he could save them from the fate he and his crew had had to suffer, his death would not be in vain. He would be proud to die thwarting the plans of Ali Shabat and his demon crew.
They dragged him back into the room where they had held him before, the storage chamber for firefighting equipment that had now been removed. Since some of the men escaped using the gear stored there, Ali had decided not to take any more chances. Now he only had one to worry about. They hog-tied Fakur and hung him from a meat hook from the ceiling. With all his might he tried not to cry out – he did not want to give them the pleasure of seeing him weak. The thick rope dug deep into his skin as his entire bodyweight was pulling him down.
His heavy breathing was a testament to his anguish. Other than that, he did not allow them to hear his pain while his heart was broken by the death of his younger brother and lifelong crew mate. As if Ali Shabat could read his mind, he called for the pirates to bring in Aziz’s body.
“There you go, Fakur,” Ali said calmly. “Now you have him with you, safe and sound. Down here under deck, you don't have to worry that my men will bother you or Aziz. I promise they will leave you alone."
Fakur closed his eyes as the steel door slammed shut and the chamber was locked. The skipper knew what iniquitous acts and merciless evil the Somali pirates were capable of. He thought of his wife and two daughters back in Egypt, who were still under the impression that he was traveling south on a salvage mission. It would be over two weeks before they even realized that he was not coming back and by then, both he and his brother Aziz would be carrion fodder.
In all this he was grateful that his wife and daughters were not on the boat with him. The atrocities these pirates committed towards women would make Aziz’s tormented look like the daily routine of brushing teeth. In the dark cabin, void of any hope, Fakur felt his wrists and ankles strain under the force of gravity dislodging his joints. He sobbed in his solitude with his brother’s drowned corpse as company, sitting in the corner just below him.
Delirious from the pain, the skipper drifted in and out of consciousness, suffering terrifying dreams of ocean demons and bubbling water. Ali Shabat’s face appeared and disappeared in his mind, the emaciated cheekbones and the bloodshot leer. But when he laughed, Fakur would play witness to his jagged fangs with chunks of khat caught between. Repulsive as he was in reality, he was more so in Fakur’s dreams. He could smell the pirate’s breath, hear his brother’s prayers as he sank into the watery hell… he heard his brother drowning - even more clearly than before. The words turned into incomprehensible, bubbling pleas as Aziz aspirated water. The bubbling turned into coughing and then there was only the sound of the waves left.
Fakur was ripped to consciousness by the sound of a very loud burping sound beneath him. The cadaver that shared his tomb with was expelling trapped air and water still caught in the lungs and cavities of its flesh, a grotesque and disturbing noise that, for the first time, compelled Fakur to utter a god awful scream.
18
Strange Tides
After Sam had lied his way through the inspection, the coast guard officer looked around the yacht.
“May I?” he asked.
"By all means, officer," Purdue smiled, as the man went below deck to check for contraband or any other suspicious items international tourists may harbor. All he found apart from the sophisticated t
echnology he had seen on deck was light luggage and some food and beer. While he was inspecting the vessel, the expedition members made an effort not to act suspiciously as the other officers on the boat alongside their yacht were still watching them.
“Alright. Everything seems to be in order here,” the officer said eventually and returned their papers to Sam, whom he thought was in charge of the so-called scouting session. “Enjoy our lovely country and be careful of currents down there, okay?”
They all nodded and thanked him while Nina checked her watch. Due to the unexpected inspection by the coast guard they were behind schedule, which meant they had less time to gather information, identify the wreck and decide how to tow the ship out of territorial waters without being noticed.
“I hate to rush this little party of yours," Nina told Purdue softly, "but we have a salvage tug on the way, and as yet still don't know what for or how it will be put to use."
“I agree,” Purdue smiled. “Let’s get ready, people! We have only so many hours left.”
With the coast guard safely moving in the opposite direction, Purdue opened the throttle and, at last, they made their way to the coordinates of the wreck. Within a few minutes, they had reached the location, according to Purdue's tablet and the instruments on the board. Crystal and Sam pulled on their diving suits while Purdue was still calibrating his tablet for deep sea data gathering.
“Hurry, Purdue,” Sam sniffed as the damp sea air filled his nostrils. “I don’t want to be down there too long.”
Purdue stood up and cocked his head at Sam’s remark. “Why? You’ve had longer dives before.”
"Aye, I have," Sam said, keeping the volume of his voice low. He leaned in toward Purdue. "I just don't want to leave Nina up here with these strangers too long, you know."
Purdue looked past Sam at Nina, sitting on her own, deep in thought.
“I know. She has been a tad more vulnerable of late, hasn’t she?’
“That is not what I am referring to,” Sam replied.
“But you know Dr. Malgas. Are you telling me we cannot trust him and his people?” Purdue asked, looking a bit alarmed at the sudden change in demeanor he picked up from Sam.
“No, you can trust him. Absolutely. I just have a bad feeling about those security guys,” Sam admitted.
“Why? Is there anything I should know, Sam?” Purdue persisted. “I’m not going under the water if Nina will be in trouble up here.”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I just don’t like leaving one of our own alone with people we have not worked with before,” Sam shrugged.
“You are trying to downplay something that is bothering you a lot,” Purdue told Sam, pointing his long thin finger at Sam’s chest so that no-one would notice that they were discussing something serious.
“Look, I just don’t trust those guys completely, alright? I’m sure that Dr. Malgas and his assistants have no hidden agenda. But I just don't want to be away from Nina too long, and she refuses to dive. I asked her," Sam clarified, but his tone concerned Purdue greatly.
“I’ll stay up here,” Purdue announced.
“What?” Sam gasped. “No, we need you down there!”
“No, you don’t. I am sure a bright young lad such as yourself can handle a camera and carry a tablet at the same time. Crystal will guide you to the best and safest places around the wreck. You just gather information. Film as much detail on the size and shape as you can, and record the dimensions on my tablet,” Purdue reassured him. “Crystal is a professional. She knows what she is looking for, so you don’t have to babysit her. Just do your thing, alright?”
Sam put his arms akimbo and sighed. His eyes dropped to the floor as he thought it through. He could not deny that leaving Purdue with Nina took a great weight off his chest, knowing she was not fair game to God knows what those men were discussing. As a matter of fact, he would feel a whole lot better with Purdue maintaining the status quo on the yacht. Sam trusted Billy Malgas completely, but the man was very naïve, sometimes even a bit timid. Despite this being his find, he lacked the natural authority and strength of character to command beyond the lecture halls. Purdue, on the other hand, was the epitome of power and authority, even with his mischievous grin and playboy appeal.
"Alright. I appreciate it, Purdue," Sam sighed in relief. Purdue gave him a jovial slap on the arm and smiled. He said nothing, but Sam knew that the unsaid accord held fast between them. They both cared greatly for Nina, regardless of their constant secret competition over her. When they turned to face her way Nina was staring right at them. The three of them had been through so much together that there was some subliminal connection between them. They knew that she had caught wind of their intent just by watching their body language.
“She knows,” Sam said.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll explain it to her if she gets snoopy,” Purdue smiled.
Apparently, Nina was not the only woman who could read their mannerisms.
“What is going on, boys?” Crystal asked suddenly. She looked bewitching in her skintight diving suit, and her sex appeal rendered the two men speechless at first before their spell lifted enough to answer her.
“Purdue is going to stay on board. You and I will lead the dive for now,” Sam winked, trying to charm her from seeing the true urgency of Purdue’s decision. But once more he had underestimated female intuition.
“Why? What is wrong?” she asked, dismissing all Sam’s attempts at fooling her.
“It’s not a big deal, love,” Purdue said plainly. “We have more important things to deal with right now and those are things we only have a certain time window for if you catch my drift."
“Yes, I do catch your drift. But your data is crucial. Without your dimensions…”
“Sam is taking care of that,” Purdue almost snapped at her. It was unlike him to be impatient or brash, but he did not want to have to explain his protection of Nina right now. Sam lifted the tablet for her to see, looking boyishly victorious. Crystal did not fall for it all, but she was aware of the tug headed their way and the time limit they were pushing.
“Okay,” she said sternly, flashing Purdue a particularly sharp look. “Let’s go, Sam.”
A few minutes later the two divers descended into the temperate waters of Bluewater Bay. Sam followed Crystal’s lead as she navigated their route by the coordinates on her underwater mapping system, fixed to her arm just above her diving watch – a pivotal instrument on all her salvage dives. Upon closer inspection, Sam realized that the device looked like something Purdue may very well have designed and built for Crystal.
It appeared to be far more advanced than Sam’s humble depth gauge, but he had little time to compare technology now. His film equipment needed attention as she pointed out that they were approaching a particularly huge shadow below them. Sam looked down at what was a hint of something gigantic that had not been there a moment before. It startled him. A strange tingle crept up his spine that he reluctantly construed as a tinge of terror. He may as well have caught sight of a Great White shark by the way his heart was racing.
Crystal was probably used to seeing such ominous monsters lurking motionless in the deep because did not seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. Sam frowned as his camera's viewfinder captured the structure. He felt Crystal's gentle grasp on his arm. Had he not seen her approach him her touch would have frightened the life out of him.
The curious thing was that they were not even that deep, yet the water was almost completely dark – not murky – dark, as in void of natural light. Only a few sun rays were able to penetrate the water surface as far down as 200m, where the Disphotic zone – the twilight zone of the ocean – began. The wreck, according to Purdue’s software and sonar, was resting at approximately 190m below the surface in complete darkness.
Either his depth gauge was faulty, or they were deeper than initially measured. Crystal stared at Sam in befuddlement. He gestured to his depth gauge, and she brought hers next to his to che
ck. Both instruments displayed a depth of 300m, although this part of the bay was not nearly as deep. Perplexed, they looked at one another. Crystal shrugged and Sam shook his head. She gestured for him to use Purdue’s tablet to measure and map the exact coordinates at this depth, just to record the confusing and extremely disturbing data. Once they came back to the surface, they would figure out the discrepancies.
With great reluctance, Sam followed Crystal’s lead to go deeper towards the eerie-looking wreck. He wondered why the vessel had such a strange effect on him. Not only did it radiate absolute evil for anyone with an ounce of emotional, sensory perception, but it also exuded intelligence.
‘Things that think without brains freak me the fuck out!’ Sam thought as his heart raced. It felt as if the ship was watching them, yet Crystal went about her business as usual, checking if the salvage of the giant metal cadaver was feasible. She tried to ascertain whether the hull would be able to float with a bit of welding and checked the level of deterioration due to years of environmental factors at work.
In the meantime, Sam sucked it up and proceeded to record dimensions for Purdue, although it was hard to determine the measuring points. The ship was immensely complex in its construction, and Sam had not the slightest clue about shipbuilding. The countless rods, steel barriers, deck guns and other protrusions made it near-impossible to take exact measurements.
He did the best he could and made sure that he did not neglect his own mission of filming as many details as possible. Sam tried not to touch the wretched wreck out of sheer discomfort, but he had to film all the crevices and sub-levels. He also had to use the structure to hold on or to propel his body forward after taking pictures, while the light of his camera lit up the smothering darkness.
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 4 Page 29