Noble Lies

by Charles Benoit

  “Really? How’s that?” Mark said.

  Shawn finished the can of beer and tossed it onto the carpet. “There’s like, what, thirty people on this boat—passengers and crew?”

  “Still alive?” Mark said. “That’s about right.”

  “Clever, Mark, clever. Anyway, we’re gonna let them all go down to the rooms, get some sleep, hell, shower up if they want. Then tomorrow, after we hand the boat over and get our cash, we’re gonna load ya all up in the rafts and take you in to Phuket. We’re gonna be just outside the shipping lanes, a couple miles offshore, so it’s no long ride. We’ll drop you off on some deserted beach—there’re a lot of those up in the north. It’ll take some time but you’ll get back to the main drag and by then we’ll be long gone.”

  “How’s all this depend on me?”

  “Because, Mister Rohr, if you cause any disturbance, if you try anything stupid—which you seem to have a habit of doing—we’ll lock the doors and leave you all right here, let the bogeymen deal with you.”

  “How do we know we can trust you?” Mark said.

  “Hello? Haven’t you been paying attention? You can’t trust me. But it’s the only option you’ve got. Look,” Shawn said, leaning forward. “A few people got killed. All right, it happened, but it’s over. Most of these guys are simple fishermen.” He waved a hand around the room, taking in the snoring pirates. “They got caught up in the moment, but they’re not killers. And, despite what you may think, neither am I.”

  Robin glared at him over the top of her sunglasses.

  “Okay, so maybe I am. You’ll just have to trust me on this one, Mark. I don’t want to kill anybody else. It’ll just get these guys all riled up and I might get hurt in the crossfire. If I have to, I’ll kill somebody. Probably you. But it’s just as easy to take you all with us. Besides, I feel like I owe you,” he said standing, tucking the pistol in his belt. “After all, you made this whole thing possible.”

  ***

  There was a light tap on the metal door that echoed through the room. Pim eased herself off the bed, careful not to disturb Ngern. She stood and looked down at the boy, his eyes closed but puffy from crying. One way or the other, it would be over soon.

  She crossed the room and opened the door just as Robin was reaching to knock again.

  “How’s he doing?” Robin said, looking past Pim to the bed.

  Pim smiled. “He is sleeping now. He will feel better when he wakes up. Please, come in.”

  “I don’t want to wake him.”

  “He is a good sleeper. Please.” She stepped aside and gave a slight head bow as Robin entered.

  Pim had straightened up, righting the bunk beds, folding the blankets, putting their belongings back in the small bag she carried. A pair of old sandals, too big to be Pim’s or the boy’s, still lay tucked under a bunk. On the deck, two men had pulled her away from the body of her grandfather and had brought her here, her shirt covered with the old man’s blood. Robin had followed them into the room, yelling at the men, telling them to get out, knowing what they had in mind. They had listened to her and left but only because they feared what Shawn might do if they didn’t. Sobbing, Pim had told Robin what had happened, adding that Ngern was missing, begging Robin to look for him. Eight hours later the door had opened and Ngern had walked in, alone and unharmed. Pim had told him everything and at first he tried not to cry because that was what his great-grandfather would have wanted, but it had come and now, a few hours past sunset, he slept a dreamless, cried-out sleep.

  Robin sat on one of the beds at the far corner of the room. She patted a spot next to her on the bed, and Pim sat down.

  “Did you get anything to eat? I can go up to the kitchen and look around,” Robin asked.

  Pim shook her head. “I am not hungry but thank you.”

  Robin looked over to where Ngern lay sleeping. “He’s a tough kid.”

  “Yes. I wish he did not have to be, but he is.”

  They said nothing for several minutes, listening to Ngern’s steady breathing, then Robin said, “I’m sorry about your grandfather,” her voice cracking just once as she said it.

  “I told him not to say anything to Shawn but he would not listen. He was very stubborn and foolish.”

  “No he wasn’t,” Robin said, reaching out and taking Pim’s tiny hand in hers. “He was a brave man and he loved you very much.”

  Pim raised her head and looked into Robin’s eyes. “You are a good woman, Miss Robin.”

  Robin gave a short laugh. “No, Pim. I’m a dumb blonde who fell for a load of shit because I was stupid enough to think some guy actually liked me for who I am, not how I look.”

  “You have also described me,” Pim said. She gave a weak smile and added, “Except for my hair.”

  “I’m so pissed right now,” Robin said, fighting to keep her voice low. “And I hate myself for what happened. If I wasn’t so stupid. What the hell’s wrong with me?”

  “There is nothing wrong with either of us. We believed because we loved. We did not betray love, he did.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen Oprah too.”

  Pim tilted her head and looked at her.

  “Never mind,” Robin said, and slouched back against the wall. “The kid tell you where he was all day?”

  Pim gave a few quick nods that made her hair bounce. “He said a man hid him near the engines and that from there he could watch the sà-lât—the sea robbers—but they could not see him. He said he heard them talking. Most are men from Ranong and Chumpon, north of Phuket. Many are Chinese. He can tell by the way they speak, their accent,” Pim said, her voice rising, unsure of the word.

  “Did they say anything about us, the passengers? What they’re going to do with us?”

  “Oh yes,” Pim said, smiling. “We are quite safe. My nephew said that Shawn came down and spoke to one of the men, and he told the others. Tomorrow morning, very early, the sea robbers will go back to the mainland.”

  “And us?”

  “That is the good news, Miss,” Pim said. “They are leaving us here.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Mark was lying on one of the lower bunks, hands behind his head and feet up on a pile of flat pillows. He was expecting the knock on the door, just not so soon, and when the door swung open he expected to see Andy and a squad of grinning pirates, not Robin and Pim, with Pim dragging the sleepy-eyed Ngern behind her.

  “That son of a bitch lied to us,” Robin said storming in.

  “You’re just figuring that out now?” Mark watched as Pim shut and locked the door.

  “Today. This morning. Up in that room.” Robin said, her hands flying as she spoke. “They don’t plan on taking any of us off. They’re leaving us here for the terrorists.”

  “Terrorists?” Pim pulled Ngern close to her.

  Mark swung his legs off the bed and sat up. “Shawn tell you this?”

  “The kid heard it. Down in the engine room,” Robin said, and explained what Ngern had told Pim.

  “Who is this guy? A passenger? One of the crew?”

  “He says he does not know, but I do not think he is with the crew because he has a crippled leg.”

  “What else does he know?” Mark focused on staying relaxed, hoping it would keep them all calm.

  “He says the man is alone and that he is very good at hiding.” Pim said, translating as Ngern spoke. “He says the man has five Star Wars guns, but I do not know what this means.”

  “Tasers.” Mark nodded. “Some of the crew had them. Not that it helped.”

  Robin looked at Mark. “You think you can team up with this guy and take back the ship?”

  “With five tasers?” Mark laughed. “Not happening.”

  “We’ve got to do something,” Robin said, the frustration growing in her v
oice. “We can get the guns, or the tasers or whatever they are, and then get a lifeboat and get away.”

  “No,” Mark said. “No one gets left behind.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s just the four of us.”

  “It’s us,” he said, “and the other passengers and what’s left of the crew. We all go off together.”

  Robin stared at him, blinking. “Are you crazy? That’s like forty people. Getting us off the ship is going to be hard enough. The hell with that. We worry about us.”

  “I said no one gets left behind.” He met her stare and held it for a moment before she dropped her head.

  “Fine,” she said, pissed and sarcastic. “No one gets left behind.”

  “Okay, this is what we do,” Mark said, his voice changing, strong but not hard. “Pim, ask Ngern if he can find the man who hid him down in the engine room.”

  “He says yes, he can take you there,” Pim said, translating.

  “The boats the pirates used are probably still tied up under the fan deck. I’ll go down and make sure the alarm is off the door, get the boats lined up so we can just load up and go. I’ll send Ngern back up with a taser. When he gets here, Pim, you go to that first cabin on the end, that’s where they put some of the crew. You tell them to start sending people down to the fantail deck.”

  “What is a fantail deck?” Pim asked.

  “Just tell them the back door, they’ll know. Tell them they have to be quiet and fast or we’ll never pull it off.”

  “What do we do?” Robin said.

  “After Pim tells the crew, you three hightail it down the back stairs. The odds are you won’t bump into anybody but if you do, you get past them, I don’t care how. We’ll get you in the first boat and I’ll get Ngern’s mystery man to take you to shore.”

  “Whoa, what about you?” Robin said. “You’re not going to stay on the boat and pull some hero bullshit on us, are you?”

  “Me? Hell, I’m going to be right behind you.”

  ***

  A pair of engines, each the size of a singlewide, ran the length of the brightly lit room. Only one was running, idling, but loud enough to drown out the small sounds. From a darkened catwalk, Mark could see a middle-aged man sitting in front of a bank of dials and buttons. The man’s right leg bounced uncontrollably as he tried to stay focused, chewing his thumbnail to the quick. Behind him a pirate guard half his age, a sawed-off shotgun in his lap, balanced his chair on its back legs. Even if he knew where to look the pirate would never spot them up here, too many pipes and shadows in the way.

  Last night it had been the Morning Star and the crew had been professionals with assigned watches, but even then Mark had only encountered one man. Now, with an untrained pirate crew, Mark had assumed the passageways would be empty and he was right. Ngern led him down several flights before taking Mark’s hand and pulling him through a narrow door and onto the catwalk that branched off high above the engine room. Mark kept an eye on the men below as they crossed, stepping off into a second dark bay, following Ngern up a ladder and onto a grated landing. The boy stopped and looked back at Mark and smiled, then turned back and spoke to the shadows.

  At first Mark saw nothing, then movement, shades of gray on black. The engine still roared, but he could hear the sound of leather sandals dragging on the grating as the man stepped into the dim light. He was wire thin and his clothes hung limp, several sizes too big, his deep cargo pockets weighed down on either side, his baggy tee shirt almost to his knees. His body dipped to the side as he maneuvered his twisted leg around a stand of pipes and hissing valves. There was a yellow tint to his eyes but he was grinning, his head bobbing as he stepped closer.

  Mark tapped Ngern on the shoulder. “Go on,” Mark said, knowing that the boy didn’t understand but hoping he’d remember what his aunt had told him to say.

  Ngern nodded and began speaking, the Thai words coming out impossibly fast. As he spoke he pointed up at Mark, then down to the lower levels, then back up above them in the direction of the cabins. He made gun shapes with his fingers and then seemed to start all over again. The man watched the boy, his eyes following where Ngern pointed as if he could see the spots from here. The man nodded and asked a few questions, both of them nodding as they went over it all a third time, then stopping and looking up at Mark.

  “I guess that means we’re ready,” Mark said and motioned for them to lead the way.

  They squeezed between columns of pipes and ducked under dangling cables, stepping out into the passageway two flights above the fantail deck. Mark’s hands felt grimy and smelled of oil. He took the lead now and moved down the stairs. It was dark, the lights either turned off or busted out by errant gunshots, but like last night there was still enough light to see. At the bottom of the steps he paused a moment to let his eyes adjust, then moved toward the door. It was shut and the double-handled lever was pushed back in place, but this time there was no lock. The meter still lay on the floor where he had dropped it the night before. He picked it up and untangled the wires. Behind him, Ngern and the man watched, the man talking to the boy in low tones, the boy’s eyes wide as he listened.

  Mark ran his hand along the rubber seal of the door, his fingers finding the bundle of alarm wires, tracing them along the edge of the door. He knelt down and set the meter on the floor, stretching up the black set of the wires. He separated one of the door alarm wires from the bundle and attached the alligator clip. He squeezed the tip of the clip until it bit through the wire’s plastic coating. He attached the rest of the black wires, then did the same with the green and red sets. The hair-thin needle on the meter jumped, then settled low on the scale, just like Andy said it would. He stood and grabbed the handle.

  “Well, here goes nothing,” he said and yanked on the bar. There was a grating sound and a sharp click as the bolts slid back, but there were no alarm bells and no flashing red lights. He pulled open the door and the humid salty air rushed in. High clouds obscured the stars and none of the ship’s lights were aimed down on the open grating of the fantail deck.

  Ngern stared out the door and for the first time since they left Phuket the boy seemed nervous. The scrawny man hobbled closer, put his arm around his shoulder and spoke softly in his ear. Mark smiled at Ngern, hoping that whatever the man was saying would keep the boy calm. “Wait here,” Mark said, pantomiming the message. “I’m going to untie the boats. Just wait here.” He patted the air in front of him several more times, as if repetition would make them understand.

  The ship was stopped. Although he couldn’t see them in the darkness, Mark knew that the anchors had been dropped, that earlier that night they had arrived at the rendezvous coordinates. To the east the lights of Patong Beach lit up the horizon, two miles away. The island’s hills and stretches of empty beach melted into the darkness. To the south and the west he could see the lights of cargo ships and tankers far out in the shipping lane. The sea was calm and the ship so large that the platform was as steady as a cement dock. They were lucky. If the sea had been rough, with waves crashing over the railings, they wouldn’t have a chance.

  Through the open grating Mark could see the small flotilla of rubber rafts and long-tails that the pirates had used to intercept the ship. A few had taken on water and one of the long-tails looked ready to capsize, but there were enough to get them all to Phuket.

  No one gets left behind—the Marine Corps mantra coming back to haunt him.

  One arm on the railing, Mark lay on his stomach and hung below the platform. He’d start with the boats near the edge, string them out so they were easy to climb aboard. There would be enough crewmembers to operate the boats, just outboards on the inflatables and small cylinder chain drives on the long-tails. Phuket was in sight and with even a five minute head start there was no way Shawn’s men could catch up to them. He untied the first raft, an inflatable that was in better s
hape than most, and tugged it into position, with the nose of the raft just under the platform so all they’d have to do was step down into it. He didn’t want to make it hard for Ngern’s new friend to get in the boat. He needed the man to move fast—no one gets left behind but somebody gets out first; and those somebodies were going to be Robin, Pim and Ngern. Mark knew he’d get out too, but he’d go on one of the last boats, towing the empties far enough out to cut off pursuit.

  Mark ran the rope through the grating and tied it off, then climbed down onto the raft, looking under the platform for anything that might catch on the raft when they pulled away. It was clear and he turned to pull himself up. The scrawny man was standing above him at the railing, his arm extended straight out at Mark, the yellow cap of the taser just visible in the light.

  Mark heard a toy gun pop, then a roar in his head as his body went rigid, the pain indescribable and everywhere at once, his arms stiff and flailing and legs twitching, rocking the raft. He clawed at his chest, tearing at the twin metal prongs, his wrist brushing the wires that completed the circuit. He forced his fingers to close and pulled, the metal dart ripping free just as his knees buckled and he fell to the bottom of the raft. The pain was gone but his muscles refused to respond; and gasping, he fought to sit up, get out of the boat. He was leaning forward, a shaky hand reaching for the railing when he saw the man draw a second taser. He arched backwards as the hot darts bit into his neck, the pain rushing up again, blinding, nauseating, every muscle convulsing, his hands curling backwards, blacking out then snapping back as the man pumped the trigger.

  And then it was over.

  Chapter Thirty one

  Sometimes things just come together.

  Two hours ago he had been starting to panic. He had no idea where the ship was going or what the pirates would do to him if they found him. Sure, he had told the boy that he had a plan but what was he supposed to say? That he didn’t know what he was doing, that it was all a big stupid mistake right from the start, that he should have never even followed the American in the first place, that it was Jarin’s problem, not his? Or should he have told the boy what everyone in Phuket used to say about him, how he was a nothing there and just a big stupid nothing here, too?