by Tom Stern
“Kelley? Should we stop?”
Kelley considered, and said, “No way in hell.” It was a gamble. If the Tun Abdul Razak decided to pursue instead of turning her attention to the Akuma, they’d be in a fight no matter what. And, unfortunately, they would win.
Another machine gun burst passed overhead. Kelley’s sea wolves fingered their weapons. Conscious of Kelley’s threat and his resolution to carry it out, but anxious to fight back.
Kelley could only watch to see what Tun Abdul would do next. A breathless minute passed. Another. Another.
And the coast guard cutter finally veered off. Heading for the Akuma.
Kelley finally let out a relieved breath. Then he shouted with joy.
…
“I think I know where they’re going,” Kelley said. Two nights later. On the satellite phone with Cuchulain. “You have the map I sent you?”
“Aye, lad.” The night before, Kelley had printed up a map of the Malacca Strait, marked it up and sent it to Cuchulain via e-fax. “What’re yer thoughts?”
Kelley directed his eye to a bay on the eastern side of Pulau Rapat at 1-55’53.67” N, 101-46’42.92” E. “Every ship taken by Dilip Gaur’s dogs, including the Akuma, was within a one-day straight shot of this spot. Yeah, they could be going anywhere within that radius, anywhere on that coast. But think of it. There’s a river leading inland from this spot. And Dilip’s crews only take smaller tankers.”
“You’re thinking Dilip Gaur has a base somewhere up that river.” Not a question.
“Right. It’s what I’d do. Everyone’s looking for a shore-line operation. This would be in the interior. If Dilip Gaur’s smart, he’s pumping the oil from the ships into trucks, taking them to the northern port, loading the trucks themselves onto a second ship and selling it elsewhere, with no one looking.”
“Risky.”
“Not when you’re stealing crude oil right in front of everybody.”
“And high operating costs.”
“Unless you’re pulling down hundreds of millions a year,” Kelley told him.
Cuchulain thought about it, said: “That’s surely a big guess based on nothin’ but air.”
“What’ll it cost to send a chopper up the river? C’mon, that’s why you sent me out here! IPC will never stop King Pirate if you guys keep thinking like cops. You have to think like pirates. Otherwise, you’ll always be one step behind.”
“I heard ya, Kelley. A chopper can’t hurt. I’ll see about it soon’s I can.”
“Good.”
“Something else. You gave your name to the Akuma’s captain. He coughed it up under questioning. What’d you do something so stupid for, lad?”
“King Pirate should know I’m coming for him.”
“Y’think he wouldn’t find out right quick, with you huntin’ his crews up an’ down the Strait?”
“Not like this. It’s different. With every hit, I’ll fill his vision. Until it seems like I’m not just some guy, I’m a force that can’t be stopped. He’ll get scared, and he’ll fuck up. And I’ll have him.”
“We’ll have him.”
Kelley didn’t say anything. He hung up.
…
With the info and data from Cuchulain, Kelley and his wolves were able to hit five more pirate ships. Three of the them, the Yurei stopped cold before the ships could swoop in and attack. The other two saw civilian casualties, caught in mid-raid. Kelley made sure the pirates died to a man, except for one to carry his message back to King Pirate. Kelley’s rule: the more civilians dead, the more pirates dead. The butcher’s bill grew. He wanted the word to get out to all the ports, kill and be killed. The pirates they fought would die by their own sword.
Kelley took the pirates’ cell phones. Rolling through the listed numbers, looking for common denominators. He found them, two consistent numbers without names that appeared on every captain’s cell. They had to be numbers for Dilip Gaur. And, if those punks who killed Brody could dial King Pirate directly, Kelley had a guess where the other number led. He didn’t call the numbers. Yet. He knew one call might be fun. But then the numbers would probably change. Back at square one. Kelley wanted to get the best use from a call. He toyed with various possibilities. While he talked to Anastasia during their nightly conversations, he rolled the phones around in his hands. Pulling up the numbers. Staring at them. Letting his mind wander.
Near the end of the second week, their supplies began to run low. Getting more wouldn’t be a problem. They had millions in cash, stolen from the pirates. After their successes, the men were reluctant to return to port. But even a victorious crew needs R&R. And Kelley wanted to see if Cuchulain would be able to refit the military hardware that gave them the edge, again and again.
He directed Tsung to take them back to Port Sweetenham. Unfriendly eyes watched the sea for his return.
CHAPTER 5
Someone else was waiting for Kelley when the Yurei pulled into dock. A dark-skinned, tallish Malay in a blue uniform watched the ship pull in. He had two dozen men with him, all in the same uniform. They looked like military police.
A buzz went through the crew. Busted. The debate went up: fight and run, or face the music. But they knew which way Kelley would go. The criminals thought Kelley was unusually soft-handed with the cops. They didn’t know he had inside connections.
Or, at least, Kelley hoped he had inside connections. He stood at the railing with Tsung and Dao Jia. Watching the line of blue-uniformed troops grow closer as the Yurei pulled into its berth.
“What’re we gonna do, captain?” Tsung said.
Kelley felt something almost like fear, an electric snake twisting from his guts to the base of his neck. He wasn’t afraid of any man. But if these guys were here to arrest them, he wouldn’t resist. He’d spend decades in prison. Kelley was a man accustomed to canings and short prison terms. It came with his vicious, brawling life. The loss of freedom, though… that was an opponent he had a hard time facing.
Kelley breathed deep of the sea air. Hoping it wouldn’t be the last time. Dao Jia turned to him. Sensing his apprehension. He said, “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
She squeezed his arm in return. Dao Jia didn’t smile. The hard set of her eyes was far better. Kelley knew she was ready to take on anything. Bullet proof. Nothing would defeat her.
Her strength brought Kelley to the path of solace. There is no way to kill fear; it’s as intangible and amorphous as a viscous fog. But a man can control his response to the fear. Kelley separated himself. Found the no-mind. Let every moment be its own entity, taking its own course. Kelley realized he would find a way through this.
The Yurei docked. One of the uniformed men shouted up in Malay: “Prepare to be boarded!”
The crew shifted. Wrestling with their own fight-or-flight responses. Kelley backed them down with a sharp word and a steely eye. He’d found his strength again through Dao Jia. Kelley passed it along to the crew. One-by-one, they settled. Seeing in his face a calm bravery they could emulate. By the time the gang planks fully motored down to the dock, the Yurei’s crew were prepared to face anything.
The uniformed men stormed onto the ship’s deck. Each man had an eager hand hovering over a holstered Glock. They had the look of men who had fought pirates in the past. It was now that Kelley began to remember who these guys were, recalling files read during his not-so-distant IPC days.
Their leader, the tall man, stepped up. His black Malaysian shark-eyes met Kelley’s cool blue. In that quiet, motionless moment, the men tested their wills. It was as close to a traditional iaijutsu duel as could be found in modern times. Breathless seconds passed. Neither man wavered or broke. At last, the police leader realized he could not bring Kelley to lower his gaze. Nor would he look away. He had to admit a minor defeat by saying something.
In Malay: “I am Leftenan Madya Maritim Rasa of the Malaysian Maritime Enforcement Agency. Do you know why we are here?”
Kelley’s Malay had vastly improved in
the few short weeks he’d been with his crew. He calmly replied in the same language, “You and your men are searching for contraband cargo. You will not find any aboard this ship, but I understand it is your duty. Please feel free to inspect the vessel.”
Kelley flicked a look to Tsung. The other man returned an almost-imperceptible nod. Before returning to Kuala Lumpur, Kelley told Tsung to stash the Toy Box in the space below the hold. It wouldn’t stand up to a truly thorough search, but at least they didn’t have a huge metal crate of military-grade weapons sitting out for anybody to find.
Leftenan Rasa’s eyes drifted like infrared search beams across the Yurei and her crew. Seeing and remembering everything. He said, “There are rumors that this ship has been involved with piratical activities.”
“Not true.”
“No? Perhaps you know why a Coast Guard vessel pursued a ship matching the Yurei’s description.”
“An unfortunate misunderstanding.”
Kelley had been hanging around with Asians long enough that he’d learned to retreat behind a disguise of bland politeness whenever necessary. Leftenan Rasa allowed a sneer, knowing exactly what Kelley was doing.
“May I ask the purpose of your voyage, Ryan Kelley?”
He knows my name, Kelley thought. This was a planned inspection. How long had it been in the works? Since they fled the Coast Guard, or before? Was this a trap?
Kelley shoved his thoughts aside, caging them like a tribe of screech monkeys. It’s wise to be aware of strategic possibilities. But worrying about something that could be, instead of what actually is was nothing but a waste of time.
“This is a training cruise,” Kelley said. “All of these men have signed on to learn how to crew a freighter. I have an extensive background in the trade – “
Leftenan Rasa interrupted: “I know your background, Kelley.”
Barely constraining his fists, Tsung stepped forward and said, “You will address this man as Captain Kelley while you are on board this ship.”
The police tensed. Leftenan Rasa stalked towards Tsung. “And you will address me as Leftenan Rasa while you are within Malaysian jurisdiction.” Tsung said nothing. The air between them became brittle as frozen rice paper.
Leftenan Rasa gave Kelley that smile again. Taking his eyes off Tsung. The potential for violence had passed. Rasa looked to Dao Jia. “Captain Kelley, do you often recruit women to your crew?”
“Only when she’s as strong as a man,” Kelley said. “I’m an equal-opportunity employer.”
“Assuredly so.” Rasa motioned to his men. “Search the ship.” Back to Kelley: “As you say, I’m sure they won’t find anything illegal. This is just a precaution, in our further efforts to stamp out piracy in the Malacca Strait.”
“A cause my crew and I completely support.” Kelley inwardly laughed at the irony.
Rasa’s men raced to tear the ship apart. Kelley’s sea wolves glowered, anxious for the command to attack. Kelley snuck another meaningful look to Tsung. Now it was up to the powers above. If these cops found the Toy Box, the Yurei and her crew were done for life.
Leftenan Rasa’s cell phone chirped. He casually answered it. Watching Kelley the whole time. Wanting to see the look on Kelley’s face when his men inevitably found something that would trigger an arrest.
The investigator’s face froze. He stepped away from Kelley. Head down, shoulders hunched. Angrily bickering into the tiny phone. Moments passed. Rasa lost his temper.
“I will not!” he shouted into the phone. Realized everyone was staring at him. Leftenan Rasa composed himself, went farther away.
Kelley hazarded a half-smile to his crew: What’s this?
Leftenan Rasa smacked the cell phone closed so hard Kelley was surprised it didn’t break. Rasa came back. Facing Kelley. Fists clenched. Teeth grit. Every atom of his being devoted to not again losing his cool in front of his men. He vented the anger into a screamed order: “Halt!”
Confused, Rasa’s men stopped what they were doing.
Eyes slit, voice deadly, Rasa told Kelley: “The IPC has informed my direct superior that you, your crew and this vessel have already been cleared of suspicion in any illegal activity.” Spitting the words out like poison extracted from a cobra bite, he continued: “We are to cease our investigation at once and send you on your way.”
Infinite relief splashed over Kelley like a waterfall. Cuchulain came through. Kelley didn’t let it show. A hard glare at his men told them to keep their shit together, too. With as much reserve as he could muster, Kelley replied, “I am glad this matter has come to a satisfying conclusion.”
Leftenan Rasa’s eyes said it all: You’re slipping away from me this time, but I’ll get you. He chopped the air. Without another word, Rasa and the men from the MMEA left.
Kelley waited until they were in their cars, pulled away and out of sight before he let out a shout of joy. Tsung, Dao Jia and the crew joined him. They were victorious at sea, and clear on the land. Kelley was also happy to learn that Cuchulain hadn’t been blowing smoke. Cuchulain had connections, and he’d use them to see Kelley’s mission through.
Kelley threw a fierce grin at the sea. If this luck held out, King Pirate was in deep shit.
…
Anastasia came hard and loud. It had only taken Kelley a minute of work between her legs to get her off.
She gasped, covered her reddened face with both hands. Kelley rolled away. Used his shirt sleeve to wipe off his chin. Gave her a moment to recover.
She finally said: “I missed you.”
“Seems like it.” Smiling.
“Did you miss me?” Her Russian accent was bleeding out more than usual, putting a Slavic lilt on her words. Kelley liked hearing it. She was vulnerable, closer to her subconscious. Kelley thought her voice was beautiful. He could close his eyes and feel the passion for her, just listening in the dark. Poetry. He would never have met this woman – or any woman at all like her – if he’d stayed in California. Anastasia made Kelley feel like coming to Asia hadn’t been a waste. She made his choices and life feel like it was worth something. He had her.
Not being a complete fucking idiot, Kelley answered, “Of course I missed you. Why would I call you every night if I didn’t?”
She was silent for a moment. Something brewing. Uh-oh, Kelley thought, here it comes. The woman problems.
“You have that other one on the ship.”
“Other what one?”
“That Chinese woman.”
Kelley rolled his eyes without letting her see. He saw right through the subtle female strategy. Anastasia knew Dao Jia’s name. But Anastasia purposely objectified her to Kelley. Hoping to insert the subconscious idea that there were a billion versions of Dao Jia, as common as rice grains. How could any single one be special? As opposed to your Anastasia… Even with a gun, badge, black belt and taste for S&M, Anastasia had the same insecurities of every other woman he’d ever met. Already knowing any given tactic was useless, Kelley said: “She’s a friend.”
“She’s very pretty.”
Another strategy. Knowing that no man in his right mind would put the beauty of another woman over the naked one in front of him, Kelley would have no other recourse than to verbally downplay any attraction or value to the other. The “very” in front of “pretty” was only extra weight on one end of the see-saw. To counter-balance it, Kelley would have to offer an equal-and-opposite put down. Idea one: she’s not special. Idea two: she’s less than special; she’s ugly. More ideas would follow.
Most men go down these psychological paths because they don’t know what’s going on. Others because they don’t see any other choice. It goes hand-in-hand with the male need to please females in the hopes of getting sex in the present or future, as the case may be. Either way, men of both categories eventually end up stammering apologies every time they notice the existence of fifty-one percent of the human population. Forcing a man to apologize though he’s done nothing wrong is simply step one in the t
raining process. It’s under the chapter entitled Apologies in the unwritten Male Owners Manual all women receive via a complex system of instinct, anecdotes, culture and trial-and-error. Other chapters include, but are not limited to: Favors, Oaths, Family, Basic Maintenance and Disposal. It is the unofficial operating system of the entire male gender, useful for females in running various software programs to affect the world around them. In almost every situation, if a woman has not been able to get her man to do something for her, it’s only because she’s improperly utilizing this millennia accrued wisdom.
The only exceptions were men like Ryan Kelley, who sighed: “I’m not getting dragged into this bullshit conversation.”
Anastasia opened her mouth. And closed it. She knew other men would mewl and whimper to assuage her emotions. But this was Ryan-fucking-Kelley. If she pushed the subject, he’d just leave. She’d have to trust the level of his feelings for her that he’d come back.
She would just have to trust him.
Kelley saw the play of Anastasia’s thoughts across her face. He felt them in her subtle rhythms. He understood what it meant for this intensely private woman to put her trust in him, to make herself vulnerable. He could tell the storm was in the under-currents for the moment.
Kelley decided to reward her silence with more sex.
…
The next night. With Cuchulain. Another anonymous apartment. Drinking good Irish whiskey. The only difference: Cuchulain was wearing thick furs, draped on his shoulders over his regular clothes. Like a third-generation cave man trying to rediscover his roots. Cuchulain had a thorny tree branch near at hand. He randomly waved it as they talked. Kelley didn’t ask abut the fur or branch. He didn’t give enough of a shit about Cuchulain’s quirks to find out more. The real world was insane enough for both of them.
Kelley said: “Thanks for saving my ass at the dock.”
“What, yeh didn’t believe me?”
Kelley just smiled at him.