by Alex Archer
Ranga shook his head. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“I was also hit in my left shin by a .50-caliber round. The damage was too severe and the doctors had to remove the lower third of my leg.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
A little bit of pride mixed in with the distant hurt that remained from all he’d lost. He’d worked hard to smooth out his gait. “The transtibial prosthesis they have now is good stuff. I was lucky because they saved my knee. Transtibial amputees can still compete in a lot of sports. But the Royal Marines decided that they couldn’t use a one-eyed, one-legged commander. I was given a decent pension that I tried to drink up every month for a while. Then, when the drinking got old, I realized I had to get on with my life.”
“So you joined the IMB?”
“It wasn’t easy. Turns out the IMB didn’t want a one-eyed, one-legged special agent in the field, either.”
“Yet here you are,” Ranga said.
Fleet nodded. “I’m nothing if not determined.”
“I apologize for asking.”
“Don’t. I would have done the same thing if I’d seen someone like me walk into my office,” Fleet said.
“Have you had breakfast yet?”
“No.”
“Then permit me to buy you breakfast and we’ll talk about Rajiv Shivaji,” Ranga said.
“YOU PULLED A HIT on the .357 Magnum bullet, as well,” Fleet said. He sat across the table from Ranga in a modest diner only a few blocks down the street from the police station.
Outside the big window, a man rode an elephant down the street. A large, vibrantly colored blanket covered the elephant’s back and sides. The creature’s trunk waved dispiritedly.
“I did.” Ranga broke off a piece of chapati and dipped it into a dish of coconut chutney.
Fleet ate mechanically. “How many hits did you get?” he asked.
“Three. All confirmed.”
“All here in Kanyakumari?”
Ranga nodded and sipped his tea.
“We matched the bullet that was recovered from the yacht with five pirate attacks,” Fleet said.
“Whoever owns the gun faces serious trouble,” Ranga said.
“You mentioned Rajiv Shivaji’s name,” Fleet pointed out.
“I did.”
Fleet waited as patiently as he could.
“Unfortunately,” Ranga sighed, “that particular gun isn’t registered to anyone.”
That caught Fleet off guard. “Then how did you come up with Shivaji’s name?”
“Because I talked to a man who said he sold it to Rajiv Shivaji four years ago.”
Anticipation flared in Fleet’s belly. “He can tie Shivaji to the weapon?”
“He could have. I had the conversation with the man only six days ago. The next day he was dead. He was knifed in a fight that broke out in jail.”
“Do you think Shivaji knew he’d talked to you?”
Ranga shook his head. “I think it was just bad luck.” He paused to break off another piece of chapati. “But it was bad luck all the way around. If I hadn’t talked to this man, hadn’t been able to connect him with a burglary that took place six years ago, I wouldn’t have known Shivaji had purchased the gun from him.”
Fleet sipped his tea and thought about that. “If Shivaji knew you’d made the pistol, he’d have gotten rid of it. He definitely wouldn’t have used it on the attack on the yacht yesterday.”
“Perhaps. You’re thinking too much with an organized mind. That is something you or I would have done had we known. Pirates are often superstitious. Shivaji believes the pistol has been blessed,” Ranga said.
“Blessed?”
“By a holy man.”
Despite the situation, Fleet couldn’t help smiling in disbelief. “Why would a holy man bless a pistol?”
“Because the man who carried it was doing so to protect him.”
“And Shivaji believes that blessing extends to pirates?”
“Perhaps it does. The man I talked to was silent for four years about his transaction. Now he’s dead and we have no testimony to offer in a court of law to go after Shivaji.”
“The blessing hasn’t been entirely effective,” Fleet said. “Now we know about Shivaji.”
14
An elephant blocked the street ahead of Annja. She stopped and watched the creature for a moment. It wasn’t an everyday sight in Brooklyn, though that city had its own surprises for out-of-towners.
The man on the elephant conversed with a man driving a taxi. While they were talking the elephant lifted its tail and pooped.
It was an impressive feat, almost like a concrete truck off-loading to fill up a concrete form. Annja was willing to bet small children and livestock could be lost in the mass that resulted.
Tourists instantly scattered to the other side of the street. A shopkeeper with a broom burst out of a nearby building and started screaming as if he’d been mortally wounded. He pointed to the steaming pile of elephant dung that littered the street and the sidewalk in front of his shop.
Tourism’s not always as great as they make it look on the travel shows, Annja thought with a smile. She walked to the other side of the street, as well.
The man on top of the elephant yelled back at the shopkeeper. Then the shopkeeper whacked the elephant with the broom several times. The elephant rider protested vigorously and shook his fist. Finally the broom broke and the elephant lurched into motion. The two men continued to yell threats at each other.
Annja’s phone rang as the altercation ended.
“So the reports of your death are greatly exaggerated,” Roux said when she answered.
Annja recognized the old man’s raspy voice at once.
“I thought about ordering one of those memorial DVDs your television show is putting out,” Roux went on. “Especially since Kristie Chatham is offering a calendar with the package.”
Of course, beneath the old-world charm he was snarky to the bone, Annja thought. “I’m surprised you noticed,” she said.
“That they were offering the calendar?”
“That I was alive.”
“Generally I notice most when you’re pestering me with questions.”
“You called, not me,” Annja said.
“I thought I was returning your phone call,” Roux replied.
Annja thought back. She had called. As soon as she’d gotten off the helicopter at the airport and caught a taxi, she’d called. “You are returning my call,” she admitted.
“I assume you just phoned to let me know you were alive.”
“I thought you might be worried.”
“Why?” Roux asked.
Pain and anger warred within Annja. She liked Roux. There was something inherently good about the man, just as there was something inherently evil about Garin. Roux was smart and strong, and he’d lived through more history than she was ever going to see. I don’t know why I look to him for approval, she thought. But I do.
“I—” She hesitated. “I just thought you might be concerned.”
“I never worry about you, Annja,” Roux said.
How was she supposed to take that? she wondered. She was sorry she’d ever placed the call.
“You have Joan’s sword.”
My sword, she thought, but didn’t say it.
“It will get you into danger from time to time. Though I’ve never heard of it attracting a tsunami. However, it wouldn’t have come to you if you weren’t clever enough to see your way through trouble. But seeing as how you’re on the phone, how are you?” Roux asked.
“I’m fine.” Annja kept walking toward the public piers. She’d been told there was a man who had a boat for hire that could serve as a base of operations to look for the shipwreck.
“I know you were there with a group of students,” Roux said.
That surprised Annja. She’d talked with Roux briefly before leaving Brooklyn. She worked to stay in touch with him even though he only called when he wanted her
to research something for him. Most of the time their relationship seemed like a one-way street.
“Are the students all right?” Roux asked.
“Yes. We were lucky.” Twice, Annja added silently.
“That’s good. When are you heading home?”
“Soon,” Annja answered. And that made her a little angry, too. He’d asked as if it would make some sort of difference to him. And she knew it wouldn’t.
“Well, then, keep safe,” Roux said.
“Do you have a minute?” Annja asked.
Roux hesitated. “Perhaps one or two.”
“Roux?” a young woman’s voice called out. “Are you coming back?”
“That’s Julia,” Roux said. “She’s my…masseuse.”
“Right,” Annja said. “I think I found a shipwreck.”
“Good for you. There are a lot of them down there. I’m surprised more people aren’t finding them.”
“This one’s weird,” Annja said.
“How so?”
“I’ve got two items posted on the archaeology sites I resource. I thought maybe you could take a look at them.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re really old. You’re really old. If you knew something, I thought maybe you’d pass it on.”
Roux growled testily. “Just because I’ve lived a long time doesn’t mean I’ve seen everything.”
“Then maybe you’d like to look at something you haven’t seen before.”
“What is it?”
“You know what nagas are?” Annja asked.
“Of course. Who do you think created them?”
The question surprised Annja so much that she stumbled for a moment. “You?”
“No.” Roux sighed. “You are so gullible.”
“Not gullible,” Annja argued defensively. She hated it when Roux got the better of her. But he’d done so much, seen so much, that almost anything seemed possible where he was concerned. “I’m tired. I’ve been up for two days.”
“Then you should get to bed.”
“I’m going to as soon as I get to the hotel. Look at the images. If you think of something I might like to know, call me or e-mail me,” Annja said.
“Okay.” Roux broke the connection.
Annja couldn’t believe it. No “goodbye.” No “see you later.” He just hung up. The man was insufferable. She truly didn’t know why she bothered.
CASABLANCA MOON SAT at anchor out in the harbor. She was a dhow, an Arab-styled ship with a high keel and lateen sails. According to the information Annja got from the sailors she’d talked to, Casablanca Moon was an ocean-voyaging dhow.
Annja had to pay a water taxi to take her out to the boat. As she sat in the prow of the small motorboat, Annja surveyed the boat. Equipment maintenance, especially on a boat that was constantly exposed to the elements, spoke highly of the man she’d be hiring with it.
Five men sat in the stern in folding chairs. They drank beer from bottles.
“Ahoy the boat,” Annja called up when the taxi reached the dhow. She settled her backpack across her shoulders and stood.
A man peered at her over the side. He was a few inches over six feet in height. A white, ribbed T-shirt that had almost turned gray encased his broad shoulders. Khaki cargo shorts wrapped his narrow hips. His skin was so black it glistened blue in the bright noonday sun. His head was shaved but he wore a small, neat goatee. Gold earrings glinted in both ears.
“Ahoy,” the man replied in a deep voice.
“I’m looking for Captain Hakim Shafiq,” Annja replied.
“What business do you have with him?”
“I want to hire this boat.”
The man appraised her, then took a slow sip of his beer. “No offense, miss, but you don’t look like you have enough money to hire this boat.”
“I think I do.” Annja met the man’s direct gaze fully.
The man rubbed his chin. “Even if you do have enough money, what do you want with this boat?”
“I want to excavate a shipwreck.”
The man grinned and looked back at the other sailors on the deck. “You got gold fever, miss?”
The other sailors laughed.
“No.” Annja reached into her backpack and took out the small naga box. Casually, she tossed it up to the man. The cube spun and the gold twinkled in the light. “I think I’ve got an interesting find.”
The man flicked a hand out and caught the cube. His hands closed over it and made it disappear.
“What do you think?” Annja asked.
The man extended a hand. “I’m Captain Shafiq. Welcome aboard Casablanca Moon, miss.”
“SHIVAJI HAS a long association with piracy.”
Fleet glanced at the files he had open in front of him. They were back in Ranga’s small, cramped office. Pictures of the man’s wife, children and grandchildren covered the walls.
“Shivaji’s only forty-seven,” Fleet observed. “You make him sound ancient.”
“I was referring to his family,” Ranga explained. He lit an evil-smelling clove cigarette and waved the smoke away. “His mother’s ancestors have been pirates since the eighteenth century.”
“They sound committed.”
“They are. They’re descended from Kanhoji Angre.”
Fleet shook his head. “Never heard of him.”
“There’s no reason you would have. Shivaji, as it turns out, is quite enamored of his nefarious ancestor. Kanhoji was fired by the British East India Company in the late 1690s and chose the path of entrepreneurship.”
“By attacking his ex-employers’ ships, I take it,” Fleet said.
Ranga blew out smoke and grinned. “Kanhoji did know which ships carried the best cargo, you see. He was quite successful in his endeavor. He operated from a stronghold he called Severndroog on Vijayadurg Island.”
Recalling the name, Fleet found a map in his files and located the island. It was south of Bombay. “It gave him a good location to strike from.”
Ranga nodded. “Kanhoji had several other bases out there, as well. All of them were hidden places where he kept ships and cargo he seized. By the time he died in 1729, his pirate hoards numbered in the hundreds.”
“Sounds like a very successful enterprise,” Fleet commented. The old love of nautical stories swelled within him. His father had been a naval officer. His mother had often claimed that the sea flowed in their veins rather than blood.
“It was. Even after Kanhoji’s death, the pirate empire lasted another twenty-six years under the leadership of his sons. The British didn’t fully rout them until 1755.”
Fleet leaned back in his chair and tried to get comfortable. There were days when he was more conscious of the prosthesis than others. Today he felt the old, gnawing absence of feeling anything beyond the end of his stump.
“I tell you this because we must be careful in our approach to Shivaji,” Ranga said. “Not all of his ancestor’s strongholds were identified. I suspect that Shivaji may yet have one or two hidden bases that we know nothing of. The sea, any sea, is a large and dangerous place. But the Indian Ocean is particularly so because of all the pirates operating here.”
Fleet glared at Shivaji’s picture. The man had only been arrested once, and the charges hadn’t stuck. “We can’t place that pistol in Shivaji’s hands without your witness. Right now we don’t have any leverage. How do you think he’d react if we leaned on him?”
Ranga released another puff of clove-scented smoke. “He would laugh at us.” A small shrug lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “Perhaps there might be some anxiety. But Shivaji, if he is the one who has been using that pistol these past few years, isn’t afraid of getting blood on his hands.”
Silently, Fleet agreed.
“I do, however, know of another tactic we might employ,” Ranga suggested.
“I’m all ears,” Fleet responded.
“Good.” Ranga smiled. “Perhaps because he has such a history of piracy and because that life is
always so full of legend and superstition, Shivaji is prone to believing in tales of lost treasure.”
Fleet considered that for a moment. “If you’re thinking of salting the mine somewhere and trying to lure him to us, that’s going to take a lot of time.”
Ranga shook his head. “No. As a matter of fact there’s an interesting situation that’s developed all on its own. Have you heard of the American actress Annja Creed?”
15
Annja was in heaven. Naked, she stood in the opulent bathroom and stared at the huge whirlpool-equipped tub. The scented water started relaxing her at first breath.
She climbed into the tub and sank into the water. Heat just barely short of discomfort seeped into her. There was almost enough water to float. She enjoyed the weightless feeling until she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. Slowly, she surfaced and felt the brisk chill of the room slap her.
For a time, she luxuriated in the water. Even though she relaxed her body, her mind stayed active. Just as she was forcing her mind to go blank, the telephone in the bathroom rang. She answered.
“I was told that you’d called,” Lochata said.
“I did,” Annja told the professor. “Are you still interested in helping me search the shallows for a shipwreck?”
Lochata sighed tiredly. “Over half of the class has elected to abandon the dig. Given everything that they’ve been through, I don’t blame them. It appears I’m left without a crew.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Annja said.
“The Shakti site is out here, Annja,” the woman declared fiercely. “We found it. We have pictures of it. Once this matter is resolved and I have another class at my mercy, the university won’t hesitate to allow me to try again.”
“Good.”
Motor noises sounded in the background.
“Where are you?” Annja asked.
“On a coast guard ship. They managed to send it for the rest of us. I’m told we’ll be in Kanyakumari before nightfall.”