Galveston tried again to punch me in the face, and I countered this with an elbow to his back, throwing him forward. This caused him to lose his balance, and he landed on the grass. He got up quickly huffing for air, and as he did, I swept his legs out from under him with a kick, sending him falling hard on his back. He got up slowly and began to charge me once again. As he got close to landing a punch, I ducked, threw my shoulder into his ribs, and using my momentum, sent him flying in a somersault over and back onto the ground where he landed with a hard thud.
By this time Galveston‘s poor cardiovascular endurance was getting the better of him, and he got up even more slowly. He was kind of befuddled as to why he kept landing on the ground. Again he charged, and this time I gave a quick jab to his ribs. As he lurched forward, I grabbed him around the neck and sent him over my leg. He landed in a crumpled mess on his stomach, completely fatigued and out of breath. I stood over him as he turned onto his back. He had a few marks on his face where I had landed a few elbows and fists during our scuffle.
I peered down at him as he wheezed for air. He was completely spent and had no energy left. His rage subsided quickly, knowing this was a fight he could not win. Galveston stared blankly up at me, but I could tell that something was different. I saw some sanity creep in.
“Ouch,” he said first, squinting his eyes. “Man, am I out of shape.”
I looked at him seriously, with a twinge of remorse for doing this to a friend.
“I think you broke my spine,” Galveston said, and he gave me a small, pitiful smile.
I sat down beside him and fell on my back, exhausted.
“I think you’ll survive,” I responded as we both stared at the sky.
“Where and when did you learn that?”
“I’ve been doing a little training while you were out. Rule 124, become a self-defense machine.”
“Oh, those silly rules,” he laughed.
The rules were Galveston‘s lessons in life. He had used them to get many points across when we had started the business. Most were crazy and useless, but some, like this one, were extremely useful. There were hundreds of them.
“Man, I’m fat,” Galveston said to me, jiggling the excess at his gut. He continued to try to catch his breath after our foray.
“I think the term now is excessively heavy,” I laughed, looking at him.
“I can’t believe I got this bad,” he said. “You were good there. I think you bruised my intestines.”
“Yeah, I’ve been working hard.”
“I’ll say. Leg sweeps, counters with your elbows—you were a machine.” Galveston lay quietly, and I could hear him give a couple of sighs. “A tramp, huh? That was a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“I had to get you riled up somehow. It seemed like the right thing to say at the time. I don’t really believe it though.”
“No, it wasn’t her. Truthfully, I’m as much to blame. It was never a real relationship, not like you and Jane.”
“Oh my, is the crazy person going away?”
Galveston stifled a laugh. “Yeah, I get it. It’s time to make some changes.”
Just then we saw a figure loom above us.
“Are you little boys about done?” Jane peered down, giving us a scolding look.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “How about one more round?”
“Only if you have the paramedics standing by to take me to the hospital for my impending heart attack. I think I’m good.”
I rolled on my side, stood up, and offered my hand to Galveston.
“I’m good, I can make it,” he said as he started to get up, grunting as he tried. “On second thought, maybe I do need a pull.”
Galveston reached for my hand and gathered his feet until he was up. Jane helped him dust the dirt and grass off, and I gave him a pat on his head.
“Glad you’re back buddy.”
“Don’t get all mushy on me—Rule 156,” Galveston said, smiling. “Let’s do some work.”
-Chapter 4-
“The coordinates are locked into the autopilot,” one of the intruders of the Trusian told his leader.
“Excellent. Has zhe team completed zheir project?” The lead man asked.
“They estimate twenty minutes, sir.”
“Good, right on schedule. Make sure zhey check for any other markings on the vessel.”
“Yes, sir.” The man bolted from the bridge and down toward the deck.
The leader sat down in the pilot chair in front of the navigation equipment. It was a long voyage to their destination, and he knew they had to have everything in place as they reached the more populated shipping lanes of the Pacific. He pulled a satellite phone from his pocket, began to dial, and waited as the connection went through.
“Nous sommes sur la bonne voie,” the leader said into the phone.
“Bonne. Poursuivre l’opération,” the voice on the other end answered.
“Oui, monsieur,” the pirate leader responded, ending the call.
He looked over the navigation computer and the course closely until he was satisfied everything had been done correctly.
“Did you make the call Balboa?” A voice said as a man came onto the bridge.
“Yes, sir, Captain Marquette. I said ve vere on course and Polo gave the go to continue zhe operation.”
“Good, I will make the call to the company and inform them of our heading and malfunction with the onboard transponder,” Captain Marquette told Balboa.
The Captain was speaking about the Automatic Identification System, also known as AISLive, which uses a receiver and a transmitter to track a ship’s position. It was mandatory for ships of this size but could easily be turned off. When it was off, it would alert company headquarters of a problem. Marquette would soon get a call from the company inquiring on the problem. He simply would tell them it was malfunctioning, and they were working on it.
Like clockwork the call rang through about 10:00 A.M. Marquette composed himself and answered the call, easily explaining the apparent malfunction to the agents of the shipping company. He hung up the phone.
“It is taken care of. I will contact them again in four hours for an update. How far off from the original course are we now?” he asked Balboa.
“Approximately ninety-six nautical miles,” Balboa told Marquette, looking at the paper charts on a table in the middle of the bridge.
“Good. We’ll continue to steam perpendicular to the original course until we reach the waypoint for the new course. This will put us within the shipping lanes, so we must be ready. The package is secure?”
“Jes, sir. It iz here,” Balboa answered quickly.
Captain Marquette nodded and walked out to the fly bridge that allowed him to see each side of the ship during maneuvering in port. He saw his group of men attach to harnesses on the deck and disappear over the port side of the ship. They were meticulously painting over the name of the Trusian until it read Alterra. The men had already completed painting over the ship’s name on the stern and starboard portions of the ship, and any trace of the Trusian would soon be lost. The Trusian was now the Alterra, just another merchant ship in the busy shipping lanes of the Pacific.
-Chapter 5-
Galveston and I had a cool drink of water after our late morning wrestling session and discussed how to get back in the swing of things. It would take some time to reestablish our contacts. I knew I had to keep Galveston in check to prevent him from reverting back to his previous ways.
“Man, I was really stupid, wasn’t I?” Galveston asked through slurps of water.
“Yeah, you ain’t lying about that. So you’re back then?”
“Yes, yes, I’m back, I think. It’s going to be hard to break out of my ways from the last six months, but I’ll try my best.”
“I’m going to stay on you about this. It’s going to be okay. You’ll get over it in time.”
“Don’t get all sappy on me, it’s not like I’m going to die or something. So
this is what the office looks like, huh? It’s still pretty crappy.”
I gave a laugh and took another sip of water. It was good to see his humor returning, but we needed to do something about his appearance. That would come in due time.
Our first order of business was to get back to work. I decided it would be best to discuss how we would move forward. I wasn’t a hundred percent confident I had Galveston back to normal and wanted to reengage his interest as soon as possible.
We decided to move to his office and discuss business. I made a clear rule that at no time could Galveston talk about Elizabeth or discuss anything about their relationship. I wanted his mind on business and only business. I asked Jane to join us in our meeting. She had been a part of this crazy place from the start and frequently became a mediator between Galveston and me when we reached an impasse.
“Jane? Do you think you could call Alex and have him come in? Maybe he can tear himself away from his pool.”
“I’ll get him in here,” Jane responded and went to make the call.
Alex Judokowski was our resident electronics and computer man and an expert in all things dealing with geekery. He was by no means your stereotypical computer geek, however. Alex graduated from MIT, worked with the National Security Agency (or NSA), and had been integral in helping us with research, gadgets, and security. He had left his work with the NSA on sketchy terms after being caught using an electronic rigging device on slot machines in Las Vegas. He was blackballed from any future work in his field. At this point Alex didn’t need the money. He had already racked up enough money to retire and now enjoyed a leisurely, luxurious lifestyle. But he was bored and needed excitement. That excitement is what he got from us.
Alex was a prior acquaintance of Galveston’s and engaged in our exploits from the beginning. He loved fine cars, fine food, wine, and anything that was expensive or out of reach of the ordinary person. We constantly ribbed him about being a snob. It was something that bothered him so it made us do it even more. Alex was a good guy, and above all else, reliable and trustworthy.
We hadn‘t needed his services in a while, however, and I hoped that with Galveston back we could flex Alex’s intellectual muscle.
Galveston and I waited on Alex in his office, discussing the previous six month’s numbers. It didn’t look good. The poor quality of the clients we had procured had produced little income. We needed the high quality clients we used to have after the resolution of our biggest case to date—the Flapjack battery.
Alex finally rolled up on his motorcycle an hour and a half later, looking exceedingly relaxed. He didn’t appear to be stressed over the lack of work.
“Those are some bitchin’ leathers,” Galveston remarked to Alex.
“I take it he’s back to his usual, annoying self,” Alex said as he strolled in the office.
“Mostly,” I replied. “We’re trying to take it little by little. As you know, a little Galveston can go a long way.”
“Tell me about it,” Alex said, setting down his helmet. He gave Galveston a look over. “What the hell is with his face? That looks glued on.” Alex pinched Galveston’s facial fuzz with his fingers. “Oh, my God, those clothes, they appear to be,” Alex paused, “they appear to be from the 1986 homeless man in the alley collection.” He flicked at Galveston’s collar with his finger.
“I love this guy,” Galveston said grabbing Alex by the shoulders and hugging him. “Come here you big lug.”
Alex kept his arms by his side, and a look of disdain crossed his face before Galveston finally released his grip.
“Now that the pleasantries are over, do you guys finally have some work for me?” asked Alex, moving to an open chair.
“Not really,” I responded reluctantly. “This meeting of all members of ‘Ick’ Investigation is to discuss our future.”
“Because the prodigal son has returned, I see,” Alex quipped.
“Pretty much,” I said. “We need to come up with a game plan. The clients we have right now are unacceptable, basically they’re pretty crappy. No offense.” I motioned to Galveston
“None taken,” he said quickly. “We do need a new game plan, I agree. Let me propose this, I will get back out there and find some new clients. I still have an extensive list of people I haven’t tapped. I need a few days though.”
“You’re going to shower up before you meet any of these people, right?” Alex asked seriously.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” Galveston retorted.
“No, we mean it. You are going to clean yourself up, right, Dan?” I asked, truly wanting to know. “Sweat pants and an ‘I love New York t-shirt aren’t quite the image we would like to convey.” I still had my doubts that Galveston wasn’t just giving us face service. We needed to know he was going to jump back into the business with two feet, two clean feet.
“Of course,” he announced forcefully. “You don’t need to worry about that. I will get things going.”
“Now that we have that established, what else can we do while waiting?” I proposed to the group.
“Why don’t we first get back to the basics,” Jane interjected. “I think we need to do some of the easy investigations we used to, like the background checks and web research. That always brought in a nice, steady stream of business. It never broke the bank, but it helped to offset many of our costs.”
“She’s been around you too long, Roger,” Galveston said. “She’s beginning to talk like you.”
I smiled at Jane. “She is brilliant isn’t she?”
“Oh, please,” Alex said rolling his eyes. “What do you guys want me to do? I have the pool guy coming in an hour.”
“You could find some clients too, you know,” Galveston told Alex, “instead of baking yourself everyday in the sun. You must have some of those computer companies that need some help.”
“I guess I can look into it. I do have a wine tasting tonight though,” Alex said smiling.
“What a delicate flower,” Galveston retorted. “Alex and I will look into who we can get now. We’ll try to find some clients that have a larger need and bankroll.”
“Agreed,” I announced to the group. “I’ll do the same. Let’s meet back up tomorrow with our findings.”
“Yes, boss,” Alex and Galveston said in unison.
Our plan wasn‘t rocket science, but we had to start somewhere. I didn’t want to tell them that we desperately needed some revenue. The coffers were running dry even with our low overhead. Galveston’s little hiatus had really put a crimp in our business. I was just not good enough at marketing to keep the business afloat on my own. I had gotten my private investigator license a few years before to make us a little more legal, so I was confident that Galveston could at least get us some quick business using that as a marketing tool.
We adjourned our shareholders meeting after about another half hour of small talk. Jane had a performance in the local theater that evening so she left early. Alex followed closely behind to get back home to supervise his pool cleaning. Galveston and I were left in the office.
“You’re still okay?” I inquired.
“Yes, enough already. You’re like my ugly, nagging wife. Good Lord, I’m okay, but I do need a raise,” he said with a smile.
I felt relieved at his retort, but he needed to show me with his actions. Things were formulating themselves on the horizon that would thrust us into action, and unbeknownst to us, we needed to be ready.
-Chapter 6-
The day progressed slowly for the crew secured in the supply room. Boredom was beginning to set in, and they tried to entertain each other with stories of past voyages.
Dimitri was doing his best to keep their spirits up, but the pain in his leg began to worsen. He was concerned if he didn’t receive proper medical treatment he could become septic and potentially lose his leg. The medic was doing his best to keep Dimitri comfortable despite a lack of adequate supplies.
The crew wrestled with their lack of in
formation. Where were they going, why were they being held captive, and what did the pirates have planned for them? The only thing the crew knew for certain was they could share a similar fate as their Captain.
Dimitri thought through as many scenarios as he could for escape. It was obvious, however, that they were outgunned and in no position to challenge the skills of the pirates. These were not your run-of-the-mill type of pirates. These men were highly trained with military experience, and the chances of surviving a coup were slim to none.
On the bridge a different scenario played out. The pirates had shed their black fatigues and changed to everyday sailor attire. The ship had transformed itself into the Alterra, and they were only a few hours away from the southern Pacific shipping lanes.
The men performed the duties of running the ship flawlessly, as if they had worked on a merchant vessel before. The black speed boat that brought them aboard had long disappeared, but six more men had joined them before it left. That left the final count of pirates at twelve. The skeletal crew was just enough to run the ship effectively.
The pirate known as Captain Marquette made another phony call to the Trusian’s company headquarters, giving them a false position report and explaining that the ship’s transponder was not able to be fixed. The ship was not scheduled in Los Angeles for another full forty-eight hours, at which point the company would know that something was amiss. By that time the Alterra would be so far off the original course that it would be almost impossible to find.
The disappearance of merchant ships has happened before, even in this modern age. In July 2009, a Russian freighter named Arctic Sea was hijacked in the Baltic Sea by alleged drug smugglers. The vessel traveled through the English Channel and even made radio calls off the coast of France before disappearing. The Russian government couldn’t find the ship. Its position wasn’t known for eighteen days, until finally it was located near Cape Verde off the coast of Western Africa. Even with all of today’s technology, the ship disappeared for more than two weeks from the eyes of the world.
Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 02 - Peeking Duck Page 3