The Pirate (19 page)

“Laz, wait for backup,” Savage said in his earpiece.

“You can follow me. I'm not waiting. You saw what he did to Bob. That man was injured and Daphne—hell, that woman will argue with him and fight with him. I have to get to her, Savage.”

There was silence in his earpiece and Laz just kept going full throttle. He had a spotlight on the boat and he turned it on. It would have been better if he'd brought someone with him because they could have acted as a lookout or spotter. But he hadn't been able to wait another minute. He had to get to Daphne.

He saw something bobbing off the starboard side of his speedboat. He circled around and came back to it.

It was a person.

He killed the engine and let the boat drift closer.

“Help me.”

The voice was feminine but not Daphne's. “Franny?”

“Yes. Oh my God. He killed Bob. Daphne's still with him.”

“It's okay. We're going to get him. Can you swim over to the boat?” he asked.

“I can't swim at all,” she said.

Every second he wasted here with her was another second it would take him to get to Daphne but he wasn't about to leave Franny in the ocean. The other woman had seen Samatan kill Bob and a part of Laz wanted nothing more than to comfort this poor lady.

He found the life ring that was tethered to the rope and tossed it to her. “Can you grab this and I'll pull you to me?”

She tried but she was simply too tired. He could tell because her movements were lazy and uncoordinated. “Savage?”

“Here.”

“I'm going in the water to rescue Franny. Be aware that there are two of us as you approach.”

“Confirm that.”

The earpieces their team used were waterproof up to fifteen feet. Laz didn't bother taking off his shoes or shirt, which would only slow him down. And he'd been a SEAL. The water was his second home.

He dove over the side of his boat and swam to Franny with strong strokes. She was crying a little and he thought she might be suffering from exhaustion and shock.

“Hello, Franny.”

“Captain. I'm sorry I couldn't reach for the ring.”

“It's okay,” he said. Her face was pale and she had some bruising under her eyes. He towed her back to the boat.

“Hold on here,” he said, guiding her hands up to the side of the craft.

“Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she said.

But her hand slipped off and he had to guide it up again. He had the feeing he could do this all night and not get her into the boat. Finally he swam them around to the back and lifted her onto the step in the back of the boat.

“Sit here. Don't fall in.”

She nodded and he moved around the motor to a place where he could pull himself up and out of the water. His body didn't even feel the strain despite everything that had happened to him today.

He knew he was in the battle zone. That place where he could do anything to his body and keep moving. Tomorrow he'd feel but tonight he was on autopilot.

He went to the back of the boat and helped Franny into the craft. She was mumbling softly to herself and Laz was truly worried about her.

“This is One. I'm back on the craft.”

“We're nearly to your twenty,” Savage said.

“Someone is going to have to take the hostage back to the tanker. She needs medical assistance.”

“Wenz is with us. He will do that while Mann and I accompany you in pursuit.”

“Affirmative.”

Savage didn't say anything else. Laz knew when this was all over his team leader would have words with him and make sure he didn't disobey orders again. But right now Savage would stay focused on the mission.

“Why aren't you going after Daphne?” Franny asked.

Laz looked at her. “We have to make sure you are safe first.”

“I'll be fine. I can stay on this boat and just…”

“Just what?” Laz asked her. “A few minutes isn't going to affect Daphne. I'm not going to let Samatan hurt her.”

Franny shook her head. “He killed Bob at point-blank range. Bob wasn't even threatening him.”

Laz sat down next to the other woman as she started crying. He wrapped his arm around her and held her for a minute trying to give her comfort. “I'm sorry.”

She didn't even hear him. That brief moment of lucidity was gone and she was back to the moaning and mumbling she was doing before.

The sound of an engine reached him first and he knew another craft was approaching. He stood and drew his weapon in case it wasn't his team.

“Hello the craft,” Savage's voice boomed across the water.

“Come on in,” Laz said.

The other boat slowed down. Wenz stood toward the back of the boat with his medic kit in one hand. Laz tossed a rope to Mann and the two men drew the speedboats side by side.

Wenz came onboard to treat Franny and Laz crossed to the other craft. “I think she's in shock and might have some injuries.”

“Don't worry. I'll take care of her,” Wenz said. He was already kneeling next to Franny and checking her pulse. Franny was still mumbling but stopped when Wenz touched her.

“Do you need me to follow once the woman is safe?” Wenz asked.

Savage shook his head. “The three of us got this. If we need backup we will radio and you and Hamm can come in the chopper.”

“Will do, team leader.”

Wenz and Mann tossed the ropes that held the boats tethered together back to each other and Savage put the boat back in motion.

No one said anything to him and that was fine with him. He didn't want to discuss anything with either of the men. He was already going over the moment he killed Samatan. In his mind he saw Daphne whole and healthy and back in his arms.

But in his heart he knew fear for another person and that made him cringe because he knew that men who had something to lose oftentimes lost.

He closed his eyes and carefully compartmentalized everything he felt for Daphne. He shoved it to the back of his heart and his mind. All those emotions weren't helpful to a man who was born to win. A man who stop at nothing to rescue a civilian. He had to stop thinking of her as the woman who held his heart, but that was harder than he'd expected it to be.

If she died he'd continue to mourn her until his deathbed. He remembered the lyrics of that old George Jones song, “He Stopped Loving Her Today.” It would take his own death for him to stop loving Daphne.

A mission like this one made him realize—hell, the only thing that had changed his thinking was Daphne. She was sweet, sexy, sassy, and just perfect for him.

It hadn't mattered that she was right woman at the wrong time. Hell, she still was, but he guessed that there was never a right time for a woman like her to come into his life.

And he knew if he hadn't happened now on this ship and on this mission he'd never have found her. He would have gone his entire life alone.

He hadn't found a woman because Mann and Savage had. He'd found
the woman
—the one woman that God had made for him. He wasn't about to let a pirate like Samatan take her from him.

He looked up at the night sky and saw the stars he and Daphne had stood under just two nights ago and promised himself that they'd have a lifetime of nights to spend together.

But first he had to take care of the man threatening that dream he held in his heart.

D
aphne had never been more tired or scared in her life. Samatan continued to pilot the boat into the dark horizon after he'd dumped Franny over the side. She was all alone, and though she'd stopped thinking that she would die at this man's hands, she had no thoughts of what she could do to save herself. She did briefly think of diving over the side of the craft and trying to swim away from him.

But she knew that Samatan would double back and pick her up. And when he did he'd be mad and perhaps hit her. Not that being hit was bad in the scheme of things. It was way better than being dead.

But she decided to wait and see what happened once they got to his ship. She'd try to make a break for it then.

She saw the lights first, like those of a small city. “What is that?”

Was he taking her to the port town of Eyl? Had he fooled them all by making them believe he was different than the other pirates who operated in this area?

“That is my ship,” he said. He picked up the radio and said something in rapid-fire Portuguese. She really wished she had an ear for languages but she didn't. So she was stuck in the dark.

Less than five minutes later they had pulled aside a large freighter that was bigger than the
Maersk Angus
. She thought this freighter was very similar to an aircraft carrier and realized that she was seeing a city.

This was a city at sea. They moored to the larger craft in no time flat and Samatan grabbed her arm and lifted her up to the largest man she'd ever seen. He was just shy of seven feet tall. He was all steely roped muscle and had a face that was both scary and fierce. He reached under her armpits to pull her up on deck and then held her arm tightly while Samatan joined them.

“Take her to my conference room. If she gives you any trouble, knock her out. We can revive her when we need her.”

“Yes, sir,” the other man said in thickly accented English.

She had the feeling that Samatan had switched to her language just so she could understand the threat. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Speaking my language. That makes me feel so much better.”

“Sarcasm is an American trait and not one I appreciate. You don't have to be unharmed to be ransomed, my dear. You would do well to remember that.”

“Take her, Djimon. Don't leave her alone until I return to you,” Samatan said and turned to walk away from them.

Djimon led the way across the deck and down the gangway stairs to a room. It was elegantly appointed with thick pile carpeting and a walnut table. On the walls were paneling and there were two portholes in the far wall offering a view of the dark night. They weren't that large, like the small ones on the cruise she and her family had taken to the Bahamas several years ago.

At the far end of the conference was the equipment for video conferencing. There was a rather expensive looking video camera on a tripod. It was connected to a laptop and a man was sitting at the end of the table.

He was small and wiry and wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. He didn't look up as they entered.

“Put her at the end of the table,” the man said.

“Yes, sir,” Djimon replied.

He led her to one of the large captain's chairs and sat her down in it. He wrapped his two large hands around her shoulders and chest to restrain her in the chair.

“I'm not going to try to escape,” she said.

“We know,” the man at the end of the table said. “This is to remind you that we are in charge.”

Djimon bent down and tied her feet to the legs of the chair. She hated the feeling of being bound even though she knew she probably wouldn't have tried to make a run for it. Having them do this to her—well, it took away that comfort. She now knew she was stuck in here and helpless against whatever they chose to do to her.

She hadn't felt like a victim until this moment. She closed her eyes, focusing on her prayers, and realized that Laz's face was in her mind. She wished she had some kind of super-power telepathy thing. She wanted to tell him how much meeting him had changed her life and made her realize that she hadn't been lost at all when Paul left.

The weakness—the problems—had been with Paul. Laz had shown her that she was enough just by being herself. He hadn't needed her to go to the gym at five every morning or be on the PTA and continue to increase her pediatric practice. Laz hadn't needed anything from her except who she was, and that itself was a gift.

She thought of her boys Josh and Lucas and how very much she loved him. She wanted to tell them so again now. She felt tears in her eyes and blinked rapidly to stem them. She wasn't going to start crying now. She couldn't.

If she did, she'd never stop and then she'd be a mess. It didn't take a genius to realize that they were going to videotape her with some message and upload it to someone.

She wondered if they were going to e-mail it to Paul. His family had old money but Paul wouldn't pay any ransom for her. They had a policy of not paying that went back generations to when his great-uncle had been kidnapped. The family had used the FBI to try to rescue the great-uncle, but in the end he had been killed before they could.

She had a knot in the pit of her stomach that said this might be the end of the line for her.

Eventually though she suspected they'd have to untie her…which made her think. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

The men ignored her.

“Hey! Did you hear me?”

Djimon looked over at her. “You may not leave this room. If you must relieve yourself you may do so where you sit.”

Horrified, she shook her head. She wasn't about to pee on herself. They weren't going to untie her. Not for anything. She was going to die tied to this chair.

She only hoped they weren't going to videotape that. She didn't want her sons to see it. She wondered if she'd be able to talk. Some of the hostage videos she'd seen didn't have audio. She wanted to tell her boys that she loved them, and that she was so proud of the men they were becoming.

Oh, God, please let her be able to do that. If she was going to die she needed to know that she'd at least have a chance to comfort her sons one last time.

 

Samatan had a shower and changed his clothes. He didn't like to appear to his boss looking anything other than his best. One of the first things he'd learned when he'd gone to school in Europe was to dress for success and that truly affected people's opinion of him.

In his college days he'd dressed in long flowing Muslim robes that had been made in Mogadishu, and many people treated him like a refugee or a poor Somali. After he'd earned enough money for his first suit, he was treated differently. And he took his time now, making sure he looked every inch the wealthy man that he was.

It worried Samatan Habeb hadn't checked in and the chopper wasn't on its way back here. He knew that men who were tortured would reveal much information.

He looked at himself in the mirror and made the decision to move the freighter. If they stayed put and Habeb was forced to give up their location, it could be dangerous. He'd come too far to let the mission fail at this point.

He picked up the handset that connected him to the bridge. “Take us north, Captain.”

“At once, sir.”

“Also I need you to keep your eyes out for any craft that is approaching the freighter. If you see anything, notify me right away.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will be in the conference room,” Samatan said before hanging up.

He picked up his satellite phone and called Laurent, who was one of his lieutenants like Habeb. He ordered the man to ready his men and get ready to retake the
Maersk Angus
. Samatan wasn't about to lose the ransom from the ship. Maersk always paid to have their ships returned and that kind of money wasn't something he was going to just walk away from.

He left his quarters and walked down the long hallway toward the conference room. Unlike the
Maersk Angus
, the
Liberty Sun
wasn't an aging tanker. It was a fast ship and could outrun most ships in the ocean, but it was big and that took its toll on the ship. A lot of fuel was required to power it.

That was of no consequence to Samatan. His boss gave them whatever they needed provided he always was successful.

He entered the conference room to see Djimon sitting on the credenza watching the woman. He knew the bodyguard took his job very seriously. Samatan had brought him to the ship three years ago and not one time had he had any problems with the big man.

“Good job, Djimon,” he said in Portuguese.

“Thank you, sir. Do you require that I stay?”

“No. You may go. I will ring for you when it is time to move the prisoner.”

Djimon nodded at him and left.

Samatan turned to Bert, a young British Muslim who'd been working for him for just under eighteen months. The other man was an expert in computers and kept them connected to the people they needed to communicate with.

“I want to do a live feed, Bert,” he said in English. He wanted Daphne to understand what was going on.

“Not a problem. I've contacted International Tankers and introduced myself as your spokesperson. I told them I was expecting a video file from you with news of the tanker and the hostages.”

“Thank you, Bert. But we aren't going to be able to ransom the tanker anymore. I believe the crew has retaken it. This message will need to go to the U.S. government. So contact the state department.”

“At once, Samatan.”

While Bert worked at his computer, Samatan walked to the end of the table where Daphne sat. She'd been quiet since he entered the room, not even looking at him as he talked to his men.

“Are you ready to play your part?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I'll do what you ask, of course, but you should know that Paul's family will not pay any ransom for me. We're divorced.”

“That is of no concern to me,” Samatan said. “I am not looking for your family's money.”

“Then what are you looking for?”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” he said. “My boss has his own plans for you.”

“For me? Have you been after me the entire time?” she asked.

She was smart for a woman and he'd seen that she had a great heart when she'd comforted her friend and acted to save her. This woman was rare and he wondered why her husband had cast her aside. Perhaps she wasn't very good in bed. But she had qualities that Samatan's own fiancée had, and it made him realize that he had made a good choice when he'd asked Mare to be his wife.

“You are just one piece of the puzzle.”

“Explain it to me,” she said.

“I fear your woman's mind wouldn't be able to understand the complexities of it.”

“I think I can do okay. I'm pretty smart.”

“Then you should know when it is wise to shut your mouth,” Samatan said.

“We are ready, sir,” Bert said.

“Good.”

Samatan walked behind Bert so he could see the video image they were sending.

“Ex Mrs. Paul Maxwell, you will say the date and the time and”—Samatan reached behind him for the
Guardian
newspaper, which had been delivered from London—“you will also read these headlines so they know you are alive right now.”

“And if I don't?”

He raised his eyebrow at her. “Then we will hurt you and one of my men will talk for you. Don't forget we just need your body in relatively healthy condition to get the ransom.”

“You disgust me. I thought when I spoke to you on the bridge of the
Maersk Angus
that you were a man of conviction. A man that was made into a bad guy by circumstances but that you had a soul. But I see now that you are nothing more than a money-grabbing psycho.”

Samatan shrugged. “Calling me names doesn't bother me. I make decisions that I can live with and move on. You would do well to remember that.”

“Would I?”

“If you want to get off this freighter alive, then yes.”

He walked back down by Bert. “Are we ready?”

“Yes, sir. Both parties are on the line as you requested. Whenever you want to start broadcasting,” Bert said.

Samatan stepped back to make sure he was out of the camera's view and signaled Bert to begin.

“Hello,” Bert said. “I am the negotiator for the pirates who have taken the wife of U.S. Senator Paul Maxwell hostage.”

“We don't ransom U.S. citizens.”

“Should we kill her?” Bert asked.

“No. Don't do that,” a young deep voice said. “We will pay the ransom.”

Samatan glanced at Bert. He muted the sound and then turned to him. “I videoconferenced her children in. I thought that might make the government act.”

“Good thinking,” Samatan said.

And if it didn't motivate the government into acting it would make a martyr out of Dr. Bennett and cause a lot of problems for the United States.

 

Laz and Mann were the two who were on the freighter first. Savage was docking their speedboat. “One moving.”

“Command will be two,” Mann said.

“Affirmative,” Savage said.

Laz tried to be just in soldier mode but after seeing the state Franny had been in, it was just a little bit harder. He knew he was going to rescue Daphne; he just didn't know what kind of state she'd be in.

“This is Four. The girl will likely be in a conference room on deck three,” Van said.

“Copy that,” Laz said.

He glanced at Mann. And the other man nodded. They moved forward in the pattern he'd used with Wenz earlier. Both of them kept their weapons drawn and moved carefully.

They encountered a soldier at the base of the stairs on deck three. The man was tall and built like a brick wall. Mann tangled with the pirate, signaling Laz to keep moving. He did.