Noble Lies (20 page)

“It seems I owe you a bit of an apology. You're not a worthless fucking asshole after all. In fact, if it wasn't for you, we would have never pulled this off, right Andy?”

Andy came and stood next to Shawn. “Fuckin' Man of the Match.”

“They heard you coming,” Mark said. “The door alarm went off and then they heard the shots. They would have radioed for help.”

“Yeah, you'd think,” Shawn said, shrugging. “But just so happens we had a frequency jammer with us out there, all alone, waiting in the dark. And, gee, right at two a.m. their radio went dead. By the time they figured out that it wasn't working the party had already started. No, Mark, nobody knows we're here.”

Mark kept his eyes on Shawn. “Where's Robin?”

Shawn smiled. “Oh, you're gonna like this.” He stood and shouted over his shoulder. “Hey sis, come here a second.”

A trio of grinning pirates stepped aside and Robin walked out from the shadows and into the lighted area. She was wearing the khakis and polo shirt she had worn as she lay on the bunk, her hair loose around her shoulders; and as she walked closer Mark saw a coldness in her eyes she had not shown before. She didn't smile, she didn't say anything, she just walked over and put an arm around Shawn's waist. Shawn shifted the assault rifle, held it by the wooden pistol grip, put his free hand on Robin's back, pulled her in and kissed her hard on the mouth, his hand sliding down her back, ending the kiss with a sharp slap on her ass.

“I can't believe you fell for the sister story,” Shawn said, draping his arm across Robin's shoulder. Mark felt the blood color his cheeks but said nothing. Robin looked away and with both hands pulled her hair behind her head.

“I don't know about you, Mark, but I'm impressed. Not with you, with her. I mean, track some missing boyfriend across town, that's one thing. But halfway around the world?” Shawn hugged Robin to his side while she continued to fuss with her hair. “I must be something special.” He looked down at her and smiled; she looked back and didn't.

“I've got to pee,” she said and turned and walked across the deck and through the open bulkhead door.

Two of the pirates started shouting, crossing the deck as Pim's grandfather stood up and stepped through the huddle of passengers, Pim jumping up behind him, trying to pull him back. The old man brushed her off and she stumbled backwards over one of the Indian passengers. Head high, he strode toward Shawn. The pirates shoved the old man and he stepped back but didn't fall, coming forward again.

“Oops. Busted,” Shawn said, winking at Mark as he motioned to the guards to let the man pass.

Kiao pushed past the grinning guards and walked up to Shawn. With a finger in Shawn's face, the old man started yelling. It was all in Thai, high-pitched and rapid-fire and harsh, but there was no mistaking what he was saying. Pim fought her way past the guards and ran to his side, pulling on his arm and begging him to come away. She yanked on his arm but the old man did not budge, standing taller than Mark had remembered, his words sharp and his eyes filled with hate.

“You got any fucking clue what the coot's saying?” Shawn said, laughing at Mark.

Mark shifted his weight and got ready to move. “He's an old man. He's all she's got. Let it go, Shawn.”

“In-laws,” Shawn said and laughed, and swung the barrel of the assault rifle up and under the old man's chin, firing a quick burst that tore off the top of his head.

Mark lunged forward just as Andy brought the butt of the rifle down. The blow was as loud as a shot and Mark dropped hard onto the deck, blood soaking his hair and running into his eyes. He could hear Pim screaming, clear at first, then falling away into the blackness that swallowed him.

 

Chapter Twenty eight

   

“Those men with the guns? They're pirates. You know what pirates are, don't you?”

Ngern nodded. “Yes,” he said and the man smiled at him. He had a narrow, squished face and he talked funny and his leg bent way out even when he tried to sit, but the man had saved his life and the boy sensed he could trust him.

He had woken up late at night and gone to use the bathroom. The lights were so bright and the air conditioning so cold that he didn't feel sleepy afterward. His aunt had said they were far out on the ocean and he had wanted to see. Their room didn't have a window but he remembered seeing many windows in the first hallway they had walked down, the one where he had seen the man his great-grandfather had said was the captain. He went down the stairs and found the windows, but he couldn't see the ocean because of all the lights on the deck. He had decided to see if there were more windows farther below and he had gone down many stairs when the shooting started.

He had ducked into a corner as the crew ran by. They seemed very scared and this made Ngern scared, too. The shooting became louder and he had crawled under a row of pipes to hide. He watched as the men ran by—they looked like beggars he had seen in Phuket, dirty and wild-eyed. They raced past and didn't see him, but he knew it was not a good hiding spot and they would see him next time. He could hear more men coming down the stairs right above where he hid; and he was squeezing in tighter when the small metal door behind him opened up and a hand pulled him into the dark space, closing the door behind him. There was just enough light to see the man's face. The man held a finger up to his lips and Ngern nodded, showing he understood. He led Ngern down the passage, crawling on his hands and knees, his twisted leg bumping against the pipes. In the hallway the shooting had stopped but now he could hear people yelling. They crawled a bit further and then the space got wider and taller and there was a small light bulb hanging from a cord. Between the pipes he could see a big room all lit up, filled with more pipes and big motors. There were walkways in the room, and a table, but he didn't see any men there.

“The pirates?” the man said, “They won't find us here.”

Ngern looked around the space. It was much smaller than the room he had been sleeping in, and it was hot and smelled like a big truck. There was a backpack in the corner and an open can of Coke. “Is this where you live?”

“No, I have a room,” the man said, pointing up. “A cabin on one of the upper decks. But I had to share it with some other men and I didn't like them. They did not speak Thai and I think they made fun of me.”

“Why?” Ngern said.

“Because of my leg. And the way I talk. But that's okay. I like to find places to hide, like this. Then I can stay hidden and watch people.”

Ngern peered between the pipes. It was a good spot—you could see a lot and not be seen, unless someone came looking for you. “What will we do if the pirates find us?” he asked.

The man shook his head. “They won't. But if they do, I have these.” It was a gun but not like any gun Ngern had seen before, not at the house they made him stay at, or on TV, or in any of the movies. The bottom part looked right, with the grip and the trigger, but the top part was like a box and had a bright yellow square at the end.

“Guns like these?” the man said, holding out the gun and patting several more that sat by his side. “They don't kill people. They just knock them out. Did you see Star Wars? No? Well, they had guns like this. You pull the trigger and it shocks the person you aim at. Zap, zap, zap,” he said, taking out invisible enemies. “I found a whole locker filled with them down in the engine room. You want one?” He held one out to Ngern.

The boy looked at the gun and shook his head. “No thank you. I want to go to my aunt now.”

“Not now, later,” the man said, then saw the look in the boy's eyes. “I promise. I will show you a way I found that will bring you close to the rooms. You can go everywhere on the ship, it's easy.” He smiled.

Ngern looked at the stack of guns. “Will you fight the pirates with these?”

The man's smile vanished. “If I have to, I will, yes.”

The boy paused, thinking. He wet his lips, took a deep, shaky breath and said, “I will help you.”

The way the man looked at him, Ngern thought he had said something wrong. The man's eyes got watery and his head bobbed, but then he smiled bigger than ever and patted Ngern on the shoulder. “You are a brave boy,” the man said, saying each word slowly so it was clear.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Oh yes,” the man said, still smiling. “I think I do.”

 

***

 

Mark ran a hand across the back of his head. His hair was dried and matted but the bleeding had stopped. The plastic baggie of ice had melted and the kitchen towel the cook had wrapped it in was dyed red with his blood. He had a pounding headache and the muscles in his neck were knotted stiff, but the nausea that often came with a concussion had faded and his vision had cleared. He was sitting on the floor of the dining hall, back against the wall just like the others. There were ten passengers—Pim and the boy not among them—and fourteen crewmen, one slowly bleeding to death from a gut shot; Mr. Singh sitting nearby, looking pale but determined to live. The tables and chairs were all pushed to the far side of the room and four gunmen, none old enough to drive, sat on a bench, their weapons loose in their hands but their eyes watching for any sudden movement.

He didn't remember, but he assumed that some of these men had carried him off the deck and up five flights of stairs to this room. And he assumed that somehow the cook had convinced the guards to get ice and towels for the wounded. A case of bottled water sat in the center of the room, and Mark found an empty bottle at his side that he didn't remember drinking. The AC was off and the room was stuffy and hot, and other than the groans of the dying man and the mumbled conversation of the guards, it was quiet, just the steady hum of the ship's engines far below. The pudgy captain and the officer in the baseball cap were missing, probably up on the bridge being forced to run the ship or, if Shawn had brought along his own pilots, dead and tossed overboard, just like Kiao.

He should have seen it coming, should have lunged at Shawn the second he saw him, or gone at Andy, got the gun, unloaded a clip into both of them. It would have never worked, of course, Andy standing behind him expecting something like that, hoping for something like that, but he thought about it anyway. Shawn pulled the trigger but Mark knew who had really killed the old man.

The four guards turned their heads to the open doorway and grinned as Robin came in the room. She was wearing a pair of sunglasses that were too big to be hers and a scowl that the guards read as authority. She crossed the room without glancing at them and stood in front of Mark.

“Come on,” she said, angling her head back at the door. “I want to talk to you.”

Mark looked up but didn't move to stand. Instead he ran his hand across his head again, looking for blood on his palm. “I don't think we have anything to say.”

She sighed and put her hands on her hips and stared down at him. The oversized frames and dark lenses kept her eyes hidden. “I need to talk to you. I could tell them to bring you and they would, they'll listen to me, but I don't want that.”

“Are you taking me to see Shawn?”

“Eventually. But first I want to talk to you. Alone.” She paused and when he didn't say anything, she added, “Please.”

Back against the wall, Mark eased himself up. On the bench the guards stood too, looking at Robin. “It's okay,” she said, the tone of her voice and her hand gestures translating the words. Mark kept a hand on the wall in case he lost his balance. He wasn't as dizzy as he had feared but the nausea returned, and as they walked across the room he stooped to pick up a fresh bottle of water. He glanced at the faces of the others in the room but they all looked away.

Robin led him down the hallway and out onto the small deck where yesterday he had helped the captain solve his crossword puzzle. The sky was overcast, but the sun was on their side of the ship. He squinted. His headache would come back now. He cracked open the plastic bottle and took a small sip, testing his stomach. The ocean stretched in front of him and he thought he saw a thin line on the horizon that might be land but it was too hazy to tell for sure. They both leaned on the railing and looked out at the water. He took a second, longer drink and waited.

“It wasn't supposed to be like this,” Robin said.

“Yeah, you said that last night,” he reminded her. “Before your brother arrived.”

She dropped her head and looked down at her hands. She let a breath out in a long sigh. Without looking at him she said, “I met Shawn about two years ago. I had just gotten laid off from some stupid office job and I had all these bills and shit so I was looking for a job, dancing in this club.” She knew she didn't have to explain what kind of job so she didn't. “Shawn was there, not working, just hanging out, and we got to talking. He had just gotten out of the county lockup. He didn't hit on me or anything, we just talked. He's real good at talking.” She chuckled. “But you know that.”

Mark took a swig of water and said nothing.

“So anyway, we started going out. It was great. He's so much fun, he really is. Was. And he was so good looking.”

“I guess that makes up for a lot.”

“It did then. He was into small-time stuff, selling weed, boosting cars, some breaking and entering. He was really good at it, too. He made it seem so easy. He wanted me to quit the bar but it was sort of fun and the tips were great. I mean it wasn't like you see in the movies, but nothing is I guess.” She reached over and took the water bottle out of his hand and took a sip. “We had a place together, an apartment. It was nice. We turned one of the bedrooms into a media room with this big-screen TV and everything. We used to watch all these heist movies, pretend it was us in the movie, getting away with it. You know that line you said to me, the one Shawn told you to say?”

“Afghanistan bananastand.”

“That was from a movie. It was like our special codeword. Instead of saying ‘I love you' we'd say Afghanistan bananastand.” She paused. “I know, it's stupid.”

“We've all been there,” Mark said, leaving off the part about it being back in high school.

Robin finished off the water. “Then one day he says he's going to Thailand, says that I should wait behind and he'll send for me. He emailed a couple of times the first weeks, sent a few postcards. Then…” She trailed off, took a deep breath and started again. “The dancers at the bar said he's dumping you girl, and I said no, Shawn and I, we've got something special, and they said we'll see. Then that Christmas I get an email. Just a hello, how you doing, but you know how it is. I read everything into it. For the first time in months I felt great. See? He didn't run off, he didn't dump me; I'm not just some dumb blonde he played like an idiot. Next morning I turned on the TV. I didn't even know what a tsunami was.”

They stood there, looking out at the water, not another ship in sight. He slid his forearm along the rail an inch or two until it bumped up against her arm. She didn't pull away and after a minute she cleared her throat. “I'm sorry I lied to you.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I had to. If I told you the truth, if I had told you that I was a stripper looking to track down an ex-con boyfriend who had run off, would you have come?”

He wanted to tell her that her story had little to do with his decision, but that's not what she wanted to hear. “Probably not.”

“The whole time I was here I kept telling myself that it would all work out, that it would be just like before, all I had to do was find him.” She shook her head. “Well I found him.”

For a long time neither said a word, the whole ship surprisingly quiet. Mark watched a speck on the horizon grow into a freighter twice the size of the Morning Star, loaded high with shipping containers stacked like Legos. It arced south miles away and disappeared. Next to him, Robin tapped the empty water bottle against her palm. “Come on. We're late.”

She turned to go, but Mark stayed leaning on the rail. “What are you going to do?” he said.

“I told you, take you to see Shawn.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “You know what I mean.”

She was looking at him now, but the sunglasses still hid her eyes. She drew in a deep breath, held it, dropping her hands down to her side as she let it out. “I think,” she said, just loud enough to be heard, “that I've already done too much.”