Terminal Justice (6 page)

“I understand, but how?”

Booth sat staring at his vice president. He had no idea how to gather two hundred million dollars, but he had a very clear idea of what would happen if he didn’t.

SHE’S NOT THE BIGGEST
, CAPT. ADRIAN ADAIR thought.
No, not the biggest and not unique, but she is nonetheless important
. Gazing from the bridge, Captain Adair let his eyes trace the lines of the thirty-year-old
Sea Maid
. To him the ship formed a beautiful shape as it plowed through the sea, pushing aside tons of water with its wedge-shaped bow. Many ships were larger than the
Sea Maid
with her 110-foot beam and just over 700-foot length. But she was his to command, all 18,000 tons of her. And now, making way at a brisk ten knots, Adair felt a sense of euphoria. Tomorrow they would dock in Mombasa, Kenya, and unload their cargo of grain, food staples, and medical supplies, which would then be transported by trucks to Somalia, Ethiopia, and other famine areas. It will be another mission accomplished, another voyage without incident.
Just the way it should be
, he thought.

Those who had sailed with Captain Adair over his twenty-two-year career had crowned him “Lucky” Adair. In more than two decades of service on the world’s seas, he had never been injured, lost a crewman, or damaged a ship. The more superstitious sailors would never refer to him by the unlucky title of “Lucky,” but they all wanted to sail with him. He was stern but never vicious. He prided himself on bringing his ship to port in better condition than when it left. If a sailor could understand that goal, then he could expect the respect of the captain; those who could not were not allowed on board again.

Now Adair, who loved the sea more than any man could,
purposely took in the scenery around him. The sun was setting in the west, painting the slate-gray sky with streaks of iridescent red and pink. Over the port side he could see the hill country of Mozambique with the meager lights of Moçambique, Nacala, and Memba struggling to push back the invading darkness. Off the starboard side was the island nation of Madagascar. Where the setting sun blanketed the hills of Mozambique in ever darkening shade, it bathed the mountains of Madagascar with its soft waning light.

The sea, any sea, was Adair’s only love. He had never married, not wanting to put a wife through the misery of being attached to a man who seldom came home and who could never love her as much as he loved the rising and falling of a ship on the swells of the ocean. And in some mystical way, he felt the sea loved him back.

Under the
Sea Maid
’s hull were the waters of the Mozambique Channel. Four hundred miles wide and more than one thousand miles long, the channel was home to the humpback whales (which the Malagasy considered to be the spirits of the dead) who frolicked and gave birth to their young. Below the clear waters rested the coral-encrusted carcasses of ships that had, over the centuries, succumbed to cyclones or pirates. Ahead of him lay the rest of the Indian Ocean, pristine blue during the day, ripening to near blackness at night. Between him and Mombasa were the Comoros, a small island group formerly owned by the French.

“Mr. Salizar,” Adair said with aplomb, “do we have a weather update?”

“Aye, Captain,” Salizar snapped. “Weather remains unchanged. Satellite shows all clear. It should hold all the way in, sir.”

“Very good,” Adair replied. “Maintain speed and course.” Adair studied Salizar. He liked the young officer. Like Adair, Salizar had graduated from the Maritime Academy and had demonstrated himself an able and trustworthy officer, always showing up at his station precisely on time. He never questioned the captain directly, but was unafraid to offer suggestions that might improve the working of the ship.

“Captain,” a voice said to his right. “If you have a moment, sir.”

Adair turned to see his first mate, Rudy McGriff, standing with binoculars raised to his eyes and looking over the prow. “What do you see, Mr. McGriff?”

“Unsure, sir, but I think it may be a raft.”

Raising his binoculars to his eyes, Adair scanned the distant waters.

“About half a mile out, sir,” McGriff said without breaking his gaze. “Look to starboard.”

“I have it.” Adair studied the bright orange object bobbing on the sea. “I believe you’re right, Mr. McGriff.”

“In this dim light it’s hard to tell if there’s anyone in it.”

“Let’s assume there is,” Adair said decisively. “Mr. Salizar, I take it there hasn’t been a Mayday recently?”

“No sir.”

“Helm!” Adair ordered. “All stop.”

“All stop, aye, Captain.” A moment later: “Engine room answers all stop, sir.”

A moment later, Adair felt the ship slow as the friction of tons of water pressed against the now unpowered vessel. “Mr. McGriff, I would like you to lead a rescue team to that raft. Use the Zodiac and be sure to take a radio.” Adair limited his command to that single order. McGriff was an experienced seaman and an exceptional first officer. He would know exactly what to do. “And please work as speedily as possible. I would like to arrive at Mombasa on time.”

“Aye sir.” Rudy snapped, turning on his heel, and hurrying out of the control room.

The rescue crew consisted of McGriff and two other men: Chief Boatswain’s Mate Harry Adizes and Seaman Bill Shank, both Americans. Adizes, a powerfully built man in his mid-fifties, piloted the Zodiac toward the raft. Rudy had always admired Adizes for his knowledge, skill, and, most of all, his ability to command
men. One word from the chief and men hopped to action. He was gruff, impatient, and able, the men said, to intimidate paint off the bulkhead.

Seaman First Class Bill Shank was as thin as Adizes was brawny, his rail-like frame covered in ebony skin, giving him the appearance of an anorexic teenager. In fact, the thirty-year-old was stronger than he appeared and quick. He possessed a lightning mind. The three men made the best possible team for special work like a rescue. They shared a mutual respect, but more important they shared trust. Rudy knew he would not have to nursemaid these men; they would do what needed to be done, and they would do it without hesitancy.

Raising the handheld radio to his mouth, Rudy was about to ask that the
Sea Maid
turn a spotlight on the orange raft when the spotlight suddenly shone brightly. Looking over his shoulder, Rudy saw the powerful beam of the ship’s light piercing the ever-encroaching darkness. Rudy shook his head.
Just once
, he thought to himself,
I would like to be a step ahead of the captain
.

The drone of the Zodiac’s powerful outboard motor diminished as Chief Adizes eased off the throttle and let the momentum of the boat carry it alongside the raft. Shank reached over the edge and pulled the raft close to the boat. Inside the raft were two African men dressed in casual slacks, white deck shoes, and off-the-rack T-shirts. The men were unmoving and apparently unconscious.

“No uniforms,” Adizes said. “Must be off a pleasure craft.”

“Most likely,” Rudy replied. “Mr. Shank, if you would please.”

Shank immediately and deftly jumped from the Zodiac onto the raft. Placing two fingers over each man’s carotid artery, he felt for a pulse. “They’re alive, sir.” Feeling along the men’s arms and legs, Shank performed a quick examination. “I’m no doctor, sir, but I don’t see any blood and none of their bones seem broken. I wonder how long they’ve been out here?”

“Not long,” Rudy said. “They’re clean-shaven, so they couldn’t have been out here more than a day.”

“Then what’s wrong with them?” Shank asked.

“I don’t know,” Rudy said. “You got any ideas, Chief?”

The chief was leaning over the boat and holding the round raft in place with a viselike grip on the hold rope that circled the top of the float. “No sir, not a one. They’re not wet though, so they didn’t spend any time in the drink.”

“See if you can rouse them,” Rudy commanded.

Shank gently turned one of the men on his back and gently slapped him repeatedly on the cheek. “Hey, buddy, wake up. Come on, man, we’re here to help.” The man groaned but didn’t open his eyes.

Rudy frowned. “All right, Mr. Shank, you stay in the raft. We’ll tie off and tow it back. We can take better care of them aboard ship than we can bobbing out here in the dark.” A moment later, the Zodiac was headed back to the
Sea Maid
with the raft and its puzzling occupants in tow.

“Captain?”

“Yes, Mr. Salizar, what is it.”

“Mr. McGriff reports that all are aboard safely and the Zodiac is secured, sir.”

“Very good.” Captain Adair nodded. “Helm!”

“Helm, aye sir.”

“Resume course, all ahead three-quarters.”

“Aye, Captain, all ahead three-quarters.” A moment later, the low rhythmic hum of the ship’s engines reverberated throughout the freighter. Looking at his watch, Adair saw that only twenty-seven minutes had elapsed since the ship had stopped all engines. “It looks like we’ll be right on time, gentlemen. As always, right on schedule. In the meantime, I’ll see how our new arrivals are faring.”

With purposeful strides the captain left the bridge, walked down the flight of stairs to the main deck, and quickly made his
way to a circle of crew gathered around the two men who lay on the deck. The ring of sailors parted as the captain drew near.

“We were just about to transfer them to the crew quarters, sir,” Rudy said. “I sent Mr. Shanks and Chief Adizes for stretchers.”

“You said on the radio that they appear uninjured.”

“Yes sir. We don’t know what’s wrong with them. We think that they may have been on a pleasure boat that went down. Many inexperienced sailors lose such crafts without so much as a radio cry for help.”

“It still seems odd,” the captain said. “Maybe they’re in shock.”

One of the men on the deck groaned and mumbled.

“What’d he say?” the captain asked.

Rudy leaned over the man and listened.

“Dan … danger … talk to … captain … warn him … captain … danger.”

A puzzled look crossed Rudy’s face. “He’s asking for you, sir. Something about danger.”

“Danger, is it?” The captain looked at the gathering crowd around him. “Back to your stations, men!” The group scattered like mice. “Let’s see if we can learn what this danger is.” Adair crouched down and put his face close to the mumbling man. “I’m Captain Adair. Can you hear me?”

“Danger, warning, captain,” the man spoke in English just above a whisper.

“What danger,” Adair asked leaning closer to hear.

“You … are … in … danger.”

“From what, man?”

Suddenly the man sat straight up, stood up, and faced the captain.

“Easy there,” Rudy said. “I don’t think you should—”

Rudy stopped midsentence as the other man quickly stood to his feet.

“What is this?” Adair asked forcefully. “This had better not be some game.”

“It’s not,” the man said as he reached down the front of his pants and pulled out a small pistol. The other man did the same. “No game at all.” The man rushed the captain and shoved the gun under his chin. “Be very still, Captain, be very still, or I will scatter your brains all over the deck. Do you understand?” Adair stared at the man through steely eyes and slowly nodded. “That’s wise, very wise.” The man’s words were heavy with accent.

When Chief Adizes and Bill Shank rounded the corner with stretchers in hand, they froze for a moment and attempted to take in the situation. Before them, the two men they had pulled from the raft were holding guns on the captain and Rudy.

“What the—” Adizes was cut off before he could swear.

“Be quiet and come here, or I’ll blow a very big hole in your captain.”

Adizes and Shank slowly set the stretchers down and walked toward the group. In a single motion the first man spun the captain around and placed the gun in his spine. The captain winced in pain. The second man did the same with Rudy, except he shoved his pistol in Rudy’s temple hard enough to force his head to one side.

“Stand by the rail!” the man ordered. “Both of you, right now, by the rail.” Adizes and Shank complied. “Move over. I want you in front of me.” Again they complied.