Клайв Касслер - Marauder

“We’re going to need it,” the XO replied, pointing down at the deck.

The top of the ladder poked above the railing. Rahal dropped the phone and ran out to the bridge wing again. While some of the hijackers had their weapons trained on the railing in case anyone tried to push it away, others began climbing up, several of them carrying large backpacks in addition to their weapons. When seven of them were on deck, they ran toward the superstructure at the rear of the ship.

Rahal got back on the phone. “Headquarters, I have to hang up now. The hostiles are approaching the bridge.”

“Good luck, Captain.”

Rahal tried to calm himself for the sake of the rest of the bridge crew, but his insides felt like pudding. He hadn’t been this shaken since the Iraqis invaded his native Kuwait when he was a teenager working on a fishing boat.

A few moments later, he heard feet pounding up the stairs.

“No sudden moves,” Rahal said to his men.

The door was flung open, and three Southeast Asian men burst onto the bridge with their weapons at the ready.

“Don’t shoot,” Rahal said in English with his hands in the air. “We’re unarmed.”

A lean and wiry man with scarred flesh where his left ear should have been stepped forward with a menacing grin. He didn’t have the rotted teeth of a drug-using robber. This man was a trained professional.

“You are Captain Rahal?” the man said in Indonesian-accented Arabic.

“Yes,” Rahal replied in the same language, surprised that the man knew his name. “What do you want?”

“I want your ship. Now I have it.”

“And my crew?”

One of the hijackers went to the controls and set the engines to full stop.

“If you and your crew behave, you will depart the ship with me, and we will ransom you. If no one pays, then we will kill you.”

Rahal nodded. “We’ll cooperate. And my company will pay your ransom.”

“That’s very good to hear,” the scarred hijacker said. “Because if you give us any trouble, I’ll leave all fifteen of you on board, and you can go down with your ship when I blow it up in the strait.”

TWO

RAVENHALL, AUSTRALIA

April Jin paced around her beat-up Ford as she waited in the parking lot of the Ravenhall Correctional Centre. Although the asphalt was already baking from the morning sun, there was no way she would set foot inside the prison doors again. She’d been coming here for three years now on weekly visits, and the sterile white walls inside reminded her of her own two-year stay at Dame Phyllis Frost Centre for women. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of ever walking back into the place.

The front doors of Ravenhall’s main entrance finally opened, and she smiled when she saw Angus Polk strut out with a hardened look in his eyes. His erect posture and cropped hair hinted at his military background, marred only by the presence of a light beard. In his jeans and stretched T-shirt, he displayed a newfound bulk, thanks to his daily workouts in the yard, which had added definition to his tall frame. His face softened into a broad smile when he spotted his waiting wife.

Jin met her husband and melted into his arms. He lifted her from her feet as if she weighed nothing.

“You’ve lost weight,” he said.

“Morning runs to stay in shape and light rations while dining alone.”

Jin had a slim, slightly muscular figure. Her straight black hair was worn short, highlighting her lean face and dark, probing eyes.

After she gave Polk a long kiss, she said, “I can’t believe they let you out.”

“Free at last, thanks to my new favorite words—‘early release.’ Apparently all that good behavior inside paid off.” They put their arms around each other and walked toward the car. “Thanks for coming to meet me,” he said. “I’ll be glad to get home . . . wherever that is.”

“You may not like our flat much better than your cell. It’s the size of a birdhouse.”

“As long as you are there, it will feel like a palace.” They stopped as they approached the car. “Have you been managing all right?”

“The money’s been tough, I won’t lie. No one wants to hire an ex-con who’s sold out their government. I’ve found some freelance translation work, but it barely covers the bills.”

“No support from our old patron?”

She shook her head. “Not a word.”

“Some thanks. Well, I’ve got an old mate who left the service and started a small business. Maybe he’ll give me some work until we sort things out.” He patted the hood of the car. “Mind if I drive? I kind of missed it.”

Before she could pass over the car keys, a limousine pulled into the lot and slowly cruised toward them.

“Now, that’s how to depart the joint in style,” Polk said.

To Jin’s surprise, it stopped right in front of them. The chauffeur got out and opened the rear door for a man in a tailored pin-striped suit. An attorney for sure. Jin had seen enough in her life to spot one instantly.

He held out a card. “Mr. Polk and Ms. Jin, I’m William Campbell.”

He didn’t ask if that was who they were. He knew.

“What’s this about?” Polk asked as he took the card.

“I represent the estate of Lu Yang. Would you please join me?” He gestured for them to get in the limo.

“Did you say ‘the estate’ of Lu Yang?” Jin asked.

“Yes. I’m afraid he recently passed.”

Jin and Polk looked at each other in surprise.

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss any details here,” Campbell said. “But I can assure you that this does not concern any of your criminal matters. In fact, I believe you will find the reason for our meeting most beneficial.”

Jin looked at her battered truck, and Campbell said, “If you like, we can have your vehicle towed to a car lot for sale. When our business is concluded, you will no longer need it. Alternatively, you may drive to our offices on your own, but I think you will find the limousine more comfortable.”

Jin and Polk looked around. Their past dealings with Lu Yang had always been highly secretive, and always through a third party. Sending a limo to pick them up, in front of a prison no less, was highly out of character. But then again, the man was now dead.

Jin and Polk climbed into the limo, settling into the luxurious leather seats across from Campbell.

As it drove off, Polk leaned over and asked his wife, “Did you know Lu Yang was ill?”

She shook her head. For ten years, her mother had been married to the Chinese tech mogul, though he didn’t come into his extreme wealth until after they’d divorced. Jin’s ex-stepfather had taken care of her mother, though, and supported Jin from afar, grooming her skills until he could put them to use for his benefit.

“When did he die?” Jin asked Campbell.

“He tragically passed away just a few days ago. More will be explained to you both when we reach Melbourne.”

Jin glanced at Polk and saw a hopeful gaze in his eyes. He knew just as well as she did what that meant.

They were going to a reading of her stepfather’s will.

It took thirty minutes to reach downtown Melbourne, where they stopped in front of one of its glistening towers. An elevator whisked them to the fiftieth floor. Campbell ushered them into a posh conference room, where they had an expansive view of the city skyline. He pushed a button, and wall panels folded back to reveal a huge TV.

“Please,” Campbell said, indicating chairs along the mahogany conference table. A silver pitcher of ice water and some glasses had been set out for them. He handed Jin a remote and a sealed envelope with her name on it. “Once I leave the room, just press play. You’ll be asked for a code, which is contained in that envelope.”