Оуэн Локканен - Gale Force

Nakadate shrugged. “Each of those bonds comprises a share of ownership in a numbered company based in Switzerland,” he said. “Essentially, Captain Rhodes, by holding the contents of the briefcase, you are the owner of one of my companies.”

“You’re talking about money laundering.”

“Those are your words. I would merely say that the bonds are ideal for purposes of anonymity.”

The man before her was a hundred times scarier than the pirates who’d attempted to kill her crew, McKenna decided. This was a man who would kill at an arm’s length, with instructions and innuendo. This was a dangerous, dangerous individual.

Nakadate seemed to read her thoughts. “You can see, perhaps, why it is in both of our interests to resolve this issue. I would like my property returned, and I am confident that you would not enjoy any prolonged connection to me or my business ventures.”

“Is that a threat?” McKenna asked.

“No,” the man replied. “I only mean that you will find it difficult to offload my property to anyone else, and that even if you do manage to liquidate your holdings, you may find the authorities knocking at your door someday, wondering about your involvement with such unsavory activities.”

Nakadate had a point. McKenna didn’t know the first thing about selling stolen bearer bonds. Nor did she relish the thought of explaining the bonds to the FBI.

Here goes nothing.

She fixed her eyes on the man. Willed her voice to stay firm. “I’m a salvage master, Mr. Nakadate,” she said. “I find lost things, and I return them to their rightful owners. That’s what I do for a living.”

Nakadate sat back. Tented his fingers. Smiled at her. “Are you suggesting I pay you for my own property, Captain Rhodes?”

“I just rescued a cargo ship worth a hundred and fifty million dollars. The owners paid a reward.”

“They were bound by the rules of the ocean. You and your crew had the law on your side, the convention of the sea. Here, you have nothing.”

“I have the briefcase.”

“You will have to show me the briefcase before I pay you any fees, Captain.”

“Fair enough,” McKenna said, “but this isn’t the open ocean anymore. This is America, and your time is running out. Sooner or later, the police, the Coast Guard, or the navy, is going to want to talk about why three armed pirates attacked my tugboat, and I’m going to have to hand over those bonds. You’ll have a far easier time negotiating with me than with them.”

Nakadate mulled his over. “The briefcase is on this vessel. Logic demands it.”

“Sure. But I’ll be damned if I’m letting you search it. And even with your bodyguard, I’d say you’re outnumbered.”

Nakadate studied her again, for a long time. McKenna willed herself not to flinch. Felt her insides shaking, hoped Nakadate couldn’t tell.

Finally, he sat back, and sighed. “Very well, Captain. What finder’s fee do you propose?”

McKenna shrugged. “In my business, we usually start at ten percent.”

“Ten percent. Am I to assume you’ve tabulated the value of the bonds?”

“Forty-five million euros,” McKenna replied. “A little more, in American dollars. Call it five million dollars, flat.”

“And if I don’t accept?”

“We continue to negotiate. But I’ll tell you, given the work that my team put in to recover your property, the risks we took—not to mention the damage we sustained in the attack on our tug—I think five million is eminently fair.”

Nakadate said nothing. This is it, McKenna thought. This is the all-in push on the river card, the big bluff. She held the gangster’s stare, felt her heart pounding. Nakadate didn’t say anything for a minute, two minutes.

Then, finally, he nodded. “Five million dollars,” he said. “I will need to see the briefcase before I transfer any funds.”

McKenna retrieved the briefcase from her stateroom. Passed Ridley in the galley. The engineer motioned upstairs. “Everything all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” McKenna told him. “Just doing a little business.”

She walked back upstairs to the wheelhouse. Paused before she reached the top, half expecting to find Nakadate waiting with a gun in his hand. But the gangster’s back was to her, a cell phone in his ear. He spoke very quickly in Japanese.

Nakadate turned as McKenna set the briefcase on the chart table. Crossed to the table and lifted the mangled lid, rifled through the stock certificates inside. Then, satisfied, he closed the briefcase again. Turned it back to McKenna.

“Your bank information,” he said.

McKenna dug a notebook out of a drawer at the front of the wheelhouse. Found the information and relayed it to Nakadate, who repeated it over the phone. Then the gangster ended the call.

“Call your banker in ten minutes,” he told her. “You will have the money.”

McKenna pulled out her cell phone. Found the number for her bank in the notebook and punched it in.

“I will create the necessary documentation,” Nakadate told her. “One of my legitimate companies. We will agree that we are paying you the money as a consultation fee relating to the Pacific Lion incident. Five million American dollars. That should be sufficient to deal with any tax implications.”

“Thank you,” McKenna said, realizing that she hadn’t quite thought that far ahead.

Nakadate gave her another ghost of a smile. “We are businesspeople, Captain Rhodes. I’m glad we could arrive at a civil arrangement.”

McKenna called her bank. Checked the balance of the Gale Force Marine account and the latest transaction. Nakadate was a man of his word. The five million was there.

She ended the call. “We’re set,” she told Nakadate. She handed him the briefcase, and the gangster took it, bowed slightly. Then he held out his hand.

McKenna hesitated. Then she shook it.

McKenna walked Nakadate off of the Gale Force, back onto the dock, where Court Harrington waited with the rest of the crew, talking quietly and trying not to let on they were watching.

They went silent as McKenna and Nakadate appeared, watched them walk to the ramp at the foot of the pier, watched McKenna wish the man well, and waited as he climbed the ramp to his waiting Cadillac. They watched McKenna watch the SUV drive away, watched her turn around, finally, and walk back to the tug.

“So?” Harrington asked, as he approached. “That guy was the big boss, right, skipper? Are we, like, cool?”

“That was the big boss, all right,” she replied. “It was his briefcase.”

“But you gave it back to him.” This was Ridley. “What happened to turning it in to the cops?”

McKenna studied her crew. They circled around her, waiting. They were good people. Solid, dependable, competent sailors. They were exactly the team she would want if she were to tackle the Pacific Lion again.

“I didn’t give it, Nelson,” she said. “I negotiated a salvage contract. Mr. Nakadate agreed to stop sending men to shoot up our boat if I promised to give him back the contents of that case.”

The crew swapped looks. “That’s it?” Jason Parent said. “Is that the contract?”

“Well, no. There was the matter of our fee.” McKenna tried to keep her poker face. “Mr. Nakadate and I agreed that ten percent was probably fair. He’s already wired us the money.”

“Ten percent,” Stacey Jonas said. “That’s nearly five million dollars.”

“We called it five, even. And I figure we’ll split it like bonus money, between the seven of us. That’s a little over seven hundred thousand per person. Sound fair?”