Don Pendleton - Rogue Elements

“You can imagine. Hyram shows up and fires everybody. Those he didn’t fire he treated like dog dirt. Big Abe wasn’t having it. They had it out, publically. Big Abe is a brawler. Hyram is a fighter. He went all MMA. Beat Abe bad and bloody. Then he made him submit, and then he choked him out for good measure. Made an example out of him.”

“What a dick.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t go up on the helideck with him.”

“Me, too. It’s nicer in here.”

“Hmm.”

Ibarra threw a leg over and sat on Bolan’s stomach. “So what do you say about making it even nicer in here?”

Bolan laced his fingers behind his head and admired the view. “I’d say I’m up for that.”

Ibarra pulled off her T-shirt and leaned over to turn off the light.

A fist hammered the door. Bolan knew the answer but asked anyway. “Who is it?”

“Blue!” Yard called out. “You and me need a minute!”

Bolan sighed.

“Maybe Sifu ran off his mouth. I tried to be sneaky,” Ibarra told him.

“I know.” Bolan rolled out of bed. “Just a minute!” He made sure his dagger and grenade were a lunge away in either direction. The soldier opened the door and found Yard filling the frame.

“Hey, Hy. What’s up?”

“It’s your first assignment tomorrow, Blue. I want to get a few things straight. You...” His words trailed off as he looked at Bolan’s bunk.

The soldier looked back.

Ibarra was naked and lighting a cigarette.

Yard’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Prick.”

“Yeah.” Bolan nodded. “Not the first time I’ve been called that.”

“I’ll bet.”

“So, we going up to the helideck?”

Yard actually laughed. “No, no need for that. Not just yet.”

Bolan locked gazes with the man. “She’s mine. Until she says different.”

“You may not believe this, but I have never boned a coworker, much less a fellow soldier.”

“I believe you.”

“Well, that means a lot.”

“So can you get lost?” Bolan looked back at Ibarra.

Yard raised his hands and walked down the steel hallway. “Can do.”

Bolan closed and locked the door.

Ibarra sighed. “I think you’re winning his respect.”

“No, I made him wary. Right now he is trying to figure out his next line of leverage.”

Ibarra wrinkled her nose. “Which is me?”

“No.”

“So what am I?”

“Mine. Unless and until you say different.”

Ibarra’s smile lit up the cabin.

Bolan shrugged. “And I’ll defend your honor, regardless.”

“One condition.”

“Name it.”

“Turn off the light. It makes me uncomfortable.”

Bolan turned off the light.

The bulk carrier Caprice

The helicopter dipped toward the freighter. Mendez examined the deck covered with cranes and hatches. “Hey, Hy! There’s no helideck!”

“You’re real observant, Sifu!” Yard shouted back from the copilot’s seat. “Try not to break your ankles!”

Bolan motioned Ibarra and Sifuentes to lean in. At the moment they were the only people he trusted. “What else is missing?”

Sifuentes gazed hard at the ship. “What?”

“No, in here.”

Ibarra gasped. “Madre de dios...”

“Keep it down,” Bolan advised.

Sifuentes looked around in confusion. “Throw a dog a bone, Blue!”

“Yo, hermano!” Ibarra grabbed Sifuentes’s collar and yanked him close so she could snarl in his ear. “We don’t have any guns! None of the stuff we were issued is on the chopper!”

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...”

A few crewmen stood on deck and watched as the helicopter hovered over a hatch. One waved. Bolan waved back.

“All right!” Yard shouted. “Listen up! Ketch, you’re taking lead on this one. You have a seven-man team. I want three on watch and three off at any given time, one man floating. I want a report, texted, after every watch whether there is anything to report or not. There are water cannons fore and aft. Get anyone up to speed on their use who isn’t.”

Ketch was appalled. “Water cannons?”

“We’re still in the Omani territorial waters. The Caprice is going to take on a packet of cargo in Raysut. It’s less than fifty kilometers from here. You’ll be there tomorrow. The second she leaves port, she heads into international waters. You’ll have guns by noon.”

The team stared.

Yard’s eyes went cold. “There has never been a pirate attack between Salalah and Raysut. The pirates know the sultan takes that shit personally. He maintains firing squads and televises the results. You are flying the Viking Associates flag. As soon as you leave Raysut and are in international waters, I will personally deliver the hardware.”

The team just stared.

“Anyone want to renege on their contract?” Yard asked.

Bolan grabbed his bag and stepped out of the chopper. He fell four feet and landed lightly on the massive cargo hatch. The rest of the team followed. The chopper flew away without a wave goodbye.

“Motherfucker,” Sifuentes declared.

Bolan listened to his instincts. “Ketch?”

The man blinked and looked away from the departing helicopter. “Yeah?”

“I’m taking command.”

“Thank God.”

A clutch of off-duty crewmen smoked and took in the newcomers. Ibarra held most of their attention. Bolan nodded at a lanky blond man with a beard. “Hey, sailor.”

The sailor spoke back with an American accent. “Hey, yourself, asshole.”

“What’s your name?”

“Houston, Crane Specialist, what’s it to you?”

“I need to speak to the captain immediately.”

Crane Specialist Houston regarded the Viking detail dubiously. “Shouldn’t you guys have guns?”

“Yeah, and that’s what I need to talk to the captain about.”

The sailor scowled. “We don’t have any. It’s against company rules.”

“I know, and you’re going to get hit tonight, tomorrow by the latest.”

The sailor’s face went blank. “We’re going to get hijacked? In the next twenty-four hours?”

“No, the Caprice is going to disappear, with all hands.”

The sailor just stared.

“Houston?” Bolan locked eyes with the sailor. “We have a problem.”

The sailor ran toward the superstructure waving his arms and shouting. “Captain!”

* * *

“We’re about to be attacked?” the captain asked. “Really?”

Bolan could not imagine a more stereotypical ship captain. Merchant captains these days usually wore a shirt with the shipping company logo on it and whatever civvies were comfortable for the climate. Captain Douglas Cleverly wore a crisp white uniform blouse with epaulettes while on duty with the matching white captain’s hat. He also had a beard, smoked a pipe and spoke with a British accent.

Bolan cocked his head. Cleverly had a distinctly military bearing. “Her Majesty’s Royal Navy?”

Cleverly allowed himself a small smile. “I commanded a frigate. I retired. Then my twin daughters decided they wanted to go college. In the United States, and you now find me in mercantile shipping.” His smile died. “Now, from what I gather, you are implying that the Caprice is being set up for an attack, and your own employers are setting you up to fail.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“That is the most ridiculous bloody thing I have ever heard.” Cleverly snorted. “And, as I mentioned, I commanded a frigate in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. You would not believe some of the things I’ve heard, much less seen.”

“Would you believe me if I said I do?”

The captain looked Bolan up and down again and nodded. “Perhaps.”

“Captain, I hope I’m wrong, and if I am I’ll buy you a bottle of scotch.”