International Incident Page 11

  The woman’s suite was on the ninth deck, according to their contact at Thale. Derek kept one hand on his firearm and gripped the railing with the other as he mounted the stairs. He paused at the landing to the fifth deck to catch his breath. Austin stopped behind him and let out a low whistle.

  He turned, irritated, to tell Austin to shut up and felt his jaw drop open when he saw what had caught Austin’s attention. “Is that a casino?”

  “Yup. Looks like there’s some fancy theater, too. Panit said up on the top deck where the pools are there’s a tennis court and golfing center, too.”

  This was a far cry from the roach-infested armory barracks. The entire ship screamed—well, whispered politely—of excess and wealth. These people had money, real money. Wheels began to turn in Derek’s mind about a future freelance gig. He kept his mouth firmly shut. Austin wasn’t his first choice for a partner on something self-directed and potentially wildly lucrative.

  He stared down at the opulent casino entrance for another moment then shook himself to attention. “Come on. We need to get the woman and get out of here.” He resumed the climb up the stairs, reluctantly, with Austin huffing along behind him. He made a note to add some cardiovascular training to his workouts. He lifted weights with a few of the guys back on the armory boat to kill the time, but he needed to do some running or something—he could feel his lungs burning as he continued up the stairs.

  Finally, they reached the ninth deck and he leaned forward, hands braced on his knees, and waited for his heart rate to slow. Beside him, Austin rested against a half-wall, panting.

  “What’s the suite number again?” Derek asked once his breathing was back to normal.

  “Uh, 46.” Austin was reading off a scrap of paper. “On the port side. Is that left?”

  “Yes.”

  They snaked around to the left side of the ship. They still hadn’t seen a soul. Derek was beginning to think this might turn out to be an easy enough job, after all. Even if they did have to haul an adult woman down the side of the ship with them.

  He paused outside a door marked with a discreet bronze ‘46’ and nodded to Austin. Austin reached for his gun and nodded back.

  Derek tested the doorknob and it yielded. He yanked it wide open and burst inside. Austin was right behind him, his piece drawn.

  * * *

  Leo squatted and rocked back on his heels the way he’d seen the other men do. He kept his head bowed over the mesh net he was mending—or more accurately, pretending to mend—and made eye contact with no one. The T-shirt and shorts that Thiha Bo had somehow procured for him fit poorly because he was so much larger than any of the other men on the boat. Attempting to blend in with the others would only work for so long. He wouldn’t pass anything more than a cursory glance. So he stayed alert, ready for someone to raise the alarm that an intruder was on board.

  But, as the hours crawled by, he realized none of the men crammed into the cabin with him were going to report him to the captain. To a man, they kept their shoulders hunched and their eyes on their work. There was no chatter, no laughter. Nothing but fear. When two scrawny men walked into the room with a large metal pot, everyone put down their netting and picked up the nearest bowl. So he did the same. The bowl was dirty and cracked, flecked with bits of dried rice. The men with the pot made the rounds, filling each bowl with a scoop of rice and a ladle of watery fish stew. Leo eyed the fish with concern. All around him, the men used their fingers to scoop the hot food into their mouths, rapidly, as if they were ravenous.

  He waited until the men had moved on, then he nudged his bowl toward the rail-thin man seated next to him. The man’s eyes lit up and he grabbed it two-handed as if he feared Leo would reconsider. He smiled and bobbed his head. Leo noticed a fresh cut that ran behind the man’s ear down to his neck. Sticky blood and dirt clung to the opening.

  He touched that spot behind his own ear and gestured toward the man’s cut. He paused in his eating and pantomimed swinging something with great force—a stick, a whip? Who knew? But it was clear he’d been beaten for some real or imagined infraction. Leo nodded and lowered his gaze back to the floor.

  Sweat stung his eyes. The acrid odor of men who’d been at sea for months on end mixed with the stench of old fish assaulted his nostrils. He blinked away the sweat and tried to breathe through the smell. The horror of the life these men were trapped in clawed at him. He picked up his needle and net and returned to the task at hand.

  A sharp whistle followed by a hiss near his right ear startled him. The thick darning needle slipped in his hands and he stabbed himself. He swore under his breath and shook his fingers while he looked around for the source of the noise.

  Thiha Bo was crouched in the shadows behind the bucket that served as the makeshift bathroom for twenty-odd men. Leo let his net fall to the floor and crept toward the Burmese man.

  “Did you find out where we’re headed?” Leo asked in a low voice.

  Thiha Bo nodded and whispered back, “I heard some talk.” He gestured for Leo to follow him down a dark, narrow hallway.

  Leo scanned the cabin but no one seemed to be paying any particular attention to them or their conversation. He ducked his head to avoid a beam and slipped into the corridor. He followed a few steps behind Thiha Bo, who pushed open a splintered door and led him into what appeared to be a supply closet. Nets, buckets, and hooks were haphazardly strewn on the floor and shelves. Leo squeezed in beside the smaller man and pulled the door shut so that it was open only a crack, just enough to let in a sliver of dim light.

  “The captain was speaking to somebody on his radio.” Thiha Bo took a breath. “He was saying we’d be in gray waters in less than an hour if we maintained our speed.”

  “Gray waters? What does that mean?”

  Leo waited as the man pursed his lips and searched for the English words to explain the concept. He spoke slowly, gesturing with his hands. “There are parts of the Gulf of Siam—you would call it the Gulf of Thailand—where the boundaries are disputed. Thailand and Cambodia, these two have the most disagreements. But also, Malaysia and Vietnam. There are competing claims. There are also treaties or agreements among the countries, but there are many tensions. So there is a gray area where it is not clear who is the owner.”

  Leo considered the possible ramifications of a maritime territorial dispute. “So, if the police in Thailand received a report of a crime on this ship, would the authorities pursue Captain Vũ into these gray waters?”

  Thiha Bo wrinkled his brow. “I do not think so, no. The navy would not want to risk … I am not sure how to say it.”

  “An international incident?”

  “Yes, an international incident.”

  Leo’s stomach clenched. So much for Mel sending in the troops. He thought for a moment. “But we aren’t in gray waters, yet.”

  “No, we are not,” Thiha Bo agreed in a puzzled voice.

  “I need to stop Captain Vũ from entering the contested area.”

  “Stop him? No, that’s not possible.”

  Leo could barely see Thiha Bo in the shadowy closet, but he could feel the man’s worry radiating from him in palpable waves. He was scared.

  This wasn’t the time to push him. Instead he said, “Can you take me to Binh?”

  He hesitated. “It will be dangerous now. So many people are on the boat.”

  “Please, Thiha Bo.” Leo stared at him unblinkingly until, even in the near-darkness, the other man was forced to look away. Leo knew he could find the room where Binh was being held on his own—no problem. But he needed a translator. And a chance to convince Thiha Bo to help him organize a mutiny.

  The Burmese man sighed. “Yes, of course.”

  Leo pushed open the door and gestured for Thiha Bo to lead the way.

  26

  Sasha watched from a teak lounge chair on Elli and Oliver Kurck’s veranda on Deck Eleven as two armed men wearing black wetsuits stalked down the corridor and forced their way into her suite, situat
ed catty-corner and two levels down on Deck Nine. Beside her, Elli gasped.

  “Shhh,” Sasha said without taking her eyes off the scene below.

  It would be virtually impossible for the men to hear Elli, as the Kurcks’ suite was two decks up from Sasha and Connelly’s and around a corner. But, all the same, it was a risk she’d rather not take.

  “Elli, you should go back inside,” she suggested.

  “Are you coming?” Elli whispered.

  “No. I want to watch and see what they do next.” She spoke in an even voice that belied the frenetic drumbeat of her heart.

  “Then I’m staying with you.”

  Sasha shifted her gaze away from her stateroom door long enough to glance at the Finnish woman beside her. Elli’s face was the palest white imaginable and her blue eyes were wide with fear. The contrast was particularly stark against her shoulders, which were bare, blotchy, and beet red under her loose cotton tank top.

  Elli had stayed back from the Sacred Lotus-sponsored excursion to Bangkok because she’d had an allergic reaction to the almond massage oil used during her spa treatment.

  When Dr. Harmon had checked in on her after her first antihistamine treatment, he’d mentioned that Sasha was also onboard, so Elli had popped down to invite her up to her balcony for some cucumber water and company.

  Still unable to reach Connelly and well on her way to working herself into a panic, Sasha had jumped at the chance. Now she desperately wished she’d thought to bring along the cell phone that Captain van Metier had lent her. But she’d left it lying on the highly polished cherry table near the glass doors, where it was doing her absolutely no good.

  “Does your phone work here?”

  “I’m not sure,” Elli said. “I tried to call Oliver earlier to ask how the Golden Buddha tour at Wat Traimit had gone but I couldn’t get through.” She gnawed at her lower lip. “Why are there men with guns in your room?”

  Good question, Sasha thought. Although she knew why—or at least she thought she did—it was the how that troubled her. The most likely explanation was that there was a leak at the Embassy; and that was bad news. If Ron and Mel couldn’t be trusted, she and Connelly were in hot water—boiling hot water.

  Elli was watching her face, waiting for an answer.

  “I saw something I shouldn’t have. A crime. I think those men are here to silence me.”

  Elli’s face grew even paler and her eyes grew even wider. Sasha could see the blue-green veins throbbing near her temple as she swallowed hard and said, “We need to find Captain van Metier.”

  Sasha worked to maintain a neutral expression. She was unimpressed by the captain’s responsiveness, to put it mildly. He’d probably tell her that she must be mistaken—the gunmen couldn’t possibly have entered her room without a keycard—and leave it at that.

  The gunmen, who most assuredly had entered her room, chose that moment to exit it. The taller, stockier of the two was having a fit of rage. He pulled back and kicked the railing with a great deal of force, and then starting yelping in pain and hopping on one foot. The thinner man leaned against the wall and watched his partner. Even from this distance, Sasha could see his mouth curving in amusement.

  So one kept his emotions in check. The other was volatile.

  She realized she was filing this information away because she expected to need it. And that fact made a shiver run up her spine. “I don’t suppose you happen to have any weapons?” she asked in a casual voice.

  Elli blinked. “No.” Her voice shook.

  “I really need you to go inside,” Sasha said softly.

  Elli stiffened her spine and straightened her shoulders. “Absolutely not.”

  Sasha exhaled and might have argued with her, but instead she pointed to the glass column that housed the elevator. The car was moving. It stopped on the ninth floor, and the mirrored doors parted. The men raced toward it.

  Captain van Metier stepped out to confront the gunmen. She waited for a bevy of officers to rush out after him, but no one followed. She shook her head. What was he thinking coming alone? She leaned over the balcony and peered down into the center core of the ship. Now, they would be close enough that the sound of her voice and Elli’s would carry down to them. She raised a finger to her lips to warn Elli to be silent.

  Captain van Metier addressed the men in a low voice. The calmer one, who Sasha decided must be in charge, gestured back toward her room and then pointed at the captain’s chest. Captain van Metier raised his hands skyward in a gesture of bewilderment. The less controlled of the two intruders waved his gun around for emphasis while he shouted. The wind carried a snippet of his yelling up to the balcony, but the words made no sense: “Thale can find another dragon shuttle if it needs to.”

  Dragon shuttle? She turned the phrase over, trying to tease out a meaning, but failed. And could ‘Thale’ be the same Thale that owned the fishing boat? Mel had said the family was everywhere.

  After a moment, the captain nodded curtly. Sasha caught just a glimpse of his somber expression before he walked out of sight, trailed by the two men.

  “Why didn’t he detain them? Surely there’s a brig,” Elli said in a hushed voice.

  “I’m sure there is. But he doesn’t appear to be armed. And I’m guessing standard operating procedure is probably to try to negotiate with pirates.” That wouldn’t have been her first reaction, but Sacred Lotus probably had a team of lawyers, public relations consultants, and insurance brokers who’d laid out step-by-step the least expensive, most effective way to end a hijacking. Probably on a PowerPoint presentation.

  “Do you really think they’re pirates? What on Earth—” Elli began.

  Her question was cut off by the crackle of a loudspeaker system coming to life. Captain van Metier’s voice boomed and echoed across the mostly empty ship; his tone was grave and firm, but measured. “Attention, passengers. This is your captain speaking. This is not an exercise. We have an urgent situation. Please follow my instructions to the letter. All men, both crew members and guests, please report to the tiki bar on the Lido Deck. Would all women aboard kindly report to the library on the Promenade Deck. Again, this instruction applies to both crew and passengers. Please report immediately. The Water Lily is not in any danger, but it is imperative that we conduct a thorough and complete headcount as soon as possible. My personal apologies for any inconvenience.”

  There was a final crackle then the speakers fell silent. A moment later, muted sounds of activity filled the air. Doors opened and closed, voices murmured in mild alarm and grumbling irritation. The handful of people aboard the ship were making their way to the assigned locations to comply with the Captain’s order.

  Elli turned toward Sasha. “Should we go?”

  “I can’t. I’m the one they’re looking for. It would be suicide for me to walk into the library.”

  “What about me?”

  Sasha thought. “You should. You’ll be safer if you do as they say. I can’t guarantee your safety if you stay with me. And if you stay here and they sweep the rooms …” She trailed off. Elli had seen the guns; she could fill in the blanks for herself.

  Tears wobbled in Elli’s eyes. “But what are you going to do?” she asked in a voice that cracked with fear.

  Sasha smiled. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

  The other woman sniffled but smiled back. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I,” Sasha told her with as much bravado as she could muster. “I’m going to wait until the two men split up. I assume one of them will head to the library.”

  “And the other to the tiki bar?” Elli guessed.

  “No. That’s probably just a ruse to get the men to one of the highest decks, where they’ll be out of the way. I’ll bet they know Connelly’s not on the ship. So they just want to get me off the ship without any interference from the crew or passengers. This headcount thing will keep everyone busy. That’s why they want the women to go down to Deck Four—it’s closer to their getawa
y route. One of them will be positioned near the library to grab me. The other will probably be down below, waiting to make their escape.”

  “Do you think Captain van Metier knows he’s leading you into a trap?”

  Did he? That was an excellent question. Sasha couldn’t imagine that he’d sell out one of his passengers, even if it meant a quick resolution and the guaranteed safety of the rest. But, then, she guessed it really depended on what sort of lawyers had drafted the SOP he was following. She’d run into more than a few who would weigh the benefits against the costs and recommend giving her up in a heartbeat.

  “I’m honestly not sure,” she answered. “It doesn’t matter, though, because I’m not about to walk into any traps.” She patted Elli gently on the arm. “Go. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Elli gaped at her. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to beat the big stupid one to within an inch of his life.”

  27

  Leo dragged one of the empty cages across the floor and jammed it under the doorknob while Thiha Bo and Binh watched wide-eyed. He didn’t expect the cage to be an overly effective barricade, but, at a minimum, it would slow down anybody who tried to enter the room. And that would be enough.

  He hurried back to Binh’s cage and squatted beside it. “I have friends who want to bring Mina’s killers to justice. I want that, too. I also want to help you—all of you. These conditions, they’re not right. You don’t belong in cages. You shouldn’t be lashed and beaten and half-starved. The work you’re doing is dangerous and hard. You should be paid for it.”

  Thiha Bo had told him that their pay, when they even got paid, went directly to the staffing agencies. No one had talked to him about the physical abuse, but he’d seen the scars and bruises with his own eyes.

  “But what can you do?” Thiha Bo asked.

  “I can stop Captain Vũ. And then you can go home. Or find work on a legitimate boat, with a captain who will pay you and provide food, medication, a safe environment—not this.” He knew he was speaking too fast for Thiha Bo to keep up with the translation, but he felt an overriding sense of urgency. He had to say his piece now while he had the chance. He gripped the bars and meet Binh’s gaze. “Do you want my help?”