The Pirate (10 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“You don't have to call me sir.”

“Your attitude says otherwise.” He was all business and tough military guy and she had to respect that. There was something about him that commanded authority.

“We can discuss it later,” he said with a cocky grin. He took the other weapon. “Can you watch the door another minute while I clear the bodies from this room?”

“Yes. Where are you taking them?”

“To the supply closet.”

She nodded. She was nervous. She didn't want Laz to leave her but she knew that she couldn't be a scream queen right now. She had to be brave and confident no matter what. She thought of her two boys and decided they'd be her guiding light here. She'd step up and do things that scared her because she needed to get back home to them.

Laz took the unconscious guard first. She watched the muscles of his biceps bulge as he grabbed the man under the armpits and hauled him out of the room.

Laz was strong and capable—the kind of man she'd often read about in novels but seldom encountered in real life. He walked the walk, she thought. This was a man who lived life on the edge and had carved his own path. Something she realized she wanted for herself.

Daphne heard the radio cackle.

“
P1, está você lá
?”

The words sounded familiar to her, and sounded similar to French, she thought. Maybe Spanish or Portugese—two languages she didn't speak.

“
P1? Está você lá
?”

“Laz?” she called down the hall.

He came running back.

“What?”

“Someone is trying to make radio contact. I didn't recognize the language, maybe Spanish or Portuguese.”

“
Olá! Eu estou aqui
,” Laz said.

“
P1?”

“Sim.”

The conversation continued behind her while she kept her eyes on the hallway. She felt a little scared but everything about Laz told her he had this situation under control.

“The big shit is about to hit the fan. They have a fucking mother ship that they are based out of. No wonder we haven't been able to find the bastards.”

“What?” Daphne asked. The group that had taken the tanker were well trained and obviously knew what they were doing.

“I need to contact my men again.”

“Okay. I'll just stay here.”

“Good girl.”

He went back to the radio and she heard his conversation and understood it this time since it was in English.

“The pirate leader is on his way to the ship. Apparently Fridjtof's failure to get the names of the hostages has angered him.”

“We are on our way as well,” Savage said.

There was a burst of gunfire from the hold. Daphne felt a fizzle of fear go down her spine. Her imagination was running overtime and her doctor's instincts were screaming to get down there in case she could save someone's life.

“What was that?” Savage asked.

“Damn it. Someone is firing in the hold,” Laz said. “I've got to get back there. Laz out.”

“Savage out.”

Laz left the dead man slumped on the floor of the radio room. He held his gun at the ready. “Let's go.”

He led the way back to the hold at full speed. Daphne followed him unsure of what was happening. Despite the fact that she had a gun in her hands, she felt scared and vulnerable. Laz had proven capable and she trusted him, but this wasn't a normal situation and a part of her couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.

“Laz?”

He shook his head. A second later he came to a halt and she bounced off his back. He reached behind him to steady her. His touch soothed her fears and she realized how much she needed him. Damn it, she wasn't about to depend on another man. No matter how different he was from Paul.

There was another burst of gunfire and then shouting in the hold. Franny's screams could be heard from where they were and this time they weren't hysterical. Her words were clear and they struck fear into Daphne's heart.

“He's dying. We need to stop the bleeding.”

Daphne handed the gun she held to Laz. She needed to get in there and do what she was best at.
Saving lives.
She wasn't about to stand out here and wait to see if she could help out.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Laz asked.

“Saving that man. I'm trained—”

“It's dangerous.”

She shrugged his hand off her arm. “I can't just stand here. I might be the difference between life and death for that man.”

“Be quiet,” Laz said, but she'd already drawn the attention of the pirate leader who turned on them with his gun.

Laz shook his head as she pushed her way around him. She was a doctor first, and if a life could be saved, then she was going to do her damnedest to save it.

She entered the hold and froze. The gunman turned on her and in his eyes she saw something that made her hesitate. He'd kill her.

She'd never faced anyone who looked at her like he did right now. This wasn't the craziness of a junkie looking for meds in the ER. This was a bold determination to take out any threat.

She put her hands up. “I'm a doctor. Let me help the injured man.”

She glanced over and saw that Bob was sprawled on the floor next to one of the pirates. They both were in a pool of blood and she had no idea which man was dying.

“What's the situation?” she asked Jerry.

“Gunshots. I think that Bob was hit in the femoral artery.”

Jerry was a surgeon and one of the best. She'd done surgery but not since her residency. She'd spent two years working as a surgeon before she'd decided she wanted something a little calmer and gone back to school to change her specialty to being a pediatrician.

“Tell me what to do,” Jerry said. “I can help you.”

“We need to stop the blood. And then we are going to have to operate on them.”

Daphne was very aware that the pirate wasn't about to just let them do whatever they wanted to but with this much blood, the seriousness of the situation had to be brought home to him. They needed action. They couldn't stand around acting like hostages.

In this moment there was no hostage and pirate—just injured men and doctors. And she and Jerry would do their best to save the injured men.

She saw that in Jerry's eyes. She knew that the pirate might have other ideas but she could only follow her instincts.

D
aphne didn't care that Laz had ordered her not to go. She was locked onto the situation and her instincts made her take control. Jerry was on the floor next to Bob.
Oh, no, not Bob.
He looked bad. His skin was pale and the pool of blood on the floor made her realize how serious Bob's injury was.

It looked like Jerry was applying pressure to the inner right thigh. Oh damn it. Bob's wound was a femoral artery. He could die. Probably would unless Jerry was able to start operating on him.

And they weren't prepared to operate. There was no operating room or sterile environment here.

The stench of blood was in the air, and her first thought was they needed to get the bleeding stopped and then protect the open wounds from infection.

They were at sea so the risk of infection was higher. All the bacteria in the air and the constant threat of mold spores had her worried.

Bob was their calm-headed leader. He was their rock. Jerry was on the ground next to Bob doing CPR while Franny held her hand over a wound that was still bleeding.

Fridjtof was the other injured man. He was holding his own stomach and she feared that if his wound was in the abdomen, either the aorta or inferior vena cava could be affected and he'd bleed to death. The lighting in the hold wasn't that great and it was impossible to see where he was hit. Seemed it might be near his upper chest rather than his abdomen, but until she got closer she wouldn't know where she was needed.

“Jerry, do you need me?”

“No, I need supplies.”

Daphne took a closer look at the situation. One of the pirates was holding his gun pointed at Franny. She was halfway to their crates.

“These men are going to die unless you put your weapons away and help us save them,” Daphne said.

“Shut up, woman.”

“No,” Daphne said.

Laz stepped into the room, using his body as a barrier between her and the leader of the pirates. Daphne paused to realize that Laz had stepped up every time she needed him. No man had done that for her before.

“Captain, this was very stupid of you,” the man said.

“Who are you?”

“You may call me Jamac.”

“Well, Jamac, we need to see to the wounded.”

“Not yet. Our leader is on his way and he will want to take care of the troublemakers.”

“They will be dead before he gets here unless we can operate on them. I will not let these men bleed out,” Daphne said. “Rudy, get the supplies from our crates. Get the GSW kit and the QuikClot to stop the bleeding on Fridjtof.”

“Franny, what does Jerry need?”

“Pressure pack and an operating room. Bob's been hit in the femoral artery.”

“Damn it. Let her pass and get what she needs. Are there beds in the infirmary?” she asked Laz since he was most familiar with the tanker.

“No. The mess hall would be the best place to operate.”

“Okay, we'll do that. I need four men to carry the bodies down there when we are ready to move,” Daphne said.

Years of working in the ER had inured her to gunshot wounds but this was different. She knew the men involved and had spoken with both of these men recently.

“We aren't going anywhere,” Jamac said.

She turned on him and all of the timidity Laz had seen in her earlier was gone. She marched over to the armed and dangerous Jamac and got right in his face. “As long as I can save his life I'm in charge. We're not going to do anything stupid and you can stand at the door over there and keep an eye on us while we move the injured, but I am going to help this man Fridjtof—your comrade—and Jerry is going to take care of Bob.”

Jamac seemed thrown by her brazen behavior. Laz wondered what a man who'd grown up in the broken land of Somalia would make of an American woman. At this moment Daphne was so much more than a doctor, she was an in-your-face American who wouldn't be deterred from her path.

Jamac fired a shot at Daphne's feet. “You are not in charge here. I am.”

Laz took two steps toward Jamac and then leapt in the air with a flying side kick, hitting Jamac solidly in the chest. He followed him the ground, placing his foot on the other man's throat. “Listen to the lady.”

Jamac struggled to breathe under the pressure of Laz's foot. Laz glanced at the other pirates. “Anyone else want to argue?”

The other four pirates shook their heads.

“The lady is in charge. Do what she says or your comrade will die.”

“Give up your weapon and become my hostage and my men will help.”

“Agreed,” Laz said.

“You and you,” Daphne said pointing to two of the men. One of them was Josef from the ship's crew and the other was a pirate. The men looked at Jamac and then shrugged. They lifted Fridjtof and took him to one of the large crates.

“Now go and get Bob and put him over there. Jerry, do you have that under control?”

“Yes. I…it's going to be touch and go but I've got this.”

“Okay. Everyone else get out of the way and let us do what we need to.”

 

Laz didn't like the situation at all but it was working better than he anticipated. The mixed crews of the
Maersk Angus
and their pirate captives worked side by side with the doctors as they operated on the two injured men. Jamac had assigned an armed guard to each “operating table” in the mess hall.

Laz had managed to keep himself free but had given up his weapons in order to get Jamac to cooperate. The situation was tense and no one was feeling that more than the two doctors.

Daphne and Jerry worked quickly and efficiently, barking out orders to both the nurses—Rudy and Franny—assisting them and the crew. Daphne was unwavering in her demands and if someone didn't move quickly enough she let them know.

Laz sat on the floor where Jamac had ordered him to sit when they'd entered the mess hall. His hands weren't bound and though he was weaponless he was hardly without the means to take over the situation if he needed to. Right now it was more important that the doctors take care of the injured men.

Both men were uneasy around each other. Thirty minutes into the operation Jamac offered him a cigarette.

Laz shook his head. “How did you get involved in this?”

“It's my job,” Jamac said. “You?”

“This is my job as well,” Laz said.

“Well, captaining a boat. But you know how to handle yourself…like a weapon.”

Laz had been trained all of his adult life to give up little information and he didn't forget that in this moment. He knew if he could befriend Jamac the other man would lower his guard and that was his goal.

“I like UFC. You got that over here?”

“UFC?”

“Ultimate Fighting Champs. It's a combo of street fighting and different martial arts disciplines.”

“You fight much?”

“Every chance I get,” Laz said. This part of the story was true. Every new persona Laz took on was based in the reality of who he really was.

“What for?”

“Money and fun.”

Jamac laughed. “I do this for the same reasons.”

“Is the pay good?”

Jamac nodded. “Better than I can get on the land. And since I'm in charge of these men I get an extra bonus.”

“Truly? So you're the leader of this group?”

“This unit. We work for another man.”

“Ah, I understand. I'm a captain but my boss is the man who books the tanker.”

Jamac took a drag on his cigarette.

“How much ransom did you ask for?” Laz asked after a few minutes passed.

“Three million American dollars.”

“Do you think you will get it?”

Jamac smiled at him. It was odd to see such wisdom in a man so young. But Jamac had lived a lifetime in his young years and it was all written on his face. “Yes. They always pay.”

Because of that the pirates would continue to operate in this region. The first time that a crew fought back, the pirates would start to rethink this easy way to make money.

But fighting back would mean death to many of the crewmen on the tankers and ships that used this shipping lane. The Somali pirates who operated in these waters—hell, all Somalis—were used to death. Few of them looked forward to a long life. Instead they would fight and die young.

“What made you choose this life?” Laz asked. In his experience the more questions he asked the more information men gave up. He'd learned over the years that all men liked to talk about themselves and pirates were no different. They all wanted someone to listen to their story. And right now while he waited for Savage and the rest of the team to get here, there was little else to do. They were at a stalemate. Laz with his weapon and Jamac with his.

“My brother-in-law got me into it,” he said. “I was thirteen the first time I did it.”

“Scared?” Laz asked. That was one thing that always disturbed him about young soldiers. They had been thrust into their lives as boys. Many of them didn't make it past that initial foray into manhood. But somehow Jamac had and he had thrived.

He nodded. “But it was…how you say? Exciting?”

“Exciting, I bet.”

Jamac smiled and Laz felt a bit of sympathy toward this man. He didn't want to kill him or any of the other pirates. They were all so young—though dangerous and a threat that he would stop. Still their youth made him feel each of his years like an anchor around his neck.

These boys should be flirting with girls and going to college, not taking boats and pirating in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

“Is your brother-in-law still doing this?”

“Yes, he works on the mother ship with the boss.”

“Where is the mother ship?” Laz asked.

“I think that is enough questions for now,” Jamac said. “I'm going to have to kill you.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. You aren't one of the captains who will calmly let us take your boat.”

“No, I'm not.”

“You are a worthy adversary,” Jamac said. “As soon as the doctor is done fixing my man, this stalemate will be over.”

“I know.”

“What led you to the sea?”

Laz thought about it for a moment. The sea had always been there. An escape from the dirt and poverty of his life in South Florida. An escape from the old man's drinking and his younger sisters' tears.

“On the sea you make your own destiny.”

Jamac nodded. “I like you, Captain.”

Laz just nodded back. They fell into a companionable silence as they watched the surgery that was taking place in the mess hall. Laz had his earpiece in and realized from the open buzzing on the line that his radio was working again.

“I hope this stalemate ends soon,” he said.

“It will,” Savage said in his earpiece.

“I think it will,” Jamac said. “They look to be finishing up.”

Laz glanced over at Daphne and saw that she was exhausted, but something in her eyes told him she didn't have good news about her patient.

 

Daphne had never sweated so much through an operation. And her tension had everything to do with the fact that with the inferior vena cava wound and this crude operating room there was no way she was going to save Fridjtof's life.

Failure wasn't something she liked and she refused to let this man's life slip away from her. True, he wasn't a good man but that didn't mean he should die like this.

“Get me another liter of plasma, Rudy.”

“You're wasting it. He's not going to pull through.”

“I'll decide what's a waste. I've almost got it,” she said.

But she wasn't sure.

Rudy reached over and put his hand on her shoulder. “In this situation…there's no way we're going to be able to stop the bleeding enough for you to get this repaired.”

“I know,” she said. “I guess we'll have to call it.”

“I'll do it. You go wash up.”

Daphne turned away and felt a wave of exhaustion and fear wash over her. It had been easy to be brave when she was filled with the desire to help the injured men but now that was over. She realized that her gamble could have gone wrong. She walked to the sink built into the wall of the galley. Jerry was still working over Bob, and after she washed up she'd go over and see if he needed her help.

The scent of cigarette smoke reached her, and she looked over at the door and saw that Jamac was stubbing out his cigarette. He and Laz were standing there blocking anyone from entering or leaving the room.

She shook her head and washed her hands, realizing she was crying as she massaged the soap into her hands. She shook her head. She never cried when she lost a patient.

She felt a hand on her shoulder but refused to look up. There was nothing she could say, and she didn't want anyone to see her this vulnerable. And she was vulnerable right now.

“You okay?” Rudy asked.

She felt like a first-year resident crying like this. “Fine.” She turned the water off and shook her hands dry. “I need a towel.”

Rudy snagged one from farther down the counter and handed it to her. She wiped her hands with the paper towel and then tossed it into the trash.

“Thanks. I'm going to see if Jerry needs my assistance.”

“I checked with him and he said he's fine.”

“We need to talk about final arrangements for Fridjtof's body.”

“Want me to handle it?” Rudy asked.

“No. I'll do it. What happened? How did those men get shot?”

“The fight got a little intense and the pirates started shooting. Hamm took out one of the pirates with some martial arts move and relieved him of his weapon. He told Fridjtof to drop his but the other man fired and Hamm returned fire hitting him in the upper chest area.”

Daphne was shaken by what she heard. “What about Bob?”

“Everything went a little crazy for a minute or two. The pirates all started firing and Bob was hit in the melee. Jamac came in and then you guys did.”