Without Warning (29 page)

“You were going to lead me to my target,” she explained. “To a man, a blind recruiter, called al-Banna.”

Monique looked confused.

“But I don’t know any blind men.”

Caitlin shook her head. “Sorry, jargon. Al-Banna’s not blind. You are. He had targeted your group as mules, carriers. You were going to take something back to the UK for him.”

“What bullshit.” And in an instant the old Monique was back, her face an angry mask of disbelief. “I’ve never heard of this al-Banna. None of the others mentioned such a name. Do you take us for fools?”

Caitlin kept her face professionally blank at that question, but Monique seemed not to notice. A switch had flipped over somewhere, and a torrent of impacted rage released.

“We are not idiots, you know, Caitlin. We are not
blind
or even one-eyed, like
some.
We saw oppression and violence on all sides. Not just you and your masters. I have worked as a volunteer in a women’s shelter, I have seen what happens under the burqa,
non?
The broken arms, the smashed ribs and bruises everywhere. Do not imagine that just because we opposed your stupid oil war we did not understand the nature of your enemies. You were as bad as each other. They may even have been worse, possibly, but they lacked your
means.
So please, this stupid conspiracy of yours, don’t imagine that…”

“Monique,” Caitlin sighed, tired from a bone-deep weariness. The inertia and fatigue in her voice seemed to trip the other girl up.

“What?”

Caitlin shook her head.

“Sweetheart, you’d already been recruited.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded to know. “By who?”

Caitlin squared off and gave it to her cold.

“Your boyfriend.”

The Gurkhas were a real find, the first stroke of good luck they’d had in a week. The Nepalese warriors were long famed as members of one of the finest regiments in the British army. Fearsomeness alone did not make them special, however. The world wasn’t short of violent men. The Gurkhas were special because they combined a well-deserved reputation for savagery in battle with an equally well-founded renown for disciplined professionalism. The British army had recruited Gurkha infantry since the 1850s, and thousands still served in the regiment named for them. Such fame had they earned that former members were in high demand by private security concerns all over the world. Of course, this, too, made them little different from the old boys of any of the world’s A-list military outfits, but for Jules the five Gurkha warriors standing before her were of singular appeal because they had, until a week ago, been employed as shipboard security by the Carnival cruise line, headquartered in Florida.

Unfortunately the Disappearance had robbed them of an employer and any way of getting home. Julianne chewed at the stub of a pencil while she pondered exactly how much
legitimate
work she might have for them, but she pushed that thought to one side. For now, she needed some tough, reliable
men who wouldn’t fall apart if you pointed a gun at them and who, just as important, she could trust not to sell her out.

“So, Mr. Shah, how long did you serve in the regiment?”

“Twelve years, ma’am,” replied the short but powerful-looking man who acted as the group leader. His accent was quite polished, for a sergeant from Nepal. “Four years as private soldier. Eight as a noncommissioned officer.”

“A sergeant?”

“For the last six, yes, ma’am.”

Jules nodded as she scanned the employment history of the five men. The minimum any had served was six years. Shah had the longest stretch at twelve. He was the only one who’d risen above corporal, making him the natural leader, even though they no longer took Her Majesty’s coin. Jules was thankful for that. It made negotiating with them a simpler affair.

She leaned back in the old wooden chair behind a scarred table on which sat a small pile of papers, the men’s résumés, and a loaded handgun within easy reach: a big shiny Mac-10, unsafed and set to full auto, for which she had traded away her former skipper’s beloved yacht. The beautiful wooden cruiser had been worth the gun, a thousand rounds of ammunition, two Mexican army M16s, one crate of 5.56 mm reloads, and a half-pallet of rice, milk biscuits, and flour, all packed tightly into bags stamped
A GIFT FROM THE PEOPLE OF AMERICA—USAID.
The guns and stores were secured in a cage behind the Gurkhas. She would have preferred to transfer them to the yacht, but had decided with Fifi and Mr. Lee that hiring reliable security was their first priority.

“Do you mind if I ask why you left the Cunard line?” she asked. The men had all been employed by the premier British cruise line, and some had even worked on the
QE2.
In her admittedly biased opinion, signing on with the Florida-based party-boat operators was not the first step on the happy staircase to success.

“Downsizing,” said Shah. Coming from him, the Western technobabble sounded weird and alien. “The labor hire firm that subcontracted our services to Cunard was bought out by P&O, who were taken over by Carnival a year later. We were transferred to their Caribbean operations a fortnight ago. We were to pick up our next berth here at Acapulco.”

The former sergeant shrugged as a way of finishing his explanation.

Jules sighed. “Say no more.”

The small shed she’d hired at the yacht club just down from the Avenue de las Américas was a long way from the resort town’s tourist center, but she could make out the beachfront apartments and hotels through a greasy, unwashed window to her right. One of the bigger towers was ablaze, with
flames leaping high over the top floor. It was a moot point whether anybody was trying to put it out. Most likely not. The lower floors were probably being looted as she sat there.

“Well, Mr. Shah. My father would have been impressed with your regimental connections. He was a navy man, but he didn’t hold with all that in-terservice rubbish. And he thought very highly of Cunard. It’s a pity you got shafted like that.”

She didn’t mention that the old rogue had been banned by Cunard for cheating at cards on a cruise through the Med ten years earlier. Mr. Shah looked like the sort of chap who’d throw card cheats over the side. Only a swift return of the swindled funds and an abject apology to his victims had kept the police from becoming involved. Instead she continued, “I’d be very keen to take on you and your men, Shah, but there are two issues we need to settle. One I don’t see causing much difficulty; the other, however, we’ll have to see.”

Julianne spoke directly and forcefully, never taking her eyes off the man she was addressing. Behind him, his companions remained as immobile as stone dogs.

“First, this won’t be a pleasure cruise. My ship, which you should know straight off we boarded and took over after the original crew disappeared behind the event horizon last week, has already been attacked once. My captain was killed, and in turn we killed every one of the pirates attempting to seize the vessel. I do not expect that that will be the last trouble we see. I cannot guarantee anyone’s safety, quite the contrary, but we will endeavor to avoid whatever hazards we can.”

She gestured back over his shoulder to the view of downtown Acapulco.

“I probably don’t need to tell you that things are going to get worse, do I?”

“No,” agreed Shah. “The risks are acceptable. And your second point?”

“Payment,” she said. “And length of contract. Without a stable currency in which to negotiate we are stuck with bartering for your services. As a minimum I promise free passage to the port of your choosing in Asia, at which point our business together will be deemed complete. Right now, I cannot give you a schedule. We might get there in a few weeks. It could be six months. Over and above passage, you’ll require payment. I’m happy to hear any suggestions you might have about how we calculate a reasonable figure.”

Shah nodded slowly, his eyes peering into an unknowable future. She noted that he didn’t consult his men.

“Gold,” he said at last. “We shall settle on an amount of gold, the value to be calculated at the end of the cruise, based on an equivalent pay scale to that which we would have earned with Carnival, plus hazard pay at current regimental
rates, for each day spent in combat. The pay of any man killed or totally and permanently disabled to be delivered to his family by those surviving along with a compensation payment to the value of his entire contracted fee. As to length of service, we would insist on an end to the contract within twelve months of its commencement.”

It was Jules’s turn to nod sagely and give the impression of hard thought. She quickly toted up what she was getting into and figured it to be worth about half of their current liquid assets. A lot, in other words. On the other hand, there would doubtless be ample opportunity for “salvage” in the near future. And, if she could just get to the Caymans before everything turned completely pear-shaped, she might be able to access her own accounts, and maybe even Pete’s. Beyond that broad-brush plan to cash up and lay in stores, she wasn’t sure what they would do. Lee was no more interested in returning to his home village than she was in heading for England, where there were still warrants out for her arrest on charges relating to the money her father had sent her. As for Fifi, whatever sorry excuse for home and hearth she’d once had was now lost behind the energy wave. It was possible they might well end up going with Pete’s original plan and heading for Tasmania. It was far enough from everywhere to be safe, surely, and he’d insisted it was one of the few places in the world that would still be able to feed itself following a core meltdown of the old world order.

After a moment’s consideration she glanced at the men behind Shah.

“Do you mind if I talk to your men?” she asked him.

“No. Ask them what you will.”

“Are you men okay with that offer? Do you need to discuss it?”

The briefest of nonverbal conferences took place, with each quickly exchanging glances, shrugs, and nods with the others.

“That will be acceptable,” said the man standing nearest to Mr. Shah. Jules was pretty certain it was a former corporal, Birendra. His first name was as long as a Himalayan mountain path, and just as difficult to negotiate.

“Good-o, then,” said Jules. “Mr. Shah, if you would like to work out the precise figures we shall draw up a contract today. I’d like to get some of your men out to the yacht as soon as possible, but I will need two of you here with me over the next couple of days as we take on crew.”

Shah grunted in affirmation and, she was sure, nearly saluted her.

“Corporal Birendra will take Subba and Sharma out to the vessel. I will remain with Thapa and you.”

“Okay,” said Jules, still unsure who was who, other than Shah and possibly Birendra. She did note the use of the military rank, too. “I imagine you
fellows will have personal effects you want to pick up. And I suppose there’s a bill for your accommodation to be worked out?”

“Yes and no,” said Shah. “We have personal items to gather. For the last week, however, we have provided security to our hotel in return for lodging. No bill.”

And soon after you’re gone, no hotel,
Jules thought to herself.

“Just one other thing, Mr. Shah. Or would you prefer ‘Sergeant’?”

“That is your choice, miss.”

“Okay then. Your men here. I’m sorry to have to ask, and I mean no disrespect, but do they all speak good English? It’s just that it could be an issue in a tight spot, couldn’t it?”

Shah’s face split open into a wide grin.

“The Queen’s English, ma’am. With a touch of ‘sarf London, from the instructor in their barracks.”

“All right.” Jules smiled. “That will do fine. If you would like to detail a small party to pick up your gear from the hotel, I’ll draft up some paper for you to check and sign if acceptable. Then I’ll need your help transferring those stores behind you to my boat. We’ll run out to the yacht, you can meet the others, secure the ship, and then you and I and Mr. … Thapa, was it? We’ll get back on shore and round up some reliable crew.”

Shah indicated his agreement but he had one more question.

“Do we have a destination, miss?”

“Please, Jules will be fine. And no, I have no idea where we are headed initially. Just the hell away from here and that bloody wave.”

It was late before they returned to port. Shah’s men loaded the cruiser in less than an hour, but motoring to and from
the Aussie Rules
was a six-hour round trip. For now the marina’s own security staff, boosted by some freelance heavies, were more than up to the task of securing her boat and the small dockside lockup against any looters, but that wouldn’t always be the case. She was quietly relieved when Thapa took up watch on the forty-two-footer, while she and Mr. Shah plotted their next move.

It was coming up on ten at night, and the yacht club was well lit, courtesy of a diesel-fired generator she could hear droning away in the distance. Incredibly, she could also hear music, laughter, and the tinkle of glasses drifting across from the more expensive berths, where a large number of luxury yachts were docked, one of them as big as her own. Apparently the owners and their guests had enough money and muscle to convince themselves that
they could remain unaffected by events outside the marina. Not all of the berths were occupied, however. Jules calculated that a third were empty, the boats that normally filled them having lit out already. But of those who had stayed, it seemed most were intent on pretending they could hold back grim reality with good cheer, and hired guns.