Operation Sea Ghost (15 page)

“Who’s paying for all this?” he asked her.

She just smiled again. “Your friend, of course,” she said, putting her finger to her lips, hinting she could say no more.

Batman and Twitch just looked at each other again.

Emma Simms?

Who else could it be?

The woman resumed her retreat onto the elevator, smiled again and was gone, just like that.

When they were alone again, all Batman could say was: “What the hell just happened here?”

12

Indian Ocean

“ANY IDEA WHAT’S going on here, Snake?”

Nolan nervously checked his ammo clip and then looked out on the hot and hazy sea.

“I wish I did,” he replied, “but I don’t have a clue.”

He and Gunner were sitting atop the bridge of the
Taiwan Song
. They were both armed, sweaty and anxious. Gunner had binoculars and was scanning the sea in all directions. Nolan was doing the same with his specially adapted one-eye night-vision telescope, set for daylight.

Down on the bow, two of the Senegals had set up gun slots for their M4 assault rifles. Two more Senegals were covering the stern. The fifth Senegal was on the bridge with the freighter’s crew helping them steer the purloined bucket of bolts. The weather was brutally hot.

It was now late morning. They were sailing about thirty miles off the coast of India, barely making five knots. This part of the Indian Ocean was regarded by mariners as particularly treacherous waters. The area had a propensity for freak storms, waterspouts, whirlpools and tsunami-sized rogue waves. Even worse, it was a haven for pirates. Lots of them. Next to the Gulf of Aden and certain places in the Java Sea, this area had the highest concentration of pirates of anywhere in the world.

This was not a very good place to be at the moment and Nolan knew it. Twenty-four hours ago he’d been a guest on one of the most luxurious vessels on the planet, dealing only with snobs and ghosts. Now he was here, in this devil’s lake, on a ship that was moving so sluggishly, the slowest fish in the sea could pass it with ease.

And for what? That was the biggest mystery.

Nolan looked out on the vast expanse of water again and thought:
How the hell did we get here?

*   *   *

ESCAPING FROM GOTTABANG had been the easy part.

Once they’d stolen aboard the
Taiwan Song
using a rowboat found on the dirty beach, Nolan and Gunner had no problem getting the drunken Korean crew to do what they wanted. And what they wanted at that moment was to make Emma Simms happy and load the poor souls from the Black Hole onto the soon-to-be-broken ship.

The squad had been able to get the Untouchables onto the beach in the first place only because the Senegals had realigned themselves atop the sand dune and brought massive firepower down on the Gottabang security troops who’d been firing at them from the edge of the workers’ shantytown.

But once on the beach, it was soon clear that there was no way to get the escapees onto the
Taiwan Song,
anchored 500 feet offshore. The ship didn’t have any lifeboats remaining on board, and the team’s RIB had been left way down near the breaking beach and thus was irretrievable.

Just about the time Nolan and Gunner were realizing all this, the ship’s radio crackled to life. It was the Gottabang beachmaster, confirming the
Taiwan Song
would be the first ship broken that day and that the crew should start making preparations for it now. He ended by saying he’d be calling back in twenty minutes with further instructions on how the crew should run the old ship up onto the beach.

Of course, this was crazy. There had just been a gun battle less than a mile from the breaking operation. Tracer fire was still streaking through the sky occasionally, a few small explosions still going off. Was the beachmaster simply unaware of what was happening?

At the time, Alpha Squad didn’t want to find out. They told the ship’s senior crewman to reply that he was awaiting the beachmaster’s further instructions. Then Nolan came up with the only way possible to get the Untouchables aboard the creaky
Taiwan Song
quickly.

The
Shin-1
had landed about halfway between the ship and the beach, thinking they would be retrieving the squad. Nolan radioed the
Stormos
with his change in plans. Moving in the fading darkness and using the pervasive smoke as cover, the pilots maneuvered their airplane right up to the beach and took on all of the Untouchables, as well as Emma and the smartly retreating Senegals. Though too overloaded to fly, the plane was still able to taxi its human cargo over to the stern of the
Taiwan Song
, where Nolan and Gunner were stationed with an access ladder. They hastily pulled everyone onto the ship.

Just as the last Untouchable was brought aboard, the ship’s radio came to life again. It was the beachmaster, with his further orders. The sun was just coming up, and even though there were some small fires still burning from the gunfight, it was apparently business as usual with the breaking operation.

The beachmaster’s instructions were direct. The crew was told to raise anchor, start its engine and—oddly—head out to sea. But that was only to build up speed. Once the ship was three miles off the beach, they would then turn around and head for the shore at full throttle, building the momentum needed to properly run the 30,000-ton ship aground. After hearing the instructions, Nolan told the ship’s crew to follow the beachmaster’s orders.

All this time Nolan had been watching the breaking beach come alive with workers, arriving for another day of hellish labor. Though it seemed one hand didn’t know what the other was doing, he was half expecting some kind of armed boat to come out and challenge them at any moment. Or maybe the security troops would begin shelling them from the north beach. The emptied-out
Shin-1
had taken off and was circling high overhead by this time, giving Alpha some eyes in the sky. But no one really knew what the flying boat could do if any unfriendlies did appear.

But … nothing happened. There
was
no opposition. No gunboats. No counterattack from shore. The only explanation was that the people who ran Gottabang simply believed the wretched souls taken from the Black Hole just weren’t worth fighting over.

With the Senegals looking over their shoulders, the ship’s crew got the
Taiwan Song
moving. Zigzagging through the heavily polluted harbor, it finally made it to the less congested bay beyond.

But when the ship reached the three-mile limit, and the point where they were supposed to turn around, Nolan ordered the crew to just keep on going.

The beachmaster went ballistic. Screaming in a variety of languages, he repeatedly ordered the ship to turn around and come into the beach as instructed. But the
Taiwan Song
just kept on going.

After a few minutes, the angry calls from shore suddenly stopped. The radio went silent for a minute and then they heard the beachmaster’s voice again, sending out instructions to the next ship in line to get ready to beach itself.

They never heard from Gottabang again.

*   *   *

FROM THERE, THE immediate plan was to get as far away from the ship-breaking beach as possible.

But it wasn’t just the power plant on the
Taiwan Song
that proved difficult. It was also the steering; it was like something found on an amusement ride. The Senegals were expert seamen, but they discovered the ship’s controls were so out of whack, it took all their strength just to move the wheel even a quarter way. Eventually, though, they got it heading southwest.

In the meantime, Gunner had walked through the ship, taking stock of their situation. He’d returned with nothing but gloomy things to report.

One of the ship’s engines was not working at all; in fact, its bearings had already been removed. The second engine was working, but only at half speed. They were diesel-powered, but the ship’s fuel tanks were less than one-quarter full. The electrical systems on board were down to running at ten percent; everything on the ship was dim. The bilge pumps weren’t working at all. They had very little drinkable water, and practically no food. Finally, there was so much seawater in the bottom hold, the ship was sailing at a ten-degree list.

Gunner’s conclusion: there was a good reason the
Taiwan Song
was about to be broken.

It was falling apart.

*   *   *

THE
SHIN-1
STAYED with them for the first hour. Circling overhead, the pilots used their radio to call the bridge and report to Nolan what they could see from 5,000 feet up.

But soon enough, the flying boat had reached its bingo point. It had to leave and fly the 1,000 miles back to Oman before it ran out of gas.

As the whole affair had been woefully unplanned, all Nolan could do was ask the Stormos to refuel and come back and meet them near the Lakshadweep Islands. This isolated chain was about 200 miles off the southwest coast of India and roughly 150 miles south of the ship’s position at the time. It was just about the only landmass other than India itself for thousands of square miles.

Though they knew nothing about the place, at the time it seemed to be their only chance at safe haven.

*   *   *

ALL THIS HAD happened about thirty minutes ago.

Nolan and Gunner had taken up their stations atop the bridge soon after the
Shin
departed and had been looking out for trouble ever since.

They’d done a lot of talking in that time, but Gunner finally asked Nolan the question that was on everyone’s mind:

“What do you think happened to her back there, Snake?” he said. “She’s not the same person.”

It was just about the only topic they hadn’t discussed since leaving Gottabang. Emma Simms’s sudden transformation from Bitch Princess into … well, into what?

“I got no idea,” Nolan said. “I know I’ve never seen anything like it—that’s for sure.”

“Concussions can do weird things,” Gunner offered. “Or drug withdrawals. Meth, coke, do weird things when you don’t feed the need. Or maybe the Shakas gave her a Mickey like the Ekitas gave Batman? The change was just as radical. Even more so.”

Nolan just shook his head. They had ninety-nine Untouchables on board. Confused and frightened, they’d been led down to the ship’s mess. All of them were either sick or malnourished, and none of them spoke a word of English. Even worse, when they were first brought aboard, they were convinced they were going to be thrown overboard once the ship reached deep water. Apparently this had happened to others like them who’d lived and worked at Gottabang.

The Senegals took a long time using pantomime trying to explain to the unfortunates that they weren’t being transported to their deaths, but rather they were being liberated. Still the Untouchables were terrified. It was only when Emma rose to talk to them that they calmed down and came alive.

Nolan and the others wouldn’t have believed it if they hadn’t seen it, but Emma had thrown herself body and soul into helping the sickly ninety-nine. She’d helped get them settled in the mess. She’d scoured the ship for sleeping mats, blankets or anything that would make them more comfortable. She’d taken Alpha squad’s MREs, as in “Meals Ready to Eat,” divided their contents and distributed the meager result to the starving people. She gave away her own ration of precious water, so there would be just a little more for them.

It was baffling and it was weird. The actress had done a 180-degree turnabout from her former self and they really didn’t know why.

“Was it a ‘Road to Damascus’ moment?” Nolan wondered. “Or…”

“Or … what?”

“Or maybe people like her
can
change…” Nolan said.

Gunner just laughed.

“I’m just afraid if she whacks her head again, she’ll turn back,” he said. “Then what will we do?”

*   *   *

THEY SAILED ON for another hour.

The heat became even more vile. The sea was almost too calm.

They could see nothing on the horizon in any direction. The radio had fallen silent; the only noise was the constant chugging of the ship’s single balky engine.

Suddenly Gunner elbowed Nolan. He nodded toward the railing on their port side.

Nolan saw that Emma had come up on deck, taking a break from the overcrowded mess hall below.

“Maybe this is your chance to get the 411,” Gunner said.

Nolan had to agree.

“If I’m not back in ten minutes send a search party,” he told Gunner.

Then he climbed down to the deck.

She was sitting against the bulkhead, her head on her knees. Her clothes were dirty and damp. Her hair was a mess. She was either asleep or quietly crying.

He approached her slowly. This would be the first time they’d spoken since the bizarre incident back in the Black Hole.

Suddenly he was at a loss for what to say to her. Sitting there, crouched almost into a ball, she looked like a different person.

“I think we should check you for a concussion,” he finally said.

She looked up, surprised to see him. Her makeup was smeared, and yes, she’d been crying.

“Why?” she asked him simply.

“Sometimes concussions can change a person’s behavior,” he said, “And the condition could get worse.”

But as he was saying this, he knew he was making a big mistake.

She thought a long time, then put her head back down on her knees. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to know.”

He almost sat down next to her, but fought the temptation.

Instead, he told her their current position, speed and direction, and said that at their present course they would be near the Lakshadweep Islands sometime the next day.

Then as diplomatically as possible, he asked, “Unless there’s somewhere else you’d like us to go?”

She didn’t reply for a long time. And now he saw she was crying again. Finally, she wiped her eyes and looked back at him.

“I have plenty of rich friends around here,” she said with a sniffle. “And they owe me plenty of favors. If I could just get in touch with them, we’ll be OK. They’ll help us out.”