harness-well, they’d just tear off a piece of fringe and use it.”
She looked at him, looked at her shawl. She tugged at a piece of its fringe. “Can’t do much harness repair with dazzle yarn,” Emma said at last. “How did a Doctor of Medicine become a weapons expert and everything?”
“My dad was in the OSS-” He hesitated.
She smiled. “I know that one: Office of Strategic Services during World War Two, predecessor of the CIA. That’s what you were in, right?”
“Right.”
“John?”
“Yes?”
“You made the last toast” she said, raising her glass. John Rourke extinguished his cigarette, raised his glass, touched it to hers. “Here’s to getting to know each other better.” Someone should have yelled “Hussy!” at her, but Emma Shaw didn’t care.
7
Wilhelm Doring, Marie Dreissling beside him, Reinhardt Kleist, Gunther Brach and the eight others of the special unit-they were not even given a name, this for security purposes, only a radio call designation-moved aft along the portside of the Vladivostok Queen. When the wind which blew so strongly over the Russian pirate ship’s bow would momentarily abate, the smells of onions and sausage, unprocessed tobacco and cheap vodka wafted toward them from below decks.
The vessel’s captain, who called himself only “Dimitri” and a half-dozen of his crewmen stood all the way aft of the superstructure near the opening in the rail with the ladder leading downward toward the small dock rigged there. From that dock, the inflatables would be activated and rigged with their silent running outboards.
Dimitri and his men were visibly armed, as they always were, and if Dimitri had it in mind to kill his passengers and steal their belongings-weapons, explosives, the inflatables themselves, all useful in his pirate trade-now would be the man’s moment.
In the last fifty years, then accelerating in the decade just past, piracy on the high seas had flourished. As shipping grew, so did the pirate fleet. As the pressures of potential world warfare mounted, the powers which could have quelled the pirate trade were too involved in their own matters to look to it seriously. The majority of the pirates were, of course, Russian, many of them the descendants of the people of the Soviet Underwater City, conquered by the Americans of Mid-Wake more than a century ago. But many were disaffected men and some women, these latter known for their brutality, from among the populations of other world groups, including even some leathery-skinned descendants of the Wild Tribes of Europe.
Wilhelm Doring stopped a few feet forward of Captain Dimitri. “Greetings, Captain. Soon, you will be rid of us.”
“Yes, but I shall miss having such intriguing passengers as yourselves, and not to mention well-paying. We’ve come to see you off.” Within the scope of Wilhelm Doring’s experience, Dimitri’s voice was only comparable to the sound made when a file was rasped over coarse metal, only it was deeper. “As I offered, we can always lay off the islands and wait for your return.”
“As before, Captain, the offer is well-intended, I know, but unnecessary. If we leave the islands, we will be using different transport.” Doring sensed that there were more of Dimitri’s men nearby. And, logic dictated it. Dimitri and his men were armed with cutlasses and knives and at least two handguns each, but only two of them carried energy rifles, these slung almost casually. If Dimitri was intent on killing his departing passengers and stealing their belongings, he would have more men ready to step in.
The Wild Tribesman, Rene, who was Dimitri’s first mate, was nowhere to be seen. And Rene had been eyeing Marie Dreissling ever since they first joined the vessel. Odds were that Rene and a dozen more of these seaborne brigands were lurking somewhere above, in the rigging which shadowed the superstructure, guns charged, knives and cudasses keen.
Doring kept Marie well back from
She looked at him, looked at her shawl. She tugged at a piece of its fringe. “Can’t do much harness repair with dazzle yarn,” Emma said at last. “How did a Doctor of Medicine become a weapons expert and everything?”
“My dad was in the OSS-” He hesitated.
She smiled. “I know that one: Office of Strategic Services during World War Two, predecessor of the CIA. That’s what you were in, right?”
“Right.”
“John?”
“Yes?”
“You made the last toast” she said, raising her glass. John Rourke extinguished his cigarette, raised his glass, touched it to hers. “Here’s to getting to know each other better.” Someone should have yelled “Hussy!” at her, but Emma Shaw didn’t care.
7
Wilhelm Doring, Marie Dreissling beside him, Reinhardt Kleist, Gunther Brach and the eight others of the special unit-they were not even given a name, this for security purposes, only a radio call designation-moved aft along the portside of the Vladivostok Queen. When the wind which blew so strongly over the Russian pirate ship’s bow would momentarily abate, the smells of onions and sausage, unprocessed tobacco and cheap vodka wafted toward them from below decks.
The vessel’s captain, who called himself only “Dimitri” and a half-dozen of his crewmen stood all the way aft of the superstructure near the opening in the rail with the ladder leading downward toward the small dock rigged there. From that dock, the inflatables would be activated and rigged with their silent running outboards.
Dimitri and his men were visibly armed, as they always were, and if Dimitri had it in mind to kill his passengers and steal their belongings-weapons, explosives, the inflatables themselves, all useful in his pirate trade-now would be the man’s moment.
In the last fifty years, then accelerating in the decade just past, piracy on the high seas had flourished. As shipping grew, so did the pirate fleet. As the pressures of potential world warfare mounted, the powers which could have quelled the pirate trade were too involved in their own matters to look to it seriously. The majority of the pirates were, of course, Russian, many of them the descendants of the people of the Soviet Underwater City, conquered by the Americans of Mid-Wake more than a century ago. But many were disaffected men and some women, these latter known for their brutality, from among the populations of other world groups, including even some leathery-skinned descendants of the Wild Tribes of Europe.
Wilhelm Doring stopped a few feet forward of Captain Dimitri. “Greetings, Captain. Soon, you will be rid of us.”
“Yes, but I shall miss having such intriguing passengers as yourselves, and not to mention well-paying. We’ve come to see you off.” Within the scope of Wilhelm Doring’s experience, Dimitri’s voice was only comparable to the sound made when a file was rasped over coarse metal, only it was deeper. “As I offered, we can always lay off the islands and wait for your return.”
“As before, Captain, the offer is well-intended, I know, but unnecessary. If we leave the islands, we will be using different transport.” Doring sensed that there were more of Dimitri’s men nearby. And, logic dictated it. Dimitri and his men were armed with cutlasses and knives and at least two handguns each, but only two of them carried energy rifles, these slung almost casually. If Dimitri was intent on killing his departing passengers and stealing their belongings, he would have more men ready to step in.
The Wild Tribesman, Rene, who was Dimitri’s first mate, was nowhere to be seen. And Rene had been eyeing Marie Dreissling ever since they first joined the vessel. Odds were that Rene and a dozen more of these seaborne brigands were lurking somewhere above, in the rigging which shadowed the superstructure, guns charged, knives and cudasses keen.
Doring kept Marie well back from
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