behind the strange voice. “If I have to say it again, your captain will die.” The men instantly hit the floor. “You too,” the man said, shoving the captain down. “Face down and don’t move.”
Stepping quickly over to the communications console, the gunman turned the knob that changed the frequency of the radio and picked up the microphone. “Mukatu here. Go.”
“Received,” the radio crackled.
“Mukatu? Is that your name?” the captain asked.
“Those that love me call me Mukatu, and those that hate me call me sir.”
“Well … sir,” the captain said, struggling to keep the anger he felt out of his voice. “I don’t know what you hope to achieve, but this ship carries only food and medicine for famine relief, and judging by your accent it may well be your people who need the help.”
“I’ll worry about my people; you worry about keeping your mouth shut.”
“If we could talk, we could work out something.”
“No,” Mukatu said. “I’ll talk and you’ll listen. I have a task to do, and you’re going to help me do it. You will do so without question, comment, or hesitancy. If you disobey me, I will kill someone. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the captain said quietly, “I just don’t understand …”
Mukatu fired a shot.
“My leg, my leg,” the cabin boy cried, “you shot my leg.” Mukatu brought his revolver up again and pointed it at the boy.
“No,” the captain cried, “I’m sorry. Leave him alone; he’s only sixteen.”
Mukatu grinned. “I said no questions, no comments, and no hesitancy. Do you understand now?” The captain nodded slowly. “Good.”
A bell sounded. Mukatu stepped over to the captain’s chair and picked up a phonelike handset. “Yes.” There was silence on the end. “Talk to me.”
“Who is this?” the disembodied voice asked.
“This is the man who is going to kill your captain if you don’t start talking.”
“I wanted to tell the captain something.”
“If you’re wanting to inform him of the cabin cruiser that is pulling alongside, you’re too late,” Mukatu said bitterly. “But I do have some news for you. If anyone interferes with the men coming on board, I’ll shoot your captain in the head and drop him overboard. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, I understand.” The voice was now shaky, which caused Mukatu to smile.
“Good. Now run down to engineering and tell them to shut off all the engines.”
“Shut them off?”
“That’s right, sailor. Shut them off. I want this ship dead in the water. And one more thing. No one is to approach the bridge, unless he wants the death of the bridge crew on his hands. Do you understand that?”
“Yes sir.”
Looking down at the captain of the boat, Mukatu laughed. The laugh was deep and guttural, demonic in timbre. “What a cosmopolitan group we have here today. A Panamanian-registeredship, crewed by Americans and leased by an American, sailing in African waters. Today Africa wins and you lose. You see, Captain, as you Americans say, ‘It’s time to rock and roll.’ ”
Four hours later, Capt. Adrian “Lucky” Adair watched as the cabin cruiser made its way into the folds of darkness. He knew what would happen next because Mukatu had taken great pleasure in telling him. In fifteen minutes the ship would be shaken by the plastic explosives attached to the inside of its hull. The Indian Ocean would then fill the drifting freighter, sucking her down into its bleak depths. The crew would sink with her, not out of some ancient mariner duty, but because Mukatu had chained all twenty of them to the starboard rail.
5
THE PHONE’S HARSH RING REBOUNDED OFF THE white walls of the penthouse on the top floor of Barringston Tower. Through bleary eyes, A.J. looked at the clock by his bed. “Two in the morning?” he said groggily and then picked up the receiver. “Yes,” he croaked, “what is it?”
“Sorry to wake you, A.J.,” the husky female voice said. “This is
Stepping quickly over to the communications console, the gunman turned the knob that changed the frequency of the radio and picked up the microphone. “Mukatu here. Go.”
“Received,” the radio crackled.
“Mukatu? Is that your name?” the captain asked.
“Those that love me call me Mukatu, and those that hate me call me sir.”
“Well … sir,” the captain said, struggling to keep the anger he felt out of his voice. “I don’t know what you hope to achieve, but this ship carries only food and medicine for famine relief, and judging by your accent it may well be your people who need the help.”
“I’ll worry about my people; you worry about keeping your mouth shut.”
“If we could talk, we could work out something.”
“No,” Mukatu said. “I’ll talk and you’ll listen. I have a task to do, and you’re going to help me do it. You will do so without question, comment, or hesitancy. If you disobey me, I will kill someone. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the captain said quietly, “I just don’t understand …”
Mukatu fired a shot.
“My leg, my leg,” the cabin boy cried, “you shot my leg.” Mukatu brought his revolver up again and pointed it at the boy.
“No,” the captain cried, “I’m sorry. Leave him alone; he’s only sixteen.”
Mukatu grinned. “I said no questions, no comments, and no hesitancy. Do you understand now?” The captain nodded slowly. “Good.”
A bell sounded. Mukatu stepped over to the captain’s chair and picked up a phonelike handset. “Yes.” There was silence on the end. “Talk to me.”
“Who is this?” the disembodied voice asked.
“This is the man who is going to kill your captain if you don’t start talking.”
“I wanted to tell the captain something.”
“If you’re wanting to inform him of the cabin cruiser that is pulling alongside, you’re too late,” Mukatu said bitterly. “But I do have some news for you. If anyone interferes with the men coming on board, I’ll shoot your captain in the head and drop him overboard. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, I understand.” The voice was now shaky, which caused Mukatu to smile.
“Good. Now run down to engineering and tell them to shut off all the engines.”
“Shut them off?”
“That’s right, sailor. Shut them off. I want this ship dead in the water. And one more thing. No one is to approach the bridge, unless he wants the death of the bridge crew on his hands. Do you understand that?”
“Yes sir.”
Looking down at the captain of the boat, Mukatu laughed. The laugh was deep and guttural, demonic in timbre. “What a cosmopolitan group we have here today. A Panamanian-registeredship, crewed by Americans and leased by an American, sailing in African waters. Today Africa wins and you lose. You see, Captain, as you Americans say, ‘It’s time to rock and roll.’ ”
Four hours later, Capt. Adrian “Lucky” Adair watched as the cabin cruiser made its way into the folds of darkness. He knew what would happen next because Mukatu had taken great pleasure in telling him. In fifteen minutes the ship would be shaken by the plastic explosives attached to the inside of its hull. The Indian Ocean would then fill the drifting freighter, sucking her down into its bleak depths. The crew would sink with her, not out of some ancient mariner duty, but because Mukatu had chained all twenty of them to the starboard rail.
5
THE PHONE’S HARSH RING REBOUNDED OFF THE white walls of the penthouse on the top floor of Barringston Tower. Through bleary eyes, A.J. looked at the clock by his bed. “Two in the morning?” he said groggily and then picked up the receiver. “Yes,” he croaked, “what is it?”
“Sorry to wake you, A.J.,” the husky female voice said. “This is
Similar Books
