The Pirate:
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Synopsis
They're the Savage Seven--a ragged group of mercenaries who trust no one, risk everything, and get the job done, no matter what it takes. . .
J.P. Lazarus is an ex-Navy Seal who's parlayed his technical expertise into a lucrative and dangerous career. Laz has never lost any sleep over his choices, but then again, he's never met anyone like Dr. Daphne Barrett. She saves lives; he takes them. He changes his persona with every mission; she's straight as an arrow. His latest assignment--setting a trap for Somalian pirates--was risky before, but with the doctor on board his tanker, it's a matter of life, death, and off-the-charts desire. . .
Working in Africa for a summer seemed like a good way for Daphne to regroup after her divorce. But when her vessel is hijacked, Daphne's status as a senator's ex-wife makes her a perfect target for ransom. If there's one man equipped to protect her, it's Laz. But the more she learns about him, the more questions arise--about the secrets he's hiding, the chemistry that feels too good to fight, and a future that neither of them can take for granted. . .
"Katherine Garbera rocks!" --Cindy Gerard
Release date: July 1, 2010
Publisher: Kensington Books
Print pages: 272
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The Pirate:
Katherine Garbera
A warrior must only take care that his spirit is not broken.
—CARLOS CASTANEDA
The full moon hung over the Indian Ocean like something out of a fairy tale. Daphne Bennett walked along the deck of the oil tanker Maersk Angus enjoying the sight. The winds were light and the temperature warm on this night in mid-June. A moment of unreality struck her as she paced near the railing.
This was so different from the affluent suburbs of Washington, D.C., and her life as the ex-wife of a prominent U.S. Senator. A part of her couldn’t believe she was really here. But another part relished the start of her adventure.
“It’s a little late for a stroll,” a deep masculine voice said.
She stopped and glanced toward the stern of the ship where the glow of a cigarette could be seen in the deep shadows. The voice was American, and she knew immediately it was the captain of the Maersk Angus who spoke to her.
“I couldn’t sleep, Captain Lazarus,” she said.
Her group had met the crew when they’d boarded the Maersk Angus two days ago.
“Call me Laz,” he said.
“I’m Daphne,” she said, unsure he remembered her. Her group, Doctors Across Waters, or DAW, wasn’t that large, but they’d been a last-minute addition to his tanker. They’d caught the ship in Lisbon when the flight they were scheduled to take had been canceled due to renewed violence in Somalia. She flinched inwardly as she remembered that the violence had been the terrorist bombing of another humanitarian group’s chartered plane.
Daphne thought about turning back when she realized that Africa was just as violent as she’d always heard. The news stories she’d read were about to have a direct impact on her life. But she’d spent the last few years living in a kind of stasis and she was tired of never doing anything other than her job. She needed an adventure.
“Excited about your trip?” he asked, stepping out of the shadows.
He was a rough-looking man but still attractive. A light beard shadowed his strong, square jaw. His dark hair was shorn close to his head, revealing a scar twisting up the left side of his neck.
As a surgeon, she could tell that whoever had stitched up what she guessed to be a knife wound hadn’t been to medical school. As a woman, she guessed that Laz hadn’t minded, since if the wound hadn’t been stitched up he probably would have died.
She’d been single for almost two years now, but this man wasn’t like any of the men she’d dated. An aura of danger hovered about him. It might be due to the fact that he led a crew of men who looked like they’d be better suited to crew Johnny Depp’s Black Pearl in Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean. Or maybe it was due to the fact that when he looked at her, she had the feeling that he looked past the confines of her profession and saw the woman underneath.
“A little nervous, actually.”
He laughed, a rough sound that carried on the wind. “Somalia—hell, all of Africa—has that effect on people.”
The sea around the tanker seemed calm, and on this moonlit night with no one else on deck, she felt like…like they were alone in the world.
“On you?” she asked. She couldn’t imagine this man being nervous in any situation. He radiated the calmness she always experienced when she was in the operating room. It was a calmness born of the fact that he knew what he was doing.
“Nah. I’ve been around this part of the world for a long time.”
“Why is that? You’re American, right?”
“Yes, I am. But I was never one for staying put. I wanted to see the world.” There was a note in his voice that she easily recognized. It said that he was searching for something that he hadn’t found. Something that he might never find. She understood that now.
It was funny, but before her divorce she would have thought he was unfocused or didn’t know himself well. But now she understood that sometimes life threw a curve and dreams changed and your way was lost. Hers had been. She’d been drifting without a focus, and she hoped this summer in Africa would help her to find her way back to who she had been.
Did this rough-looking man have dreams? Dreams that she’d be able to relate to? At one point in her not-so-distant past she would have seen Laz as a man she had nothing in common with—a man whose dreams would make absolutely no sense to her. She no longer looked at the world in the black-and-white terms she used to, and she guessed she had to thank Paul and his philandering ways for that.
“Well, you are certainly seeing parts of it that are off the beaten path,” Daphne said.
She’d spent all of her life taking the safe route. College followed by medical school. Marriage to an up-and-coming lawyer who morphed his successful career into a successful Senate bid. She’d had two children with Paul Maxwell and raised them to be very successful teenagers before Paul decided that it was time to trade her in for a newer model. A microbiologist named Cyndy who didn’t have stretch marks.
She shook her head. She wasn’t bitter.
Really.
It was just that when Paul had walked away from their marriage he’d broken something that she’d always claimed as her destiny. He’d broken her dreams of a fifty-year wedding anniversary party. Her dreams of being married to the same man for her entire life. And she was still trying to figure out who she was if she wasn’t going to be Mrs. Paul Maxwell.
She realized she’d let the conversation lag while she’d been lost in her thoughts of her ruined marriage. She looked over at Laz.
“Our group goes to the places that really need aid,” she said.
He gave her a half-smile that showed her the dangerous-looking man could also be sexy in a rough-hewn sort of way.
“Good for you.”
She glanced over at him; it was hard to see much of his features in the dim lighting. “Are you being sarcastic?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I admire people who walk the walk.”
She had no idea if he was sincere or not. But she’d always tried to be honest about who she was and what she wanted. She heard the sound of another engine. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes, ma’am. I think you should go below,” Laz said, standing up straighter. He tossed his cigarette over the railing.
“Why?”
“Pirates operate in these waters, and Americans are some of their favorite targets. Go below where I know you’ll be safe.”
She hesitated for a moment but then saw him draw out a handgun. Moonlight glinted off the well-polished steel of his weapon. His entire demeanor changed. He no longer wore an aura of danger. He was danger. She’d think twice about talking to this man if she saw him on the street back home. In fact she’d do her best to avoid him.
She turned and headed for the stairs, stopping when she heard a voice call out in the dark.
“Bonjour, le bateau.”
“Bonjour. Arrêt. Ne parlez pas encore.” Laz said. He spoke French like a native, she realized, as he continued conversing with someone she couldn’t see. Telling them to hold until he gave them the signal.
She was a little rusty on her French since she’d last lived in Paris during her college career, but she knew enough to make out what he was saying. She hesitated, knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop but wanting to make sure he was okay and not in any danger.
She knew she should get belowdecks to her quarters, but waited to see if there was anything she could do to help. The captain certainly looked like he could take care of himself, but her conscience wouldn’t let her leave him alone up there with a potential threat.
Another man joined Laz on the deck. She recognized him as Hammond Macintyre, the second in command. “What’s going on?”
“Someone was just up on the deck and I don’t want anyone to know what we are doing,” Laz said.
“That’s fine but Savage has radioed twice.”
“I know that,” Laz said, turning toward his second in command.
“Why haven’t you responded?”
“Don’t question me, Hamm,” Laz said.
“Are you ready for them to come aboard?”
Laz turned back to where she’d disappeared and she felt like he could see her. She huddled close to the wall of the stairwell, trying to keep still and avoid being seen. What was going on with Captain Lazarus? Was he a pirate?
“Yes,” Laz said.
Daphne stayed where she was on the gangway. A part of her wanted to just go back to her sleeping quarters but another part demanded that she see what was going on. She was one of the more senior members of their group.
Although this was her first trip with Doctors Across Waters, she’d served on the board of directors for the last fourteen years.
Who were they trying to let on board? She didn’t want to believe that Captain Lazarus—Laz—would betray them but…to be honest she didn’t trust men. Paul had taken that from her as well when he’d left her.
It made her a little sad but lately she believed the worst of men all the time. Even her sons. That was the main reason she knew she had to get away.
She crept back up the stairs and hid in the shadows watching as Laz used a flashlight to signal someone. She saw the answering flashes of light and then heard nothing but the gentle thwap of waves against the hull of their boat.
Was her imagination getting the better of her? She walked carefully toward the shadow cast by one of the containers that were on the deck. She crouched there in the shadows and watched as Laz lowered a rope over the side of the deck. Two minutes later four men had climbed up and stood in a circle around Laz.
Daphne knew that this wasn’t a good thing. Each of the men wore camouflage face paint and dark clothing, but that wasn’t what really disturbed her. No, what bothered her was the fact that they were all carrying semiautomatic weapons, and Laz seemed perfectly at ease with them. No wonder the captain had tried to hurry her off the deck; she stayed where she was.
What was he up to?
Crouched in the shadows she listened intently to the men as they talked. Their voices were little more than a whisper, and she couldn’t make out the conversation. The men moved away from the gangway and she was tempted to follow them.
She heard footsteps on the stairs behind her and stood up as a crew member walked around the corner. He was a tall man, probably about six feet. His jeans had seen better days and the T-shirt he wore had a hole near the shoulder. He apparently hadn’t shaved since they’d left Lisbon three days ago, and he smelled a bit sweaty.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in heavily accented English.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. His accent sounded Dutch to her, which made sense given that this was a Danish ship with an international crew that was mostly comprised of men from along the North Sea.
She’d learned a long time ago that lies didn’t serve her well. Was this man part of the group with Laz or someone she should notify of the captain’s moves? But she suspected if she said she was spying on the captain this man might not like it.
“The seas aren’t that rough tonight,” he said.
“No, they aren’t. I’m Daphne,” she said.
“I’m Fridjtof,” he said. “You should go back to your quarters now.”
She wasn’t ready to leave yet—not until she saw more of the men that the captain had been talking to, and got some of her questions answered. She knew that this part of the world wasn’t exactly the safest. If there was a problem she wanted all the information she could lay her hands on.
“Why isn’t your captain a Dane?” she asked, trying to keep him talking and hoping he’d reveal if he was in league with the captain.
Fridjtof shrugged. “We’re a multinational crew. He came over on a boat from Alaska over a year ago and stayed.”
“How long have you been working with him?” she asked.
“Just this voyage. Why you ask?”
“No reason. Just curious. I decided when I signed up for this summer trip to learn as much as I could about the people and cultures I encountered.”
“Good for you. Now head back to your quarters so that you will be rested when we make berth in Somalia.”
She realized Fridjtof was done with her and was on his way somewhere else.
“Good night,” she said, walking down the stairs to the corridor that led to her room.
She thought of just letting it go, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. She’d watched CNN and Sky TV. She’d seen all the news reports about the pirates that operated in this area and Laz talking to those armed men alarmed her.
The one thing that didn’t quite make sense to her was the fact that everything she’d seen or read about the piracy here in the Indian Ocean had indicated that the perpetrators were Somali. And Laz was definitely American.
She started back toward the gangway, but stopped when two of the men she’d seen on deck came down. They turned right without seeing her. She stayed where she was for a minute and then followed them.
This was silly.
She was a doctor, not a detective. But she’d been around people long enough to be able to read danger when she saw it. And she knew something about this situation just wasn’t right.
She started to go after them but then stopped. What was she going to do? They had weapons and she had none. Was she just borrowing trouble?
Maybe the men were just crew members…like a security staff to keep them safe. But if that were the case, why had Laz asked her to leave when the men came on board?
Maybe she was looking for something more than this really was, she thought. She didn’t follow the men. No matter how many bicycle circuits of her neighborhood she’d made as a preteen, she hadn’t been Nancy Drew then and she wasn’t about to become a girl detective now.
She heard the sound of voices in the galley and recognized them as two of the other members of her group. She entered the dining area, where a long table was bolted to the floor with two solid teak benches on either side.
Bob Dickerson and Franny Milanese sat close together quietly talking. They had both been on this trip before and were well aware of what was in store for their group.
“Hello, Daphne. Restless?” Bob asked. He stood as she entered the room.
She smiled to herself, touched by his old-fashioned manners. Bob was the leader of their team. His experience was a given and he was very good at putting their group at ease. Of the five of them he was the one they all seemed to look toward as the leader. “A little. I was talking to the captain up on deck.”
“You shouldn’t be on deck at night,” Franny said.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Pirates operate in this area and it’s too dangerous.”
“If they spot foreigners they will target this ship,” Bob said.
“If they target this ship it will be because it’s a tanker and its cargo is worth more money each day. Besides, everyone in the crew is foreign,” said Daphne.
“That is true,” Franny said. “But foreign—European or American—hostages fetch more money.”
“I didn’t realize that,” she said. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed down here, but it feels so closed off.”
“Yes, it does,” Bob agreed. “You’ll have a little more freedom when we arrive in Somalia.”
“I’m looking forward to that. And doing work for people who need us. I haven’t done this since I was in my first-year residency.”
Bob smiled at her. “We are so glad you decided to join us this summer. What made you change your mind?”
She shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about her personal life with Bob or Franny. “The timing seemed right. Can I ask you both about the Captain?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“When I was on deck we heard an engine approaching and he told me to come downstairs. I did but waited to see if he would need help, and…”
She wasn’t sure if she should say any more. What could Franny or Bob do to help the situation?
“Did he?”
“No. He knew the men who came on board. But he was speaking to them quietly and…they were all armed.”
Bob stood up. “I’ll go up there and see what’s going on. Daphne, you go with Franny back to our quarters. Make sure all of our group is awake. If there is a situation I want everyone ready to move.”
“Move? Move where?” she asked.
“Out of harm’s way,” Bob said.
Franny led the way out of the galley. “Do you want me to come with you, Bob?”
He shook his head.
“No, stay with the others. I think that if there are too many of us—”
“My husband—ex-husband—is a Senator. I’m pretty good in tense situations.”
“I know that, Daphne. But in this part of the world sometimes just the fact that you are a woman will work against you.”
She nodded. There was a lot of truth to what Bob was saying. She followed Franny down the lit hallway to the bunks where the rest of their team was. Rudy was already waiting for them. When she entered they were all awake and waiting.
“What’s going on? I heard a speedboat approaching on the port side.” Rudy asked.
Rudy was a nurse with their group who had been working for the last few years in South America. He said he was ready for a change of locale and had signed up to go to Africa with this group after rebels in the South American jungle had killed his girlfriend of eight years.
“I don’t like this,” he said.
“No one does. Do we have any weapons with us?” Jerry asked.
“Bob always carries a handgun in his med bag,” Franny said.
She left them to go and retrieve it.
“Where is Bob?”
“I…was up on deck and overheard the captain talking to some men. Bob went to investigate.”
“Fucking hell,” Jerry said. “I was hoping for a little adventure on this trip but not this much.”
She shook her head. Jerry was her age and from California. He was fit and tan and according to Franny was on wife number four. Daphne knew Jerry by reputation only. He was an excellent surgeon, but she’d heard he was a bit of an asshole when he wasn’t in the operating room.
Bob reentered the room. “There was no one on deck when I got up there, but I did walk the deck and saw a boat moored off the stern.”
“One of the rescue craft for this tanker?” Jerry asked.
“No. A speedboat. The captain was on the bridge talking with two men. But to be honest, at that distance I couldn’t make out if they were crew members or not.”
“Did you confront the captain?” Franny asked as she rejoined them. She handed the weapon she had to Bob. He took it and then squeezed her shoulder as if to reassure her.
“No. Listen, folks, I’m not sure what’s going on up there, but I think we need to stay alert,” Bob said.
“I agree,” Jerry said.
“Me too,” Daphne said. “But we’re not armed nor are we trained to take on pirates. I think we need a backup plan.”
“I agree,” Franny said. “We need to send a message to the DAW home office in Manhattan. They will contact the UN and send forces to protect us.”
“How will we do that?” Jerry asked. “My cell phone signal has been spotty for the last twelve hours.”
“Mine too,” Rudy said.
“We’ll have to go to the radio room and send a message,” Bob said. “Daphne, would you feel comfortable sending the message to your ex-husband? I feel like we need the U.S. State Department on this as well.”
She didn’t like the thought of turning to Paul for anything, but dying or being held hostage wasn’t like asking him to come over and help her figure out how to work the security system on her house. “Yes, I will do that.”
“But when?”
“Tomorrow,” Bob said.
They a. . .
—CARLOS CASTANEDA
The full moon hung over the Indian Ocean like something out of a fairy tale. Daphne Bennett walked along the deck of the oil tanker Maersk Angus enjoying the sight. The winds were light and the temperature warm on this night in mid-June. A moment of unreality struck her as she paced near the railing.
This was so different from the affluent suburbs of Washington, D.C., and her life as the ex-wife of a prominent U.S. Senator. A part of her couldn’t believe she was really here. But another part relished the start of her adventure.
“It’s a little late for a stroll,” a deep masculine voice said.
She stopped and glanced toward the stern of the ship where the glow of a cigarette could be seen in the deep shadows. The voice was American, and she knew immediately it was the captain of the Maersk Angus who spoke to her.
“I couldn’t sleep, Captain Lazarus,” she said.
Her group had met the crew when they’d boarded the Maersk Angus two days ago.
“Call me Laz,” he said.
“I’m Daphne,” she said, unsure he remembered her. Her group, Doctors Across Waters, or DAW, wasn’t that large, but they’d been a last-minute addition to his tanker. They’d caught the ship in Lisbon when the flight they were scheduled to take had been canceled due to renewed violence in Somalia. She flinched inwardly as she remembered that the violence had been the terrorist bombing of another humanitarian group’s chartered plane.
Daphne thought about turning back when she realized that Africa was just as violent as she’d always heard. The news stories she’d read were about to have a direct impact on her life. But she’d spent the last few years living in a kind of stasis and she was tired of never doing anything other than her job. She needed an adventure.
“Excited about your trip?” he asked, stepping out of the shadows.
He was a rough-looking man but still attractive. A light beard shadowed his strong, square jaw. His dark hair was shorn close to his head, revealing a scar twisting up the left side of his neck.
As a surgeon, she could tell that whoever had stitched up what she guessed to be a knife wound hadn’t been to medical school. As a woman, she guessed that Laz hadn’t minded, since if the wound hadn’t been stitched up he probably would have died.
She’d been single for almost two years now, but this man wasn’t like any of the men she’d dated. An aura of danger hovered about him. It might be due to the fact that he led a crew of men who looked like they’d be better suited to crew Johnny Depp’s Black Pearl in Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean. Or maybe it was due to the fact that when he looked at her, she had the feeling that he looked past the confines of her profession and saw the woman underneath.
“A little nervous, actually.”
He laughed, a rough sound that carried on the wind. “Somalia—hell, all of Africa—has that effect on people.”
The sea around the tanker seemed calm, and on this moonlit night with no one else on deck, she felt like…like they were alone in the world.
“On you?” she asked. She couldn’t imagine this man being nervous in any situation. He radiated the calmness she always experienced when she was in the operating room. It was a calmness born of the fact that he knew what he was doing.
“Nah. I’ve been around this part of the world for a long time.”
“Why is that? You’re American, right?”
“Yes, I am. But I was never one for staying put. I wanted to see the world.” There was a note in his voice that she easily recognized. It said that he was searching for something that he hadn’t found. Something that he might never find. She understood that now.
It was funny, but before her divorce she would have thought he was unfocused or didn’t know himself well. But now she understood that sometimes life threw a curve and dreams changed and your way was lost. Hers had been. She’d been drifting without a focus, and she hoped this summer in Africa would help her to find her way back to who she had been.
Did this rough-looking man have dreams? Dreams that she’d be able to relate to? At one point in her not-so-distant past she would have seen Laz as a man she had nothing in common with—a man whose dreams would make absolutely no sense to her. She no longer looked at the world in the black-and-white terms she used to, and she guessed she had to thank Paul and his philandering ways for that.
“Well, you are certainly seeing parts of it that are off the beaten path,” Daphne said.
She’d spent all of her life taking the safe route. College followed by medical school. Marriage to an up-and-coming lawyer who morphed his successful career into a successful Senate bid. She’d had two children with Paul Maxwell and raised them to be very successful teenagers before Paul decided that it was time to trade her in for a newer model. A microbiologist named Cyndy who didn’t have stretch marks.
She shook her head. She wasn’t bitter.
Really.
It was just that when Paul had walked away from their marriage he’d broken something that she’d always claimed as her destiny. He’d broken her dreams of a fifty-year wedding anniversary party. Her dreams of being married to the same man for her entire life. And she was still trying to figure out who she was if she wasn’t going to be Mrs. Paul Maxwell.
She realized she’d let the conversation lag while she’d been lost in her thoughts of her ruined marriage. She looked over at Laz.
“Our group goes to the places that really need aid,” she said.
He gave her a half-smile that showed her the dangerous-looking man could also be sexy in a rough-hewn sort of way.
“Good for you.”
She glanced over at him; it was hard to see much of his features in the dim lighting. “Are you being sarcastic?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I admire people who walk the walk.”
She had no idea if he was sincere or not. But she’d always tried to be honest about who she was and what she wanted. She heard the sound of another engine. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes, ma’am. I think you should go below,” Laz said, standing up straighter. He tossed his cigarette over the railing.
“Why?”
“Pirates operate in these waters, and Americans are some of their favorite targets. Go below where I know you’ll be safe.”
She hesitated for a moment but then saw him draw out a handgun. Moonlight glinted off the well-polished steel of his weapon. His entire demeanor changed. He no longer wore an aura of danger. He was danger. She’d think twice about talking to this man if she saw him on the street back home. In fact she’d do her best to avoid him.
She turned and headed for the stairs, stopping when she heard a voice call out in the dark.
“Bonjour, le bateau.”
“Bonjour. Arrêt. Ne parlez pas encore.” Laz said. He spoke French like a native, she realized, as he continued conversing with someone she couldn’t see. Telling them to hold until he gave them the signal.
She was a little rusty on her French since she’d last lived in Paris during her college career, but she knew enough to make out what he was saying. She hesitated, knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop but wanting to make sure he was okay and not in any danger.
She knew she should get belowdecks to her quarters, but waited to see if there was anything she could do to help. The captain certainly looked like he could take care of himself, but her conscience wouldn’t let her leave him alone up there with a potential threat.
Another man joined Laz on the deck. She recognized him as Hammond Macintyre, the second in command. “What’s going on?”
“Someone was just up on the deck and I don’t want anyone to know what we are doing,” Laz said.
“That’s fine but Savage has radioed twice.”
“I know that,” Laz said, turning toward his second in command.
“Why haven’t you responded?”
“Don’t question me, Hamm,” Laz said.
“Are you ready for them to come aboard?”
Laz turned back to where she’d disappeared and she felt like he could see her. She huddled close to the wall of the stairwell, trying to keep still and avoid being seen. What was going on with Captain Lazarus? Was he a pirate?
“Yes,” Laz said.
Daphne stayed where she was on the gangway. A part of her wanted to just go back to her sleeping quarters but another part demanded that she see what was going on. She was one of the more senior members of their group.
Although this was her first trip with Doctors Across Waters, she’d served on the board of directors for the last fourteen years.
Who were they trying to let on board? She didn’t want to believe that Captain Lazarus—Laz—would betray them but…to be honest she didn’t trust men. Paul had taken that from her as well when he’d left her.
It made her a little sad but lately she believed the worst of men all the time. Even her sons. That was the main reason she knew she had to get away.
She crept back up the stairs and hid in the shadows watching as Laz used a flashlight to signal someone. She saw the answering flashes of light and then heard nothing but the gentle thwap of waves against the hull of their boat.
Was her imagination getting the better of her? She walked carefully toward the shadow cast by one of the containers that were on the deck. She crouched there in the shadows and watched as Laz lowered a rope over the side of the deck. Two minutes later four men had climbed up and stood in a circle around Laz.
Daphne knew that this wasn’t a good thing. Each of the men wore camouflage face paint and dark clothing, but that wasn’t what really disturbed her. No, what bothered her was the fact that they were all carrying semiautomatic weapons, and Laz seemed perfectly at ease with them. No wonder the captain had tried to hurry her off the deck; she stayed where she was.
What was he up to?
Crouched in the shadows she listened intently to the men as they talked. Their voices were little more than a whisper, and she couldn’t make out the conversation. The men moved away from the gangway and she was tempted to follow them.
She heard footsteps on the stairs behind her and stood up as a crew member walked around the corner. He was a tall man, probably about six feet. His jeans had seen better days and the T-shirt he wore had a hole near the shoulder. He apparently hadn’t shaved since they’d left Lisbon three days ago, and he smelled a bit sweaty.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in heavily accented English.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. His accent sounded Dutch to her, which made sense given that this was a Danish ship with an international crew that was mostly comprised of men from along the North Sea.
She’d learned a long time ago that lies didn’t serve her well. Was this man part of the group with Laz or someone she should notify of the captain’s moves? But she suspected if she said she was spying on the captain this man might not like it.
“The seas aren’t that rough tonight,” he said.
“No, they aren’t. I’m Daphne,” she said.
“I’m Fridjtof,” he said. “You should go back to your quarters now.”
She wasn’t ready to leave yet—not until she saw more of the men that the captain had been talking to, and got some of her questions answered. She knew that this part of the world wasn’t exactly the safest. If there was a problem she wanted all the information she could lay her hands on.
“Why isn’t your captain a Dane?” she asked, trying to keep him talking and hoping he’d reveal if he was in league with the captain.
Fridjtof shrugged. “We’re a multinational crew. He came over on a boat from Alaska over a year ago and stayed.”
“How long have you been working with him?” she asked.
“Just this voyage. Why you ask?”
“No reason. Just curious. I decided when I signed up for this summer trip to learn as much as I could about the people and cultures I encountered.”
“Good for you. Now head back to your quarters so that you will be rested when we make berth in Somalia.”
She realized Fridjtof was done with her and was on his way somewhere else.
“Good night,” she said, walking down the stairs to the corridor that led to her room.
She thought of just letting it go, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. She’d watched CNN and Sky TV. She’d seen all the news reports about the pirates that operated in this area and Laz talking to those armed men alarmed her.
The one thing that didn’t quite make sense to her was the fact that everything she’d seen or read about the piracy here in the Indian Ocean had indicated that the perpetrators were Somali. And Laz was definitely American.
She started back toward the gangway, but stopped when two of the men she’d seen on deck came down. They turned right without seeing her. She stayed where she was for a minute and then followed them.
This was silly.
She was a doctor, not a detective. But she’d been around people long enough to be able to read danger when she saw it. And she knew something about this situation just wasn’t right.
She started to go after them but then stopped. What was she going to do? They had weapons and she had none. Was she just borrowing trouble?
Maybe the men were just crew members…like a security staff to keep them safe. But if that were the case, why had Laz asked her to leave when the men came on board?
Maybe she was looking for something more than this really was, she thought. She didn’t follow the men. No matter how many bicycle circuits of her neighborhood she’d made as a preteen, she hadn’t been Nancy Drew then and she wasn’t about to become a girl detective now.
She heard the sound of voices in the galley and recognized them as two of the other members of her group. She entered the dining area, where a long table was bolted to the floor with two solid teak benches on either side.
Bob Dickerson and Franny Milanese sat close together quietly talking. They had both been on this trip before and were well aware of what was in store for their group.
“Hello, Daphne. Restless?” Bob asked. He stood as she entered the room.
She smiled to herself, touched by his old-fashioned manners. Bob was the leader of their team. His experience was a given and he was very good at putting their group at ease. Of the five of them he was the one they all seemed to look toward as the leader. “A little. I was talking to the captain up on deck.”
“You shouldn’t be on deck at night,” Franny said.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Pirates operate in this area and it’s too dangerous.”
“If they spot foreigners they will target this ship,” Bob said.
“If they target this ship it will be because it’s a tanker and its cargo is worth more money each day. Besides, everyone in the crew is foreign,” said Daphne.
“That is true,” Franny said. “But foreign—European or American—hostages fetch more money.”
“I didn’t realize that,” she said. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed down here, but it feels so closed off.”
“Yes, it does,” Bob agreed. “You’ll have a little more freedom when we arrive in Somalia.”
“I’m looking forward to that. And doing work for people who need us. I haven’t done this since I was in my first-year residency.”
Bob smiled at her. “We are so glad you decided to join us this summer. What made you change your mind?”
She shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about her personal life with Bob or Franny. “The timing seemed right. Can I ask you both about the Captain?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“When I was on deck we heard an engine approaching and he told me to come downstairs. I did but waited to see if he would need help, and…”
She wasn’t sure if she should say any more. What could Franny or Bob do to help the situation?
“Did he?”
“No. He knew the men who came on board. But he was speaking to them quietly and…they were all armed.”
Bob stood up. “I’ll go up there and see what’s going on. Daphne, you go with Franny back to our quarters. Make sure all of our group is awake. If there is a situation I want everyone ready to move.”
“Move? Move where?” she asked.
“Out of harm’s way,” Bob said.
Franny led the way out of the galley. “Do you want me to come with you, Bob?”
He shook his head.
“No, stay with the others. I think that if there are too many of us—”
“My husband—ex-husband—is a Senator. I’m pretty good in tense situations.”
“I know that, Daphne. But in this part of the world sometimes just the fact that you are a woman will work against you.”
She nodded. There was a lot of truth to what Bob was saying. She followed Franny down the lit hallway to the bunks where the rest of their team was. Rudy was already waiting for them. When she entered they were all awake and waiting.
“What’s going on? I heard a speedboat approaching on the port side.” Rudy asked.
Rudy was a nurse with their group who had been working for the last few years in South America. He said he was ready for a change of locale and had signed up to go to Africa with this group after rebels in the South American jungle had killed his girlfriend of eight years.
“I don’t like this,” he said.
“No one does. Do we have any weapons with us?” Jerry asked.
“Bob always carries a handgun in his med bag,” Franny said.
She left them to go and retrieve it.
“Where is Bob?”
“I…was up on deck and overheard the captain talking to some men. Bob went to investigate.”
“Fucking hell,” Jerry said. “I was hoping for a little adventure on this trip but not this much.”
She shook her head. Jerry was her age and from California. He was fit and tan and according to Franny was on wife number four. Daphne knew Jerry by reputation only. He was an excellent surgeon, but she’d heard he was a bit of an asshole when he wasn’t in the operating room.
Bob reentered the room. “There was no one on deck when I got up there, but I did walk the deck and saw a boat moored off the stern.”
“One of the rescue craft for this tanker?” Jerry asked.
“No. A speedboat. The captain was on the bridge talking with two men. But to be honest, at that distance I couldn’t make out if they were crew members or not.”
“Did you confront the captain?” Franny asked as she rejoined them. She handed the weapon she had to Bob. He took it and then squeezed her shoulder as if to reassure her.
“No. Listen, folks, I’m not sure what’s going on up there, but I think we need to stay alert,” Bob said.
“I agree,” Jerry said.
“Me too,” Daphne said. “But we’re not armed nor are we trained to take on pirates. I think we need a backup plan.”
“I agree,” Franny said. “We need to send a message to the DAW home office in Manhattan. They will contact the UN and send forces to protect us.”
“How will we do that?” Jerry asked. “My cell phone signal has been spotty for the last twelve hours.”
“Mine too,” Rudy said.
“We’ll have to go to the radio room and send a message,” Bob said. “Daphne, would you feel comfortable sending the message to your ex-husband? I feel like we need the U.S. State Department on this as well.”
She didn’t like the thought of turning to Paul for anything, but dying or being held hostage wasn’t like asking him to come over and help her figure out how to work the security system on her house. “Yes, I will do that.”
“But when?”
“Tomorrow,” Bob said.
They a. . .
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