Dangerous Alliance, page 9
“Appears the squall will pass to the south before we reach the area.” Trevor shook his head. “Hope so—never did like rollercoasters.” He glanced at his watch. “Time for me to make contact. See you at breakfast.”
Trevor returned to his cabin. Though designed for two, he was the sole occupant. He powered up his satellite phone and iPad. After typing a brief message, he used a USB cable to connect the units. He aimed his phone out the window and at the horizon, receiving a satisfying beep when he established connectivity. It took milliseconds to transmit his message.
To: Topaz
From: Black
Deployment underway. Now in the Med—nothing to report at this time.
***
Two days later, the Ventrusco approached Port Said. The ship maneuvered to an open berth in the container terminal. Once secured, crew hustled to the top level of containers. A crane hovered above, waiting for connection to the first one.
“Vieni qui! (Come here!)” Luigi waved his arms. Men swarmed like bees to unhook and remove straps, waiting for the crane to select their container. Once connected, they stepped aside as the hoist pulled the heavy load skyward and swung it onto a waiting flatbed truck.
The crane removed several more containers, only to replace them with new ones bound for Mombasa and South Africa.
This activity mesmerized those watching. “Can’t believe how efficient the crane and crew worked today.” Trevor turned around as someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“You and Marco go to the refrigerated hold. There’s another container to unload.” Luigi handed Trevor a piece of paper with a number scrawled in block letters.
Trevor and Marco headed into their designated work area to prepare the specified container. Trevor disconnected the cooling pipes from his side, waiting for Marco to finish.
A piercing scream rose above the hold’s normal noises. Trevor dropped the cable he held and rushed to the source.
Marco lay on the deck, writhing in pain, his hands clenched to his face. An errant hose splashed coolant on him, saturating his clothing.
Trevor hit a red emergency button on the bulkhead by the entry hatch, summoning help while he traced the hose to a shutoff valve. Once the deluge ceased, he rushed back. Stripping off his shirt, he used it to wipe Marco’s exposed skin.
By this time, Luigi and several crew members had arrived. One opened a first aid cabinet and two men treated Marco. Two others readied a stretcher to take him topside.
Luigi approached Trevor. “What happened?”
“No idea. I disconnected the hose on my side and waited for Marco. The next thing, he screamed.”
Luigi nodded. “This happened before. Fast action by crew should mean minor but painful injury—I hope.”
“Is there an—” Trevor glanced behind Luigi and caught a glimpse of a long shadow ascending the stairs in the back of the hold. The shadow disappeared, and Trevor focused on Luigi.
“Step back.” He pointed upward as the crane lowered its boom to grab the container. Once lifted clear of the hold, Luigi stepped closer to Trevor.
“An ambulance is on the way. Marco will remain in Port Said until we return. I’ll work with you until a replacement arrives. Perhaps tomorrow.”
***
Late in the afternoon, as the workday finished, Trevor headed off the ship to a nearby food stand. After he had grabbed a bite and a Coke, Trevor found the other Bedlam members gathered around a rickety table.
His demeanor casual, he scanned the area for eavesdroppers before addressing his team. “At first I thought an accident led to Marco’s injury—there appeared to be a damaged area on one side of the hose. Now, I’m not sure. Before the crew put Marco on a stretcher and moved him, I caught a glimpse of a man heading up the back stairwell. If the person was a member of the crew, wouldn’t curiosity bring him to the scene to find out what happened? Did he sabotage the hose?”
“Ag, perhaps so.” Gerhard waved a beefy arm in the air. “But not if he caused the accident.”
Before turning out his light, Trevor sent a short message.
To: Topaz
From: Black
Arrived Port Said today. Italian partner injured in accident. Foul play cannot be ruled out.
Trevor spent the night tossing and turning, replaying the scene. Can’t figure out what happened. First, the incident with Gerhard and now this. Too close for comfort.
Morning came too early. Trevor slapped at the offending alarm, bringing calm to his cabin. He dragged himself out of bed and stood in the shower for two minutes. After he dressed, he headed for breakfast. When he entered the canteen, Luigi called him over.
A slender man with curly black hair stood with him. “Trevor, meet your new partner. This is Rooble.”
Trevor shook the extended hand. “Hello, call me Trev. Where’re you from?”
“Somalia.”
Chapter Twelve
An Abandoned Warehouse
Victoria, Seychelles
A man slumped on the concrete floor stirred. He raised his head and an eye eased open. Light filtered through narrow slats nailed across the window. Dust particles shimmered in the sun’s beams.
He pushed himself to a kneeling position. A whimper escaped from swollen lips. He touched his face. Dried blood crusted his upper lip. He collapsed.
***
Soo awoke to darkness. Something scurried across the floor. A blanket was draped over him. Underneath—naked. He passed out again.
***
After he regained consciousness, a ceiling fixture bathed the room in light. Next to him, a cup of water, a hunk of bread, and some cooked rice.
He drank half of the lukewarm water. He wet his fingers and dabbed around his nose and mouth to rinse off the dried blood. Voices in the distance—strange, yet familiar.
Soo struggled to his feet. He wrapped the green blanket closer and glanced around the room. A closed gunmetal gray door was centered on the wall opposite the blocked window. Near the door, an armless chair, his clothes in a neat stack.
In the distance, a door slammed. Footsteps. Voices. Growing louder.
He hobbled to the chair, picked up his clothes, and dressed. As he finished, someone banged on the door. A key turned in the lock and the door swung open.
Soo stood in the middle of the room, his right shoulder slumped. No longer naked, his normal haughtiness returned and he clenched his fists. "What's the meaning of this? Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?"
Four beefy men formed a semi-circle in front of him, faces hidden behind latex party masks. One retrieved the chair, placing it under the light. "Sit."
Soo remained standing, testing them.
"Sit. Down. Now. Or my colleague will assist you." The speaker pointed to an associate, twice the size of Soo, muscles pushing at the seams of his clothing. "He won't be gentle like me." He spoke to Soo in stilted Korean, as if it wasn’t his native language.
Soo dropped into the chair, keeping his eyes focused on the speaker. "I demand you let me go. I’ll see you are rewarded."
"You're in no position to demand anything. I'll ask you questions. You'll answer them. If I don't like the answers—" He nodded toward the muscle-bound man. "He’ll help you."
Soo stared back. Bile rose in his throat—he swallowed, almost gagging, as he forced the sour taste down.
"First question—why are you here?"
"I'm on vacation."
The leader glanced at the behemoth who had moved behind Soo. The leader nodded again.
Soo's head whipped to the side as a massive fist smacked him. His cheek stung from the blow and his jaw ached.
"I’ll ask again. Why are you here?"
Afraid of another blow, Soo cringed in the chair. "I-I'm meeting someone. A friend."
"Who's this friend?"
"S-she. He's helping me with a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
"Personal."
The leader glanced beyond Soo.
The chair yanked from under him, Soo collapsed on the floor. Unprepared for another blow, Soo gasped, and clutched at the sharp pain surging through his side.
“You want another kick?”
The chair yanked upright, Soo was hauled back to a sitting position.
"Well?"
"M-my wife, sons. Taken from me. He will help me get them back."
“Who took them?”
“Supreme Leader … Wook Sung.” The bastard.
The man pulled out a cell phone and typed a text. He glanced back at Soo.
“Who’ll help you? How? Why?”
Soo rocked back at the rapid-fire questions. How much should I say? Will it matter?
Something hard smacked his head, knocking him out of his reverie. Tears formed. He shook his head.
“I asked questions. Have you forgotten the rules of the game? Answer. Now!” He gave a nod for another blow.
Soo wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Dacar—the man’s name is Dacar. H-he’s a pirate. He hijacks tankers in exchange for weapons.”
“Why?”
“North Korea needs oil. We’ve asked our friends—no one will help us. I-If Wook wasn’t blackmailing me with my family’s lives, I wouldn’t help him.” I wouldn’t be in this situation, either.
Silence. Black piercing eyes. A nod.
He cringed in anticipation of another blow. Nothing happened.
The leader strode out the door. The others followed, giving Soo threatening glances as they left. The key turned in the lock and their footsteps faded in the distance.
Soo waited, in case this was a trick and they returned. He leaned forward in the chair, elbows on knees, and stared at the floor. Did I give too much away? What if this is all set up by the Supreme Leader? If he's testing my loyalty then I just failed. I panicked.
The filament in the light bulb popped—darkness descended.
Soo lay on the floor, dragged the blanket over him, and sobbed.
What seemed like hours later, a key rattled and two men entered. One carried a flashlight, the other a stepladder.
They replaced the bulb and left.
They didn't turn the key. A test?
Soo edged toward the door. He reached for the handle as four masked men barged into the room.
"Where do you think you're going? Sit down."
He complied with the demand, draping the blanket around his shoulders. Drained, Soo had nothing left in him to ward off any further punishment. He groaned in despair and clutched his head. Is this the end?
“I’ve checked your information. You’ve done well by not lying.” The leader waved the others forward.
A short man held a small leather pouch while another approached Soo. He stood and backed away when the muscle-bound man grabbed him in a bear hug. He grabbed one of Soo’s arms and forced a sleeve up.
The man with the pouch pulled out a syringe. He pulled the cap off the needle and checked for air bubbles.
Soo struggled but couldn’t break free.
Satisfied there wasn’t any air in the syringe, the short man jammed the needle into Soo’s arm and shoved the plunger until the liquid emptied into his veins.
He felt faint, his thoughts drifting away—a sense of falling. Soo collapsed.
***
For four days, Major Kim scurried about the streets of Victoria. Like a lost soul, he haunted the bars, restaurants, hotels, and shops as he searched for his missing charge. He asked taxi drivers and spoke to passing tourists. No sign of Soo—anywhere.
Kim spent twenty hours a day, pausing for a few hours of restless sleep in the middle of the night. Exhausted, dark circles formed under his eyes. He had lost weight.
“If he’s not dead when I find him, he will be,” Kim muttered and grimaced as he realized the irony of his words. “I must find him before Wook questions our time away. Hope he believes we can’t do anything until Dacar's group lets us know if the new arrangement is acceptable to them.”
Kim wandered down a street, glancing left and right, hoping to spot Soo. His stomach rumbled when he neared the Lai Lam Food Shop. He approached the take-out window and ordered shredded chicken cooked in sesame oil and noodles. Armed with his first meal in almost two days, he sat on a nearby bench.
He devoured his food with the chopsticks, savoring the delightful aroma as he filled his gnawing stomach. Once satiated, he rested the empty container on the bench and leaned back. Something tugged at the corners of his mind.
This bench—Soo sat here when he disappeared. Except for his Ray-Bans, no sign of a struggle. Did he wander off and get mugged? Or did someone grab him?
Kim knelt by the bench and checked the area. Some garbage had been caught along the legs but nothing worthwhile. He stood, tossed his container in a nearby receptacle, and scanned the area.
He strolled toward the Victoria Botanical Gardens. Perhaps Dacar is in his apartment. Walking up to the building’s entrance, he tried the handle. Open. The janitor would be in prison back home for such negligence.
He climbed the stairs and edged toward Dacar’s apartment. He checked the door—locked. Kim tapped but no answer. He knocked harder.
No response.
Kim glanced around but there was no one. Pulling out a small burglar’s kit, he picked the lock, and entered. A quick check confirmed an empty apartment. Basic furnishings and a few personal items, indicated occasional use.
Kim headed toward the door when he spotted a photograph stuffed partway inside a book on the coffee table. He grasped the picture and tugged, a second one fell out. Both showed Soo wearing his Ray-Bans and Panama hat. One when they left the airport, and the other as they entered their hotel. Who took these?
He searched the room, checking for further evidence. He found a large unsealed envelope taped underneath the coffee table. Inside, more photos of Soo at various locations around Victoria.
A smaller envelope was inside the larger one. Kim opened this and found his own face staring back at him. Three photos, including one when he found Soo’s sunglasses under the bench.
Kim stuffed the pictures back in their respective envelopes, replaced them under the coffee table, and left the apartment. Reaching the building’s front door, he peered outside. Nearby pedestrians appeared occupied with their own business, and he didn’t spot anyone sitting in any of the cars parked nearby, so he left, heading toward the park.
He sat on the grass and leaned against a tree. Who’s helping Dacar? Were we set up? Where’s Soo?
He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on events which took place between their arrival and Soo’s disappearance. Did I miss surveillance? If so, who? Kim’s eyes snapped open. Soo! Did he meet with someone when he left the hotel and went for a walk?
Kim stood and resumed his search. I better find him. No telling what Wook will do to me if I don’t. Pessimistic about the odds of finding him, he retraced their journey through the gardens. He stepped into a small grotto, an area Soo had enjoyed. On a bench shrouded by leafy branches from Coco de Mer palms, someone slept.
He turned to leave and stopped. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a bundle squeezed between two of the palms. He circled the bench, moving closer.
A man, dressed in dark clothing and covered in a green blanket with scattered dark brown splotches lay on the mulch, his head resting against a palm tree.
Kim bent down. Part of the blanket covered the man’s face. He pulled it aside—and gasped. Who is it?
He pulled the blanket away.
“Soo!”
Battered, bruised, but still with a pulse. Kim tapped Soo’s face—no response. He grasped him by the shoulders and gave a light shake. Soo’s head moved and his face twitched, before his hand reached out and grabbed Kim’s arm.
“Help. Me.” Soo’s hand fell to the ground.
Kim glanced around the area. The man on the bench groaned and appeared to be passed out, two empty wine bottles held in his arms. No one else around, Kim helped Soo to his feet and half-dragged him out of the palms.
He leaned Soo in a more comfortable position against a tall, leafy tree and dashed to a nearby pond. He pulled an unused handkerchief from a pocket, soaked the cloth, and ran back.
Kim dabbed at Soo’s face, removing dried blood, grass, and soil. The water stimulated Soo, who opened his eyes and stared at his savior.
“T-hey took me. I-I don’t know where.” Soo gasped for air before shaking his head. “I told them nothing.”
“Questions later. We’ll go to my room and more first aid.” He helped Soo to his feet. “Food, too. For both of us.”
Together, the men lurched toward the park’s exit. Kim found an empty bench and helped Soo to sit. He stepped into the street and flagged a taxi. The driver pulled over to the curb.
“Help me with my friend.” Kim pointed to the bench. “I think today’s excursion in this heat was too much for him. We must return to our hotel.”
Thirty minutes later, Kim guided Soo into the room, aided by the taxi driver. After giving the man a generous tip—by North Korean standards—Kim closed the door.
“Thank you, Kim.” Soo’s pallor returned to its more normal condition. “I’m feeling better. I’m hungry and thirsty.”
“There is a store nearby. I’ll buy some fruit, bread, cheese, and water. Stay in the room—don’t open the door unless you hear my voice.”
When Kim returned, he knocked on the door—twice. Soo let Kim into the room, rubbed his eyes, and yawned.
“Didn’t I tell you not to open the door until you hear my voice?” Kim glared at Soo and shook his head.
“I … uh … forgot. What did you bring?”
“Nothing fancy, but the fruit and cheese will give you energy. Tell me what happened.”
Soo rubbed his arm where he received the injection. Bruised tissue surrounded a red welt. “I sat on the bench by the Lai Lam Food Shop waiting for your return. A man stopped in front of me. Before I knew, someone from behind pulled a black bag over my head. My glasses fell to the ground.”
“What happened next?”
“They pulled me to my feet and marched me away. A car door opened and they shoved me inside. Some time later, they dragged me out and threw me into a cold room. I have no idea where.” Soo hung his head. “T-they beat me. Asked me questions. If they didn’t like my answers, they hit or kicked me.”
