Hayes lowered the binoculars and turned to a pair of men dressed in conservative dark business suits.
“Gentlemen,” Hayes said in his soft Louisiana drawl, “With your permission, I will proceed with the next phase of the demonstration.”
The older of the two men was Hank Spence, the razor-eyed CEO of the shipping company that owned the cargo ship. His young assistant was Skyler Horton, a graduate of the Harvard Business School.
“Go ahead,” Spence said with no change in his flinty expression.
Hayes nodded and turned to the ship’s commander, a veteran skipper named Rollins. “Please proceed with the new defensive protocol, captain.”
Rollins called the engine room and ordered full stop. The ship coasted several hundred yards before its weight and hull resistance overcame the momentum carrying it forward. As the ship lay dead in the water, the powerboat darted in.
Hayes turned back to Spence and Horton.
“Here’s how the scene typically plays out in a pirate attack. The pirates shoot a real projectile across the bow, not a rocket I picked up in a fireworks shop. Then they board the stopped ship. They corral the crew, take the captain hostage and order him to bring the ship closer to land where it can be looted while ransom is being negotiated. Eventually the crew and ship may be released, but the cargo will go to the four winds.” He paused for drama. “Unless you hire Secure Ocean Services to protect your investment. I’ll let the captain take it from here.”
Rollins picked up a microphone that would carry his orders to all parts of the ship.
“This is the captain speaking. All hands to the safe room.” He repeated the order two more times, then said, “If you’ll excuse us.” He and his officers left the bridge in a disciplined fashion.
“Where are they going?” Spence said.
“They will join the rest of the crew in a high-security compartment. They have supplies for two weeks and communication with the outside world.” He glanced out one of the big windows that wrapped around the pilot house. “The pirate grapples are hooked onto the port rail. We’re about to have company.”
Four men climbed over the rail. They were dressed in shorts and T-shirts, the standard uniform of Somali pirates, and wore rags around their heads. As the men slipped automatic weapons off their shoulders, the ship’s engines restarted and the cargo vessel began to move.
“Forgot to mention that the captain can control the ship from the secure room,” Hayes said.
“So what?” Spence said. “Those guys will get back in their boat and sink the ship with their rockets.”
“Not if you’ve hired my company,” Hayes said. He raised the radio to his lips and uttered one word. “Now.”
The pirates had started across the deck toward the base of the bridge tower. They walked single file, AK-47s at waist level. Halfway to their destination, the last man in line crumpled to the deck. Then the pirate leader and the two men behind him collapsed like air dolls that had sprung a leak.
Spence stared at the four bodies splayed on the deck.
“What the hell just happened?”
“A two-man sniper team with sound-suppressed weapons took them out. In a real attack, the sniper team next would have gone after the man in the boat before he could get away or send a message to his friends. We would continue safely on our way, the ship effectively sanitized.”
“Sanitized?” Spence said.
Hayes nodded. “The bodies would disappear. Word would get around pirate circles that it is unlucky to attack your ships. We’ve even thought about putting a decal of some sort on the hull to warn that a ship is ‘pirate proof.’ Maybe a skull and crossbones inside a circle with a crossbar.”
Spence studied Cal’s face. “You’re not being facetious,” he said.
“Not at all. We do whatever is in the best interests of our clients.”
“By putting a gang of hired killers aboard their ships? Making bodies disappear?”
Hayes said, “My company is sensitive to the reputation of its clients. But the alternative is losing ships and cargo.”
“That’s why we pay the big insurance premiums, to cover our losses from these ragged-assed bastards. Ships and cargo are expendable.”
“What about officers and crew?”
“Like I said, expendable.”
Hayes pondered the answer. “I understand you built your company from scratch.”
“Damn right! Started with one old rust-bucket bought at auction and turned it into an international fleet of top-notch vessels. What’s that got to do with anything?”
Hayes smiled. He was ready to close the deal.
“I don’t see you letting a bunch of ragged-assed bastards take your hard-earned ships without a fight. Tell you what. Let’s put a team on one of your ships. Give it a test. I’ll even foot the bill up front for the safe room. Run the ship through pirate territory. See how things work out. I can have a team anywhere in the world within 48-hours.”
“You think I’m crazy enough to risk one of my ships?”
Hayes said nothing.
“Damned if I’ll have anything to do with cold-blooded murder,” Spence said. He gave his assistant a tight smile and stalked off.
Horton seemed unperturbed. “It’s okay,” he said to Hayes. “He’s just covering his rear end. He wants to make a deal. What’s it going to cost us?”
“The cost varies according to the size of the ship and the team. On a bigger ship you might want to have four snipers.” He threw out a couple of figures. “I’ll throw the hull decal in for free.”
They dickered over price for a few minutes before reaching an agreement, and Horton left the bridge to find his boss. Hayes made a quick phone call to alert his home office in Bethesda that he’d secured another deal.
Business was good. Every time a pirate incident hit the headlines, he gained a client. The ragged-assed bastards had made it possible for Hayes to afford his eight-hundred-dollar suit, two-hundred-mile-per-hour Bentley Cabrio, and fast boat.
He was reaching for a microphone to tell the captain to come back to the bridge when his phone chirped. When he answered it, the voice at the other end said, “You still make the best gumbo in Louisiana, Cal?”
He brushed back non-existent hair from his shaved scalp. “Damn. Is that you, Hawk?”
“In the flesh. Maybe a little more of it around the middle than when you last saw me. How long has it been? Four years?”
“Give or take a day or two.”
The call triggered a reverse switch in Cal’s brain and he flashed back to a white light and loud explosion and broken men lying on the ground. He’d been deafened by the blast, but he could see their soundless screams. He swallowed hard.
“I still get flashbacks, Hawk.”
“Me too. Memory is a wonderful thing. I’ve heard there’s a pill that can wipe the brain clean of bad recollections.”
“I wouldn’t want to wipe out all my memories. We had some good times, man.”
“That we did. How’s business?”
“Can’t complain. I’ve got job security as long as there are bad guys out there. Drive a hot car. Live in a trophy house. Alone, unfortunately. My wife gets the big alimony payments.” He paused. “I owe everything to you, Hawk. You took the hit for me.”
Hawkins chuckled softly. “My act of heroism was entirely involuntary, Cal. I didn’t go out of my way to set off that IED.”
“I didn’t get your back, man.”