The First World’s version of the car bomb.
The inevitable coffee and hot water urns had been set up beside the entry hatch. Amanda paused and rummaged among the selection of foil-wrapped tea bags in the small white crockery dish. Lipton wasn’t Earl Grey but it would do. She built herself a cup.
The elevated Captain’s chair was located in the center of the compartment, just behind the combat helm and tactical officer’s station. As it had always been aboard the old Duke, it was facing aft ready to receive her. She settled in and gave the shove with one foot that swiveled it to face the Alpha display. The pivot was still a bit stiff, but it would loosen up with time.
Amanda closed her eyes, just for a second. She was a ship’s captain again, not a mere senior tactical officer – and it felt very good.
Her exec came up to her side, passing her a loaded work pad. “Good morning, ma’am. Here are the division officer’s reviews on yesterday’s drill sequences. Looks promising.”
“We’re getting there, Dix, but we can always do better.” She crossed her legs and tilted the chair back, taking her first sip out of the
steaming mug. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It’s a beautiful day topside. Let’s see what we can do to improve on it.”
Somewhere in the Moluku Island Group
The Indonesian Archipelago
1737 Hours; Zone Time, October 22, 2008
Slowly, Makara Harconan worked his way through the pile of color printer downloads. Taken from several angles and distances, they were photographs of a large black-hulled merchant ship resting at anchor. One of them displayed the name and homeport across the stern.
“The Galaxy Shenandoah,” he mused. “What do we have on her, Lo?”
“An OB class bulk carrier rated for general cargos,” his factotum replied from across the table. “According to Jane’s All the World’s Merchant Vessels, she was launched in 1992 for the Nordkapp Shipping Combine. She’s out of a Finnish yard and, as originally built, she was a fifty-five
thousand-ton Panamax with MAN maritime diesel propulsion and an
ice-strengthened hull for Arctic work. Up until three years ago, she sailed
under the Norwegian flag as the Nordkapp Sif.”
“And then?”
“She suffered a major engine room fire while in port in Goa, India, and was put
up for sale. Approximately two years ago, the hulk was purchased by the Galaxy
Maritime Consortium and totally refurbished in the Sanyo yards in Japan. She
was rebuilt with twin screws and Caterpillar/GE diesel electric propulsion, her
hull was lengthened and her displacement increased to some sixty-six thousand
tons. Currently, she’s on her initial voyage under the colors of the Galaxy line.”
“And what do we have on Galaxy Maritime?” Harconan lifted his chilled glass of Dutch lager and took a thoughtful sip. The afternoon shadows were striking across the lanai and, while the day’s heat still lay over the island, the promise of evening had drawn the bite from it.
“A small American firm,” Lo replied, “organized approximately ten years ago by a group of retired US naval officers.
It uses a Panamanian flag of convenience, but the company headquarters is
located in Boston, Massachusetts. The firm owns three other vessels, two
handimax tankers on the African and Persian Gulf oil routes and a single
handimax containership working a schedule of the lesser ports on the Pacific
Rim. The Galaxy Shenandoah is the largest and newest addition to their fleet. As for the Galaxy Maritime
Consortium, it appears to be a conservative, well-run firm, apparently
profitable. Its stock is not being traded on the open market at this time.”
“I see.” Harconan took up the last photograph in the file. It had been taken with a powerful telephoto lens and was slightly blurred, as if the camera mount had been unsteady.
Even so, Amanda Garrett’s amber-red hair and intent, elegant features were unmistakable. She wore a merchant mariner’s uniform and the Captain’s bars on her shoulder straps were also unmistakable.
She stood on the bridge wing of her new ship, one hand resting on the rail, looking directly into the camera lens, her eyes narrowed slightly as though she might be studying the distant Bugi prahu that carried the cameraman.
A vessel like the Galaxy Shenandoah would be easy meat for his finely-honed pirate crews, especially when loitering at anchor as this one was. He merely had to reach out his hand to possess her again.
So very easy.
Or so it would seem.
“What have we learned about Captain Garrett’s forced retirement, Lo?”
“A fragmentary story has reached the American media concerning Captain Garrett’s capture and imprisonment by our forces, the inclination of the story being
that her capture was due to certain errors in judgment on her part. Her
resulting rescue placed US military personnel unnecessarily at risk and the
blame for the casualties incurred has been placed at her feet. It is believed
that, given her past services to her nation, she was offered an early
retirement as an alternative to facing the ignominy of a court-martial for her
actions. This is a procedure not unknown within the American military.”
“And nothing further?” Harconan queried.
“It’s reported that Captain Garrett has formally accepted all responsibility for the
debacle and her professional and political enemies appear assuaged by her
retirement. The story caused something of a flurry at the time of its release,
but the American media and public tend to rapidly lose interest in the
intricacies of military affairs.”
Harconan continued his study of the photograph. It was only a single, simple picture – and yet he sensed an incongruity. The taipan was a master at targeting the weaknesses and vulnerabilities of an opponent and this was not a picture of either an embittered or a defeated person. In Amanda’s posture, her expression, her aura, it simply wasn’t there.
This was an individual not easily beaten. Once, by sheer luck, he had taken her prisoner for a time – but only after she had pierced his organization and shaken it to its very foundations. Even after the capture, after she had been spirited away, rendered theoretically helpless and stripped of every conceivable asset, she had still called hellfire down on him, destroying his most impregnable base.
She could have fought any court martial in the world to a standstill with what she had accomplished against him.
Could it be what she had done with him then? Did she fear that it might be learned that they had become lovers for a time?
Harconan found himself shaking his head and grinning wryly. Amanda Garrett had as little to be ashamed of in bed as she had on the battlefield. If challenged on the point, she wouldn’t flinch from that confrontation either.
“What do you think, bapak? What is your opinion of Captain Garrett’s return to our waters?”
The creases in Lo’s weathered face deepened in concentration. “There is no evidence of a concrete nature that Captain Garrett, her ship, or the
company that owns it and employs her is anything but as represented,” he said finally. “The chain of events that returned her here is also plausible. There is no overt
reason that all things could not be as it appears. However, I must state that I
find it excessively … convenient.”
Harconan nodded. “I agree. It’s very convenient indeed.”
Far too fast and far too convenient. Things are definitely not as they seem. You have a plan, my queen. You’re trying to beguile me once more.
Damn this woman and damn himself for a fool for ever seeking to possess her.
He could feel those large golden eyes peering at him, amused and calculating and he could recognize the extrapolations of her planning. She knew that he would sense the trap in her “convenient” presence. She would know that the sane thing for him to do would be to stay as far away from her as humanly possible. But she would also know that her flagrant presence would represent a nearly irresistible challenge, the equivalent of a slap across the face to a regency dandy.
I am here on your doorstep, Corsair. Come dare the dance with me one more time.
A voice of sanity countered these thoughts, telling him not to be a fool, that he had greater prizes in sight.
Perhaps so, but Amanda Garrett had learned the nature of his personal beast too well. She knew that Makara Harconan would always want it all.
