Chapter 13

"Take your pants off," said a voice.

Jake looked up, dazed and lightheaded. He smiled at Gayle, "You're very pretty, but I've really got enough woman problems now without..."

Gayle wasn't listening. She was undoing Jake's belt and shucking his pants, "You're losing a lot of blood and I think you're going into shock. I need to get you bandaged up so I can move you somewhere that I can take care of the shock."

Jake nodded lazily and smiled. Gayle seemed awfully perturbed, but it wasn't touching him. He felt very... relaxed. A few moments after his eyes closed, he was awakened by a slap that felt like it was meant to take his head off.

"Christ," he said, puzzled and angry. "It was your idea to take my pants off. Remember?"

"Don't fall asleep," said Gayle loudly. "You're in danger of going into shock. If you fall asleep, you might not wake up."

Jake nodded and forced himself to focus. Taking a moment to run his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all there. Tasting copper, he said, "For someone who's afraid of blood loss, you hit me awfully hard."

"Sorry," said Gayle. "The first two were gentler."

First two? Now, Jake was alarmed. He looked down at where Gayle was working, "Is there any arterial bleeding?"

Gayle shook her head, "If there were, you'd be dead by now. I missed the femoral by nearly an inch."

Jake looked at her. Gayle had stripped off her shirt and cut most of it into neat, even ribbons which she'd laid out on the deck, ready for use. The rest she'd crumpled up and was using to staunch the bleeding. Seeing Jake glancing at them, she said, "Take off your shirt and make more. This is going to take lots of bandaging."

Jake did what he was told, not worrying about the fact that he was down to his boxer-briefs. He made long strips out of the shirt in an even, methodical fashion.

"Ioke says you're working for Thule Roemer," Gayle said.

"Yeah," said Jake. "But, I wasn't supposed to wind up getting shanghai'd. We were supposed to grab the kidnappers in Boston and... extract the information we needed from them. Instead, we got picked up along with the girls we were supposed to be protecting."

"Captain Morrison made you head of security," said Gayle. "You must have improvised well enough."

Jake shrugged. Gayle was tying the cloth she'd been using to staunch the bleeding to the wound with the long strips of cloth. He asked, "How's it going down there?"

"If you don't go into shock, you should live," said Gayle.

"Good," said Jake. "I'm feeling a little cold, but that's probably from the lack of clothing."

Gayle glanced up at him, "Once it's relatively safe for you to walk, I've got a safe spot for you to recover."

Jake's mind was working more clearly right now, "I can't lay low. Koenraad's on the verge of rebelling. I need to protect..."

"Koenraad's already mutinied," said Gayle. "He and his men used the chaos to seize the comm tower." She indicated the radio at her waist, "At least, that's what it sounds like on the radio. Go up there now and you're liable to be shot on sight."

"I need to help," said Jake. "There are a lot of innocent girls up there because I screwed up."

Gayle looked down and saw his look of determination. Sighing, she said, "Fine. I've stopped the bleeding. Why don't you go, then."

Jake scowled at her, but reached for a bulkhead and dragged himself to his knees, then to his feet. Releasing the bulkhead, he stood up unsteadily. Gayle watched him quietly. He got a half dozen steps and was about to head back onto the walkway when she said, "Don't forget your gun."

Jake cursed, turned and looked for his gun. Just the inclination of his head was enough to give him a massive case of vertigo. Reaching for the bulkhead again, he said, "Fine. Lead me to your safe room. I'll rest for a few hours."

"In a minute," said Gayle. "You're bleeding again."

"Well," said Helene. "So much for that idea."

Ioke stood next to her at the railing of the observation deck atop their quarters and frowned, hiding her relief that they weren't about to try to break into the weapons locker just yet. It was about the only relief she'd felt in the last couple of hours. Things on the Kleine Schwester had gone from dangerous to perilous.

Contrary to Helene's speculation, the hull breach had been handled mostly automatically. Instead of the men pulling together to keep the ship afloat, they had turned on each other with Koenraad using the opportunity to seize the control room at the top of the comm tower. Fortunately, he'd had fewer men loyal to him than he must have thought. They'd taken the tower, but Captain Morrison and a cadre of his own loyalists had the tower sealed off and now patrolled in its shadow on the deck.

Whatever had happened during those first few minutes after the hull breach, it had been bloody. There were a dozen corpses strewn about the deck at the base of the tower and an untold number beneath the gray waves of the South Atlantic. Ioke had seen a few bob to the surface shortly after the explosion belowdeck. She wished she knew what the numbers were at this point. Did Koenraad have a handful of loyalists or half the crew? How many were loyal to the captain? Were there men waiting to see which way the tide went before choosing sides? And where the hell was Jake in all this. For that matter, where was Gayle?

Gayle peeked her head up from the trapdoor where the ladder let out onto the deck, "Ioke, I need help. Jake's hurt."

Well, thought Ioke. That answers two questions. Then, she asked, "What's wrong with Jake?"

"I stabbed him," said Gayle quietly. "He needs medical attention. Do any of the girls have a medical background?"

"Paula, I think," said Ioke. "At least, she plans on being a doctor."

"All right," said Gayle, starting back down the ladder.

"Gayle, wait," said Ioke. When the other girl stopped moving, she said. "We need weapons. Do you know where we can get any?"

For a moment, a grin wiped away the look of concern on Gayle's face, "Yeah. I know where you can find some. Come with me."

Jake didn't know how long he had been fading in and out of consciousness when someone took him by the shoulders and shook him awake. He'd been imagining that he'd been on the beach and it was insufferably hot and humid only to wake up and discover that only the beach had been his imagination.

He was lying on a sleeping bag in a space dimly lit by what looked like mining lamps. To call it a room would have been an exaggeration. There was a gunmetal gray deck beneath the sleeping bag and a tangle of pipes on either side of him that stretched off as far as the eye could see in either direction.

Standing, sitting, and lying down in the open space around him were the women Jake had come here to rescue or inadvertently brought with him. In the oppressive heat, many of them were wearing as little as possible and all were holding some sort of weapon. Jake himself was only wearing his bloody boxer-briefs.

Looking to see who had shaken him, Jake found Helene kneeling next to him in a tiny, blue string bikini. She thrust a half-full bottle of whiskey at him, "Drink this."

He gave her a lopsided grin, "I've had this dream before."

"It sounds like he's still delusional," said Paula. Then, she smiled at Jake, "You need to drink that until you feel numb. It shouldn't take a lot with the blood you've lost. I need to stitch up your wound."

Jake nodded, trying to keep his face neutral, but found himself smiling all the same. It was hard to take your doctor too seriously when she looked like an eighteen year-old girl in a black sports bra and shiny, green thong.

"Tell me when you're ready for me to stitch," said Paula.

Jake nodded and drank as much whiskey as he dared. He didn't want to lose consciousness again. Finally, he said, "Go ahead. I think I'm ready."

He wasn't ready. The needle pierced his flesh and he bucked.

"Shit," he exclaimed. "Motherfucker. That hurt."

Paula watched him. Jake realized that she was waiting for him to tell her what to do next. Jake sighed and said, "Someone hold the leg in place. Let's get this over with."

With Helene holding the leg from across his lap and Gayle holding it from the other side, they managed to get the stitching done. By the time that they had, Jake knew he wasn't cut out for the action hero job. An action hero would have gritted his teeth and sewn himself up. He certainly wouldn't have held up whatever it was that the girls were planning in order to rescue themselves while he squirmed under the needle and held his eyes shut to try to stop the flow of tears. Ah, well. At least he'd managed to avoid throwing up from the pain.

Once he was sewn and freshly bandaged, Jake allowed himself to be levered to his feet and supported on one side by Helene.

"Where are we going?" asked Jake.

"To get dressed," said Ioke. "Then, we need to get to Captain Morrison in the comm tower and make an alliance with him so that we can get out of here."

"What?" asked at least six people at once, Jake included.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" asked Gayle. "Unless you've forgotten, your dear captain is trying to sell us into slavery."

"Obviously, not delivering us to the prince would have to be a condition of cooperation," said Ioke.

"And, just how would we enforce that condition once he regains control of the ship?" demanded Gayle. "He's still got over a hundred men loyal to him out there. Even armed, we're still outnumbered by at least six to one."

Ioke took a deep breath and fought off the urge to give an angry retort. Instead, she said, "I'm willing to listen to suggestions, Gayle."

"I've got enough explosives left to plant it under the tower and kill them all," said Gayle quietly.

"What will that do to the rest of the ship?" asked Ioke, unconsciously hugging herself against a sudden chill even though it was easily a hundred and twenty degrees down here.

"I'm not sure," admitted Gayle. "If it sinks the ship, we can get in the lifeboats and..."

"There are no lifeboats," said Ioke quietly. "Otherwise, we would have used them to escape."

"We have to try," said Gayle angrily. "All you're doing is handing us back to our captors."

"If we throw in our lot with the captain, he'll honor his end of the deal," said Ioke, frustrated.

"How do you know?" asked Gayle. When Ioke took too long to answer, she said, "For God's sake, Ioke. We're not men. Start thinking from the waist up."

Ioke reacted as if struck. When the conversation had started, most of the women had been trying to pretend to give them some privacy. Everyone was staring now, waiting to see how this would resolve.

"We're throwing in our lot with the captain," said Ioke. "End of discussion."

"Says you," said Gayle. "Why would I start following your orders now. Stay away from the tower if you know what's good for you." She started to stride off.

"Stop her," said Jake and Ioke simultaneously. Suddenly, more than a dozen weapons were raised and pointing at Gayle. They didn't rise simultaneously, but in a ragged wave. Still, Ioke was relieved to see that nearly everyone had obeyed, even the ones who'd questioned her decision earlier.

Gayle looked around, the sense of betrayal clear in her eyes. It was too much for Ioke. With a hint of pleading in her voice, she said, "Gayle, please. If you won't listen to me. Listen to Jake. He's a professional. He was hired by Sean Medeforte to rescue us."

A collective gasp went up. Most of the women hadn't known that.

Gayle still looked defiant and there was clear anger in her voice, "So was I."

Another gasp went up.

"All right," said Paula. She'd still been putting away the first aid kid. Her gun was on the deck next to her, "No more gasping. No more surprises. We need to do something and soon." She looked at Ioke and then at Gayle. "I say we take a vote." There was a soft murmur of agreement.

"No," said Ioke wearily. "No vote."

Now, everyone was staring at her again. She saw a look of approval on Jake's face and took strength from it. Looking around, she said, "No voting. We're scared and we're angry and passions are running too high to fall to mob rule. I know the captain better than any of you. I didn't choose to or go willingly. I still want to see him dead for what he did to me." She swallowed uncomfortably, "But, when I tell you he'll honor any agreement we make, it's me you're being asked to trust--not him. And I say no vote. I'm taking whoever will go with me and throwing in my lot with the captain. If anyone tries to stop us..." She looked around grimly, letting her eyes rest on Gayle, "If anyone tries to stop us, they're the enemy as much as Koenraad and his men are. And it will be a fight."

Weapons wavered. A couple were lowered. But, none swung to face Ioke. Jake thought that, were someone to step between them right now, she would be burned by the angry heat of the gaze between them.

Finally, Gayle's shoulders slumped and she said, "Count me out. But, I won't try to stop you." She turned to leave.

"Gayle," said Ioke quietly. The other woman turned to face her.

"If this works, we're going to be in and around that tower."

Gayle's chuckle was bitter, "I know. I'll find another way. And, Ioke..."

"Yes?"

"I hope to God you're right and I'm wrong," said Gayle. "Because, if it's the other way around, it's going to be up to me to get you free and I've already played all my best cards."

"I guess things worked out all right with you and Melinda last night," said Dawn as she watched Thule go over his checklist for the flight back to Hanish-Assab. When Thule looked up, a question clear on his face, she added, "I ran into her in the hall this morning when she was headed back to her room."

"Things worked out fine," said Thule. "I'm still not sure how I feel about you sending her to me last night, though."

Dawn shrugged, "Marigold and I have done it among ourselves in the past. There's no reason you should have to suffer because I'm mad at her."

Thule sighed, "I do hope you two can work something out while I'm gone."

Dawn shook her head sadly, "I wouldn't count on that if I were you. I... can't see myself being with her again any time soon."

"If that's your decision, it would qualify as 'working something out' as far as I'm concerned," said Thule. "But, I want you two to come to some sort of mutually acceptable decision soon."

"You can't order us to kiss and make up," said Dawn. Even to herself, she sounded petulant.

"And I'm not trying," said Thule, zipping up his duffel bag. "I'm not ordering anybody to do anything. I'm just not sleeping with either of you until you work things out."

"Oh..." said Dawn, shocked. Then, she asked quietly, "How is that fair?"

"Fairness," said Thule. "Is not one of my parameters for success here. I just want to know where I stand. Until I do, I'm not going to risk mucking things up worse than they are."

"But, I'm being punished for what Marigold did," complained Dawn.

Thule shook his head, "Punishment is about fairness, Wildcat. What I'm doing may be grossly unfair, but it's what I have to do."

"Damn you, Thule," said Dawn, rising. Her voice was barely about a whisper, but she wasn't able to keep all of the anger out of it. "You're going to spend the time sleeping with Melinda. Aren't you?"

Thule shook his head, "Probably not if you act quickly. I won't have time for anything but coordinating this operation for the next couple of days." He looked up, knowing she'd see the conflict in his eyes. "I'm not blackmailing you two. Regardless of anything else, I almost certainly haven't slept with Melinda for the last time. But, it's going to feel like blackmail to sleep with her until I have my answer." He lifted his duffel bag to put it in the hall, "And that's why I'm not sure how I feel about you sending her to my room last night."

"I don't understand why we're risking our lives for the dead," said Rashim, the Kleine Schwester's new first mate.

Captain Morrison looked the officer over. Rashim was not first mate material--not by a long shot. But, he was more qualified than anyone else he had left alive and the captain needed a second in command. He would not have had to explain to Jov. But, by all indications, Jov had died holding the control room from Koenraad and his thugs, giving Captain Morrison enough time to launch a rear action and pin the mutineers in place.

Not for the first time, the captain realized that Jov and the men in the tower had to know their death was coming even as they barricaded the doors against Koenraad, but they had done it anyway. There may not be honor in the conventional sense among smugglers, but there was no question in the captain's mind that those men were heroes. It was a shame that there was no one to pin a medal on their chests, even posthumously.

"Dead bodies bring disease," said the captain. "But, the real reason we're moving them is that they're making the men uncomfortable and we need them focused on their jobs."

"Foolish superstitions, eh?" said Rashim. "It shouldn't be our job as thinking men to cater to the whims of the unenlightened."

"Right now," said the captain, watching as another bright blue tarp holding one of his fallen crewmembers was hurled into the elevator shaft, "our job is keeping our highly-vaunted brains inside their brain pans so that we can go on being superior to the men who are keeping us alive."

"Ah," said Rashim, missing the subtext entirely. "Good point."

Outside, there was the sound of gunfire from above and the matching plinks and thuds as the bullets ricocheted or found purchase. Everyone hit the ground. Eventually, the firing died out.

The captain crab-walked to the door leading out onto the deck. He had men stationed in the shadow of the tower. They were still flat on their bellies. He asked one of them, "Is anyone hit?"

"No, Captain," shouted the man. "They weren't shooting at us. There's someone else moving nearby."

The captain waved for his binoculars, "Any idea who?"

"Negative," said the man. "We can't see anything from here."

The captain stared through his binoculars. For a long time, he didn't see anything. Every so often, another burst of gunfire would come from up above. Finally, someone at deck level fired back. Captain Morrison spotted the telltale muzzle flash. After that, it took only a few minutes to figure out where the other group was and spot them with his binoculars.

"Stand down," he said to his men. "Pass the word. They're coming under a flag of parley."

"Who is?" asked Rashim.

"The women," said Captain Morrison, not sure he believed it himself.

When Thule and company landed in Hanish, Akinyemi Jaz was there to meet them at the airport.

"Mr. Roemer," he said. "I trust your flight was pleasant enough."

"It was crowded," said Thule. "Even with two planes, we're moving a lot of people and equipment."

"I understand," said Akinyemi. "I hope you understand our precautions. You and your associates are to remain at the airport until the time of your operation. Rooms at the airport hotel will be provided and hangar nine is available for your equipment."

Thule came in close enough to speak privately, "I'm afraid I don't understand. Have I done something to be in the... bad graces of the people of Hanish-Assab?" He'd started to say "the queen's bad graces," but decided against it. Besides being her protector, Akinyemi was also clearly the queen's paramour. It would be impolitic to remind the man that Thule shared that status to some degree.

"No," said Akinyemi, favoring Thule with a brief smile. "It's just that your force could cause... significant disruption if it were allowed to roam free in the city. We don't have the resources free that would be necessary to keep an eye on you and, if we let you roam without supervision, it would call into question Hanish-Assab's neutrality in these matters."

"Hanish-Assab is neutral in matters of kidnapping and slavery?" asked Thule. Melinda laid a discreet hand on his shoulder in the universal gesture of "you're pushing your luck."

"Even in this," said Akinyemi Jaz. "It has always been our way to prosecute only those crimes that happen here. We do not seek to enforce everyone else's laws." He gave Thule a meaningful look, "That's why ships like the Kleine Schwester feel it is safe to come here for repairs. If we started making excuses..." He shrugged expansively, "Hanish-Assab's economy is not robust. We have more people than arable land and no oil to speak of. Without the revenue our shipyards generate, we would be in dire straits. I hope you don't think we're happy to do business with men like James Morrison."

"Of course," said Thule. "I didn't mean to... Wait. Who is James Morrison?"

"The captain of the Kleine Schwester," said Akinyemi Jaz. "And no. He's not that Jim Morrison. It is merely a coincidence."

"Mr. Jaz," said Thule, glancing over at Masha, who was trying very hard to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping on their conversation. "Would it call Hanish-Assab's neutrality into question in we were to send a single member of our party to the palace as an ambassador to extend our regrets to the king and queen that we can't attend them directly? We would hate for them to feel snubbed."

For just a moment, Akinyemi Jaz allowed himself to look surprised. Then, he smiled broadly at Thule, "No. I think that would be acceptable." He clicked his heels together and bowed, "Thank you, Mr. Roemer."

"How are they going to get to us?" asked Rashim.

Captain Morrison looked at Jake and the women where they had taken cover behind the closest container. It was only a thousand feet away. It might as well have been miles. The remaining space was open and they would certainly incur casualties trying to make a rush for it, a cost they did not seem to be willing to accept. Captain Morrison approved. There was no virtue to haste in a siege. Still, it didn't mean that the captain had to enjoy a five-hour stand-off.

To Rashim, he said, "I thought they might have been waiting for it to get dark, but that was two hours ago. Now, I have no idea. They'll likely get mowed down if they run for it. I'm sure they're up to something, though."

"Why?" asked Rashim.

"They were chosen for their intelligence... among other things," said the captain. "They've proven problematic because of that already."

It took another twenty minutes before the captain figured out what they were doing. When he did, he laughed and said, "Mortars."

"What?" asked Rashim.

"They're making mortars," said the captain. "I'm afraid to find out where they cut the pipes from, but they've got them."

"What's the payload?" asked Rashim.

"More importantly," mused the captain. "What's the propellant? It's going to be awfully hard to hit the bridge with a hand-made mortar even with the right propellant. Tell the men to start moving into the tower. I don't want them out here when those shots start missing."

The captain's words soon proved prophetic when he heard twin "thuds" of air rushing into a vacuum. The projectiles arched upward, but started to slow down much too soon to reach the bridge.

"Hit the deck," said the captain. As he was following his own order, he saw two of the women standing at least a hundred yards from where he'd expected them to be. They darted out and rolled something that looked suspiciously like hand grenades across the deck before vanishing again.

For a few seconds, the captain was convinced that he was going to die because he'd misjudged the situation. The women weren't here to parlay with him, but with Koenraad. It was a mistake on their parts, of course. But, Captain Morrison would be just as dead for it.

Then, he registered the sounds inside and out. There were a number of "thuds" and "whooshes," but nothing that sounded like a grenade going off. All around him, men were coughing. Carefully, he dared to look up. The room was full of smoke so thick he could barely see Rashim a yard away from himself.

A few second later, Ioke was crouching next to him, shouting, "Get the men outside. It's too smoky in here."

The captain turned to Rashim, "Do it. Tell them to stay close to the floor and in the shadow of the tower."

Outside, the sound of automatic gunfire came again. Koenraad's men had obviously realized what was happening. But, it appeared to be too little, too late. Ioke and her people were already here.

Thule paced the deck of the Josephine Baker, the improbably named steamer they'd hired in Port of Assab for coordinating the attack on the Kleine Schwester. Normally used to carry goods between Hanish-Assab and mainland Africa, the main deck had been converted to a war room. Two tables had been set up, one with a map of the surrounding area, the second with blueprints of the Kleine Schwester--or whatever passed for blueprints when it came to ship building. Between the tables was a small island of high-end radio and imaging gear. The men who would actually be boarding the Kleine Schwester would have the best support that money could buy.

Thule wouldn't be among them. He would be here with the support crew. In fact, he wouldn't even be lending support. He was there because he was the boss, but he'd handed off all the real decision-making to Anders back in Port of Assab. The only choice Thule had would be to scrub the mission. Obviously, it was a decision he hoped not to have to make.

When he'd talked to Anders about this, he'd been telling the truth that it didn't bother him not to be going with the strikeforce. He didn't have the skills needed and would only be a liability. But, knowing that wasn't making it any easier to stand here and wait for the raid to commence, unable to affect its outcome.

Knowing that his pacing was putting everyone on edge, Thule went to the rail to look down at the ocean as if he could see in the waves what was happening nearly ten miles away.

Melinda came up behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders, rubbing away some of the tension there, "I know this can't be easy for you. But, we've done everything to prepare your team for this assault. Now, you need to trust them to do their jobs."

Thule nodded, "I know. But... I can't do this, Melinda... not long-term, anyway. I don't have the skills today and that's making it clear to me that I need to get them. I can't just stand back and send people into danger if I'm not willing to share it."

Melinda sighed behind him, "That's very noble, Thule. But, it doesn't have to be that way. You're a good leader."

"Maybe," said Thule. "But, I'm a lousy delegator. I..."

A voice crackled over the radio, "Black Seven to Josephine Baker."

The radio operator said, "Josephine Baker here. Go ahead Black Seven."

"We have visual confirmation of smoke conditions on or near the target," said the voice over the radio that Thule now recognized as Anders. "We're going to radio silence. Contact expected in three hours fifteen minutes."

"Roger that, Black Seven," said the radio operator. "Godspeed."

"You know," said Marigold. "I've faced famine, flood, and armed insurrection in the last six months. So, why am I so scared now?"

Dawn had been working on the treadmill in the basement for the last hour and hadn't heard Marigold come up behind her. Although she wouldn't admit it, she'd been avoiding having to go start this talk. She wanted to be conciliatory, but even after she'd burned off her anger through exercise, there was still too much going on in her head to allow that. Finally, unable to take another tack, she said, "Maybe because you're clearly in the wrong this time."

"I know," said Marigold. "It's not like I can rely on righteous anger to get me through this. I screwed up, Dawn. I shouldn't have lied to you... either of you, Dawn... but particularly you. I... Thule is so difficult to deal with sometimes. I was afraid that, if I told him what I was really doing, he would demand to know why and I didn't know why. And, if I told you, you would have told Thule."

Finally, Dawn turned off the treadmill and turned to face Marigold, "Are you so sure of that? I can keep a secret, you know."

"From Thule?" asked Marigold. "Dawn, even if I thought it was fair to ask you to keep what I told you from Thule, he has a way of finding things out whether you mean to tell him or not." Before Dawn could answer, she hurried to continue, "And then, I realized he had to already know because he was spying on me and it just made me so mad that I wanted to force him to admit it. So, I pushed my luck further and further, waiting for him to crack and admit it." She gave a bitter laugh, "In hindsight, if I'd wanted to know, I bet I could have just asked, 'Thule, are you spying on me?' and he would have told me. He's like that. Isn't he?"

"This isn't about you and Thule," said Dawn quietly. "I'm not an extension of Thule, Marigold. You have to deal with me as a real person."