“Captain to the bridge, Captain to the bridge,” said Jonah into the intercom.
“Are you fucking insane?” snarled Buzz.
“What are you doing?” demanded Dr. Nassiri, horrified. This was the moment he’d dreaded — the moment when Jonah Blackwell betrayed them. It was too perfect. Dr. Nassiri kicked himself, realizing he’d allowed Jonah to set up every aspect of the operation.
“Chill out,” said Jonah. “Especially you, Buzz. Go stand in the corner and put your rifle away, you’re embarrassing yourself. Just stand there and look scary or something. And for fucks sake, lower that muzzle and don’t shoot anybody.”
Dr. Nassiri was too baffled to even react. Realizing he was now bound to Jonah’s plan, Buzz angrily lowered his assault rifle.
Jonah leaned across the control panels and picked up a pair of Leica binoculars from the dash. Looking out, it appeared that the tide was pulling them out to sea faster than he’d expected. They were now nearly a hundred and fifty meters from the dock. Security personnel milled around the empty berth, confused. Some of them waved or radioed to the patrol boats, but there was no coordination and the zodiacs had not yet mobilized after the drifting yacht.
Footsteps sounded from behind the trio. Jonah lingered on the binoculars for a few extra moments before putting them down and turning around. A befuddled captain stood in the entrance to the yacht’s bridge wearing a white terrycloth robe. His charge adrift and his bridge occupied by wetsuit-clad strangers had temporarily paralyzed his faculties. The white-bearded captain stood still at first, silent, before composing himself just enough to demand answers.
“What is this?” he shouted. “Who are you people?”
Jonah plastered a giant smile on his face and walked up to the captain.
“We’re from Global Repossession,” said Jonah, openly grinning as he gave the bullshit story. “So nice to meet you, Captain…?”
“Robinson.”
“Captain Robinson, a real pleasure. Always wish it was under different circumstances. I’m Jonah Blackwell, and I’d like to introduce you to my team, Hassan and Youssef Nassiri, the two gentlemen behind me.”
Jonah snuck a glance to see how the doctor and his cousin would react to the use of their real names. He was not disappointed; Dr. Nassiri’s was rigid with utter horror and Buzz looked angry enough to snap Jonah in half where he stood.
“Now I don’t know if you’re in the loop on this,” continued Jonah, “but the owner of this vessel is about eight months behind on payments, forcing the Royal Bahamian Bank to issue a repossession order. They subcontracted the job to Global Repossession, my employer.”
“But—” sputtered the captain.
“Nobody told you? Well, I’m afraid that’s more the rule than the exception, captain. As I’m sure you’re aware, once I’ve taken position on the bridge with a valid repossession order, I’ve established mastership of this vessel.”
“This cannot—”
“I think you’ll find all the paperwork in order,” said Jonah. He reached inside his wetsuit and produced a thick stack of soggy, dripping, illegible paperwork and slapped it on the chart table. The captain looked as if he’d just been handed a soiled diaper. He grimaced as he picked at the water-soaked documents with two pinched fingers.
“All is in order?” asked the captain, reluctant to examine the documents himself.
“Subcontracting agreement, mastership order, ship’s papers with updated ownership and licensing documentation, the works,” answered Jonah.
“Well…,” Captain Robinson said, begrudgingly resigning himself to the inevitable.
“The good news — well, not good news for the owner, but good news for you — is that the Royal Bahamian Bank has already found a potential buyer out of Dubai. This goes down smoothly and there’s a good chance you’ll be retaining this post. If you’re interested, of course.”
“I suppose—”
“But short-term, we’ve got a situation to deal with. I need the crew dressed and at muster stations in five minutes. I need everybody on the ships’ launch and back in Malta. I’ll take the Conqueror to Gibraltar to work out the last of the paperwork. Hopefully we can smooth things out to fly the crew there to meet the new owners. Sound like a plan?”
The captain crossed his arms, uncrossed them, and crossed them again.
“It’s your bridge, Captain,” said Jonah. He saluted the captain, standing at attention, waiting for him to act. Dr. Nassiri and Buzz awkwardly followed, botching the salutes in their haste. Jonah quickly motioned for the cousins to put their hands down. Dr. Nassiri complied, embarrassed.
The captain sighed, adjusted his terrycloth robe, and stepped up to the control panel. The moment his back was turned, Jonah rested his palm on the pistol. Dr. Nassiri had the distinct impression the American was ready to club the captain should he raise an alarm.
The captain stepped up to the intercom, switched the knob to general broadcast.
“Crew of the Conqueror, crew of the Conqueror, this is a general alarm,” he began.
Jonah silently unholstered the pistol, preparing for the unexpected. He hesitated, waiting to hear the captain’s next words.
“Please muster at the rear launch. Wear your emergency gear and bring all personal effects and medications necessary for the next seventy-two hours.”
Jonah reholstered and concealed the gun, both he and Dr. Nassiri sighing in relief. Buzz still looked like he could pop a blood vessel.
“Sorry I can’t allow you to pack larger bags,” said Jonah. “Can’t have the crew taking the silverware, can we? I promise we’ll catalog everything and get it to the owners. I will personally supervise the process to make sure it gets done right.”
“This isn’t the first yacht I’ve had repossessed from underneath me,” said the captain. “I understand you can’t just have us walk away with all the table settings and artwork.”
“Well, maybe a few spoons,” cracked Jonah. Both he and the captain shared a congenial laugh.
The captain exited the bridge and went below. Jonah and Dr. Nassiri looked at each other.
“So you think he believes it?” whispered Dr. Nassiri.
“As long as he doesn’t look too closely at the documents I gave him,” mumbled Jonah. “Stay on the bridge. I’m going to supervise the exit of the crew.”
On the rear deck, the well-trained crew collected by the ship’s single launch boat. Several stewards, two cooks, the engineer, and officers prepped the craft for deployment. The vessel would be crowded but serviceable. Twenty-two feet of carbon fiber and polished aluminum, she was custom-designed to complement her mothership. The crew of the Conqueror boarded and Jonah began the automated launch sequence. Two large winches slowly rose from their hidden compartments in the deck, lowering the lifeboat over the side and into the ocean by two thin woven-steel cables.
The now-former captain of the Conqueror unrolled the soggy documents into his hands and absentmindedly examined them. He started slowly at first, and then rapidly, angrily shuffled through the papers.
“These… these… are menus!” he shouted at Jonah from across the narrow chasm.
Jonah pressed the emergency release and the tender dropped the last four and a half feet into the waves, knocking every crewman to the deck as the launch splashed down in the ocean. Jonah sprinted back to the bridge, took the center console and began the engine startup sequence.
“That was somewhat brilliant,” said Dr. Nassiri grudgingly as he took the chair to Jonah’s left.
“Yeah, never steal something with a gun that you can steal with paperwork,” said Jonah. “Buzz, how are we doing here?”