The distance between the two boats had halved, when the trawler's crewman turned back to the flagpole, swiftly lowered the red distress pennant and raised a square flag in its place. This one was black, except for the grinning skull and crossbones in the center of its field.
"You gotta be kidding me," said Remo to nobody, then turned to get Chiun.
"Stay where you are!"
Pablo Altamira's voice was no real shock to Remo. Neither was the pistol in his hand, its muzzle held rock steady at Remo's chest.
"Can we talk about this?" Remo asked the slim Dominican.
"Indeed we can-and will," said Pablo, grinning brightly now. "My friends will be most happy to discuss the situation with you. In the meantime, though, while we are waiting for them, please do nothing stupid that will make me kill you. Por favor?"
Chapter 11
"She don't look all that rich to me," the first mate said.
"Nobody asked you, Wink," Billy Teach replied.
"No, sir."
The first mate's given name was Lester Suff, but that would never do among the rowdy boys. They called him Wink because he had a nervous tic that made his left eye twitch an average of twice a minute, giving him the aspect of a chronic winker. It wasn't a bad nickname, as pirate handles went: less fearsome than a few, less embarrassing than most.
Wink didn't know what he was talking about, either. The cabin cruiser looked tame enough, but Teach could read the signs of her subtle luxury. He saw hand-hewed teak rails on the inner decks, and enough antennas for a small television studio. She wasn't flashy, but the Melody was worth big, big bucks.
It had better be, Teach thought. Better be worth the risk.
The word had come from port, their man in Puerta Plata, and it had been Teach's task to take the trawler out to sea. Most of his crew were concealed belowdecks, sweating in the hold and clutching weapons as they struck an intercepting course.
With this crew of merciless rabble, taking the floating puss parlor named the Melody would be a piece of cake-unlike the deadly and unexpected encounter of the night before.
They had run into the small, utilitarian craft almost by accident. Teach had been planning to leave it alone, but the men on the small boat had other plans. They had approached Teach's ship. To flee would have invited suspicion-and it turned out, these were very suspicious boaters.
They weren't suspicious anymore.
They were closing on the Melody now, their Jolly Roger flapping in the breeze, and Teach's men were lined up on the deck just like a proper firing squad, prepared to spray the yacht with bullets if their man on board couldn't control the passengers.
If anyone had asked for his opinion, Billy Teach would have informed them that he didn't care so much for planting men aboard the boats they meant to raid. His reasons were twofold. First, you couldn't really trust another pirate much beyond your line of sight, and he was always worried that the men they sent ashore to work as plants would turn somehow, betray them to the law, or else go into business for themselves. It hadn't happened so far, but there was a first time for everything, and it made Billy nervous. The second reason was that he preferred the old ways, coming at your target in a rush, catching him unawares if possible, or else compelling him by brute force to submit. It felt wrong, somehow, when the work was more than half done by a single man on board the target vessel, and the raiders hadn't even stepped aboard yet. Where was the adventure, then? The risk? The rush of spilling blood in combat?
He recognized the need for bloody action as a failing of his own. God knew, Kidd had reminded him of that time and again, telling him that the smart thief was the one who bagged his loot without a struggle, then disposed of witnesses as quickly and efficiently as possible. No fuss, no muss. Each time potential targets were engaged in combat, there was risk to Billy's crew, to Teach himself-and all for what? The path of least resistance was the road of preference for wily buccaneers, and those who lived to see old age would verify that fact.
Teach knew all that, and still he missed the action on an easy raid. Perhaps this time they would get lucky. Maybe someone on the tub they were about to loot would have more balls than brains and try to make a fight of it.
On the other hand, there were incidents like their predawn encounter. Those men had been nosy and stupid, a combination sure to get you killed. And it did get them killed. But the killing had been simple butchery. Very efficient, over within seconds and not very exciting.
Teach kept his fingers crossed and manned the railing as his first mate steered the trawler close enough for them to board the Melody. A sickly sweet name that was, but he reckoned the Colombians would change it soon enough if they agreed to buy the cabin cruiser. There was little fear that they would turn it down, given the way Ramirez and his people went through boats on smuggling runs to the United States. Between the Coast Guard, DEA and mainland hijackers, the cocaine barons never seemed to have sufficient vessels to fulfill their needs.
Three men were waiting for Teach at the Melody's starboard railing. One of them he recognized, if only vaguely, as their inside man. His name was Paco something, Billy thought, but it made no real difference. The only thing that mattered was that he had done his job, keeping the others covered, making sure they offered no resistance to the boarding party. Too bad.
Checking out the other two, Teach had to smile. In fact, it was an effort not to laugh out loud. The taller of the men looked soft, as tourists often did, more suited to a desk job than to a sailing tour of the treacherous Caribbean. Teach would have bet his share of any loot they found aboard the cabin cruiser that her skipper had soft hands, together with a yellow streak that ran the full length of his spine.
It was the Melody's second passenger who made Teach want to crow with laughter as they pulled alongside and prepared to board. He was an ancient Asian, possibly Chinese, whose few remaining strands of hair were baby fine, stirred by a breeze that wafted from the south. He wore some kind of robe that looked as if it were made of silk. Long sleeves almost concealed the old man's hands, but Teach could tell that he was scrawny in the Asian style, a stringy skeleton wrapped up in yellow skin. The man had to be a hundred, and he probably weighed less than that.
Some kind of servant, Teach decided. Probably the cook. It gave him hope if these two landlubbers were rich enough to drag a Chinese cook along with them when they went on vacation. That could mean there was cash aboard the Melody, perhaps with some expensive jewelry for dessert.
"Ahoy, there!" he called out to Paco something at the rail.
The young man raised his free hand in a kind of vague salute, keeping his pistol trained on Melody's passengers. "We ready for joo," he replied. "But there's a problem. I cannot find the woman!"
"Can't find the woman?" Teach knew the younger man was supposed to have his wife on board. His blood chilled slightly.
"We'll find her!" Wink shouted.
"Hold, dogs!" Teach commanded, and suddenly an odd stillness fell among the expectant, rambunctious crew. "Describe this woman!" Teach shouted.
"CAN WE KILL THEM NOW?" Chiun asked. He had grudgingly allowed himself to be rousted from the television at gunpoint to join them on deck, and the look he gave Remo spoke volumes. Remo could read those volumes, which mostly described how off-putting this entire charade was, how personally in debt Remo was for Chiun's vast patience with it all and how Chiun would much rather have silently switched Pablo off so he could go on watching his soap opera.
Pablo had seen the same look on the old Korean's face when he ordered him out of the media room, but to Pablo, ignorant of the fact that those who interrupted Chiun's TV watching were typically committing suicide, interpreted it as an expression of fear.