"Did you know Remo long?" she asked. The question came out of left field, surprising Stacy herself.
"Since he was born again," Chiun replied.
Another riddle. Remo had never impressed her as a religious man, especially after that scene in the alley in Puerta Plata. Still, there were all kinds of true believers, she decided. Pressing her luck, she tried for a follow-up question.
"Was he a fighter when you met him?"
"He was dead before then," the old Korean reminded her.
Stacy tried to find a riddle in his words, but Chiun appeared to mean the statement literally. She didn't pretend to understand what the old Korean meant, but rather tried to change the subject.
"What exactly did he do?" she asked.
Chiun considered that before replying. From a slight frown, Stacy watched his face relax into a calm expression of repose. "He is Reigning Master of Sinanju, more or less. Granted, he has much to learn still, but he makes minor progress, here and there."
"I meant to ask, what does he do for Uncle Sam? You know, the government?"
"Ah," Chiun replied, "the Emperor. Such things are not for woman's ears."
Stacy gave up. She couldn't tell the difference between when Chiun was playing games with her and when he was speaking from the wrong side of the dividing line between reality and delusion. Stacy had no idea as to who or what Sinanju might be, but she knew damn well there was no emperor in the United States. In fact, unless Remo had lied to her in Puerta Plata, her own father was instrumental, at least in part, for Remo's being on the case. That told her that he served the Feds in some capacity, whether he was a regular or some kind of independent contractor.
None of this was helping her get a handle on when to expect reinforcements from the U.S. to come barging in.
Chiun's lack of doubt in Remo's survival made her doubt what she knew had to be true. How long could a man survive at sea, without a raft, food, water? If there were sharks-although that may have been a part of Chiun's mental instability-they would have finished him off in minutes. She needed something, some hope to sustain her in her present situation, other than Chiun's assurance that he would eliminate the pirates by himself if called upon to do so. Stacy didn't doubt the old man's good intentions, but she didn't trust him as the last line of her personal defense.
If only she could believe that Remo was alive. If only there was some chance for him to appear and save her, save them both, from her private waking nightmare.
She shook it off. The fantasy was too seductive. She couldn't let herself slip into a fantasy world, too, if she wanted to have any hope of escape.
AN AUDIENCE WAS WAITING on the beach for the Melody when she entered the shaded cove on Ile de Mort. Kidd had refrained from going down himself, with the excuse that he had other business pending, but he really meant to take a smidge of pride away from Teach, before the youngster's britches got too small and Billy Boy got tempted to go shopping for a larger size. Something in captain's colors, for example.
It was trivial, as insults went, but Kidd was hoping he would get his point across. He valued Billy Teach, but not enough to jeopardize his own position as the leader of the pirate clan. Before he would allow a full-scale challenge-one that Kidd wasn't absolutely certain he could win-he would arrange an accident for Billy, maybe have him lost at sea, and choose another second in command while they were mourning the incalculable loss.
The "work" Kidd had to do while Billy brought his prize in was in fact another session with the slender brunette from their last raid, when the boarding party had come back with three girls. Kidd had already tested each of them in turn, as was a captain's right, but there was something in the sultry brunette's attitude, defiance simmering behind a mask of bland submission, that excited him almost as much as spilling blood. She was his favorite, and Kidd regretted that she probably would last a few more weeks at most.
He let the brunette please him, told her what to do, keeping a knife and riding crop within arm's reach, in case she tried to take advantage of her placement, kneeling in the space between his thighs. A captive woman had gone off on Wink, one time, and nearly ruined him. The twitching of his eye had been dramatically exaggerated after that, and there were some in the community who said that eyelid was the only part of Wink that twitched anymore.
Not this one, though. Kidd was too cautious for her, even in the final moments, when he felt himself begin to reach his peak. Kidd was particularly watchful then, when she would think him helpless. Curiously, vigilance enhanced the moment for him, rather than detracting from it, since his eyes saw every detail of her sweaty face, himself, the place where they were joined.
The wench was finished, slumped back on all fours, when Captain Kidd heard footsteps drawing closer to his quarters. Rising stiffly from his throne chair, one leg half-asleep, he pulled up his baggy trousers and buckled them in place. The cross belt that he wore across his chest was sweat-stained, like his clothing, but the cutlass it supported had been polished till the blade shone like a mirror. It was razor-sharp, that blade, and Kidd would gladly demonstrate on visitors if anyone provoked his wrath.
The kneeling woman scuttled off to one side, crablike, when rough knuckles rapped on Kidd's front door. She found a shady corner, huddled there, as if she somehow hoped to make herself invisible.
"Enter!" Kidd said, his tone imperious, but no more than his rank deserved. The door swung open on its badly rusted hinges. Billy Teach was the first man across the threshold, leading two fresh captives, who immediately seized Kidd's full attention.
The red-haired woman was striking in her own right, slightly older and vastly more attractive than the three young women Teach had found last time, aboard the star-crossed Salome. She was a fullfledged woman, rather than a pretty girl, and Kidd was drawn to her immediately, craving her, despite his just-finished tussle with the slim brunette.
The second prisoner was something else entirely. He was old, for one thing, and an Asian at that, and dressed in a robe that made Kidd's best pirate garb look subdued. Kidd would have been surprised to learn that he weighed ninety pounds. Almost completely bald on top, with yellowing fringes of white hair that hung delicately over his ears. There was something in his eyes that almost bordered on amusement, but he kept the main brunt of his feeling tucked away. At least he wasn't stupid, Kidd decided, or a coward begging for his life.
"Why that one?" Kidd asked Billy Teach, nodding to the old man.
"Guy said he cooks great Chinese food."
"Which guy would that be, Billy?"
"Skipper of the good ship Melody," his second in command fired back, without a moment's hesitation.
"He's no longer with us here, alas. A swimming accident."
Kidd smiled. At least Teach had not brought all three of them back to the camp on Ile de Mort. The woman would be useful in more ways than one, perhaps an item he could sell to the commercial flesh dealers, once he had sampled her himself. As for the ancient Chinaman, if he could cook and clean, so much the better. Captain Kidd would let him live while he was capable of doing women's work, and when his time ran out... well, there were always hungry fish in the lagoon.
"So far, so good," Kidd told his first lieutenant. "How's the tub?"
"A classy one," Teach replied. "Bet her retail value makes her one of our best ever. Don't know what we'll get for her, though. I reckon the Colombians will take it off our hands, but they won't appreciate her fine appointments."
"Let's check it out," the captain said, already moving toward the exit from his quarters, passing close before the redhead and the wizened Asian. "And leave the woman here," he added. "Under guard."