The Pirate:. Katherine Garbera

about who she was and what she wanted. She heard the sound of another engine. “Did you hear that?”

      “Yes, ma’am. I think you should go below,” Laz said, standing up straighter. He tossed his cigarette over the railing.

      “Why?”

      “Pirates operate in these waters, and Americans are some of their favorite targets. Go below where I know you’ll be safe.”

      She hesitated for a moment but then saw him draw out a handgun. Moonlight glinted off the well-polished steel of his weapon. His entire demeanor changed. He no longer wore an aura of danger. He was danger. She’d think twice about talking to this man if she saw him on the street back home. In fact she’d do her best to avoid him.

      She turned and headed for the stairs, stopping when she heard a voice call out in the dark.

      “Bonjour, le bateau.”

      “Bonjour. Arrêt. Ne parlez pas encore.” Laz said. He spoke French like a native, she realized, as he continued conversing with someone she couldn’t see. Telling them to hold until he gave them the signal.

      She was a little rusty on her French since she’d last lived in Paris during her college career, but she knew enough to make out what he was saying. She hesitated, knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop but wanting to make sure he was okay and not in any danger.

      She knew she should get belowdecks to her quarters, but waited to see if there was anything she could do to help. The captain certainly looked like he could take care of himself, but her conscience wouldn’t let her leave him alone up there with a potential threat.

      Another man joined Laz on the deck. She recognized him as Hammond Macintyre, the second in command. “What’s going on?”

      “Someone was just up on the deck and I don’t want anyone to know what we are doing,” Laz said.

      “That’s fine but Savage has radioed twice.”

      “I know that,” Laz said, turning toward his second in command.

      “Why haven’t you responded?”

      “Don’t question me, Hamm,” Laz said.

      “Are you ready for them to come aboard?”

      Laz turned back to where she’d disappeared and she felt like he could see her. She huddled close to the wall of the stairwell, trying to keep still and avoid being seen. What was going on with Captain Lazarus? Was he a pirate?

      “Yes,” Laz said.

      Daphne stayed where she was on the gangway. A part of her wanted to just go back to her sleeping quarters but another part demanded that she see what was going on. She was one of the more senior members of their group.

      Although this was her first trip with Doctors Across Waters, she’d served on the board of directors for the last fourteen years.

      Who were they trying to let on board? She didn’t want to believe that Captain Lazarus—Laz—would betray them but…to be honest she didn’t trust men. Paul had taken that from her as well when he’d left her.

      It made her a little sad but lately she believed the worst of men all the time. Even her sons. That was the main reason she knew she had to get away.

      She crept back up the stairs and hid in the shadows watching as Laz used a flashlight to signal someone. She saw the answering flashes of light and then heard nothing but the gentle thwap of waves against the hull of their boat.

      Was her imagination getting the better of her? She walked carefully toward the shadow cast by one of the containers that were on the deck. She crouched there in the shadows and watched as Laz lowered a rope over the side of the deck. Two minutes later four men had climbed up and stood in a circle around Laz.

      Daphne knew that this wasn’t a good thing. Each of the men wore camouflage face paint and dark clothing, but that wasn’t what really disturbed her. No, what bothered her was the fact that they were all carrying semiautomatic weapons, and Laz seemed perfectly at ease with them. No wonder the captain had tried to hurry her off the deck; she stayed where she was.

      What was he up to?

      Crouched in the shadows she listened intently to the men as they talked. Their voices were little more than a whisper, and she couldn’t make out the conversation. The men moved away from the gangway and she was tempted to follow them.

      She heard footsteps on the stairs behind her and stood up as a crew member walked around the corner. He was a tall man, probably about six feet. His jeans had seen better days and the T-shirt he wore had a hole near the shoulder. He apparently hadn’t shaved since they’d left Lisbon three days ago, and he smelled a bit sweaty.

      “What are you doing here?” he asked in heavily accented English.

      “I couldn’t sleep,” she said. His accent sounded Dutch to her, which made sense given that this was a Danish ship with an international crew that was mostly comprised of men from along the North Sea.

      She’d learned a long time ago that lies didn’t serve her well. Was this man part of the group with Laz or someone she should notify of the captain’s moves? But she suspected if she said she was spying on the captain this man might not like it.

      “The seas aren’t that rough tonight,” he said.

      “No, they aren’t. I’m Daphne,” she said.

      “I’m Fridjtof,” he said. “You should go back to your quarters now.”

      She wasn’t ready to leave yet—not until she saw more of the men that the captain had been talking to, and got some of her questions answered. She knew that this part of the world wasn’t exactly the safest. If there was a problem she wanted all the information she could lay her hands on.

      “Why isn’t your captain a Dane?” she asked, trying to keep him talking and hoping he’d reveal if he was in league with the captain.

      Fridjtof shrugged. “We’re a multinational crew. He came over on a boat from Alaska over a year ago and stayed.”

      “How long have you been working with him?” she asked.

      “Just this voyage. Why you ask?”

      “No reason. Just curious. I decided when I signed up for this summer trip to learn as much as I could about the people and cultures I encountered.”

      “Good for you. Now head back to your quarters so that you will be rested when we make berth in Somalia.”

      She realized Fridjtof was done with her and was on his way somewhere else.

      “Good night,” she said, walking down the stairs to the corridor that led to her room.

      She thought of just letting it go, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. She’d watched CNN and Sky TV. She’d seen all the news reports about the pirates that operated in this area and Laz talking to those armed men alarmed her.

      The one thing that didn’t quite make sense to her was the fact that everything she’d seen or read about the piracy here in the Indian Ocean had indicated that the perpetrators were Somali. And Laz was definitely American.

      She started back toward the gangway, but stopped when two of the men she’d seen on deck came down. They turned right without seeing her. She stayed where she was for a minute and then followed them.

      This was silly.

      She was a doctor, not a detective. But she’d been around people long enough to be able to read danger when she saw it. And she knew something about this situation just wasn’t right.

      She started to go after them but then stopped. What was she going to do? They had weapons and she had none. Was she just borrowing trouble?

      Maybe the men were just crew members…like a security staff to keep them safe. But if that were the case, why had Laz asked her to leave when the men came on board?