time they’d spoken since the bizarre incident back in the Black Hole.
Suddenly he was at a loss for what to say to her. Sitting there, crouched almost into a ball, she looked like a different person.
“I think we should check you for a concussion,” he finally said.
She looked up, surprised to see him. Her makeup was smeared, and yes, she’d been crying.
“Why?” she asked him simply.
“Sometimes concussions can change a person’s behavior,” he said, “And the condition could get worse.”
But as he was saying this, he knew he was making a big mistake.
She thought a long time, then put her head back down on her knees. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to know.”
He almost sat down next to her, but fought the temptation.
Instead, he told her their current position, speed and direction, and said that at their present course they would be near the Lakshadweep Islands sometime the next day.
Then as diplomatically as possible, he asked, “Unless there’s somewhere else you’d like us to go?”
She didn’t reply for a long time. And now he saw she was crying again. Finally, she wiped her eyes and looked back at him.
“I have plenty of rich friends around here,” she said with a sniffle. “And they owe me plenty of favors. If I could just get in touch with them, we’ll be OK. They’ll help us out.”
Nolan knew the ship’s radio was in bad shape. It was old, and like the rest of the ship, was about to be canned. Plus, the electrical power was at such a low point on the ship, the radio was barely emitting static anymore.
The only other communications device Alpha had was the sat-phone the CIA agent gave them.
The agent had warned them strenuously not to use the phones unless they’d found the Z-box or found out what happened to it. But their mission of locating the mysterious box seemed like a dream at the moment.
Nolan decided this was an emergency and, basically, screw the CIA.
He pulled out the sat-phone and handed it to her.
“Do you know their telephone numbers?” he asked.
She wiped her eyes again, a bit surprised, and then took it from him.
“I can call anyone in the world?” she asked with another sniff.
He nodded. “That’s the theory.”
She thought a moment, then tried a number—but nothing happened.
She tried again. Still nothing.
She looked up at him helplessly.
“Try another number,” he suggested.
She started dialing again.
But again, to no result.
“I’m not even getting a dial tone,” she said finally.
Nolan took the phone back and removed the rear panel. He was instantly pissed. The battery was corroded beyond belief.
He looked the phone over and saw it had been made in China.
“Freaking spooks,” he said under his breath. “How to wave the flag…”
He yelled up to Gunner. He was soon on the deck with them and Nolan showed him the phone. It was so frustratingly stupid Gunner couldn’t help but laugh.
“This Z-box could have fallen out of the sky and hit us on the head,” he roared. “And there wouldn’t have been any way for us to tell them. If that ain’t typical.”
Nolan threw the phone into the ocean. “This cheap crap has totally screwed us, though,” he said soberly.
Gunner got serious again, too. “Now what are we going to do?” he asked.
Before Nolan could answer, one of the Senegals came running down the deck. He interrupted the conversation by saying in French, “You must come to the stern, right now.”
Nolan and Gunner hurried to the back of the ship, Emma trailing behind. The other Senegals were already there. They directed Nolan’s attention to the northeast horizon.
“Brigands—beaucoup d’entre eux,” one said.
Translation: Pirates—lots of them.
Nolan saw a dozen motorboats heading in their direction. Each boat was brightly colored; each had a flag billowing from its back. Nolan knew who these people were right away: the Bombay-Katum-Velay pirate gang. Better known as the Bom-Kats, they took their name from a small chain of islands located about twenty miles off Bombay.
Recruiting small-time criminals from India’s ports, the Bom-Kats had an almost unlimited supply of manpower to draw from. They preyed mostly on coastal freighters along the west Indian coastline and luxury vessels sailing between India and the Maldives Islands. Just like pirates of old, the Bom-Kats usually killed the crew of any ship they attacked and rarely showed mercy to any passengers. Of all the Indian pirate gangs in the area, they were the most ruthless.
“Maybe this is why no one chased us out of Gottabang,” Gunner said, looking at the pirate