“That’s KSEW,” Omar said. “Karachi Shipbuilding and Engineering.
We go there.”
“Doesn’t look like much,” Yousseff responded.
Omar directed the ship toward the southeastern shore. As they approached the KSEW land, he changed course and paralleled the shore about 200 feet out.
“Look at the mess, Omar,” Yousseff said. “You’d have to take a bulldozer to it and start over.”
“No wonder they’re going broke,” Omar responded. “Nobody seems to be working at anything productive. Look at the cranes. They are almost all sitting idle.”
“Take us to where the smaller outfits are, over there. I don’t feel good about KSEW doing any type of work on the Janeeta,” Yousseff said.
“Okay, boss,” joked Omar. More than a mile of dilapidated docks, cranes, and warehouses went by. Eventually Omar brought the ship into a smaller, private dry-dock facility. They tied her up and hopped onto the dock. The only person around was a young teenager, maybe fifteen years of age, if that. He was perched high up, repairing a crossbeam on what appeared to be an extension of the main shop building. Yousseff motioned to him.
“Yo, boy, come down here. We have work for you.” The young welder slid down the main beam in a jiffy, practically falling at their feet. He still had his welder’s helmet on, with the face piece lifted up.
“What would you like?” he asked, eyeing them, sizing them both up, and looking at the somewhat aging Janeeta II.
“We need some work done on the Janeeta’s hull. On the bottom. Needs a dry dock, and lifts, which it looks like you have here,” Yousseff said.
“What kind of work?” asked the boy.
“We need an exterior, watertight compartment that can be easily opened from the interior of the boat. It must blend in with the existing hull.”
“Ah. Drug smugglers, yes?” the young man responded.
Yousseff pressed him. “Can you do the work or not?” he asked.
The young lad had bright, inquisitive eyes and a quick sense of humor. He was likeable. Of all of Yousseff’s many gifts, his ability to see the strengths and weaknesses in people was the most useful. He saw much strength in the young welder standing before him.
“Yes, I can do the work.”
“Can you do it now?” Yousseff asked.
“As in right now? As in now now?”
“Yes. Now now.”
“Cost you more,” said the teenager.
“No problem. We’ll pay,” Yousseff answered quickly.
“Cash?” asked the welder.
“Cash,” said Yousseff.
“Then it’ll cost you even more.”
The bartering and dealing went on for another fifteen minutes. Before long, Yousseff had learned the young man’s name: Kumar. Kumar Hanaman.
Over the course of the next two days, Kumar’s skills amazed both Yousseff and Omar. No place to hook the cables in order to pull the boat into dry dock? No problem. He’ll weld some on. The Janeeta’s too small for a dry dock built for oceangoing ships? No problem, he’ll create a smaller lift carriage. Parts of the hull are too corroded to work on (a problem that Yousseff and Omar did not know until that very moment)? No problem. He could replace them.
And then there was the masterful solution devised by the youthful Kumar, on the fly, to create an outer envelope, partially accessible through an internal, hidden lever. It was beyond what Yousseff, or the more mechanically gifted Omar, had imagined. Kumar did all of it on his own, without any assistance, and at an amazing speed, chattering all the while, laughing, making jokes, and generally having a ball.
The work took two days, with both Yousseff and Omar chipping in, assisting where they could. During those two days, Yousseff spent almost all his time talking with Kumar. He was pathetically inept at anything to do with mechanical work, but he stayed by Kumar’s side, passing along tools or moving or holding bits of iron and steel while Kumar and Omar did most of the welding and cutting. To Omar, it was almost comical to see Yousseff running to keep up with the chattering, skittering Kumar, passing him tools and trading stories.
One of the first tales Kumar told Yousseff was the history of the little dry dock company. Its name was Karachi Dry Dock and Engineering Company, which he shortened to KDDE. His father had purchased the dock, crane, and shop building from KSEW eighteen months ago. He had planned to handle specialty jobs, involving the repair and manufacture of propellers and rudders for oceangoing vessels. He had been a highly skilled employee at KSEW and had specialized in this very area. He saw many of the inefficiencies of KSEW and felt he could provide a better product at a lower cost. He paid a premium price for the decrepit building and dry-dock system, which had been overgrown with weeds and was in considerable disrepair. KSEW had not actively used the site for more than twenty years. The vice president for KSEW had promised Mr. Hanaman Senior that his company would not compete against Hanaman’s new venture, and would instead send all their rudder and propeller work his way. In that way, the VP proposed that Hanaman Senior would be able to pay off his investment quickly and easily.
The elder Hanaman, feeling that this was a no-lose situation, had put his life savings into the venture, and that of a number of his brothers. The opportunity appeared to be too good to pass up—guaranteed employment for all of them in a lucrative specialty area in the ship maintenance business. Hanaman Senior had prepared many scenarios and projections, and decided that he definitely couldn’t lose. If just a fraction of the propeller and rudder work came his way, he would have a thriving, profitable business in no time. All he needed was a small fortune to invest—a fortune that came from family members. He would be able to repay them entirely, at a substantial interest rate, plus a bonus for their troubles within a year.
Alas, though, it was not to be. The VP had been told by his board of
