They continued at a rapid pace across the now pitch-dark waters. He pulled his marine binoculars out of a side pocket of the boat. He looked directly ahead of his course and caught his first glimpse of the Victory. The lights flickered in the distance, but her signature illuminated bridge was unmistakable.
“There you are,” he whispered. Then he cued the microphone on his radio. “Make your sweeping maneuver now. We are ten minutes away. You know how to proceed. Avoid radio chatter.”
Abduwali had been on fifteen piracy missions in the last twelve months and had been successful in thirteen of them. On the two failures, he’d learned from new countermeasure techniques and adjusted his tactics accordingly. The casino cruise ship they were targeting was somewhat different.
There were two advantages to taking a passenger ship like this one. It was slower than most of the vessels they attacked. Boarding was far more difficult when the vessel was motoring along at greater than twenty-five knots and conducting evasive maneuvers. Also, the Victory was shorter. It was originally designed as an eco-tourist vessel, ferrying passengers through majestic mountains along the South American coastlines or through icy environs in Alaska.
The men chosen for this attack respected his abilities, although a few looked at him as a hired hand just as they were. The true authority of the Los Zetas was located high atop a mountain north of Monterey. Nonetheless, their cut of the spoils was more than they earned on the streets as drug trade enforcers, so they vied with one another to please Abduwali. They were recommended and vouched for by Los Zetas captains throughout Mexico. Tonight, they’d be tested.
He took a deep breath and cued the mic once again. “Two minutes!”
Charles had the helm while Garland made the rounds through the dining room. He didn’t expect the captain to return to the bridge until around ten that evening to get his final briefing before turning in to his quarters for the night. Garland wanted to be present as the Victory arrived at Cozumel to dock for the day before it set sail again the next night.
Charles glanced at the surface radar and was surprised to find two blips running parallel to one another roughly half a mile apart. Their speeds seemed to match, and their trajectory certainly did—straight toward the Victory. He performed some calculations. Maybe ten minutes out.
“Get me Captain Garland! Now!”
The announcement was made over the ship’s speaker system for Garland to report to the bridge immediately. While Charles waited for Garland to arrive, he tried to hail the approaching vessels on all open frequencies. There was no response.
Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he wiped his palms on his uniform. Everyone on the bridge was standing, scanning the waters around the ship, and glancing at the surface radar. With the Victory sailing at eighteen miles per hour and the estimated speed of the two approaching boats near seventy miles an hour, Garland was forced to revise his estimate.
“What’s the situation, Mr. Charles?” Garland asked as he arrived on the bridge.
“Sir, unknown boats rapidly approaching from our due south.”
“Did you hail them?”
“No response, sir. They are closing fast. Two minutes at best.”
“Pirates,” muttered Garland. While based in South Africa, his cruise line had made the decision to stop any travel along the Eastern African continent in the vicinity of Madagascar and Somalia. He’d considered himself fortunate to have never encountered the Somalian pirates or the pneumonic plague endemic to Madagascar, for that matter.
“Ninety seconds,” announced Charles.
Garland grabbed the microphone for the ship’s internal communications system.
“All hands. All hands. Countermeasures in effect. This is not a drill!”
He dropped the mic and looked to one of two seamen on the bridge with Charles. “Order all passengers to return to their cabins.” He turned to the other. “Issue a Mayday immediately!”
“Sixty seconds.”
“Right ninety degrees toward the coast. Easy, Mr. Charles. Don’t knock everybody down.”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
Garland grabbed the binoculars and raced out the door of the bridge leading to the bow. He stumbled slightly as Charles initiated the change in course. He scanned the darkness beyond the ship. He couldn’t see the approaching boats, but he could hear their loud rumble. It was the unmistakable roar of power boats built for speed and agility. He could never outrun or successfully outmaneuver them.
He returned to the bridge and locked the door behind him. Charles announced that the boats had sped past and were now in a circling pattern.
“It’s a form of intimidation,” commented Garland. “Ask your General Custer. I would expect to be strafed with—”
As if on cue, automatic gunfire sent bullets flying into the steel hull of the ship, stitching the sides and ricocheting harmlessly into the Gulf. The intention was not to sink the Victory but, rather, to rattle its passengers. The technique worked.
Garland could hear screaming throughout his ship.
Charles opened the comms up, seeking assistance. “Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. The Victory Casino Cruise ship is under pirate attack. Approximate position is one hundred eighty miles south-southwest of Brownsville, Texas. Repeat! Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!”
“All engines ahead full,” instructed Garland calmly. “Let’s not make it easy for them.”
Abduwali and his pirates had the Victory in their sight. His Outlaw was on her beam, easily keeping pace with the cruise ship’s twenty-two knots. The men in the boat grabbed their weapons and continued to shoot the side of the ship, piercing the porthole glass along the
