A man dressed in light-blue overalls stood amidships, hands on the gunwale, shouting in rapid-fire Japanese at the workers carrying the supplies, and pointing wildly in multiple directions.
As Connor and Tanaka approached, he frowned at them and waved his hand through the air, indicating the far side of the dock. “Tours on north end, not here. You go!” he shouted.
Tanaka responded in the man’s native tongue. “We’re here to talk to your captain about his last assignment.” Tanaka motioned between Connor and himself. “We’re with the United Nations Council on Maritime Regulations and Licensing.”
The worker’s demeanor changed at the mention of the UN. He left the gunwale and jogged down the ramp to the newcomers. His name and rank were stenciled on his shirt in Katakana script: Kansuke Nakamura, First Officer.
“What are you talking about?” he said. “The inspector just cleared us for departure not three hours ago.” He made a dismissive motion with his hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tanaka shrugged and pulled out another card. “What can I tell you? Apparently there were some discrepancies in your report to headquarters, I don’t know. Look, don’t give me grief, I just go where the back office tells me.”
Nakamura took the card from Tanaka. “Nothing was wrong with our report. I filled it out myself.”
“Like I said, I just work here. I have a couple of clarifying questions for your captain, and then I can be on my way. I mean no disrespect, Nakamura-san.”
“What questions?”
Tanaka bowed slightly at the waist. “I apologize, Nakamura-san, I have been instructed to speak directly with your captain about this matter.”
The first officer glared at Tanaka for a long moment, then grunted and turned away, motioning for the two men to follow him.
Connor gave Tanaka a sidelong smile and said under his breath, “Nice work.”
Chapter Seven
The first officer led them up the ramp and across the deck. They weaved through the crew, who never slowed as the three men made their way to the bridge castle. As they climbed the stairs, Connor noticed several security cameras around the ship, most of them pointed at the main deck.
The bridge of the salvage ship was four decks up, looking over the main deck, giving them an unobstructed view of the cranes and bow. The handful of crew up here kept busy, barely sparing Nakamura or the visitors a glance as they ducked through the hatch.
A gray-haired man stood with his back to them, studying an array of monitors, each one displaying something about the ship or the ocean around them. His light-blue overalls were worn and faded. Nakamura motioned for Connor and Tanaka to wait, then he moved up behind the captain and whispered into his ear.
Wisps of steam rolled up from the captain’s mug, held just in front of his lips, as he listened. Then he turned, his expression a mixture of confusion and irritation. The faded lettering on his overalls read Captain Tsujihara.
“What is this?” he snapped. “We passed our last inspection. Kuwano-san was just here not three hours ago.”
Tanaka took a step forward and bowed at the waist. “Please, I wish no offense. I wonder, may we speak in private?”
Tsujihara considered the request, still holding his navy-blue mug, the edges chipped white, the company’s logo painted yellow on the side. Finally, he nodded. “Out. Everyone.”
The crew didn’t hesitate. They dropped what they were doing as soon as the captain spoke, practically climbing over each other in an effort to evacuate the cabin. Nakamura stayed behind, and the captain didn’t seem to mind. He took a slow sip of his drink, never taking his eyes off his two visitors.
“You are not United Nations.” The statement, spoken in English, wasn’t a question. He said it with the confidence of someone accustomed to reading people. Connor got the impression that the man wasn’t just guessing. He knew.
When Tanaka hesitated to respond, Connor nodded. “That’s right. We’re not.”
Nakamura gasped, looking from the two agents back to the captain. “Captain, I—”
Tsujihara raised his free hand. “Peace, Kansuke, don’t be troubled.” He held Connor’s gaze for a long moment, then said, “So, you are Americans.”
“Correct.”
“Who do you work for? Seasquare? International Salvage?”
“No, uh,” Connor stepped forward, holding out a set of credentials for the captain to see. “I work for a different agency.”
Tsujihara frowned as he leaned forward to examine Connor’s picture ID with the CIA logo emblazoned on it. His eyebrows shot up, and he glanced over at Tanaka, who also held up his CIA credentials. “What is this about?”
“Mr. Tsujihara …” Connor started.
“Captain,” Nakamura corrected.
“Captain. I apologize for the misdirection. Though we’d much prefer it if no one ever learns of our conversation today. It’s vital to the national security of both of our countries.”
Tsujihara set his mug down on a small table covered with all variety of paper charts. “What is it you wish to know?”
“We’d like to ask you some questions about a recent job you completed in the East China Sea.”
Tsujihara’s eyes flickered with recognition, but while his body language said one thing, his mouth said another. “We have many clients that are interested in that area. Plenty of opportunity for good salvage out there, if you know where to look. On occasion, it’s very lucrative.”
“Listen, Captain, we’re not here to ruin your company or freeze assets or anything like that, trust me. We just need information.”
“My company requires strict confidence and privacy for any and all contracts we take on. It is why we have so many repeat clients.”
Connor hadn’t even considered the possibility of repeat clients in this kind of work. “Like I said, we don’t have any wish to interfere with what you’re doing here. When we leave, you’ll probably never hear from us again. And no one will ever know that we were here.
