Zeus had two choices. One was to try to hide below. The other was to go over the side. The side seemed a better bet.
He stripped off his shirt and pants, leaving just the wet suit, then lowered himself into the water, hanging on to the rubber tire that served as a bumper.
Zeus’s teeth immediately started chattering. A head appeared over him, motioning. At first he wasn’t sure what the marine was trying to tell him. Then he heard the loud rumble of the patrol boat’s engines, and realized that the ship was cutting in front of them and he’d be exposed to view.
He worked his way to the stern, moving under the platform at the fantail. Grabbing a line that hung off the boat, he wedged his feet against the hull, hoping to ease the strain on his arms.
Not more than a minute later, he saw the Chinese navy ship passing them, turning to port as it circled before them.
His boat’s engine suddenly started. Zeus pushed to the left, still holding the line but worried that he was going to be thrown into the propeller.
“What are you doing?” he yelled.
There was no answer from above, but the engine quickly dropped to idle. The short burst had sent the boat toward shore, angling it so that unless the Chinese patrol boat turned around again, it could only come up along its starboard side.
“Here!” yelled one of the marines, warning Zeus that the patrol boat was nearly there.
The marines could take the ship. There’d be thirty men aboard at the most. Catch them off guard, they’d be easy pickings.
Too late for that now. Why hadn’t he thought of it earlier?
The vessel put down a small utility boat. A minute later, Chinese sailors climbed aboard the stolen boat, yelling instructions to the marines. Zeus could hear Solt’s voice above the din of the patrol boat’s engines, yelling back at them in Chinese.
He pushed closer to the hull. The bow of the patrol boat was just visible beyond the stern.
The yelling got louder. Zeus took that as his cue to duck beneath the waves. He closed his eyes and held his breath for as long as possible. Finally, his lungs about to burst, he surfaced, took a gulp of air, a second one, then ducked back down.
The second time he came up, he saw a hand over the side, waving.
He ducked back down quickly, and stayed until the pain in his lungs had spread to his mouth and nose, and his chest felt as if it would implode. He put his head up and took another breath.
The boat jerked forward. Zeus reached for the line, but couldn’t find it. He started to swim for the tire on the side, but after two strokes he realized it was too late; the boat was moving too fast.
Just as the patrol boat’s bow came into view, two marines ran to the stern of Zeus’s boat and jumped into the water near him, splashing and hooting. Solt stood above, yelling in Chinese for them to act their age.
The Chinese sailors on the patrol boat waved and shouted at them.
One of the marines grabbed hold of Zeus. “Okay,” said the marine. “It okay.”
“Okay,” replied Zeus. “Okay.”
Back aboard the fishing boat a few minutes later, Zeus thanked the marine captain for sending the marines in.
“Not my idea,” he said. “Ms. Solt’s.”
“Thanks,” Zeus told her.
“The Chinese were surprised there were so many men aboard,” she told him. “I told them they were relatives, and had to earn their keep. But they were not fishermen, and most of the time they were lazing around, or swimming. Then I sent them into the water when I realized the boat would see you.”
“I thought you didn’t speak much English,” said Zeus. “It sounds pretty good to me.”
Solt shrugged.
“You know, you got a hell of a bruise on your forehead,” said Zeus. “Are you okay?”
“I said before, I’m fine.”
“Are your ribs okay?”
“Eh?”
“Your side.”
“You want me to take my shirt off?” She shook her head. “No. Not so easy.”
“I’m not trying to see your tits,” said Zeus. “Come on. Let’s see your ribs.”
Solt hesitated. Slowly, she put her hand on her shirt and rolled up the side.
“God, that looks like hell,” said Zeus. He put his finger on the large purple blotch. Solt winced.
“It’s got to be broken,” he told her. “How far up does it hurt?”
She shook her head. He eased his finger up. Two of the bones seemed to have snapped; she must be in terrific pain.
“Do they have morphine or something like that in their med kits?” he asked her.
“If I take that, my head will be cloudy,” she told him. “I am fine.”
“It’s got to be killing you.”
“I am grateful for your saving my life,” she said.
“Yeah, but that’s not what we’re talking about now. Can you cough?”
“Cough?”
“Yeah. What happens with those is your lungs get screwed up. Cough for me.”
Solt coughed. Even puzzled, she looked beautiful.
“All right. Can you breathe okay? Big breaths.”
She was breathing fine. So it was just a question of managing pain.
“If you won’t take morphine, at least take some aspirin,” he told her. “Your head will be clear.”
“I took some earlier. I am not a fool for pain.”
He smiled at the expression; it seemed pretty poetic.
“Why haven’t you been speaking English?” Zeus asked.
“I had nothing to say.”
“Mr. Quach says you don’t speak it at all.”
“He said I do not speak it well.”
“Sounds pretty good to me.”
“Thank you.”
“You afraid of him? Your boss?”
Solt frowned, but said nothing.
Zeus went and changed in the forward cabin. When he emerged, he found Solt and the marine captain standing at the stern, arms folded, worried looks on their faces.
“What’s going on?” Zeus asked.
Solt pointed to the patrol boat, which was about a half mile away.
“They boarded Quach’s boat,” she said. “They’ve been there a long time.”
“How many sailors were on the patrol boat?” Zeus asked.
“Eighteen,” said the marine captain.
“They are working with small crews,” said Solt. “They have trouble feeding their sailors. The ones who came aboard were skinny. And they asked about food. We gave them some rice we had.”
“How many went aboard the fishing boat?”
Neither the captain nor Solt had seen. Six had come aboard theirs.
“We can take it,” said Zeus. “If we go now.”
That task was assigned to the marine crouched just aft of the cabin, holding his RPG launcher below the gunwale. He had to strike the radio mast dead-on, preferably without taking apart the bridge below.
The Chinese were either so focused on Christian’s fishing boat or so shorthanded that they didn’t bother posting lookouts on the stern or port side of their ship. It wasn’t until Zeus and the marines were ten yards away
