A Pirate's Life for Lee

By

Caribou Kid

Awareness returned slowly to Lee Crane, captain of the SSRN Seaview and occasional ONI covert operative, and with its return came a monstrous headache seemingly pounding a counter beat to his pulse as his brain tried desperately to tunnel its way out of his skull. His mouth felt as though his tongue had been wrapped in gauze and glued to the top of his mouth, and his stomach was somehow caught on a rollercoaster as it pitched and rolled inside him. He warily cracked open his eyes finding a dimly lit room then immediately crammed them shut and quickly placed a steadying foot onto the floor to keep the room from spinning wildly out of control. He groaned quietly as he waited for the world around him to settle.

It had been some time since he'd had a hangover this bad and had taken some pride that he had learned a few things in his 'old age'. As he lay there on the uncomfortable bunk he worked furiously through his memories trying to remember how he came to drink so much. The last thing he recalled was strolling into a dockside bar in Djibouti City in Djibouti, Africa, after disembarking from the freighter he'd been working on for the last week, and ordering a single beer. He remembered chatting with the waitress about this and that while he waited for his contact to show. He'd been dispatched by ONI to make contact with an informant to pick up intel regarding a rumored cell of terrorists planning a biological assault in the region. The very fact his memory ended there put Lee on immediate alert, and he quickly conducted an inventory of his body for any signs of a beating or other assault. The only thing plaguing him was the effects of the alcohol or more likely a sedative like chloral hydrate that had been slipped into his drink.

Feeling in better control of himself, Lee once more cracked open his eyes so that he could survey his situation and begin formulating his plan of escape. He again regarded the dimly lit room but this time began taking serious inventory of things around him. It was a small windowless room, painted gray with a set of bunk beds on opposing walls, and the other three bunks were occupied by sleeping or unconscious men. The only light in the room came from a single bulb mounted above the top of the only door. There was a metal toilet mounted on the wall opposite the door and a tiny sink beside it. A small vent shaft was up near the ceiling on the wall opposite his bunk, which emitted a stale, tepid stream of oily smelling air. The single distinguishing thing about the room was that it was entirely constructed of metal like those aboard a ship.

As Lee laid there digesting what he had seen of his accommodations something else caught his attention, and he quickly placed his hand on the bulkhead to feel the vibrations and movement of the vessel. His eyes grew wide as he suddenly realized he wasn't on a surface ship, but aboard a submarine, and not one belonging to the US Navy. He pushed up from his bunk and made a circuit of the room checking on his roommates. He gently shook each man and only received groggy mutterings from a couple as they too most likely slept off the effects of the drug. Confused by their presence Lee gently lowered himself back onto his bunk to work through his current situation.

An inventory of his person found him without his wallet, watch, passport, phone, and money, and he figured his slumbering roommates would probably find the same. He pushed back across the bunk and propped himself against the bulkhead appreciating the coolness of the wall on his aching head, and began his wait for someone to show up to explain why they were here.

(olooo)

"What do you mean he never showed up?!" bellowed Admiral Tom Hardy, head of ONI, to the man on the other end of the phone. "Where the hell is he? When did he last report in?"

"Well sir, according to the vessel captain, Commander Crane left the boat when they made port in Djibouti City and headed off alone. He thinks he said he was going to one of the local bars but didn't tell him which one. That's the last anyone saw of him," Dak Martin, from the US Consulate reported. "We got word from the informant that he showed up as directed but your man never arrived."

"Damn it to hell!" fumed Hardy. "What could have happened to him? Have you checked with the local police, the area hospitals…the morgue?"

"Yes sir, I've made discreet inquiries at all those locations and came up empty. He's just vanished without a trace," Martin explained as he steeled himself for the next outburst from the officer.

"So, what about our informant? Can we still get the information from him?" Hardy inquired as he tried desperately to figure a way to salvage the mission.

"I don't know sir," Martin replied. "He's even more scared than before since our man has disappeared. He fears for his life and that of his family's, and he's not willing to pass anything on to anyone from here."

"Just great," Hardy ground out, frustrated at not being able to get the information, but even more upset at having lost his best agent, and even worse, having to face the possibility of explaining that to Harriman Nelson. "All right contact the man and tell him we will have another man in place to receive his intel in 24 hours. If he'll take another chance we'll make one more attempt."

"I'll try Admiral. I'll be in touch shortly," Martin replied and then hung up.

Hardy sighed in frustration and worry. There was not a more capable agent in the world than Lee Crane, and to have him just disappear had him concerned. The man was always on alert but when undercover his awareness took on almost super human scope as he seemed to have a preternatural ability to sense problems or threats before they could occur. To have him go missing quite honestly scared him.

At the present, his hands were tied from taking any more overt actions to try and find the missing man. The information they needed to retrieve could potentially save millions of people if it proved to be valid, and could help them thwart whatever plans the terrorists were attempting to hatch. Once the information was passed and the contact safely on his way, then he would press the consulate to make more serious inquiries, and he would possibly send in another agent to try and determine what happened to Crane.

(olooo)

Lee sat quietly against the bulkhead nursing his headache, and listening intently for any indication as to who had grabbed him and presumably the other men in the room with him, and why. His watch was gone so he had no idea how much time had passed since he was brought aboard but he roughly guessed it had been 12 hours or more given the state of his companions. He was suddenly alert as he heard the telltale clang of hatches opening and closing down the passageway indicating he was probably about to start getting some of his questions answered.

He moved forward and sat at the edge of the bunk and listened as the door was unlocked and pushed open. A large, burly man dressed in black fatigues with an automatic weapon was the first one through the door and quickly directed the gun at the only upright man in the room. Satisfied he had adequately conveyed the message that Lee should remain absolutely still, the guard looked over his shoulder and nodded to someone else in the corridor.

Moments later another man entered the tiny room and surveyed the occupants. He was shorter in stature than the man with the gun but it was quite obvious from his demeanor and carriage that he was in charge. He looked to be in his early 60's, obviously fit, and his pointed gaze quickly scrutinized and evaluated the men in the room. He carried a short length of metal pipe in his hand which he proceeded to use as he began pounding the pipe forcefully on one of the bed posts supporting the bunks opposite Lee, startling the men passed out on them. He crossed the room and did the same thing to the bunks Lee was seated on rousing the man on the top bunk.

The rudely awakened group moaned loudly in pain as they experienced the after effects of the drug used to incapacitate them. They all worked to pry open their eyes and stared groggily at the guard and the other man standing in the center of the room.

"Welcome aboard, gentlemen," the man started, a thick Russian accent marking his words, once he knew he had everyone's attention. "I am your host Captain Kargarov. You are no doubt wondering why you find yourselves aboard my submarine. I was in need of additional hands to operate the boat, and you were kind enough to volunteer."

"So what you're saying is that we've been shanghaied to fill out your crew?" Lee asked incredulously.

Kargerov laughed. "You're quick on the uptake. In line with the age old maritime tradition, you have entered into a period of indentured service to pay for your passage on this vessel."

"And what if we refuse to work?" asked the man in the top bunk above Lee.

"You may get off at any time. Of course your means of exit involves the torpedo tubes. If you refuse to work you're of no value to me, and will be jettisoned immediately. Do I make myself clear?" Kargarov replied. The four men nodded their heads getting the point all too clearly.

"Excellent. Now you will tell me your names and your areas of expertise. You first," Kargerov said as he pointed to Lee.

Lee actually let loose a mental sigh of relief at finding himself a victim of a relatively simple kidnapping scheme as opposed to being captured and detained by any number of less than friendly governments for the purpose of information extraction. He needed more information before he answered.

"Why, you already have our IDs," Lee replied. "I assume you grabbed each of us for a specific reason."

"Your credentials and personal effects were removed before you arrived. My contract only called for able bodied seamen and you fit the bill, anything else of value beyond that was left to those who collected you. Now you will tell me your name and you will tell me what skills you possess or I will show you the door," Kargerov replied menacingly.

Lee scowled at the man, giving him sufficient time to create the identity he would use on this boat along with a vocation that would provide him the best opportunity to sabotage whatever these men were up to. "I'm Dave Sherman. My area of expertise is engineering; vessel power plants and the like."

"Good, I'm in need of a backup engineer. What about you?" Kargerov said pointing to the man in the bunk above Lee.

"Marty Landeau. Navigation, communications and pretty much anything electronic based."

"You?" the captain said pointing to the man in the bottom bunk opposite Lee.

"Oscar Peterson. Cook and engineer's mate."

"And you?" Kargarov said indicating the last man.

"Ned Whitcome. Emergency medical technician."

"Well it looks as though we have open positions for all of you, you are most fortunate," Kargarov stated with a chuckle.

"We've answered your questions, how about you tell us why you needed to kidnap us, who the hell you are, and what you're doing with this submarine?" Lee inquired.

"Fair enough. One might characterize us as modern day pirates. We are purveyors of rare and difficult to obtain items, and provide said goods without the eyes of the unwanted looking over our shoulders when the transactions are made."

"And how exactly do you manage that?" Lee asked as he got a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

"All in good time," Kargarov replied with a disturbing chuckle. "You will remain here for the time being until you are introduced to your duties, and the rules of this boat. Be aware that I have zero patience for those who fail to work or fail to comply, and have no problem whatsoever replacing those individuals permanently." He sneered at them. "Again, welcome aboard gentlemen."

Kargarov and his muscle exited the cabin leaving the four occupants rather stunned at their current situation. The door slammed shut and they heard it being locked to keep them in place until needed.

(olooo)