Chapter 3

The yacht's engines purred underneath their feet, amazingly quiet. The only sounds came from the churning of the water that created a wake behind them, and the conversations flowing around the table. The men finished dinner and came out on deck to watch Miami fade into the distance to the north and witness the sun sinking in the west. Virgil turned the bow south southwest toward the keys, with the aim of stopping near Key Largo to watch the sun disappear over the horizon while keeping them at least twenty miles from the shoreline.

Michael sat at the very back of the yacht on an overstuffed bench seat, his arm resting on the rail with a drink in his hand. The vibrations were soothing and the explosion of colors in the sky sent a wave of contentment through him. He had nothing to fear this evening, because it was turning out to be peaceful...exactly what he needed. There was no way he'd be hung over the next day, and even Sam seemed to be drinking more responsibly than he expected.

"Well, Mike? Did I do okay by you for your last night of freedom?" Sam asked as he sat next to his friend.

Michael turned, smiled, and replied. "This is really great, Sam. Nice, relaxing, and beautiful scenery. I don't get much time to appreciate it on a normal day."

"I know. I also know the other guys probably think this is pretty lame, but you wouldn't have been happy running around bar hopping and going to strip clubs. I get it. So I racked my brain trying to come up with something as far from that as we could get."

"Well, you managed it. Thanks, Sam."

"If you want to do any fishing, Virgil brought some rods."

"No. I'm just fine sitting here. One thing I've learned is that I don't spend enough time just...just being. I don't know if that makes sense." He shook his head. "The other day I walked into my mom's house and she was watching some program on TV where they were talking about the value of doing nothing. Ever since then, I've been taking a little time every day to do nothing and just sit."

"You're not getting all weird on me now, are you Mikey?"

Michael laughed. "Not at all. It really is good for you. Kind of a time to decompress."

"I guess it's sort of like when I go off fishing. It's calming."

"Exactly." Michael turned from Sam to watch the sunset.

Virgil stopped the yacht and dropped anchor. Then he and the mate went to the galley to have their meals, while the men sat on deck in an envelope of serenity. As the sky darkened, talk faded away.

"Hey, check that out," Nate said in a voice so soft, it was almost a whisper. "A school of dolphins."

The porpoises swam past the yacht, arching themselves gracefully over the water and diving back under. A few broke off the group and must have decided that the boat was worth checking out, because they swam right up to it.

"Hey, I wonder if they'll let us touch 'em," Barry mused aloud as he leaned over the side and reached down slowly. The dolphins bobbed next to the yacht as he tried to reach them. "This boat is too high, I can't...reach..." His fingertips touched a snout. "Hey, I did it! Awesome!"

"Barry, be careful," Michael warned.

"No problem, Michael. This is cool!" He stroked the dolphin. It began to move away. He stood with his drink in one hand and his legs pressed up against the side as he teetered precariously, and when he went for one last touch, he offset his balance. "Woah!" Without warning, Barry went over the side.

"Barry! What the..." Jesse rushed to the rail and looked down at the splash as Barry went under.

Barry's tumble caused the dolphins to flee. He broke the surface sputtering and drink-less, treading water. He looked up at Jesse. "Hey, are you gonna just stand there gaping at me, or are you gonna help?"

The others laughed as Jesse reached out and grasped Barry's hand. Michael put down his drink and helped lift him back onto the deck. Barry was soaked from head to toe, his spikey hair now plastered to his head in a very un-Barry like fashion.

Sam offered him a towel. Barry snatched it from him and said, "If I'd known I was going to wind up in the ocean, I would have brought my swimming trunks." He dried his hair, forcing it back up into spikes. He groaned. "Well, that ruined the 'do. All the product washed out of my hair."

"Next time we'll tie you to the deck so you don't go over," Nate teased.

"What happened up here?" Virgil came out from below deck and looked around at the men. "Barry, you're wet!"

"He fell overboard, but it's all good now." Jesse replied.

"You need to dry off, son?"

"Nah, I'm good, Virgil. I just need another drink. I lost mine overboard!"

Nate, who had become the unofficial bartender, said, "Comin' right up!"

The boat stayed anchored in place until the sun went down. Then the mate hauled up the anchor, and Virgil announced, "Time to go back to port, fellas. Just relax, and we'll be there in a couple hours."

"And after that? What have you got planned, Sam," Jesse asked.

"It's pretty much up in the air. Whatever Mike wants to do." He glanced at Michael.

Michael laughed and let his head fall back against the head rest. "I'm going home. I want to be well rested for tomorrow."

"More like for tomorrow night," Nate said with a laugh, ignoring the look Michael gave him. "Hey, when is Fiona moving her stuff back into the loft?"

"We'll take care of that next week. Her lease is up at the end of the month, so we have some time." A slow smile crossed his face. He was really looking forward to her returning her woman's touch to the loft. Despite the teasing his friends sometimes gave him about it, she really did make it feel more like a home. Of course, just her being there all the time could make it feel a lot like that. Whatever the case, it gave him a sense of peace that he needed so desperately.

Virgil turned on some lanterns that swayed gently over the deck as the sky turned deep navy blue, and in the distance they saw a few pinpricks of light from the Miami skyscrapers. In a couple of hours they would be in port and go back to their normal lives. Michael thought about the next day and all that it would bring. He was excited, but a little scared at the same time, because he was finally making the commitment to stick with Fiona forever. Whenever that thought brought on anxiety, he remembered that they'd already spent so many years together and lived with each other for some of that time. He couldn't imagine that it would be any different, except now neither of them had an easy escape if they wanted to leave. That thought was daunting, but it also brought a great sense of security. In Michael's life there was so little he could truly count on. This would be good for him.

A bright light suddenly cut through the night and focused on the party on the aft deck. Water churned as the light grew stronger and blinded them. Michael threw up an arm, and he tried to peer beyond it. He could barely make out the silhouette of a man standing beside the large spotlight on top of the other boat as it barreled in a perpendicular line straight for them.

"Attention! Captain, please turn off your engines immediately and prepare to be boarded." The voice had a thick accent. Haitian, Michael guessed. "Failure to comply will result in fatalities on board. Please shut down your engines, now!"

"What's going on?" Barry asked.

"Pirates," Jesse answered.

"Pirates?" Nate's voice went up an octave as he saw several men congregate just beyond the beam of light. "They don't look like pirates!"

Instead of the traditional fancy boots, clothing, and flamboyant hats, these men wore military style boots, cargo pants, t-shirts and cotton shirts, and a variety of hats from baseball caps to Panamas. In place of swords their weapons were AK-47s and nine millimeter semi-automatic pistols.

Jesse nodded. "Not sure what they expect to get from us."

"Please shut off your engines and prepare to be boarded," the man called over the loudspeaker.

"At least they're polite pirates," Barry declared, his voice calm.

"Virgil! Shut it down," Michael urged as he climbed up to the bridge. "Just shut it down, we'll see what they want, and then maybe they'll take it and be on their way."

"You don't believe that any more than I do, do ya, Mikey?"

He ignored the nickname that he allowed only Sam to use. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Do you have any weapons on board?"

"Other than a flare gun, we've got nothing. I'm sorry, Mike!" Virgil looked at him with fear in his eyes. "You're right, we're probably better off not fighting it."

"As long as they don't decide to hold us for ransom or something, we should be fine." He glanced to the starboard side and saw the pirates' bow nearly touching the side of the yacht. One of their crew jumped off onto the deck and tied a rope to the side. "See if you can call out an SOS."

"Will do." Virgil had already shut down the engines, so if he stayed at the controls for too much longer, the pirates would get suspicious. With a soft voice full of urgency, he spoke into the mic, "Mayday, mayday, mayday. Lady Anne, latitude 25.304304, longitude -79.876099. We're being boarded by pirates. Mayday, mayday, mayday!"

"You! Get down here now!"

Virgil turned. "Me?"

"Yes, you!"

"Lady Anne, please repeat your coordinates!"

With no time to waste, Virgil turned down the volume on the radio and pressed a red button on the console that would set off the automatic distress signal. It was silent but efficient as long as the pirates didn't cut off their power supply, and even then the distress signal could run for a few hours on a supplementary battery.

"Lady Anne, please repeat your coordinates!"

"Get down here!"

"Coming," Virgil said as he climbed down the ladder, his entire body shaking with adrenaline.

On deck the mate flanked the far end of a line with Barry, Nate, Jesse, Sam, and Michael. To everyone's surprise but their invaders, the chef came up from below smiling and he approached the pirates. One of them gave him a gun, and he took up position guarding the crew and passengers of the Lady Anne.

"What the...he's one of them," Nate whispered hoarsely.

"They do that," Jesse answered softly. "Get a guy on board and he sneaks a transmission to the leader to tell him the coordinates of their target."

"You two, shut up!" The cook shoved the butt of his gun into Jesse's stomach, forcing him to bend over until he could get his breath back.

Virgil stepped to Michael's left side with his concnerned eyes locked on Jesse.

"Get your hands up, mister, and lock 'em behind your head."

Virgil complied. His elbow knocked into Michael's, and he looked at the younger man. He seemed amazingly calm despite the activity going on around them. More pirates disembarked from the other craft and swarmed the yacht. Whether the raiders sought passengers or something valuable, they had no clue.

"Mike, what are we going to do?" Virgil asked in a soft voice.

"Just wait and see what they want," Michael whispered in response. "Be patient."

Within a few minutes, the pirates came topside carrying decorative pieces made of gold and silver in their arms, as well as personal items the owners left on board. A man on the other boat dropped a crate onto the deck and the others filled it, and when they were done, he pulled it up to the pirates' boat.

"Not a bad haul," the leader said with a grin. "But surely, there's got to be more than this with such fine gentlemen on such a fine vessel." He approached Virgil and closed in. Virgil could smell what the guy had for supper that night, and whatever it was, it wasn't good. "Empty out your pockets, Captain. Show yourself as a good example to the others, why don't ya."

Virgil hesitated and was rewarded with a blow to the side of the head. He went down to his knees briefly, but as he rose, he reached into his pockets slowly. Guns trained on him and his friends, just in case. He gave them his wallet.

"That's all I've got. I don't have a car, so..."

"Now, what would I need wit your car out here, man?" The pirates' boisterous laughter carried across the water. The leader opened Virgil's wallet, pulled out all the cash, and dropped the rest at his feet. "This'll do just fine. Thank you."

Another of his men worked from the mate down the line to Michael, demanding they pull everything from their pockets, including their cell phones. Nate didn't have more than a few dollars. "This all you got? What a sorry man you are! I almost feel bad for takin' it from ya!" He glanced down and saw the wedding ring on Nate's finger. "Ah, that makes me feel better. Take it off. Now." He aimed his nine millimeter pistol at Nate's stomach, point blank, and Nate quickly removed the ring. All the while, he gave the man an acidic stare.

He saw it and stared back at Nate. "Just be thankful I'm not killin' ya, pretty boy."

Jesse knew better than to give them a hard time. He handed over his wallet, a full money clip, and his watch without an argument. Sam didn't like it, but he gave them wallet, watch, and pinky ring.

"Gimme that chain, and the bracelet, too."

Inside Sam cringed at having to give them up, but he wouldn't let them see how it upset him. They didn't need to give these men a reason to set them off.

With the emptying of each wallet, the pirate checked their identification. That seemed odd to Michael, until he realized that they were either searching for someone specific, or just a name that they knew could create an opportunity for an even bigger score. Michael handed over his wallet with the knowledge that the moment the pirate opened it, he would know he'd struck gold. He carried his CIA credentials inside, plain as day, and he knew exactly when the pirate saw the ID badge. His eyes lit up and he pushed past Virgil to show his boss.

"Well, well. Michael Westen. This is an unexpected treat," the pirate captain said as he approached Michael. He stood a good six inches shorter than Michael, but by the way he swaggered, it didn't seem to matter. "Fellas, take them down to the lower deck and tie them up. I want to have a little chat with Mr. Westen."

"Aye, sir." Several pirates came forward, grabbed their prisoners, and herded them toward the stairs to the lower deck.

The mate struggled against his captor and elbowed him in the ribs. He let go and the mate turned to attack him. But shots rang out, his eyes widened in horror, and he dropped to the deck.

"Come on, let me go!" Sam said as he leaned toward the mate who lay bleeding on the deck. "Please, let me check on him!"

The pirate captain nodded, and Sam's captor released him. He got closer and shook his head. There was nothing he could do for the man.

"Is he dead." The pirate captain said. He didn't ask, and his tone suggested he was getting bored with the whole scenario.

"He doesn't have much time," Sam replied, holding back the anger in his voice.

The captain inclined his head toward the open water, and two of the pirates, including the one who shot him, picked up the dying man and threw him overboard. Michael clamped his eyes shut as he heard the splash, followed by no sounds of struggle as the body sank. He swallowed back the sick feeling in his stomach and refocused on the situation at hand. The only way they would get out of this alive was if they complied while looking for a way to overpower the other crew. He counted ten armed men to their six unarmed. Jesse, Sam, and Virgil had the skills to disarm an assailant, and given the right time, the four of them could possibly take over. For now, though, he needed to find out what they wanted with him.

"You know, I'd probably cooperate a lot more if you didn't go killing off the crew and passengers on this boat," Michael said coolly, his eyes focused on the captain.

"Smart guy, huh?" He grinned. "Doesn't surprise me. I've heard of you. Michael Westen, the super spy that everyone fears. You don't seem so scary now when you're outnumbered."

"What do you want with me? We're just out here enjoying a nice cruise, minding our own business, having a little party..."

"I see that." The captain picked up a bottle of wine sticking out of an ice bucket. He scanned the label and grinned. "Somebody has good taste." He tipped the bottle and drank the last of it, then tossed it over his back. It hit the water with a splash while the man wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Very good taste. Now, Mr. Westen, why don't you have a seat."

The way the captain looked at him, Michael knew he had no other choice. He sat where he'd been sitting not long ago enjoying the cruise, casually crossed his legs, and rested his arms over the seat back. "Okay, so what do you want?"

"I want you, now that I've discovered something that's worth a lot more than any baubles or cash we could pick off your associates."

"Maybe we can work out something. I'd like to know who I'm dealing with first, though."

"Of course." The pirate grinned. "Where are my manners? My name is Jean-Luc Martienne. My men and I are Haitian opportunists."

"I figured you were Haitian, based on your accents. Opportunists... hmm, I could think of better ways to make a living."

Captain Martienne smiled. "Of course, I've heard you're a smart man. I think you could prove to be quite an asset for me, if not monetarily, I could use your expertise to fine tune my men and our tactics."

"I'm sure, but I'm not exactly into this whole pirate thing. I mean, when I was six I dressed up as one for Halloween, but you know, I grew out of that." He gave Martienne a mocking look.

Martienne would have loved to smack it off his face, but he knew that keeping this man injury free would greatly assist him in gaining a larger bounty in exchange for him. He laughed at Westen's boldness. "You're not disappointin' me, Mr. Westen. You're everything I've heard."

"Okay, cut the compliments. Just spit it out, what you want, and we'll see what we can do about this."

Martienne continued to smile at him. "I want a million dollars for you. Half a million for any of your other friends who might be valuable." Martienne leaned forward. "Now, what's your superior's phone number? I want to arrange a deal via sat phone."

"I'm afraid you'll have a long wait. She's probably not at the office right now."

"Give me your cell phone, Westen." Martienne held out his hand. "Now."

One of the pirates stuck the barrel of his AK-47 into Michael's neck as an added incentive. With a sigh, Michael gave it to him. Martienne spent a couple of minutes scrolling through his address book. With a broad grin, he stopped on one name, touched the screen and dialed the number using his own phone.