The armored prow of the Northern Cross cleaved the calm waves of the South China Sea as the boat sped northward. The open ocean did little to dissipate a cloud of uncertainty that hung over the deck of the ship, where Bob, Gordon, and Sun Xianli were scouring the ship for anything that might appear threatening. The Chinese Navy controlled the waters around Hainan with an iron fist, operating out of the largest naval facility in the region. A hostile ship would be shot on sight. The newcomer was especially worried about this- he claimed to have had one ship sank under him by his countrymen already.
Rene Levancon had locked himself in his room after an argument with the Chinese mercenary about something trivial, and was not needed to clean the deck. Three men was overkill, but Gordon had wanted to help. In the control room, Zachary Taylor's headphones, clamped tight to his ears, were effectively serving as a sound system for the whole room, if anyone else had been there to hear it. The ship cruised on toward Hainan, spraying salt over the three men on the deck.
"Navy here is very dangerous." Sun was explaining. "They shoot anything. This looks like a cargo ship, so maybe they would just stop us. They shoot navy ships, though- Thai, Vietnam, Philippines, anything in their water."
"I don't think that's how it works." Gordon sighed. "They'd have international incidents if they did that. Even China can't afford to be getting into trouble like that."
Xianli scowled. "No, no! Chinamen always think we're the boss. China is strong!" He grinned at Bob.
Sadeski was far from amused. "I'm the boss, and if you want to get paid, you're going to have to accept that."
"Of course, of course!" The grin had not left Sun's face. "You got it, boss. On this job I'm bottom of the pagoda."
With the boat so stripped-down, it really did resemble a small cargo ship. Bob belatedly wondered if by making the ship look less hostile, he had inadvertently made himself appear to be a smuggler. In any event, a smuggler would be safer than a pirate.
Taylor's driving heavy metal washed over the three men as the control room door opened. "Zach!" Bob shouted. "Turn that down!" Taylor gave no indication of having heard, and the three men continued on to the "arsenal"- a storage closet with partially filled shelves of weapons to the sides and a large pile of supplies on the floor. The automatic machine guns hung in the center from the ceiling, freshly cleaned. Sun's attention was drawn to them when Gordon Weston ducked to get to the rear.
"Ooh... those look useful. I wish I had one of those."
Bob glanced up at the mercenary. "They cost an arm and a leg. We don't use 'em all that much. They're not really useful except in certain situations." A sinking feeling began to develop in his chest.
"Why not sell them?" Xianli was transfixed by the weapons. He seemed to have forgotten the crate he was carrying. "You could make more on those than on a good job, I think."
"Those nice guns saved us from being dog food back in Bangkok a few days ago. They're not going anywhere." Bob emphasized each word more than the last. The effect was what he expected- the Chinese freelancer's focus returned to the box he was carrying. The glowing attitude had noticeably dimmed as he unpacked his crate. Bob caught him sneaking a glance upward as Gordon passed between them. Sadeski did not leave the closet until the newcomer had left, and locked the door behind him. He couldn't remember the last time he had locked this particular door.
The sun was sinking toward the low, rolling waves to the west when a Chinese destroyer came into sight. It was not long afterward that Sun Xianli had to answer a call on the two-way radio in the control room. The conversation was fairly calm and only sporadically interrupted by Xianli needing some piece of information from Bob. After a few minutes, the destroyer fell silent.
Sun turned to his scowling employer. "They want to do a quick inspection of our registration. Probably means they want a bribe, but we should be good to go. They don't seem angry. Very strange, navy are always angry around here."
Bob gave a long sigh. "Whatever. As long as we're not getting detained."
"No, no. They're coming aboard. I'll handle it. I don't want to be here at night." A hint of fear danced behind the freelancer's eyes. "These waters are not safe."
Sadeski knew it all too well. "Fine. Get rid of them. See that?" He pointed through the one-way windshield at a dark patch on the horizon which appeared and vanished again with the waves. "That's Hainan. We're getting close."
"Oh, I know Hainan." The Chinese man smiled. "I've worked for a man on Hainan before. Very powerful man, his name was Do Young Kang."
"Hope you liked him, we're working for him again." Bob opened a filing cabinet and began rummaging around, keeping one eye on the newcomer. He knew it was unnecessary with the other crewmen nearby, but he had already received the impression that this was a greedy, self-serving man and a potential thief. "He's paying us a fair bit for this job."
Xianli's smile did not appear to be moving whatsoever. His scar and the cold lighting did not serve his appearance well. "He uses many mercenaries. He works for the government and owns a large company. Very busy man. I wouldn't want his life, but I don't mind his money."
Bob located the documents and pulled them from the drawer. "Come on. We can discuss him later." He set off for the deck, facing forward to avoid the unpleasant grin.
Taylor smoothly pulled the Northern Cross alongside the destroyer. When the ships were almost touching, a junior officer threw down a rope ladder and stiffly climbed down. Reaching the deck, he regarded Sadeski with an expression of distaste and turned to Sun. Another unintelligible conversation in Chinese ensued, with Xianli beckoning to Bob for the documents at the end. The man scanned the papers, clearly not understanding the English text, then nodded sharply at the sight of the American flag on the last page. He returned the papers, then said something to his countryman in a low tone.
Xianli's smile returned. He fumbled in his pocket briefly before pulling out a crumpled Chinese bill and pressing it into the officer's hand. The man nodded once more, turned, and began ascending the ladder. Reaching the top, he waved the boat on. Bob turned to Xianli. "What was that about?"
"That was you owe me 500 yuan." The smaller man's unsettling smile returned, but thankfully he began walking toward the cabin door. "I had to bribe him to get by. That's how things are here."
"God dammit." Bob closed the door behind himself and made for the filing cabinet, intending to bury the papers deep enough that they would not be easily found by his temporary crewman. "Well, Mr. Kang owes you the 500 yuan now. Not me."
***
An hour after nightfall and several uneventful calls from other Chinese Navy ships later, the Northern Cross was in sight of a large harbor. Sanya, the largest city on the southern side of Hainan, rose beyond a massive statue at the end of a causeway jutting out to the comparatively tiny island it had been built on. Mountains rose to the east and west, but the city itself appeared to be largely composed of a port district and a tourist beach district. Sadeski, against complaints from both Zachary Taylor and Sun Xianli, ordered the ship into the latter, eventually mooring it at the far end of a long pier running parallel to the causeway. The trip had been uneventful, and Bob would be happy to rid the boat of not only the newcomer but also of Rene Levancon, who had been in his room, speaking either French or Thai to someone unknown, for almost the entire trip.
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