Free Fall: A Prelude to Hidden Order (3 page)

Harvath was adept at reading microexpressions, what poker players often referred to as “tells.” A microexpression was a subtle facial cue that indicated when a person was under stress either from lying or because of an intent to do harm. Harvath now had a baseline with which to read the Somali.

Activating his radio, he gave Kass a quick update and suggested he take two of the crew to retrieve Dean and begin tending to his injuries.

Then, turning back to Abuukar, he asked, “Where’s the ship’s captain?”

“We have him someplace safe.”

Harvath didn’t like that answer. Grabbing the Somali by the back of his neck, he slammed his head forward into the table.

There was the crack of cartilage as the pirate’s nose broke. Blood began to flow, staining his shirt. Harvath grabbed him by his collar and righted him in the chair.

He had interrogated plenty of very bad people over the course of his career and, in some extreme cases, had even tortured people. He had never lost any sleep over it, though, and no matter what road this particular interrogation took, he wouldn’t lose sleep over it either. That was because Abuukar wasn’t just a pirate; he was a murderer. He had murdered a man with a wife and two children for no other reason than to send a message. Harvath was considering returning the favor, but not until he had squeezed every last drop of information he could from the pirate.

Harvath spoke slowly and deliberately. “Where is the captain?”

The Somali still appeared dazed from having his head slammed into the desk and could only mumble. Harvath leaned in to better hear what the man was saying. He’d made it only halfway when he realized his mistake.

Abuukar reared his head back and spat a frothy mix of blood and saliva, narrowly missing Harvath’s face by only a fraction of an inch.

Harvath hated spitters. Normally, he would have knocked a guy out for doing that, but not this time. The last thing in the world he had any intention of touching without a ten-foot pole and a level-four hot-zone suit was a bleeding Somali.

Harvath found a roll of duct tape in one of the desk drawers and used it, along with the pirate’s New York Mets cap, to fashion an improvised spit shield and secure it over the man’s face.

“Now, you either tell me where the captain is, or I’m going to tie a rope around your neck and feed you to the sharks. Your choice.”

The arrogant Somali was indignant, and his eyes burned into Harvath’s like two hot coals.

Harvath stared right back, never once averting his gaze.

“I know where he is,” the Kenyan suddenly offered from the other side of the bridge.

Harvath looked at him and then back at the Somali pirate. “Does he?” he asked. He could see the distress in the pirate’s face and it made him smile. Using the duct tape to secure the Somali to his chair, he stated, “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

As Harvath walked across the bridge, Abuukar yelled threats at Mukami from behind his spit shield, chronicling what would happen to him if he revealed anything at all.

Harvath wasted no time. “Where’s the captain?”

“They took him to port,” the Kenyan engineer replied.

“We already know that. Tell me something we don’t know.”

“The pirates have a house. It is surrounded by a high wall. That’s where they’re keeping him.”

“Do you know where this house is?”

Mukami nodded.

“Will you take us to it?”

“Do you promise not to kill me?”

Harvath nodded.

“Will you pay me?”

The man was pushing his luck, but Harvath wasn’t averse to making a deal. “If you cooperate, I think that could be arranged.”

“We will need a smaller boat. This ship will not fit in their port. It is much too big.”

Harvath had no intention of taking the
Sienna Star
any closer to the Somali coastline.

“Do you have other men with you?” Mukami continued. “Other men with guns?”

“Why?”

“A small boat is coming out from the port tonight bringing supplies. My cousin is supposed to relieve me. He will be on it. If you and your men can take that boat, we can get you into the port.”

“And to where the captain is?”

Mukami nodded, and Harvath searched his face for any sign that he wasn’t telling the truth. He couldn’t detect one.

“Do we have an agreement?” the Kenyan asked.

Harvath looked at his watch. The resupply boat was going to arrive soon, and when it did, they’d not only have to be in position, they’d have to have their entire plan of attack ready.

Everything was picking up speed. When things moved this fast, that was when mistakes were made and people got killed.

A member of his team was already injured, and now Harvath was considering sailing right into the middle of a hornet’s nest. The one thing he had going for him, though, was that sailing straight into the hornet’s nest was the last thing the pirates would ever expect.

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Copyright © 2013 by Brad Thor

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ISBN 978-1-4767-5636-3

Contents

Free Fall