Sweetness in the Dark (35 page)

“All secure here. Five dead hostiles. Marines fine,” Major Lewis said. “But Admiral, you might want to heli over here. There’s somethings strange going on, Sir.”

“Roger that. On my way.”

The governor and Paul fell in behind the admiral as he headed to the flight deck. Since the admiral didn’t seem to bat an eye at his escorts, the two civilians continued their shadow. Reaching the helicopter, the three climbed aboard. The already warm chopper lifted off the deck and swung out over the ocean.

Paul felt his stomach lurch as they went airborne. He struggled to hold everything down as they skimmed across the water. He wasn’t sure if they would repel onto the freighter like the Marines.
What am I doing here?
he thought.
I’m a college professor in economics; not a warrior fighting pirates
.

The chopper slowed and Paul could see the freighter out the front windshield. The pilot seemed to be landing in the water, a couple of hundred yards from it.

Then he saw the mainmast of the frigate that had closed with the freighter. They were landing on the fantail. Paul looked out the side window and saw a heaving ship below them. The ocean swells were throwing the smallish frigate around and the very small flight deck on the frigate bounced beneath them,

How would the pilot ever hit such a small target without tipping over the edge into the sea?
Paul wondered. He watched in fascination as the helicopter lowered a line to a crew member on the deck, who then attached it to something in the middle of their landing spot.

A whirring sound broke his focus and he felt the helicopter being winched down onto the deck. A large bump announced their arrival on the gray ship. The door flew open and Paul enjoyed the fresh sea breeze as his stomach settled some.

“You look better, Dr. Kendall. I thought we’d have to get the bag for you,” the admiral said. Paul smiled weakly in response. “We’ll take a Zodiac from here. Didn’t want to have to put you on the freighter by drop line. Just a warning though, the Zodiac will be bouncy.”

That was an understatement. Paul hung on as they raced across the open water toward the freighter. Marines stood ready on both ships for any new hostile action. The fresh wind in his face kept his stomach settled somewhat. He was glad when they reached the lowered ladder and he could climb up onto something steadier.

“Admiral, you brought the civilians. It’s a little grisly on the upper deck, Sir,” Major Lewis offered. The remains of the hostiles were spread in a messy red splotch across the deck. They walked quickly past the remains as they headed for the bridge.

“What did you want me to see, Major?” the admiral asked.

The major led them onto the bridge. Two Marines stood guard over two crewmen, while two other Marines stood at the ships controls. The freighter was stopped in the water and the waves rocked the large ship. Paul felt the uneasy motion of a ship not underway.

Major Lewis grabbed one of the crew and took him into a small room off the bridge.

“This is the captain. We checked the ship’s papers and it’s supposed to be heading to Cuba. It supposedly has a load from Chile. He speaks English,” the major began. “Captain, tell me again why you’re off New York City.”

There was no response. Paul looked at the smallish man in front of him. He looked Filipino and was decidedly scared. The major asked again, and still no response.

“Guards, show our captain what will happen to him if he keeps the silent routine going,” the major yelled.

The two large Marines that had been watching the ships control came in the room and grabbed the captain. As he went limp, the Marines dragged him by the shoulders out onto the flying bridge that extended from the enclosed bridge. Projecting out over the ships side, the open flying bridge was designed for crew to supervise the ship’s docking.

The Marines picked up the small man and threw him over the side, except they didn’t let go. The two men held him out over the water, close to one hundred feet below. The ship’s captain howled in fear.

“Now, your voice seems to be working. Tell us what you were doing in these waters.”

“I die if I talk. They will kill me!” the ship’s captain shouted. Fear etched his face.

“Mister, I will kill you here and now. So you don’t have to worry about the other guys,” the major shouted.

“I die anyway,” the captain yelled back, but as he did, the major registered a faint glare from the other crew member crouched just inside the bridge. The major looked at him watching the whole interrogation.

Paul noticed the recognition by the major of the other man and turned his attention to him. This man was more Chinese looking and he appeared very confident as he sat on the deck.

“Get him out of here,” the major told the two Marines guarding this second man. “Take him down into one of the staterooms below us. But don’t let him talk to anyone else.”

The Marine guards scooped up the crew member and he disappeared. The major turned back to the captain.

“Feel like talking now? Fewer witnesses. And as for being killed by anyone, the Marines will guarantee your safety.” The major indicated to the two Marines to place the captain back on solid deck.

“But my family. They will kill my family if I talk,” the captain said.

“And where is your family, captain? Maybe we can do something about them, too?”

“No, no. They have them. If I don’t do as they say, they will kill my family.”

“You’re not helping your family right now. As of today, you and your ship are out of business, whatever that business was. So your family is still at risk. If you talk, maybe we can help them,” the major continued.

There was a long silence, as Paul could tell the captain seriously considered his and his family’s situation. His ship was captured and the U.S. Navy wouldn’t let him sail off into the sunset. His only chance was to come clean, and Paul saw from his expression that the captain reached the same conclusion.

“Are all the crew members locked down?” the captain asked.

“Tighter than a witches…” the major responded.

“Good. Many of those crew are not mine. They put their own people on my ship to make sure I do what they want.”

“You point them out and we’ll remove them for permanent safe-keeping,” the major offered. “And who is ‘they’ you keep mentioning?”

The captain looked around to make sure no other ears were listening. “The Chinese.”

“And why do the Chinese want to take an empty freighter into a dead New York City? Not much cargo to pick up there,” the major joked.

But that was where the major was wrong. Paul knew instantly what the freighter’s mission was and what cargo it was picking up. Paul caught the attention of the governor and the admiral. He motioned that they needed to go and talk. And they needed to do it right now. Time was critical.

New York City

Johnny Chang waited by the radio for a response. None was forthcoming. He had received a garbled transmission two hours ago and then the connection went dead. He waited nervously for his radio operator to reestablish a link.

It was too dangerous to be sitting here waiting. He wanted to go out and make the rounds and check on his soldiers ensconced in the burnt-out buildings surrounding Wall Street. He wanted to check that no intruders were present.

When P-Day hit, it was like the end of the world in New York City. When people realized that all electronics were dead, panic set in. The city had suffered through ‘blackouts’ before, the longest being the Great Northeast Blackout of 1988. That had taken down the entire Northeast and left the area in darkness for close to a week.

But even with no electrical grid, people’s cars and portable radios still worked. It was more of a party atmosphere as everyone made do until the lights came back on. The population boom nine months later attested to the entertainment choices most were doing in the dark.

This time was different. When all the electronics died, the darkness brought fear and violence. America had changed significantly since the 1980s, and not for the better.

Gangs quickly established themselves as they raided the stores for food. Gun battles ensued as rival gangs shot it out for territory in the dying city. The citizens that could leave, quickly packed up anything that rolled and headed out of the city.

Unfortunately for them, the more rural areas anticipated the crush of people and set up defensive positions to stem the tide. With limited food for themselves, the Northeast quickly turned into anarchy. The death toll was staggering.

As New Yorkers pressed north, people in Connecticut fought to stop them. As Connecticut ran out of food, the flow headed further north into Massachusetts and then Vermont. When the hoard finally hit northern New England, it ran into a well-organized resistance.

Locals in the far north were well armed and fought hard for their survival. The concept of America was gone. Even a concept of fellow New Englanders was crushed in the melee.

Now people thought of themselves in terms of their local towns. Tribal politics ruled supreme as each locale fought to stay alive. Upstate New York and western Pennsylvania fought similar battles against the urban invaders. Everyone knew that with very limited food, rural areas could not absorb more mouths to feed.

The refugees would die of starvation, if not by depredation. Roving gangs worked over the crowds of desperate people until they too ran out of food. Soon quiet prevailed in the formally urban areas of the eastern United States. The few remaining survivors had stayed out of the death zone and had enough stored resources to make it.

Johnny Chang was one of those resourceful thugs. As a leader of a Chinese gang before P-Day, he was smart enough to pull his troops together and gather supplies as soon as the lights went out. Then he moved his forces down onto lower Manhattan.

With water on three sides, he set up a defensive line across the island of Manhattan. Anyone caught behind these lines was quickly eliminated, unless they were useful.

The last four months had been hard work, but he had accomplished the greatest score anyone in the world would ever see. He just had to make good the escape to enjoy his booty. He would be able to afford the finest in female companionship. He just had to maintain his position and wait. And waiting was what he was doing.

“Any word yet?” he asked.

“None, Johnny. It’s like they disappeared out there. They were due today,” the radio man said.

“Keep trying. I’ll go down to Battery Park and see if anything is happening.”

The park at the end of Manhattan was a quick three block walk from his headquarters. He half jogged over to his guards that had binoculars out watching the harbor.

“Anything?” Johnny asked.

“Nothing. Let me check Batman?” his lieutenant said. He picked up the field phone and cranked the lever. He spoke into the receiver. “Batman. Johnny’s here. Anything?”

“All’s quiet,” Batman answered. Johnny looked up at the derelict high-rise on the water’s edge. He had his troops string telephone wire up to the top floor and Batman was one of the lookouts.

Johnny turned to leave in frustration. Just then the phone rang and his guard picked it up. Then he handed it to Johnny.

“Johnny, Batman. I just spotted a ship on the horizon. It’s making for the Verrazano Bridge.”

It had arrived. Soon his troubles would be over. No more running this gang of nitwits and wondering where the next meal would come from. That’s all they were concerned about. Basic animal desires.

And violence too. He worked hard to keep rival cliques in the gang from tearing into each other, especially once the female opportunities dried up. They had gotten more and more violent since then. But that would be all over soon.
Time to get things in gear
, he thought.

He jogged back to headquarters to tell his other lieutenants to get ready. Things were about to get busy as four months of hard work was about to pay off.

Jogging back to the park, he could see the freighter now. It came up the harbor with its crew working the ship. Without any tugs to assist them, the freighter would have to dock on its own.

Johnny jogged over to the west side where the first dock on the Hudson River awaited their charge.

“Everything ready?” Johnny asked his dock lieutenant.

“Everything is in place. The tide is good and there’s no wind. Should be a piece of cake,” the dock operator answered. Johnny wasn’t sure where this Chinese gang member learned the ways of docking a ship, but it didn’t matter. Just get that ship tied up and the goods could flow.

The freighter slowly approached the dock and started its swing into position. As the bow came close to the end of the dock, a small line cascaded down from the big ship. The crew on the dock grabbed it and pulled. A larger line soon appeared and ran down the side of the ship.

Very slowly the ship inched forward into place. A stern line soon appeared and another dock crew pulled that one down and threw it over the bollard. With the bow and stern tied off, the freighter settled up against the dock.

The ship’s crew lowered the gangway down onto the dock. Johnny sprinted up the side of the ship and was met at the top by an Asian man. He spoke in Chinese.

“
Are you Mr. Chang
?” the man with a heavy Mandarin accent asked.

Johnny was taken back. He knew some Chinese from his parents speaking it at home, but he hadn’t bothered with it much since leaving home. This was America and English worked fine. The only time he spoke Chinese now was to give orders in Chinese to his gang so others wouldn’t understand.

“
Ah, yes. Are you Mr. Wong
?” Johnny said in Chinese. His hesitations were noticeable to the other man.

The other man switched to English. “It appears you have been too long in America. I can switch to English if that would make it easier?”

Johnny was relieved, but he realized that where he was headed he would need to improve his Chinese.
But hell, good-looking babes understood the language of money
, he thought.