Free Running Dark by Jamie Freveletti

The whole idea is a bit of a boondoggle anyway, because some African countries are highly suspicious of vaccines to begin with. They think the medicine is really a way for the U.S. to poison their children. Sometimes we deliver the products and they end up rotting on the dock.”
    “So we won’t be able to use the cargo as barter to get us out of the situation.”
    Janklow took another puff. “Not at all. Our best bet is the money in the casino. But I doubt they’ll settle for it. They’ll want to ransom the passengers as well. Last month the Danes paid over a million dollars for five of their own. That’s big business for these guys.”
    Sumner thought about the four men in the cigarette boats. They had looked like Somali fishermen: skinny and underfed. He’d be amazed if they had fifty bucks between them.
    “Who’s getting the money? It sure as hell isn’t those four losers in the boats.”
    “The warlords. They finance the boats, guns, you name it. The guys actually doing the attacking barely make a living wage.”
    “I wish I could speak to them. I could tell them that the U.S. won’t pay. I know this from personal experience.”
    Janklow looked at Sumner with a measured gaze. “I heard that you were held hostage in Colombia. The U.S. didn’t ransom you?”
    Sumner watched the ocean for a moment before answering. “Not a penny. But I ended up costing the kidnappers a lot more than they cost the U.S.”
    Janklow looked intrigued. “If I may ask, how did you get out of there?”
    Sumner thought about Emma Caldridge. He caught himself smiling, which was something he didn’t do too much of, before and especially after Colombia. He hoisted the gun higher on his shoulder. “I was saved by a beautiful mad scientist.”
    Janklow grunted in surprise. “Can you bring her here? We could use her help.”
    Sumner shook his head. “I want her to stay as far away from here as possible.”
    Janklow finished his smoke, ground out the butt, and tossed it into a nearby cigarette bin. “I don’t blame you for that.”
    Sumner started walking again.
    Janklow moved out in the opposite direction. “See you on the next turn.”
    Halfway around the deck, Sumner bumped into Block. “Out for a stroll?”
    “I wish,” Block replied. “Wainwright wants me to take over for Janklow. Something’s going on with the damage, and he’s needed there.” He turned and fell into step with Sumner. “Anything happen so far?”
    “No, but this is the ‘hot’ shift. You know that, right?”
    Block sighed. “I told you, I used to hunt. Lots of animals come out at night. Don’t see how these are any different.”
    Sumner couldn’t argue with that. They met up with Janklow at the midpoint. He eyed Block with a sour expression that was even worse than his usual one. Sumner watched him manage a cordial nod.
    “Mr. Block, what brings you on deck this late?” Janklow asked.
    “Wainwright needs you in Stateroom A to inspect the damage. He wants me to spell you.” Block waved toward the pistol holstered at Janklow’s waist. “That little gun all you got?”
    Janklow sighed and pulled the gun, holster and all, off his waist. He handed it to Block. “This is it.”
    Block scrutinized the pistol. “What the hell is this?”
    “A stun gun.”
    The gun was bright yellow and had a square muzzle instead of a round one. Slightly thicker than an actual pistol, it came with its own holster in fluorescent neon.
    “Why the hell is it so bright? This thing glows. I might as well be carrying a sign that says ‘I’m over here, shoot me.’” Block waved the holster around. The reflective material left streaks of green light as it moved through the dark.
    “It’s considered rescue equipment. All rescue equipment is designed so that it can be located in the dark.”
    “How does it work?” Block asked.
    “It takes a few seconds to charge. You flick this on”—Janklowshowed Block a switch—“and when it’s ready, you aim and