Free The Pirate by Katherine Garbera Page A

to aid a people whose land had no oil or precious diamonds to offer in exchange.
    â€œCome in Maersk Angus ,” Habeb said once they reached the radio room.
    â€œThis is the Maersk Angus. P1 speaking.”
    All of the pirates who’d taken the ship were given a number from 1–5. P1 was the man who would stay on the radio and maintain communication with Habeb.
    Samatan had drilled into his men that they could never use their real names or speak in their native tongue. For the most part his crews spoke in Portuguese—a language spoken by many who roamed the seas. Even though Samatan realized that many of the captains whose ships they took realized the pirates were Somali, Samatan liked to think it gave him plausible deniability to pretend to be Portuguese.
    â€œP1 please find M-insider. I have a need to question him,” Habeb said.
    â€œRight away, sir.”
    Samatan and Habeb waited four minutes. Both men were standing looking out at the sea. “It’s a nice night.”
    â€œYes, sir, it is. I’ve always loved a night like this.”
    â€œWhy?” Samatan asked.
    â€œFeels like we’re the only ones in the world and that we own it.”
    Samatan laughed. “Yes it does.”
    â€œM-insider here.”
    â€œWe need further information on the U.S. hostages,” Habeb said.
    Samatan preferred to let his second in command speak on the radio. He knew that once they broadcast their voices they had no idea who else was picking up the signal.
    â€œI know only that they are all from the States and got on the ship in Madrid. I can try to find more information but I’m not sure how cooperative they’ll be,” Fridjtof said.
    Habeb glanced at him.
    â€œWe need to know what we are dealing with,” Samatan said.
    Habeb nodded, then spoke into the radio. “Use whatever means are necessary to find out who they are. We need to know what we are dealing with. We’ve already sent a ransom message to the Maersk shipping company.”
    â€œI’ll contact you as soon as I have the information,” Fridjtof said.
    â€œWe will await that information,” Habeb said.
    â€œDo you think this is going to be a problem?” Habeb asked Samatan.
    Samatan shrugged. “If it is, we will deal with it.”
    He had learned early on that if he was going to lead this group of men he could never show doubt or fear. Even when he wasn’t sure of himself he always projected confidence. In his world it was kill or be killed and a weak man died a young man.
    And he had plans to live to be an old man—something that few of his countrymen ever dreamed of. He doubted they even had a chance to dream when every day was a constant struggle of surviving and dreams felt like a frivolous luxury. Samatan had always dreamed of bigger and better things. He’d always dreamed of a life outside the poverty and the violence that was Somalia.
    And he’d do whatever he had to in order to ensure he got it.

Chapter Six
    The basic difference between an ordinary man
and a warrior is that a warrior takes everything
as a challenge.
    â€”C ARLOS C ASTANEDA
    D aphne was frightened. Although she’d learned as a mother to mask her own fears, right now she couldn’t. Armed men had gathered them all together like cattle and forced them into the main hold of the tanker along with the crew. All around them in the dank and dark hold were large crates. Some she recognized as the supplies her team was bringing with them.
    She felt trapped belowdecks, and an insidious panic was starting to grow inside her.
    She needed to focus on something. Laz. He was something she could do something about.
    â€œWhy are you glaring at the Captain?” Franny asked as she came up beside Daphne.
    â€œI just don’t understand what happened. I think he should have been better prepared to defend us,” Daphne said.
    â€œLook, he’s locked up with us,” Franny said. Her