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Aguilar gulped and nodded. “I understand.”
White beamed with a mirthless smile, which creeped out Aguilar even more. “Good. Now, I don’t want to see you or anyone who works for you near my ship again during this visit.”
Aguilar teetered to his feet and snatched the money off the desk. “You passed the inspection with flying colors, Captain White.”
White nodded and waved good-bye. “Adeus, amigo.”
Aguilar rushed out of the office. He made it all the way up to the outside deck before he vomited over the side.
* * *
—
As soon as Aguilar bolted from his office, Zachariah Tate laughed and started pulling off the false beard and nose, revealing his lean face, pinched nose, and cleft chin. The white wig came off next. Underneath was a shock of jet-black hair. Whether he was playing Charles White on the Salem or Chester Knight on the Portland, he always got a kick out of the acting gig.
“He’s gone,” Tate said to the hidden microphone. “Can we get rid of that hideous smell now?”
Fans sucked the artificial stink out of the office in seconds, replacing it with a pleasant sea breeze scent that Tate preferred.
Abdel Farouk walked into the office and smirked. “You didn’t have to use the nuclear option right away, Commander.”
“Oh yes, I did,” Tate said, pulling the stuffing out of his shirt. “That weasel would have nickel-and-dimed me for an hour. I’m a busy man. I don’t have that kind of time. Let’s go get our cargo off-loaded and make some money.”
The fake prosthetic leg was the last thing he removed. The plastic molding around Tate’s intact right calf was the least favorite part of his disguise because it was so itchy.
He left everything on the desk and led Farouk down a dingy hall with flickering fluorescent lights to a broom closet. The cleaning supplies strewn on the floor and shelves were unused and moldy, and the slop sink was crusted with grime. Tate turned the handles in a preset pattern like a combination lock. A soft click announced the opening of a secret door at the back of the closet.
Tate pulled it open and walked into a hall illuminated by tasteful wall sconces and with a floor covered with plush carpeting. It was as if he’d entered the lobby of a five-star hotel.
Farouk closed the closet door behind them. “Our buyers are ready to transfer the four containers over to their ship once we’ve unloaded them.”
“Have they agreed to our terms?”
Farouk nodded. “It was a fair offer. I wonder where the weapons will end up.”
“Who cares?” Tate dismissed it with the wave of a hand. “What I like is getting paid twice for the same shipment.” The Mantícora operation had gone just as planned. The payment from the CIA front company had been moved through myriad dummy accounts. They’d never be able to track it.
Tate went through a doorway into the Portland’s op center. The control hub embedded in the heart of the ship actually served as the bridge. Up above, the dilapidated bridge in the superstructure was merely for show.
Every function of the ship could be handled in the op center, from propulsion and steering to communications and weapons activation. The room itself was designed to resemble a starship, with flat-panel displays, touchpad controls, and a massive screen on the front wall. High-definition cameras mounted all over the exterior of the ship provided surveillance.
Tate took his seat in the swiveling command chair at the center of the room. It was built with controls in the armrest so that the commander could operate the most critical functions of the ship from this one spot.
“Status?” he asked.
His first officer, a Russian naval veteran named Pavel Durchenko, said, “We’re unloading the first container now, Commander.”
He nodded to another officer, and an image of the dockside crane lifting the shipping unit appeared on the main view screen.
“As soon as the last container touches the dock,” Tate said to Farouk, “I want that payment in our accounts.”
“Yes, sir.”
Two of the crew high-fived, and the rest murmured approvingly. They all shared in the spoils for every job pulled off by the Portland.
“Did we get the supplies we needed?”
“All food and ammunition stores will be replenished within the hour,” Durchenko said.
