Finding Elodie Read online

  All she’d ever wanted was to live a quiet life. Maybe find a man and get married, have a kid or two, and cook food for a living. Now she was thirty-five years old, and somewhere along the way, her simple life plan had been seriously derailed.

  This cargo ship job had seemed like such a blessing. She could get out of the country and away from Columbus and his network, who were trying to eliminate her. What could be better than being isolated on a ship in the middle of the ocean? She’d be perfectly safe.

  “Yeah, perfectly safe,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and resting her temple on the back wall of the cabinet. She had to believe this would be over soon. Walter would do what the men wanted and they’d get whatever valuables they could find in the containers they could reach and open, then they’d go. Back to wherever they came from, letting her and the rest of the crew get on with their lives.

  Right. That was how it would happen in a Hollywood movie, but this was real life. And with how things were going, she’d probably end up being taken hostage and forced to marry some African tribal chief.

  Scott “Mustang” Webber glanced over at his SEAL team. Midas, Aleck, Pid, Jag, and Slate were completely focused on the paperwork in front of them. They’d been on a mission in Pakistan when they’d been notified of a change in plans. They were pulled from the desert and flown by helicopter to the USS Paul Hamilton, a guided-missile destroyer currently undergoing joint Naval operations in the Arabian Sea. There were several other vessels—the USS Lewis B. Puller, USS Firebolt, USCGC Wrangell, and the USCGC Maui—in the area as well. His team had arrived onboard and immediately been taken to a conference room, where the admiral onboard had brought them up to speed on their current mission.

  Apparently, a medium-sized cargo ship had been boarded by pirates in the Gulf of Aden. The captain had put out a distress call saying he was currently being boarded by an unknown number of pirates and that he needed assistance ASAP. Since then, there had been no communication with the captain or the pirates.

  The USS Paul Hamilton, along with the other ships, were headed that way, but as of right now, they had no information to work with.

  Mustang remembered hearing about the Maersk Alabama incident, and how Navy SEAL snipers had taken out the pirates who’d hijacked the captain and forced him into one of the cargo ship’s lifeboats. Mustang and his team weren’t snipers, and frankly, he hated close-quarter rescues, such as on a lifeboat. He’d much prefer to have the run of the cargo ship itself. There were plenty of places to hide and take out the pirates one by one.

  “What’s their heading?” Midas asked.

  “Right now, they look like they’re on their scheduled course,” the admiral said. “Due west toward Djibouti. They’re supposed to turn northward and go through the Bab el-Mandeb Strait and dock in Port Sudan.”

  “That’s a pretty tricky strait to navigate,” Aleck observed.

  “It is,” the admiral agreed.

  “Do we have any idea what nationality the pirates are? Or what their plan is?” Pid asked.

  “Unfortunately, not as of yet. We’ve been trying to reach them, to get someone to talk to us, but either their comms are down or we’re deliberately being ignored.”

  “Shit,” Jag swore under his breath.

  Mustang agreed. Without information, it was almost impossible to come up with a plan.

  Almost.

  “So, we’re going in blind?” Slate asked.

  Mustang couldn’t help but smile. Slate was usually the first to volunteer for a dangerous mission. He always wanted to get the show on the road, so to speak.

  “Unless we can get someone to talk to us…yes,” Mustang answered before the admiral could.

  It was just lucky they were already in the area and could be taken off their previous mission. The team had been on a few cargo ships in the past and knew they were full of corridors and nooks and crannies. As much as he hated that the crew members onboard the Asaka Express were probably scared out of their minds, he was looking forward to the challenge of finding, and taking out, each and every pirate.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Sir,” a lieutenant said as he stuck his head inside the door.

  “What is it?” the admiral asked.

  “We have communication from the Asaka Express.”

  “Thank fuck,” Midas said.

  “Can it be patched through?” the admiral asked.

  “Yes, Sir. Just a moment.” The lieutenant disappeared from the doorway once more.

  Mustang and his team waited impatiently for the connection to be made to the cargo ship. When the sophisticated radio in the middle of the table finally squawked, Mustang blinked in surprise at the voice on the other end.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you’ve been connected. Please tell the admiral what you just told me.”

  “Um…okay. I’m on the Asaka Express and there are pirates onboard. We need help.” The woman’s voice was shaking, she was obviously scared, but she was keeping her composure.

  “This is Admiral Light, I’m in charge of the USS Paul Hamilton. We’re headed in your direction. What is your name?”

  “El— Um…Rachel Walters.”

  Mustang looked over at Jag, who raised an eyebrow at hearing her response. Most people didn’t stumble over their own name. Even in an extremely stressful situation like the one Ms. Walters had found herself in.

  “And in what capacity do you work onboard?”

  “My job? I’m the cook.”

  It wasn’t unheard of to have females onboard the large cargo ships that constantly sailed through the waters in the Middle East, but it was still rare enough to be interesting.

  “What can you tell us about the situation?” Admiral Light asked.

  “Right, um, well, I can only tell you what I’ve heard. I—”

  “What do you mean, you heard?” Mustang asked, interrupting her.

  “Oh, uh…there’re more than just the admiral there?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Mustang answered. “My SEAL team is here and we’re going to come help you, but we need as much information as you can give us before we do. How many pirates are onboard?”

  “Here’s the thing,” Rachel said. “I haven’t actually seen any of them. They have pretty thick accents and it’s hard for me to understand them. Walter…er…Captain Conger told everyone onboard to hide, so that’s what I did. I’m in the galley…well, not the galley, but in one of the pantries nearby. I’ve got a radio, and one of the officers must’ve turned on a radio on the bridge, because it’s been broadcasting. I can hear everything that’s going on up there, but again, it’s hard to understand. I can’t see what’s happening.”

  “How many crew are onboard?” Aleck asked.

  “Twenty-two, including me,” Rachel answered without hesitation.

  “What channel were you listening to the bridge on?” Pid asked.

  “Ten.”

  “And what channel are you on now?” Pid asked.

  “Um…five, I think. I was just changing channels and seeing if anyone could hear me when you guys answered.”

  Pid reached into his pack on the floor and started rummaging around. He was the team’s electronics expert, and Mustang knew he was going to try to tap into the radio frequency Rachel was using and listen to what was happening on the bridge of the Asaka Express himself.

  “If you had to guess, how many men would you say boarded the ship?” the admiral asked.

  Mustang heard Rachel sigh. “I don’t know,” she said. “We were all sleeping when it happened and woke when the captain made an announcement, telling us what was going on. But I think it’s more than just a handful. There was talk of searching the ship earlier, and I’m not sure they’d do that if they only had three or four people, but I’m not an expert on forcefully taking over a ship, so I don’t know for sure. They want money, and for the captain to open the containers. They said something about more men coming onboard when we got somewhere and that they didn’t
want hostages.”

  Not wanting hostages could be good or bad. It could mean the pirates really did just want money and valuables. After the Maersk Alabama incident, when the pirate in charge had been taken back to the States and thrown in prison and his comrades had been killed, hostage-taking by pirates had fallen out of favor. But not taking hostages could also mean the lives of every single one of the crew were in danger. It was easier to shoot to kill than to try to wrangle two dozen men.

  And Mustang really didn’t want to think about what they’d do to a woman if they found her onboard.

  “Oh, crap…I hear something!” Rachel said.

  “Stay quiet, turn down the volume on your radio, but don’t disconnect,” Mustang ordered.

  “Okay…um…can I ask your name? I just…it feels more personal.”

  “I’m Mustang,” he told her. “And my team is all here. Midas, Aleck, Pid, Jag, and Slate.”

  There was silence for a second, then a slight huff of breath. “I had to ask,” she muttered.

  Mustang hadn’t thought twice about sharing his team’s nicknames, but he’d forgotten how weird they’d sound to a civilian. “Scott,” he said quietly. “My name is Scott.”

  “Scott. Okay,” she whispered, then inhaled sharply as a loud bang sounded through the connection.

  All six SEALs leaned forward, as if that could somehow help keep the woman on the other end of the line safe from whatever was happening. Admiral Light sat tense in his chair as he listened as well.

  They could all hear raised voices in the background. Mustang closed his eyes and tried to distinguish what language was being spoken. He wasn’t a language expert, but it sounded like a mix of Arabic and French to him.

  “Stop pushing me!” a man’s voice said in English.

  Rachel’s breathing was loud and fast. Mustang wanted to comfort her. Tell her to slow her breathing before she passed out, but he didn’t dare say a word in case it would give away her hiding place.

  “There’s no one here,” said the man speaking English.

  “Men will regret not show themselves,” a man said, obviously one of the pirates by the sound of his accent.

  “Where more food?” another man asked.

  “There are a few freezers in this hallway,” the crew member said, “and more storage, but the best bet for stuff that can be eaten quickly, without having to cook it, is in the pantries on either side of the galley. That’s where the snacks and things are kept. Back here is mostly flour, sugar, stuff like that. Things the cook uses to make the meals.”

  “Show us these pantries. And no try anything.”

  “I’m not,” the officer said. “I’m doing exactly what you’ve told me.”

  “We come back for water and food,” one of the pirates said. “We look more for money now.”

  Everyone in the conference room strained to listen for footsteps retreating, or for more conversation, but all they could hear were Rachel’s terrified breaths.

  “You’re okay,” Mustang said softly after a long moment, not able to keep quiet any longer. “They didn’t find you.”

  “I know,” she whispered back in a voice so low, everyone had to struggle to hear.

  “Who was that?” Midas asked.

  “I think it was Bryce…he’s one of the officers who works with the captain on the bridge.”

  Mustang saw the admiral writing the name down, though he was sure someone was working on getting a list of every crew member onboard the Asaka Express.

  “Had you heard either of those two pirates before?” Aleck asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry. God, I wish I was better at this,” she moaned.

  “You’re doing fine,” Mustang reassured her.

  “I’m not. So far I’ve told you nothing you probably didn’t already know,” she said.

  “Other than the original distress call, you’re the first communication we’ve had from your ship,” Mustang countered.

  “I am?” Rachel asked. “That’s weird. I mean, we’ve all been trained to use the radios to call for help.”

  “Are the others in the engine room or in the bowels of the ship?” Pid asked.

  “Probably both, but I’m guessing most are in the engine room. It’s loud down there and easier to hide. A cough or movement can more easily be masked by the noise of the engines,” Rachel said.

  “And being lower in the ship, surrounded by all the steel, makes it more difficult for radio transmissions to get through on a handheld radio,” Pid told her.

  “I guess that makes sense,” Rachel mused.

  “Why aren’t you in the engine room?” Mustang couldn’t help but ask.

  “I’m the cook,” Rachel told him, as if that explained everything.

  “And?” Slate asked.

  “And depending on how long the pirates are here, the guys are gonna need food and water.”

  Mustang shook his head. He was impressed with Rachel’s dedication to her job, but she was putting herself in danger. Someone should’ve realized that, besides the captain, Rachel was probably the most vulnerable on that ship. The pirates could use her to force the other crew members to do their bidding.

  He didn’t even want to think of all the other ways they could use and abuse her.

  “I’m in,” Pid said triumphantly as he nodded to the radio in front of him.

  “Already?” the admiral asked.

  “He means, what took you so long?” Aleck corrected with a chuckle.

  “You’re in?” Rachel asked.

  “I’ve patched into your radio frequency. We’re listening to channel ten now.”

  “You are? Okay, good,” Rachel said. “So…does this mean you’re still coming?”

  “Yes,” Mustang told her. He wanted to tell her that they’d be there soon, but unfortunately, nothing worked that fast in the Navy. They needed to make plans, prepare the Zodiac and, most importantly, wait for night to fall…which was still too many hours away.

  “The crew channel is three,” she told them. “When you get here and kill the pirates, you can let us all know it’s safe to come out on that channel.”

  “Bloodthirsty thing, isn’t she?” Jag said under his breath. “I like her.”

  “Thanks for telling us,” Mustang said, ignoring his teammate. He wasn’t surprised, anyone who worked on a cargo ship had to be pretty rough around the edges. He pictured a stereotypical ship’s cook…an older, tall, overweight woman wearing a stained apron and covered in tattoos, with short hair and a bad attitude.

  Then he felt like a douche for even thinking about her looks. That didn’t matter in the least. Besides, from the sound of her voice, he guessed she was probably around his age, mid-thirties or younger, and she didn’t seem to have a bad attitude in the least. She was doing her best to stay calm and give them any information she could. “You just stay hunkered down, no matter what, okay?”

  “Okay—but Scott?”

  Hearing his given name felt a bit odd. It had been a long time since he’d heard anyone call him that, but Mustang said, “Yeah?”

  “What if they threaten to kill some of the officers if we don’t show ourselves? What should we do?”

  “Fuck,” Slate said softly.

  “You stay where you are,” the admiral said sternly. “Under no circumstances should you or anyone else put yourselves in danger.”

  “I’m not sure I can sit here and listen to them kill the men I’ve become friends with,” Rachel answered.

  “I wish I had a better answer for you,” Mustang told her. “I wish I could tell you that the pirates would be bluffing and they won’t actually kill anyone. I wish I could say that if you, or anyone else, went up to the bridge, they’d not follow through with their threats, but there’s no telling what those men will do.”

  “And I’m a woman,” Rachel whispered.

  “And you’re a woman,” Mustang agreed. “We’re coming,” he assured her.

  “I don’t know how the pirates got onboard,”
Rachel said, “but there’s a hole in the very front of the ship. Not a hole, but like…an access port. Shoot, I don’t know the official word for it. Where chains and stuff can be used without putting them over the railing. But when we got a tour, Walter joked that it was big enough for someone to fit through. With the bridge being at the back of the ship, and the containers stacked high, no one would see you if you came aboard that way.”

  Mustang saw his teammates smiling. They weren’t making fun of her, it was obvious the woman was scared yet still doing her best to try to help, which was appreciated. But it was also obvious Rachel hadn’t thought through the logistics of what she was suggesting. Getting onboard a moving vessel through the very front of the ship was dangerous as hell, and there wouldn’t be very much cover on the forward deck.

  “Thanks for the suggestion,” Midas told her diplomatically.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Stay on this frequency,” Pid told her, “so we can communicate with you.”

  “But, then I can’t hear what’s going on with Walter and the others on the bridge,” she said.

  Mustang nodded at his teammate. It was a good suggestion. If the shit did hit the fan, none of them wanted her to hear it. “We can,” he told her.

  “Oh, right. I’d forgotten. Okay. Will you— Never mind.”

  “What?” Mustang asked.

  “It’s stupid.”

  “What?” he asked more forcefully.

  “I was just going to ask if you could come onto the radio now and then and let me know that you’re still out there and still coming to help? I’m terrified, and knowing someone is coming makes me feel a lot better.”

  “Yes,” Mustang told her. “We’re going to be in constant contact because we need to know what’s going on below decks where you are.” That was only partly true. Since Pid had patched them into the channel one of the officers had opened on the bridge, they had a direct line to the most important room on that ship. But that wouldn’t help them if the pirates split up.

  “Okay. Thank you for coming. And be safe. These guys sound really…angry.”

  When was the last time someone had told them, a notoriously badass Navy SEAL team, to be safe? How about never? “We will,” Mustang told her. “Try to relax, and you be safe too.”