Читать книгу The Albatros And The Pirates Of Galguduud - Federico Supervielle - Страница 3

Chapter One

Friedrich Gotthelf hung up the phone defeated. At times like these, the fact that his phone was the latest model or that his contact list was packed with the phone numbers of the most influential and successful businessmen in the world - especially in the oil business – full of famous people and celebrities, even a few politicians, meant absolutely nothing. His fancy office, if you could call a room bigger than most apartments an office, offered him no satisfaction. Not even his ergonomic chair that had cost him twenty-five thousand Euros seemed comfortable. After what he had just done all his accomplishments disappeared behind a cloud that only allowed him to see his failure. This was the third time in twenty months! With this last phone call Gotthelf had just authorized the payment of the ransom for the release of the supertanker Dufourspitze, one of the twelve belonging to Alps Tankers; his main source of income. Translating the name to English had been the suggestion of one of those business consultants that receives an astronomical salary for doing a job that in the magnate’s opinion didn’t really generate any profits, but it was a necessary evil. In any case, the damn Somali pirates didn’t seem to care about the name of the company anyway, or its nationality, flag, cargo, destination or anything else for that matter. They would hijack any ship on the water whether close or not so close to Somalia if they deemed it feasible, and then they would demand the ransom. Dufourspitze, together with Finsteraarhorn, Nordend, Aletschhorn, Zumsteinspitze and the rest of the ships had to go by Somalia and pass through the Gulf of Aden if they didn’t want to go around so far out of the way that it made the trip not even less than half as profitable. In business everything is about profits. Although, after paying this last ransom Gotthelf was sure that in the last twenty months he would have been better off sending his fleet the long way around the Cape of Good Hope. It hadn’t been long since they had begun the extraction of oil in Tanzania and his company had acquired the contract to transport crude to European ports but that meant crossing the entire area swarming with Somali pirates.

“Dammit!”

From his office in the commercial district of Zurich everything seemed so simple. If only the civilized countries would get together and do something. But there was no way to get those politicians to take a risk. They would not do anything to compromise hundreds of thousands of votes in the upcoming elections, and that was the case in all the Western countries. This was one of the reasons that at sixty-one years of age he had declined numerous offers by the Helvetic Republic to be at the head of the Portfolio of Economy. His experience and connections were well known but politics was not for him. Businesses were much simpler; procure more money spending less and you’ll be doing fine and there’s always the option to improve. Not so in politics, one day you’re on top, the next on the bottom, that’s as sure as death and taxes.

Almost all the western countries with interests in the area had one or a few warships patrolling the zone catching a skiff here or there but that wasn’t enough. The pirates weren’t stupid and with their experience and the money from the paid ransoms they had been able to double their efforts and improve their techniques. Anyone who was familiar with this topic affirmed that the only way to address the problem was to nip it in the bud and attack the pirates at their home base on land. However, it seemed that no government or international organization was aware of this. The problem stemmed from Somalia being a failed state, and obviously to carry out these attacks you would need to enter Somali waters and be in Somali territory. And without a visible head of state to obtain permission from, no government was going to face a possible contrary public opinion. Gotthelf couldn’t understand what people had against attacking the pirates except maybe the possible collateral damage to civilians. But therein was the key. They were too used to peace, there in Switzerland most of all, to accept a few foreign civilians as the only possible victims of a military operation; aside from the soldiers of course. One gets used to thinking that those in the military die because it’s part of their job, but we also have to take them into account, right?

In any case, it was clear that nothing was going to be accomplished with the aid of only the western governments. The vice-president of the emergent Somali government, who didn’t even control half the country, had talked to him several times. He seemed like a man suitable enough for his position and he had good ideas and initiative but nothing with which to carry them out. The Somali proposed many things, from an army that could take the country by force to naval or air raids. But no one seemed to listen to him. The western countries were too busy sustaining their ailing democracies to pay attention to the petitions of a government that was barely governing. And in this day and age besides governments, what is there? It had been a long time since the age of mercenaries even though some considered the glorious Vatican Swiss Guard as such. In the naval war they had also existed, what were they called? Corsairs. That’s it. But it had been centuries since any corsair traversed the oceans. They were nothing more than memories of times gone by.

And suddenly everything was clear to him. It was a crazy idea but, why not? In any case, if he wanted to carry it out he needed someone well versed on the topic. But who? It was obvious no one in Switzerland would have that kind of expertise. He himself had never set foot on any of his ships. It had to be a foreigner. Gotthelf racked his brains, mentally searching through all those meetings, banquets, receptions and other events he had attended, and after a few minutes, “Marianne!” he yelled through the door at his secretary.

Marianne knew that when her boss forgot to use the intercom he had on his desk to call her he was either in a hurry or nervous so she quickly went into his office wondering what it was this time.

“Do you remember that reception a couple of months ago at the Hotel Alden?” he asked.

The young woman nodded. It had been the most important social event of the year and her boss, even though he wouldn’t admit it, gave it much importance. It was one of the best places for doing business.

“I was talking to a Spaniard. I don’t remember his name but I need you to find him. It shouldn’t be too hard. He was one of the few Spaniards present and he didn’t have a very important position. He was some sort of consultant.”

Marianne nodded again and assuming her boss needed nothing else turned and headed for her desk.

She knew at that moment Gotthelf’s eyes would leave his papers and turn to look at her, but she didn’t care. Her boss was happily married, had two children, and all the right in the world to look lustfully at his young and sexy secretary who knew very well he would never cross that line. Besides, she only had eyes for her fiancé Jean-Paul, captain of the Swiss Guard and no need to have an affair with a magnate. Gotthelf was a good boss, he paid well and Marianne knew that as good looking as she was if she didn’t do her job well he wouldn’t have hired her.

And now to find the Spaniard. The task her boss had given her was a peculiar one, but that was exactly the kind of work that would break the monotony and she was always grateful for that. Marianne sat at her desk unaware that at that moment Gotthelf was thinking about how even her name exuded sensuality. Not that he’d do anything about it, of course.

#

“Good afternoon monsieur Reyes.”

“Good afternoon Pierre.”

The Hotel Rocco Forte in Brussels was the best in the city and Pierre was an old acquaintance.

“Something for me?” he asked as he handed him his key.

“Oui monsieur, you got a call from … Alps Tankers,” Pierre said after looking at his note. “They didn’t leave a message, just this number.”

“Very well, thank you,” Reyes answered taking the piece of paper and heading for the elevator while he searched his memory. Alps Tankers … The name was so obvious he didn’t need to think too much; the top Swiss crude supertanker company. The owner’s name was Golfhead or something like that. He had met him recently at a reception in Zurich. Friedrich Gotthelf was his name. About sixty, tall, obviously in great shape in his younger years, light-colored eyes, and hair that had once been blonde but was now mostly white. However, he didn’t bother dyeing it as most others did. The Swiss had been gracious and polite as any good businessman, but there was something in his eyes that said loud and clear: I am cold and calculating, good at what I do and yes, … I’m a nice guy. An “old fashioned” guy was maybe a better way to put it. They had talked about nothing in particular for a while and then the magnate had moved on to greet some of the other guests.

What could the great Swiss magnate want from Jaime Reyes Luzón? In his mind Reyes went over the skills that had brought him to that hotel room not caring about the exorbitant prices. He had studied political science and immediately branched out to a Master’s degree in security and defense politics and naval subjects. He had been a consultant in various Spanish governments for both parties – at the precise level where you were considered important but you didn’t have to be affiliated to the party, and he wanted to keep it that way – and also in various international organizations: NATO, the UN, and the European Union. The names were all the same to him as long as the pay was good and he could do what he liked. No strings attached. Hence, his vast experience and reputation. But, what did that have to do with the Swiss shipping company?

Reyes decided that the only way to find out was to call. He had never avoided peculiar situations like this one and it had always gone well for him. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself thinking it was an opportunity. Maybe the call had to do with trying to sell him shares or to ask him where he had bought the tie he wore to the reception. The very, very wealthy have a tendency to be eccentric. But not Gotthelf. Their brief chat had been sufficient to reveal that detail. In that case it could only be a job offer and no doubt a well paid one. Gotthelf was the type of guy who valued a job well done and Reyes wasn’t the best at what he did by chance. But still, his thoughts brought him back to square one, what for?

Reyes' rare skills were geared towards governments or international organizations not private enterprises. Reyes liked to think of himself as a modern strategist. Without a uniform, but designing the politics that helped the West maintain its control. Was Gotthelf a fan of military history who just wanted to share his visions regarding the world’s geostrategic position with a professional? Too far-fetched. And yet, as much as he searched he couldn’t come up with an adequate answer.

Here it goes, thought Reyes now in his suite and dialing the number Pierre had given him. Whatever it is I’m about to find out.

After a couple of rings someone picked up the phone and answered in a voice that he could only define as “sexy”.

“Mr. Gotthelf’s office, how may I help you?”

English … an office accustomed to receiving international calls or a phone that had caller ID or any other explanation from a million of possibilities. He decided to respond in the same language, out of education and convenience. It was extremely unlikely that the sexy voice on the other side of the phone spoke Spanish and he was perfectly fluent in English, his neutral accent a result of intense and expensive practice sessions with people of various origins.

“Good morning, my name is Jaime Reyes Luzón, I received a call from you.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Reyes,” answered the sexy voice, “good morning my name is Marianne, Mr. Gotthelf’s secretary. Just a moment please, I’ll transfer your call.”

While Reyes pondered over how in each country his name was pronounced differently - and never entirely well - a few hundred miles southeast Marianne got up from her desk and went to her boss’ office. She knew Gotthelf preferred face to face communication rather than the intercom.

“Mr. Gotthelf,” she said, “Mr. Reyes is on the phone.”

“Transfer him.”

“Good morning,” Reyes greeted him moments later.

“Good morning, my name is Friedrich Gotthelf from Alps Tankers. We met here in Zurich in the spring.”

“Yes Mr. Gotthelf,” said Reyes. “I remember very well. How are your wife and your two children?”

Reyes knew the memory exercise had been worth the effort. Everyone loved it when the person they were talking to remembered them, and what better proof of it than to mention the previous meeting or a known fact. Gotthelf must be secretly congratulating himself on his importance. To think that a man with whom he chatted for barely half an hour remembered him including his family even though he had briefly mentioned them. The magnate must be feeling as if he left an impression on Reyes and it was always good when your boss feels important. Even if he was, as of now, only a potential boss or maybe not even that.

“Very well, thank you,” answered Gotthelf surprised. “I hope you as well,” he said hoping Reyes couldn’t tell that he couldn’t remember whether he had family or not.

This also put Reyes at a slight advantage since Gotthelf seemed somewhat surprised and clearly would have liked to return such a courteous greeting in kind. And just as Reyes had anticipated and wanted Gotthelf didn’t beat around the bush and got straight to the point.

“I have a project in my hands and would like to count on your advice.”

“May I know what it’s about Mr. Gotthelf?” answered Reyes not bothering to conceal his curiosity. He had not been able to figure out what Gotthelf wanted and frankly, he was dying to know.

“I would rather discuss it in person if you don’t mind,” Gotthelf replied.

“In order to do that Mr. Gotthelf, I might need certain particulars or papers and it would be impossible for me to get them in time if you don’t give me a clue.”

“Let’s just say, Mr. Reyes, that lately I’ve been growing tired of the Jolly Roger,” Gotthelf said, enjoying puzzling Reyes. “Can we meet?”

“I’ll be there tomorrow. Have a good day,” Reyes replied realizing Gotthelf had convinced him before even talking to him. After he hung up the phone he lay back on the plush bed in what he defined as the best position for thinking, supine with his arms stretched out at his sides.

So, pirates.

Suddenly everything made sense. Recently the magnate had paid a ransom for one of his oil tankers. Reyes couldn’t remember the name but he knew they all had the names of mountains in the Swiss Alps. Anyway, the name was not important. This was not the first time Alps Tankers had paid a ransom to the Somali pirates. Meanwhile, an accusing little voice was telling him he should have remembered. The conscious part of his brain still had no revelation.

It was clear Gotthelf wanted to protect his ships but this wasn’t a job for him. There were numerous companies dedicated to this type of problem as well as advisors with human resources and materials. Had Gotthelf mistaken his credentials? Not likely. Gotthelf was the kind of guy who was used to doing things well and not showing all his cards. If Gotthelf wanted to talk to him there was a reason even if he himself couldn’t figure it out just yet.

In any case, Reyes decided as he sat in front of his laptop, I need to get up to date on the subject. He knew it wouldn’t be hard. He had done this many times when he was with NATO and the European Union. Speaking of NATO, I need to make a few phone calls to let them know I won’t be available for a while. Those were the perks of being the best. For Reyes, the ideal contract was one that didn’t tie him up definitively. Being able to come and go as he pleased was part of his personality and opened up opportunities such as this one.

While he purchased the ticket for the direct flight in the morning he couldn’t help but remember the secretary’s voice. Hopefully he’d get to meet her the next day. His subconscious had come to the conclusion that a voice like that could only be accompanied by a very nice body. And one of the advantages of being single at forty-two was that he could think about any pretty young woman guilt free. Who knows? He could maybe even flirt with her. He smiled remembering his player days.

#

He had always liked Switzerland. There were landscapes that looked like they were straight out of a movie. Either that or maybe half the scenes in movies were shot there. He loved Spain but the valleys surrounded by snow capped mountains, green meadows and blue skies couldn’t be found in his Alicante of birth, or anywhere else in the world.

Reyes took advantage of the taxi ride from the airport to Zurich to mentally go over the information he had compiled the previous day. The three Swiss ship hijackings had all been similar. The pirates had attacked by night managing to get close to the sides of the enormous oil tankers with various skiffs which were supposedly launched from a mother vessel that had not yet been identified. It wasn’t even known if it had been the same organization that had perpetrated all the attacks.

As soon as they had control of the tanker the pirates had set a course for Somali waters, specifically the south of the country, the zone that the government had no control over. In two of the instances the war ships that patrolled the zone had no time to react before the supertanker reached Somali waters. And in the other instance, the pirates had managed to take the ship without the crew even noticing until the next day when they revealed themselves. Either way, when the pirates took an oil tanker they would send a warning message on channel 16, the international marine emergency channel, threatening to shoot one of the hostages if any other ships approached the tanker.

In the first of the hijackings, which happened almost two years ago, a French frigate had approached the tanker to try to use the special operations team on board. Then the pirates had contacted them by radio and shot a hostage. When the French heard the shot and the screams over the radio they immediately aborted the operation. Luckily, they had shot the hostage in the leg and he was treated the next day without too many complications after the ransom was paid. However, since then no one had attempted to take a captured ship back by force.

The standard pirate procedure was to anchor the ship on some protected beach and wait for the ransom to be paid while they kept the hostages constantly at gunpoint to make sure no one tried to free them by force. In other cases, the pirates had made a mistake, and either an American, English, or French special operations team had taken advantage of it. But not in Mr. Gotthelf’s case.

After getting paid, the pirates would flee leaving the hostages on board and threatening to blow up the ship if someone followed them. Shortly after, they would disappear in the chaos of the southern part of the African country. The bomb threats were not always true but no one was about to gamble with the lives of the hostages, and much less after having paid the ransom.

It was clear the pirates knew what they were doing. There had to be someone behind all the planning. He was sure of that. The improvement of their means came from the ransom money. But money means nothing unless you know where and how to spend it. What’s more, their techniques were becoming increasingly refined. A few years ago no one would imagine a group of drugged Somalis taking a ship without alerting the crew, as if they were American Navy Seals. It was clear they were receiving more or less specific training, and that at least some of them were leaving their khat behind.

Another detail that the consultant had noticed was the speed with which Gotthelf would pay the ransoms. It was usually the next day. For a split second a crazy idea crossed his mind. Illegal associations between Swiss magnates and pirates to swindle insurance companies? But he quickly rejected the thought. The little he knew about Gotthelf was enough to think he wouldn’t make alliances with pirates. Or so he thought.

Gotthelf was a man used to winning, but it was precisely because of that fact that he would also know perfectly well when he had lost and probably preferred to get rid of it immediately thus avoiding bigger troubles. However, three times in twenty months was too many and that’s why he had decided to hire a consultant in the field of security and defense even though Reyes still hadn’t been able to figure out what for.

Three times in twenty months. That was the other thing that had caught his attention. He had reviewed the rest of the hijackings in Somali waters and no other company had such great losses. In the instance of the only other supertanker that had been captured it had been a combination of the attackers’ luck and the crew’s incompetence. No one could figure out how the pirates, completely drugged, had managed to board the ship. Then, when they got to the bridge they had found the officer alone and asleep. He had sent the helmsman to bed. Reyes remembered how, completely bewildered, he had asked a friend from the Merchant Marine about the behavior of the officer and he had replied that even though it wasn’t common, it wasn’t the first time it’s been heard of an officer sending his helmsman to bed and then falling asleep himself on the bridge. On that occasion the pirates had been so careless that they had beached the ship before anchoring it. The pirates, fishermen after all, who were used to seeing twenty-something foot long dugout canoes probably never imagined there were supertankers with a sixty-five foot draft.

And there had barely been captures of tankers that size. His curiosity piqued, Reyes had looked up the characteristics of Swiss ships, more than 980 feet in length and a beam of almost 165. He had also verified how the latest work on the Suez Canal allowed for the passage of these giants. It was clear that not everyone can pilot a ship with those characteristics. The pirates had to have someone with at least some basic training.

It was also true that Alps Tankers had the most ships fitting those characteristics in that area but still the ratio didn’t quite make sense.

What was it about the Swiss shipping company that attracted efficient pirates? Was it just a fluke?

As he got out of the taxi Reyes was hoping the meeting with Mr. Gotthelf would shed some light on the matter.

#

Two hours later, cleaned up and changed, he was entering the elevator of Alps Tankers building and was pressing the button the receptionist had indicated. He was wearing a dark gray suit made by his tailor in Madrid, blue shirt with a red tie with white stripes and gleaming black Fratelli Rosetti shoes. Had it been a social occasion he would have worn a green tie to go with his eyes. He knew his eyes had charmed many a young woman when he was in his prime and even now they caught the attention of more than a few. As for the rest of his body, he thought dispirited, it had changed much more. Everyone noticed his age and he himself was no exception. Twenty or thirty pounds more made it so he didn’t feel as confident at the beach, and wrinkles are not forgiving to anyone. He knew that if he didn’t have his mother’s eyes he wouldn’t attract any attention. Fortyish man belly, medium stature, facial features common in Mediterranean Spain and dark hair. Of course, he took good care of himself, always clean shaven, hair combed and a touch of cologne, but he wasn’t the same anymore.

In any case, Reyes thought, I’m not here to pick up girls. I’m here to do what I like and no one does it like I do.

As he exited the elevator there was a young woman waiting for him.

“Good morning Mr. Reyes,” she greeted him. “Welcome. This way please.”

Twenty-something, tall and thin, although he noticed thankfully as Marianne turned to go, not as thin as some women like to be. Blonde, blue eyes, clear skin and delicate features. She had on cute glasses, the kind that some call “sexy secretary glasses”. She could have probably been a model if she had wanted to. She was the stereotypical Nordic woman many Latin men dream about. She was wearing a skirt, blouse and heels that said: I’m working, I’m a professional, but I still like to look good.

Reyes followed her through a wide hallway that was decorated with good taste and class. It was obvious Mr. Gotthelf liked taking care of himself and enjoyed the good things in life. Reyes thought he recognized the style of a famous painter in one of the paintings on the walls.

At the end of the hallway just after a desk with two computers and a number of telephones that must belong to Marianne there was a mahogany door at which the secretary called before entering. She announced in German, “Herr Reyes.”

After that she stepped aside and let the Spaniard in. The office had the same style as the hallway. Reyes was sure it was worth more than his entire chalet on the outskirts of Madrid. And he also liked taking good care of himself.

At the back of the room behind an oak desk and sitting on a leather chair Gotthelf watched him collected. When he rose to greet him Reyes noticed the chair was custom made. He had heard about those but had never seen one. They would take the customer’s measurements to get the shape of the body and then would make a chair to fit. For the owner it would be the most comfortable chair in the world, whereas for anyone else it would feel as uncomfortable as a torture chair. Reyes initially dismissed how expensive he thought he remembered they were but when he looked around the office he reconsidered. If there was a man who could afford it, it was Gotthelf.

“Welcome to Zurich Mr. Reyes! I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

“Yes, it went smoothly,” he answered.

Flying first class usually has that advantage.

“First of all, I want to apologize for asking you to get here so suddenly,” the magnate said. “But if I’m not mistaken, you won’t regret your decision.”

“No worries,” answered Reyes, “one gets used to traveling.” And then he thought, and of course, you don’t regret making me come here.

“I’m sure. Have a seat please,” Gotthelf said pointing at one of the sofas on one side of the office. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Yes, thank you. Whiskey?”

Gotthelf stared at him for a second but gave him a glass without making any comment. He didn’t drink anything.

Reyes was glad Gotthelf had chosen the sofas instead of the chairs with the desk in between. Without the physical obstacle of the desk and in the comfort of the sofas the conversation would be less formal. And with a superb whiskey in his hand it would be an absolute pleasure.

“Let me get to the point then,” Gotthelf said. “I guess that after our conversation yesterday you know why you are here. I would like to hear your thoughts on the subject.”

“Very well Mr. Gotthelf. Alps Tankers has had to pay three substantial ransoms within the last two years to save a few ships and crews that were captured by Somali pirates. You paid the ransoms promptly to avoid complications as was the case with the sailor in the first one, the Aletschhorn if I remember correctly.

Gotthelf nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“In all three instances the pirates have displayed means and abilities that until now have not been attributed to them and they have made no mistakes that we know of. This indicates that they have specialized training and direction. In addition, they have specific material and human means.”

Gotthelf continued nodding while Reyes was getting to the point that both of them knew was baffling them.

“And for whatever reason or chance, your ships seem to be their preferred targets,” Reyes finished, looking for some reaction on the face his listener.

But there was none. He would make a great poker player, Reyes thought.

“Up until now,” Gotthelf said, “I’m in complete agreement with you. And forgive me if I’m congratulating myself but it’s not every day one comes to the same conclusions as the greatest expert on the subject. The only thing I would add is that the prompt payments not only prevents casualties, but also tons of crude spilled in the ocean and too much negative publicity for my company. I prefer to pay quickly so that those vultures from the news networks don’t have time to have a feast at the expense of my tragedy. The oil sheikhs don’t want to hear that their transporter has problems,” he added. “Most of all, I appreciate that you, even though you haven’t said it in so many words, also sense that there’s something else besides pirates behind all this.”

This time it was Reyes’ turn to nod his head, and smile slightly. He liked the way the conversation was going. Gotthelf steered away from ambiguity and analogies, he spoke clearly and directly, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind and looked you in the eyes when he did so.

“Well, Mr. Gotthelf,” Reyes said. “Now that we have established some context I would like to know, what exactly is it you want from me?” he asked, anxious to finally know the reason for his possible recruitment. Rather, probable, he thought while he smiled inwardly.

Gotthelf smiled from ear to ear. It was funny how his eyes almost disappeared. Then he said, “I’m guessing you’re a little lost.” And when Reyes tilted his head slightly, he added, “Do you know what Morgan, Drake, Lafitte, Surcouf and your countrymen Íñigo de Artieta and Mateo Mainery have in common?”

Reyes, even more confused now than before had to say no, to which Gotthelf replied, “Neither did I, until just now. The truth is, I’ve never been a fan of history but when this idea popped in my head I did some research on the internet and found out that many years ago war wasn’t limited to regular armies, there were also some men that were dedicated to fighting for money.”

During the next few minutes he explained his idea like a child when he proudly shows off a new bike. When he finished he asked, “What do you think?”

“Well Mr. Gotthelf, it’s certainly an unusual idea.”

Reyes tried to think as quickly as he could.

“The first thing you will need,” he continued, “is someone with knowledge of maritime and international law. You’ll need to find out whether it can be done and if so, how? Second, you’ll need someone who can provide you with a ship and crew, besides a clever mind to organize it all.”

Gotthelf smiled.

“I was hoping that could be you,” he said.

“Me?” Reyes exclaimed surprised.

He certainly hadn’t seen it coming. During the last few minutes he was thinking Gotthelf wanted his opinion and then he would hire people to carry out the project. Reyes wasn’t a doer. He was a thinker. He came up with ideas and others carried them out.

“You don’t think you’re the man for the job?” Gotthelf asked. He seemed to be able to read Reyes’ mind. “Nonetheless, I think you’re the ideal man. Obviously you’ve never done anything like this before but with your experience and knowledge on the subject I think you are, without a doubt, the best choice. Besides, as I’m sure you can imagine, my secretary has investigated you and I don’t think anyone has more contacts than you do in the field where I need them. You have worked for practically every organization and government that could require your services. And judging from the contract offers you’re still getting, you haven’t exactly left a bad taste in anyone’s mouth.

Reyes couldn’t believe that for the second day in a row Gotthelf had convinced him before even speaking a word. Was it because it was Gotthelf, or was it due to the novelty of what he proposed? In any case, Reyes knew that in his search for new adventures and challenges he would never find one as appealing as this one.

“What do you say?” Gotthelf asked.

“I’m in,” Reyes replied not missing a beat.

They shook hands smiling and Reyes couldn’t help saying, “Mr. Gotthelf, when we talked earlier I said you would need a lawyer and a coordinator. However, you’re also going to need a lot of money.”

“This is a lot better than having to continue paying all those ransoms,” Gotthelf said as he looked him in the eyes.

Reyes had to admit Gotthelf was right. Besides, he thought, money is probably going to be the least of our problems.

“Very well Mr. Reyes, I’ll be busy the rest of the day. How about we see each other again in the morning? That way you’ll have time to think and tomorrow we can make more definite plans. I went ahead and had my secretary give you an advance on your fees. I figured you wouldn’t turn down my offer. I hope you’ll be pleased.”

Reyes had no doubt it would be so and it must have shown in his expression because Gotthelf continued, “Tomorrow then. I hope you have a great day. And, welcome aboard!” he said in a theatrical voice obviously pleased with his pun.

Reyes was already headed for the door when he heard, “By the way Mr. Reyes, your stay here in Switzerland is on me. I hope you enjoy it.”

Reyes smiled and tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment. This was going to be fun.

#

The next morning, Reyes arrived on time at Gotthelf’s office wearing the same gleaming shoes but a different suit, shirt, and tie. He was on time, and full of uncertainties and questions. The day before, he had spent the afternoon thinking about Gotthelf’s plan. Admittedly, the plan was innovative, clever, and bold, but it was going to require a lot of work and improvisation. Worst of all, there were a lot of things he was going to need and he didn’t know how or even if they could be obtained. He was also aware of the fact that there were more things to do that he hadn’t thought about.

One of the conveniences of his job was that he didn’t need to spend the day in front of the computer. He had taken advantage of this to walk around the historic quarter. Streets like Bahnhofstrasse were proof of why the city’s third source of income was tourism. He also walked by the Grossmünster cathedral commissioned by Charlemagne a thousand years ago.

His first concern was the possible legal complications. Reyes hoped Gotthelf wasn’t expecting him to deal with legal matters as well. Of course, he had studied some law and knew more than was necessary to carry out his work. But what Gotthelf was proposing was so innovative that any government, organization or court would initially be reluctant.

They would need someone not only well versed in law but also bold and with the ability to do research on the laws of various countries. They might also need someone with the skills to negotiate with more than one government.

From the start, these had been the things that were outside of his field of expertise. The rest of the plan would be his responsibility. He had spent the remainder of the previous afternoon thinking about what would be his first and most important steps.

Obviously, the first thing would be the ship. It hadn’t taken him long to decide that probably the most adequate ship would be the type the navy used. Evidently they would have no need for the type of equipment used in high intensity conflicts such as 3D radars, missiles, and anti-submarine warfare systems. They needed an off-shore patrol vessel designed specifically for fighting piracy. A vessel with high cruising speed, good surface radar, lightweight and portable weaponry, a helicopter, and smaller fast boats with the capacity to transport a good boarding team.

Maybe he was being too ambitious but that was the only way to get anywhere. Like Joe Namath once said, “If you aren’t going all the way, why go at all?”

In addition to all that, they were going to need a shipyard to make the necessary modifications to the ship. This would be especially necessary if he was forced to go to plan B: convert a fishing or merchant ship. Initially, he had discarded that option because he knew it wouldn’t work. Complex things such as ships only perform well when they are used for the purpose that they were designed for. Besides, it would be nearly impossible for him to find a ship that met all the requirements he needed. It wasn’t as easy as mounting some sensors and weapons on a deck.

The last resort, an idea he almost dismissed, was to start from scratch. Design and commission the ship themselves. He knew that would take at least a few years and he was sure Mr. Gotthelf was not willing to wait that long.

Reyes knew he had come to a dead end. Both of the secondary options were impractical at best. As for the main idea, anyone with half a brain knew that Western navies don’t go around selling their ships to private enterprises, much less their modern ships.

And that, thought Reyes as he entered the sumptuous office, was just the first of their problems. He hadn’t even started thinking about the crew or supplies.

Gotthelf was waiting for him. He quickly introduced his companion.

“This is Ronnie Egger, my lawyer,” he said. “I’ve been telling him about our idea and he thinks it can be done.”

Egger was about five or six years younger than Gotthelf, short, chubby, and with a baker’s face. The wrinkles on his face denoted he was a person who laughed easily, and something behind his glasses said, I’m friendly, likable; I like peace and quiet.

“Ronnie has been with me since I started my businesses,” Gotthelf said. He’s gotten me out of trouble more than once and even though he’s never wanted to belong to a law firm, he has won all the lawsuits we’ve had. Maybe his loyalty has to do with how much I pay him,” Gotthelf smiled. “Though I think it may have more to do with stability.”

Reyes shook hands with the shyster, relieved to find out Gotthelf had been having the same thoughts. They needed a law professional. And if Gotthelf thought Egger was the man for the job, then he was probably right. After all, for the rest of the work Gotthelf had chosen him.

“I thought it would be appropriate that Ronnie was present. He’ll need to know exactly what we plan to do. In addition, he can answer our legal questions.”

I couldn’t agree more, Reyes thought. No doubt he’ll be a great help.

“So, you don’t think we’re crazy?” Reyes asked the lawyer. “You really think we can do this?”

“Obviously, it won’t be easy,” Egger answered. “We’re going to have to do some digging around, maybe even some wheeling and dealing. And why not? Even nowadays there are companies like Blackwater and its successors that are dedicated to providing the type of services that could be defined as mercenary. Why not at sea? The first thing that came to mind when Mr. Gotthelf explained the plan to me was probably the same thing you thought about. We’re going to need permission to work in Somali territory. And we’ll also need a letter of marque.”

Reyes smiled inwardly. He knew that if he hadn’t had the foresight to look up the term he would have been caught unawares. But just the day before he had looked up how to say patente de corso in English.

“As you can imagine,” the lawyer continued, “the European countries refused to hire corsairs, in the Paris Declaration of 1856 to be exact. And other countries also refused, such as the United States in the Hague Conferences in 1899 and 1907. Therefore, we can rule out any Western country’s support of our proposed measures. If they were in favor of our ideas they would just carry them out by their own means.”

Egger paused. It seemed he wanted to make sure they understood how complicated the situation was.

“It seems we’ve come to a dead end,” the lawyer smiled. “However, we may be able to kill two birds with one stone.”

Another pause.

“The Somali government is the only one that’s able to give us not only the go-ahead to work within their territory, but also the letter of marque.”

Once again Egger paused in a way that Reyes now understood as his way of making the subject more dramatic.

“No doubt gentlemen,” Egger continued once his audience had assimilated his proposal, “you may be asking yourselves if I’m forgetting that Somalia is, after all, a failed State and that the government barely has any power. Be that as it may, the new government is starting to be recognized by the Western countries. This, together with a little bit of positive publicity, will put the Westerners on our side and we won’t have any opposition at all. We need to show them that after all, Somalia is not doing anything other than protecting its own interests.”

Reyes was beginning to like Egger’s plan. But there was still a problem.

“Do we have the means to get in contact with and negotiate with the Somali government?” he asked Gotthelf.

Gotthelf smiled and said, “Leave that to me.”

And for the second time that morning, a feeling of relief. They had their law man and a negotiator for the upper echelons. It looks like now it’s my turn to put my hand to the plow, he thought.

Once the legal matter was resolved Reyes knew it was his turn.

“As far as I’m concerned Mr. Gotthelf,” he said, “I think I have a first draft of what we’re going to need.”

He went on to explain what type of ship he thought was ideal and the different options he was considering. To conclude he said, “I think my work here is done so, if it’s okay with you, I’ll return to Spain where I have the appropriate contacts for the work I’m about to do.”