Page 45 of Pierre
“It won’t be easy, but we have our plan, and we know it will work.”
“You’re not going to believe this, but that bitch is sunning herself on deck. She’s in the wide open, and judging from her age and, um, rather portly self, she’s not going to run anywhere.”
Pierre smiled at his father and Ham, nodding.
“Let’s do this.”
They weren’t worried about getting aboard the ship. The crew was minimal and probably not trained. There was no way the captain would be able to move that ship quickly, especially fully loaded with cargo.
When they had the signal that Cruz and Doc were inside the ship, the men moved quickly toward the boarding ramp.
“I’m sorry you can’t board,” said a young man standing at the end of the ramp.
“Watch me,” said Pierre. He pushed the young man aside, watching as the others secured him to the railing.
“Go,” said Frank. “Ham and I will take care of the captain. You go get Hagatha.” Pierre smirked, nodding at his father.
“Pierre?” called Ham. The young man turned to face him. “Be careful. I don’t want to tell my daughter that you’re injured, or worse.”
“Yes, sir,” he smirked.
The crew gave no fight whatsoever. They’d either been told not to fight potential pirates or were tired of lying about what they were carrying in their hold. When Ham and Frank stood outside the door of the wheelhouse, they took a moment to listen to the chaos inside.
“Get us underway!” yelled a man.
“Sir, the engines haven’t even been started yet. It will take a moment.”
“Do it!” he yelled. But when the door opened to reveal two mammoth men staring at him with the look of death, he knew that he was too late.
“Don’t touch those dials,” said Ham.
“I didn’t know!” said the captain. “I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?” asked Frank.
“The children. I only found out a while ago, and I was going to call the authorities.”
“You’re a lying piece of shit, and you’re going to jail for a very, very long time.”
“I’ll give you names. All of the names. It’s four old ladies,” he said, pleading with the two men.
“Yeah, that ship has sailed,” smirked Frank. “Pun intended.”
When the signals had been given that everyone was under control, Pierre and Butch moved toward the old woman in the chair on the deck.
“Get up,” said Pierre, pointing his handgun at the back of her head. He heard an exhale of air, then nothing. “I said, get up.”
Butch moved around to face the woman and then looked up at Pierre.
“I think she’s dead,” he frowned. He reached out, touching her neck, then her wrist to check for a pulse. Shaking his head, Pierre cursed her soul.
“Either she died while lying here or she died of fear when I came up behind her,” said Pierre.
“Or maybe she just died. She’s in her seventies, brother,” said Butch.
“Do not trust her!” yelled Henri, running in their direction. “Do not trust that she is dead. You forget that she took the name and spirit of a dead woman.”
“Henri, she has no pulse,” said Pierre. Henri stepped closer to Josie, knelt beside her, and jabbed his knife into her forearm. The piercing scream made Pierre and Butch jump back, staring in horror at the old woman.
