Chapter 15
The S.S. Chameleon had been out of port and halfway to her destination on the other side of the globe. Her destination was Sydney, a bustling port city on the eastern coast that was also the capital of New South Wales. The city, one of Australia’s largest, is home to many famed attractions including the Sydney Opera House, with its distinctive sail-like design, the arched Harbour Bridge, the esteemed Royal Botanic Gardens, and the outdoor platform of the Sydney Tower, known as the Skywalk, which offers a 360-degree view of the city suburbs and shoreline. It was a popular tourist center and filled with danger all at the same time because, it is also the home to one of the largest international biker clubs in the world, the Dreadnoks.
The pirate Zanzibar stood behind the wheel of his ship his eyes trained on the emerging coastline. He had been out at sea for nearly a month since docking at the Newark shipping yards and an additional month since his latest stops in Indonesia. Dreadnok protocol required the vessel to maintain radio silence for anything other than shipping information. The Chameleon’s previous stop at the Bangladeshi port of Chittagong had depleted some of its cargo while adding other products. It was a risky stop due to the recent liquid cocaine raids, but a necessary venture for the prosperity of the Dreadnok empire. It would only be another few hours before he could finally take a short respite from his travels, and reunite with his patch brothers and his commander, the infamous master of disguise, Zartan. There was much that the two needed to discuss in regards to the recent events that transpired between the pirate and Danimal Gristle. The Homeland Security Officer was long known to be on the payroll of Declan H. Mann and his criminal drug organization, the Headhunters.
Captain Teach had had an uneasy feeling about this last encounter and would need to fully disclose the details to his boss. It was not necessarily an urgent matter, but one that would need to be discussed in length. With Darling Harbor coming into view, it felt good to be home again, but the pirate still knew that he had other matters to attend to before he could get in some well-needed R and R.
“Captain, shall I tend to the cargo manifestos before we make port?”
The younger pirate, who went by the name Sea Dog, cautiously approached the ship’s captain. Zanzibar pulled himself away from his thoughts briefly to acknowledge the underling.
“Yes, make it so Sea Dog. I have much to attend to after we unload, but be sure to handle these matters as discreetly as possible. I don’t need everyone on board knowing the true nature of our voyage.”
The veteran captain made sure to emphasize the words “true nature,” before returning his gaze to the open sea. Truth be told, most of the cargo on the seafaring vessel was being legally transported, but the hull was also transporting more than its fair share of contraband items.
“Now, be gone and leave me to my thoughts.”
“Aye, aye Captain!”
The younger pirate immediately disappeared from sight and attended to his assigned duties, as the Australian shoreline emerged with nothing but fair currents and skies ahead for the remainder of the voyage.
Zanzibar had chosen wisely in allowing the stowaway to stay on board and become an active member of his crew three years back. He was trustworthy and loyal to a fault, but it was these characteristics that also worried him, as he wasn’t sure if the youngster had it in him to be a full-fledged member of the Dreadnoks. But nonetheless, if he didn’t end up eventually being sworn in, the captain definitely had a permanent place for him amongst his crew. He allowed his gaze to shift to the waters off the starboard bow. The carcass of a large sperm whale had surfaced and was being torn apart by three or four great white sharks. The creatures were strong, mysterious and typically solitary. So, the spectacle of several of these large sharks being in close proximity to each other and devouring the whale intrigued him.
“Even the sharks know when to call a truce and work together for a common goal.” He could only hope that his business associates in the states would see things the same way.
A short time later, the captain cut the main engines. As the ship continued to drift closer to the harbor, a small vessel from the AMSA, Australian Maritime Safety Authority, pulled up alongside the port bow.
“Ahoy! Mates of the SS Chameleon. Toss us your towlines so we can wrap you up and guide you in.”
It was customary for the smaller government tugboats to escort the larger freighters safely into the harbor. They would wait for the boat to come to a stop, then hook her up and tow her to port. The practice was designed to help cut down on damage to the Great Barrier Reef by carefully guiding the larger ships along a path through deeper waters.
After docking, the AMSA members would conduct a thorough investigation of the ship’s cargo hull. This was customary as it was not unusual for immigrants to try to gain access to Australia as stowaways, or illegal cargo. As the ship slowed substantially, the pirate had his deckhands throw the tow line down to the crew of the much smaller vessel. The SS Chameleon had been scheduled to arrive today and since all had gone accordingly, she was well within the parameters of her arrival window. The tow into port was slow, and the crew was instructed to drop anchor several hundred yards before making port. As the large freighter ground to a stop against the rubber bumpers of the steel pier, Zanzibar’s crew immediately tied off and secured the seafaring vessel at her assigned dock.
“Aye G’day Cap’n. Permission to come aboard?”
The crew tossed down a rope ladder for the AMSA agents to scale in order to board the freighter.
“Of course, welcome aboard mates!”
The two officers from AMSA made quick work of the rope ladder and boarded the ship.
“Might you be so kind as to show me your shipping slips?” The veteran officer in charge inquired.
“Absolutely. I’ve got my ship’s recorder gathering them up for you as we speak, he can be a bit of a bludger. Please feel free to have a look see in the meantime. But, please make it quick as I got me a certain sheila standing by, and she’s expecting me to stop over at the old Bottle-o for lunch.” The Australian custom’s and border security agents snickered, then flashed him a knowing smile and a nod.
“No worries cobber! We shan’t be long.”
He then headed off towards the containers and ascended the ladder to the upper deck. His partner descended a ladder into the ship’s hull. The ship’s recorder caught up with him a few minutes later carrying a clipboard stuffed with the necessary paperwork.
“G’day mate. Here are the forms you requested.”
Sea Dog handed over the forms bound to a clipboard which the AMSA agent readily accepted.
“Is there anything else you’ll be needing?” He stood patiently waiting for a response but wasn’t given one. He cleared his throat indicating that he was still standing by. The AMSA agent tossed him an irritated glance and waved him away.
“You don’t need to stand there like a drongo! I can handle my job just fine.” The young pirate flashed a scowl, but only after the government representative turned his back, then returned to the lower deck. The AMSA agent compared his list to the containers on the ship. Sea Dog had previously unlocked them all for easy inspection, and since the SS Chameleon had never been caught shipping illegal wares, the search would be cursory at best. Satisfied that the fifty-six occupied cargo containers were carrying safe materials, the AMSA official filled out his paperwork and proceeded over to the captain’s quarters. He was met along the way by his accompanying officer who flashed him an all-clear sign for the lower decks and the hull. Marking the forms for the cargo hull, he entered the captain’s cabin.
“Alright, then Cap'n Teach. You and your cobbers are free to unload and hit the shore. How long will you be staying in port?”
The pirate thought for a moment, but without talking to Zartan, honestly didn’t know the response. It was customary for a ship to stay 3-5 days at most, but if it was going to be longer, she would have to tow the ship to a different area such as Middle Harbor or Castlecrag.
“As far as I know now, we should be no more than four days.” The AMSA agent checked the appropriate box, initialed the bottom of the form, then handed the completed paperwork over to the captain.
“Well, just remember if you’re going to be any longer than that, that you’ll have to relocate this ship to a more remote pier.”
Captain Teach nodded, clearly indicating that this was not his first rodeo in Darling Harbor. He thanked the AMSA agent and retrieved his clipboard. The agent remained in the office while the captain looked over the approved paperwork, then held out his right hand.
“What is it with all you border patrol agents? Always looking for a bloody handout!” The AMSA agent flinched at the pirate’s apparent outrage. “I should run you and all your kind through with me cutlass!”
The agent allowed the pirate to vent his frustrations and once he was satisfied that there was no imminent threat, composed himself once more to offer a reply.
“Really Zanzibar? I’m sure that would do you and your many unscrupulous business partners little good. Now, pay up! I’m sure you’re making a killing on some of this cargo, and I’ve got three more ships to check today.”
The pirate narrowed his eyes and knew full well what the customary procedures were both here and away, but that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t much like it. In his mind, he wondered. What’s the point of being a part of this organization if we’re constantly wasting our profits by paying people off? It’s high time we get someone on the inside to help cut costs. He pondered the situation for only a moment until he remembered something that his wise employer had once said. It’s easier to dispose of a body with no affiliation to our organization than one that has already made a name for himself.
The sentiment made sense, and the longer he thought about it, the more logical it seemed. A patch brother on the inside would end up costing them more, demanding a higher cut for each job. By having random unaffiliated associates taking bribes, they were actually safer, because those individuals would be more secretive and careful about their illegal activities, not wanting to lose their added income. Anytime someone started getting squeamish about taking the bribe, there would always be someone just as corrupt, willing to take their place. He laughed about the vicious cycle that made up the operation. He opened the top drawer of his desk and retrieved a yellow envelope stuffed with cash, which he handed over into the grubby mitts of the AMSA agent.
“There you go, mate. Should be enough in there for you and your mate.”
“Rightly kind of you Cap’n Teach.”
After the agent collected his bribe, Zanzibar was once again alone in his quarters.
“And they have the nerve to call me a pirate.”
He scoffed, then walked to the other end of the room in order to retrieve a long beige trench coat. As flamboyant as the pirate could be, there were times he needed to simply blend in. He removed his eye patch, put on a pair of dark sunglasses, and tucked his ponytail up under a non-distinct black baseball cap. He looked at his reflection in his mirror before leaving and realized that he had left his cutlass attached to his waist. He unclipped his scabbard and instead stuffed a pistol into his inside coat pocket.
“Never can be too careful, seems like everything in Australia is trying to kill you.”
He chuckled to himself as the statement couldn’t be truer. Australia was home to twenty-one of the world’s twenty-five most venomous snakes and several deadly fish, like the stinging stonefish and the lionfish. If the fish and snakes didn’t get you, the blue-ringed octopus or the box jellyfish could. Everything from bees, to spiders to the somewhat docile platypus had venom. And this wasn’t factoring in all the cutthroats and criminals walking around on two legs. He grimaced a bit, then turned up his collar as he exited and secured his cabin.
He walked down the gangplank and turned right on Bridge Street where he hailed a cab in order to take him to the Soda Factory on Wentworth Avenue in Surrey Hills. The livery driver stopped to pick up the rather common looking pedestrian.
“G’day! Where to mate?”
The undercover pirate entered the back seat and made himself comfortable before replying. He thought he knew this particular driver and scanned the back of the driver’s seat for his name. Sure enough, he did. When he wasn’t driving his cab, he was a two-bit pickpocket and street charlatan, preying on unsuspecting tourists and the like.
“Could you drop me off at the Soda Factory in Surrey Hills?”
The cabbie looked in the rearview mirror at his passenger, nodded, flipped the meter, and began to drive in the direction of the requested destination.
“So, what brings you to Sydney mate? How do you even know about the Soda Factory? That’s a place for the locals.”
The pirate raised his eyebrows then lowered his sunglasses so the driver could better see him.
“Listen, Willy, stop being such a dronger before I promptly scuttle your hide!”
The cabby immediately recognized his voice and swallowed hard. It had been quite some time since the salty sea captain had made port, yet here he was in his, of all cabs. The pirate’s eyes flashed his contempt and he immediately dropped the pleasantries and moved to a more respectful tenor.
“Aye Captain, I’ll get you there straight away.”
“I would think so. Bother me no more with your worthless banter! If you have no pertinent information to divulge, then do me a favor, and shut yer worthless hole!”
The cabby knew better than to argue with the likes of his passenger and continued driving. The remainder of his ride was silent and within nine minutes, the driver pulled up to the curb outside the Soda Factory. As the cab came to a stop, the pirate tossed the cabbie some cash, without even asking about the fare.
“Keep the change mate.”
And with that, he was out of the car and standing on the curb outside his favorite restaurant. It felt good to be back home as the smell of hot dogs on the barbie wafted into his nostrils. His stomach growled loudly as he entered the restaurant. The place was always a bustle of activity and well-visited by locals and tourists alike.
“Can I get you a table mate?”
The hostess was new and someone he didn’t recognize, which meant she didn’t know him either. He removed his sunglasses and smiled at her.
“Now aren’t you a pretty sheila! I would much prefer a seat with you at the well, dearie.”
The pirate’s Australian was a bit rusty, to say the least, and the hostess flashed him a scowl.
“Not today mate. Seat yourself then.”
She promptly turned to greet the next patron standing behind him. The privateer made his way to an open stool at the far end of the bar. The man behind the counter was someone he recognized immediately.
“What can I get you, mate?”
The bartender was a muscular bloke wearing a sleeveless shirt that exposed multiple tattoos. He had a full black beard and mustache, and the hair on his head was shaved into a mohawk. The pirate recognized him as being Zartan’s third in command, one Harry Nod or Ripper.
“G’day Harry. Let me get the Kickass Buffalo Wings, some Fat Bubba’s Poppers, waffle fries, and a cold grape soda. I’m famished.”
The barkeep turned to yell back the order, then scooped some ice into a tall glass, cracked open a can of grape pop and placed them both down in front of him. As the pirate reached for the soda, the bartender grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him in close.
“Do you really think that disguise is fooling anyone, mate?!”
The pirate’s instincts were to reach for his pistol, but this was a fellow patch brother. Zanzibar barely flinched and Harry promptly released his shirt, and instead pulled him into a headlock over the bar and administered some noogies. It was short lived and a few seconds later he released him back to his bar stool.
“Blimey Zanzibar! Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in a dingo’s age.”
Both men shared a hearty laugh.
“I’ve been tending to some important shipping routes out west, and after I fill me belly, I need to be speaking with the boss.”
Ripper’s eyes narrowed a bit at the comment and the pirate’s face contorted in response.
“Well, ain’t you heard? He isn’t here mate.” He leaned in close then to whisper. “He’s been out on some super secret covert mission for the past nine months. No one’s seen or heard from him since.”
“Then who’s been running the show here? You?”
The barkeep shook his head in response.
“No, not me, mate. I don’t want that responsibility. I just run the bar and help out at the bike shop. The other one’s been here.”
The pirate’s face once again indicated that he didn’t quite understand. Ripper leaned in a bit closer and whispered.
“You know… his brother.”
The pirate had never directly dealt with the brother of his boss, in fact, he didn’t recall ever meeting the mysterious man, who had a reputation for vanishing in plain sight.
“Is he here now? I’d like to see him as soon as possible. I need to make him aware of a recent incident back in the states. It’s not urgent, but I fear it could turn into a potential situation.”
From behind the bartender, a bell rang signaling that an order was available for pick up. Harry turned around and retrieved the order.
“He’s here, that one. A bit strange if you ask me, but eat your grub. I’ll take you to him once you’ve finished.”
The pirate nodded in agreement then started to sample the hodgepodge of gourmet grub laid out before him. In addition to being the front for the international biker gang’s secret headquarters, the Soda Factory was also known for having some of the best bar food on the western coast of the country. A few years prior, one of the famous television foodies had reviewed them on the Travel Network, and now blokes came from all around to sample their world famous cuisine. The place was a bustle of activity from open to close, and as he ate his food, the pirate began to realize just how much he had missed the greasy goodness.
He watched the local news on the oversized television above the bar as he devoured his lunch. The international stories spoke of mounting tensions between the United States and North Korea, a recent uptick in opioid-related deaths, and a terror attack on a mosque in Egypt. It seemed as if the world was at war with humanity and the pirate smiled, knowing that the Dreadnoks would be there at the forefront trying to reap some of the spoils.
As he finished his food, he washed it down with his final gulp of warm grape soda. The bar had no air conditioning so his ice had long ago melted. Zanzibar was full and the food had only given him a slight case of heartburn. He placed his utensils and napkins on top of his empty plates then made his way to the loo. He passed several strangers along the way but paid them no real attention. After hitting the head, he returned to his bar stool to find that Ripper had already removed his used dishes, and was waiting patiently to escort him over to the boss.
“Ready to go then are you?”
The pirate nodded then belched loudly. The sophomoric act elicited a laugh from both men. The Dreadnoks were known more for their brutality, not their maturity. Many of the members with the exception of Buzzer, had never attended high school let alone a university.
“Alright then mate, try to keep up with me.”
The bartender nimbly hopped over the bar and landed gracefully on the floor next to him. The large man’s agility caught the pirate by surprise. Zanzibar followed him to the back of the restaurant where Ripper pressed a hidden button on the back wall which opened a secret passageway.
As the two men entered, the wall closed silently behind them. The corridor was dimly lit and led to a flight of descending stairs.
“Follow me.”
Both men made short work of the distance to the bottom of the staircase. As his eyes adjusted to the low lighting, he determined the layout to be that of a small sitting room. Two large leather couches with a coffee table and ashtrays were arranged strategically around a large locked wooden door. Ripper knocked and a somewhat muffled voice answered from within.
“Come in.”
The bartender opened the door which revealed a spacious office with a large desk and some other sparse furniture. The pirate scanned the room, but could not find the owner of the previously heard voice. The room was completely devoid of any people other than the two of them.
“Hey! What gives?”
Ripper took a seat in the large leather chair behind and desk then motioned for the pirate to sit in the chair before him.
“Please sit down. I understand that there is a matter we need to discuss.”
The captain complied but did not take his eyes off of the man seated in front of him, as he was still confused by this strange turn of events.
“I thought I was meeting with Zandar.”
The other man smiled.
“You are.”
“But you’re Harry Nod. The bloke I know as Ripper.”
He narrowed his eyes leaning in closer as he scrutinized the man, who continued to sit comfortably behind the desk.
“Am I now?”
As the man continued to speak, it became evident to him that the man’s appearance was all a ruse. The pirate watched as his host began to peel away the layers of his latex face mask, and the wig used to create his black mohawk. When he was finished, a red-haired man with a chiseled jaw, and what appeared to be blue tribal war paint sat before him.
“Allow me to introduce myself Zanzibar. I am Zandar, and you my swashbuckling friend, have been completely duped by my disguise. I’ve been watching you ever since you entered the bar, listening to every word that you’ve said and watching every move that you’ve made. I really must insist that you be a little more respectful of the restaurant staff, especially the hostesses. Sexual harassment will not be tolerated within the Dreadnok organization.”
The man’s expression indicated his disdain for the pirate’s recent actions.
Zanzibar’s eyes grew wide and he nearly fell out of his chair. After picking up his jaw and composing himself, he began to process the performance put on by the second in command.
“I...I’m sorry Zandar. I was merely commenting on the sheila’s good looks. I meant no disrespect.”
Zandar’s scowl only slightly diminished, and so the pirate shifted his conversational strategy to one of flattery.
“Bravo! Well played sir. I honestly would never have known. It truly is an uncanny talent that you’ve got. It’s clear that thespian blood runs thick through your veins. I’ve only ever been fooled by the likes of Zartan himself.”
The pirate applauded the acting leader of the organization, who stood up and took a cursory bow, but he quickly switched back to the business at hand.
“You said you have some---possibly troubling news? So do spit it out.”
Zandar leaned back in his chair and opened a small fridge on the floor behind him. From it, he removed two cold cans of Grape-ade and handed one to the pirate.
“Why thank you, sir. I’m afraid there was a bit of a confrontation at the Newark piers during my latest visit.”
“I see. Please, continue”
“I noticed that Declan H. Mann and his street organization, the Headhunters, had nearly doubled their shipment of the raw materials used to manufacture the poisons they sell on the streets. When I questioned his---how shall I say it? Phoney Cronie in Homeland Security clothing about the shipment, that imbecile had the nerve to voice an open threat against me and our organization! I mean---it’s probably nothing for us to be concerned about, since Danimal Gristle and the Headhunters are little more than a gang of drug-pushing street thugs, but regardless. A threat is a threat!”
The second in command of the Dreadnoks held up his hand to calm the pirate, then carefully considered his words before speaking.
“You did well in alerting me to this matter, and I trust you handled it with tact?”
“I did sir. I swallowed my pride and paid the bribe with little more than a firm warning.”
“I had hoped that you had simply dismissed it, but oh well. It seems we may have to pay Mr. Mann a visit to assess his loyalty, or perhaps other measures may need to be taken to suppress this new found arrogance. I thank you for bringing this to my attention and assure you that any threat made against one of us, is a threat made against all of us! Now drink up. All those months at sea may have given you the scurvy, and as we all know, grape soda fixes everything.” The two men toasted cans and downed the contents.
“Can never have me too much of that there citrus!”
“Here, here!”
“Here’s to me and Vitamin C!”
The two men toasted each other again while enjoying a hearty laugh. Zandar reached back into the fridge to procure another two cans of grape soda and placed them on the desk. The leader’s pensive face revealed that he was still analyzing the recent event in his mind. He opened the second can, took a sip then placed it down in front of himself.
“Upon further review, I’m thinking a visit might do little to curtail his actions. We may need to prepare a little gift for D.H.Mann and his aspiring criminal organization.”
Zanzibar cast a curious look upon him.
“Don’t get me wrong, we’re all criminals, but there are certain practices that even the Dreadnok nation cannot condone. I will need to set up a meeting with some of our---consultants to discuss the matter further. In the meantime, enjoy a little R and R. I’ll send word to you in two days.”
Zandar’s tone had once again become sterner and clearly indicated that he meant business. His vengeance would be anything but swift, as the second in command savored the art of the game much more than enacting the judgment.
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