The Catch: A Novel Read Online Free

four and five high, toward the breakbulk wharf and finally to the freighter for which they’d been conscripted.
    Four ships filled the wharf, and a few men still milled around, remnant stevedores sweeping the docks from a ship recently loaded or unloaded. Mostly the port was quiet, all the agents long gone, which had been Leo’s reasoning for boarding at this hour.
    In the world of shipping, nothing happened for a crew or a vessel at port without the ship’s local agent. The agent, eyes and ears and hands of the ship’s owner or charterer, should have been the one to secure the port clearance. Going behind his back as they did tonight meant going behind the back of whoever controlled the ship. And because they were avoiding the agent, they were sneaking armaments into the port for no legitimate reason.
    Unlike many countries, Djibouti permitted the transport of weapons—even had systems in place to facilitate maritime security teams who needed to transfer from airport to seaport. This was one of the reasons Leo had chosen to base his team out of Djibouti—the law of the land spared him the logistical headache and expense of maintaining a mini arsenal in international waters and meeting client ships at sea. There were fees, there was paperwork, there was time and expense, yet none of that had been an issue before, and still tonight Leo made every effort possible to avoid legalities. Which raised the question: If the person who owned the ship and the one responsible for the freight weren’t paying for this armed escort, then who and why? Because Leo and his team, although less expensive than some of the larger, better-known maritime security companies, still didn’t come cheap.
    The lead vehicle continued to the end of the wharf, pulled to a stop near the center of the last ship, and Natan, following close behind, stopped the Land Cruiser alongside. The freighter was larger than Munroe had expected, Liberian flagged, maybe six or seven thousand tons, about 150 meters long, with three hatches and two deck cranes. She sat low in the water with a freeboard that couldn’t have been more than five meters, and by initial assessment was either an old ship or not well cared for.
    Munroe stepped from the car and, together with the others, collectedthe gear. The captain came down the gangway while several of the ship’s crew looked on from the deck. He was short and stocky with a healthy midsection. Under the glare of the port lights his weathered face and thinning hair pegged him as in his sixties, but his posture, physique, and more, the way he carried himself, said early fifties on the outside, and Munroe would have guessed there was military buried somewhere in his background.
    Leo moved to greet the man and the two shook hands, exchanging words with imperfect English as the common language between them. Munroe knelt to tighten the straps of her backpack, keeping far enough away to avoid drawing attention, close enough to listen in as the captain bantered good ol’ boy to good ol’ boy with a level of camaraderie that came off with far too much exuberance to be genuine. And then, after a moment or two, as if exhausted from the effort, the captain swung his arm in a wide motion toward the gangway and said, “We hurry. Please. Put your men quickly so we go on the way.”
    Leo turned toward Victor and nodded him toward the ship. The Spaniard picked up his gear, started upward, and the other three followed. Munroe let them pass, hoping to catch the last of what was said between Leo and the captain, but they didn’t speak as the men trudged up, and when her delay turned awkward she stood and grudgingly followed, leaving the boss men to whatever they had to discuss.
    On deck, the ship rumbled beneath her feet, the main engine’s oil pumps already running, which explained the crew loitering about: waiting to cast off lines as soon as they were given the order. The men acknowledged her when she boarded but didn’t move to