48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 16: Albert

The island, about 35 miles long, was roughly comma-shaped, with ports at the northwest and southeast ends. His travel agent had mentioned that the summer high temperatures were rarely over 85° with winter lows around 45°. Most months, there were fewer than seven days of rain.

The southeast port, one of the finest in the world, featured a short estuary leading to the town calledMaóin Catalan andMahónin Spanish, which was reported as having been founded by the Phoenicians and was famous as the place of origin of mayonnaise. Within a mile or so, he found several large tracts of land off some small roads. Water, sewerage, and electricity seemed reliable. There was an international airport and frequent ferries to Barcelona and Valencia, should one of his fleet be unavailable.

Because the island, along with Gibraltar, had been ceded to Great Britain in 1713 after the War of the Spanish Succession, a fair portion of the populace spoke English. The tourism industry, of course, was another spur to the use of English.

All in all, Albert had been impressed by the place. The tourism industry would cover most movements of his merchandise and transport vessels. There was space and infrastructure for his Training Center, although he'd have to rename it Training Centre. The local government didn't seem too intrusive and the local businessmen he'd met seemed capable. In just a few months, his agents had bought about ten acres (just over four hectares) on ME 5, the street named Carretera de grau, just south of the nature reserve at Parque natural de la Albufera de es Grau and about five kilometres from the port city of Mahón. The land was a bit elevated, with superb views down into the city. With the experience of building the Training Center on the Chinese island, his staff had building plans ready for the local municipality almost as soon as the property was transferred. Actual construction was slower than expected, but the contractors and workers did a good job and his staff, most of whom had come with him from China, was pleased. He was able to move within the time limit he had suggested to the Brigadier.

The Acquisition Department, with the rural areas of China now so far away, began to look for pools of prospective trainees. There wasn't the same level of poverty as in Asia, and the department staffers "interviews" in the watering holes and beaches of nearby countries showed most suitable specimens were embarked on definite career paths. It was one of Albert's lowest points.

Events, however, usually follow one of the universe's Rules of Balance. One of the former Marines met a group of young men and women who had chartered a small boat and crew for a vacation sailing the Mediterranean and visiting its islands, sometimes for just a meal or some shopping, sometimes for an overnight party. The charter company, of course, preferred most parties to be held off their ships.

The former Marine had been impressed by the sophistication of these young folks. The cruise ship industry, together with yachting and recreational boating, now had more passengers in a year than the ocean liners had carried before jet planes had made them obsolete. This growth, of course, was owed to changes in technology and economics and the youngsters' interests in the natural environment of the sea.

Most had jobs, but a short conversation showed these were not careers. Most were paired off just for the charter cruise. He thought that they might make suitable trainees, although the Training Centre protocols would need some "adjustment" to fit this new type.

Albert was intrigued. These men and women would come with a sense of style and fashion, attributes that would be Unique Selling Points. He got to talk with people at the charter companies, who uniformly had low opinions of "these crazy kids." Most felt these young folks had too much money for their own good and didn't have a clue about how the world worked. Wherever they went, a flash of plastic provided any whim its satisfaction.

Albert's IT team spent some time hacking into several charter companies' computer systems, usually surprised at how little protection they used. Most had reports on the people hiring their ships and crews, with leads to their e-mail accounts and hometowns where, a few deeper searches showed, they had no long-term anchors.

One of the IT women, who claimed to be writing "a great novel of crime and passion," showed him a couple of e-mails she had composed by which, she claimed, the young lady had resigned her job, ended the lease on her apartment, and informed her family (a brother) that she was "running off to join the bohemians."

Albert was doubtful anyone would fall for such pap. He tried out the story one night with a group from one charter. To his astonishment, nobody even blinked; one young man claimed he had signed up for this charter when he'd heard a friend of his had done just that!

He shared this news with his friend in Macau, who laughed uproariously. "Albert, you've just put yourself into the Older Generation. You'll never understand this Younger Generation."

Well, he'd supposed, it might be true. Still, he attacked the problem of taking over a charter boat just as he'd planned his military operations. He designed maneuvers for the Captain and crew, for the ship itself, for the male passengers and the female passengers. What would the charter company do about the loss of their ship? How many ships could be made to "disappear" before the navies of the world took notice? In contrast to an airliner crash, most shipping loses were unremarked in the media. If it wasn't in the Bermuda Triangle or Japan's Ma-No Umi, the Sea of the Devil, nobody paid attention. Only off Somalia had piracy been so intense and expensive that the world's Navies had responded, almost eliminating the problem. And, accidents or "unexplained events" claimed about two large ships a week; there were no good statistics for smaller ships, such as fishing boats. Albert figured that he could "harvest" a charter every two months if he moved from sea to sea.

Gradually, a Plan evolved. Albert would take a crew of about a dozen men on a fairly small boat into the area where hacks of a charter company's computers showed a party boat would be. Running dark, he would come alongside the target craft after midnight, when the passengers and most of the crew would be asleep. Boarders would secure the bridge and above-decks first. Any personnel would be cowed into submission by a gun or knife and handcuffed to a rail. Below decks could be taken by one of two maneuvers: a cabin-by-cabin search or by a loudspeaker alarm and order for everyone to report on deck for an emergency. In the past few years, these had worked well. Only one crewmember tried to stay hidden; his beating had served as an example to the others that resistance was futile.

He had experimented with various protocols after the target was secured. Most often, he had transferred the captain and crew to his own ship, where they had been secured in cages below deck. Male and female passengers had been separated. The market for young males was usually not rich, although it was usually strong enough that one of the "Logistics" companies would be ready to take the lot, crew and male passengers, off his hands. He soon learned that female crew were not often suited to retraining as slaves. He calculated that this revenue would cover the Variable Costs of the operation.

That left the young women. Most charters, he had learned, involved six to eight couples. The females, now alone, unarmed, and terrified, could be handled by any one of his men. Each operation, he varied the drill. Sometimes, the women were simply stripped, immobilized by chains or rope, and, after the cages were emptied of males, imprisoned until their transfer to the new Training Centre. Occasionally, if he was operating far from base, he would have arranged a rendezvous with potential buyers near some island for an auction.

Albert had learned that these impromptu auctions, either on the island or at the captured ship, were always popular with the rich folks who were "in the market." It took only one or two auctions before he figured out that some "training" of this merchandise would increase their selling prices.

Given the circumstances of short time periods, terrified units, and need to avoid permanent markings, his training staff had worked over several possible protocols for this training. He had eventually come to select two ideas. First, all the women's hair below the neck would be shaved. To emphasize their helplessness and increase their humiliation, this would usually be done by the woman herself, under close watch by one of his crew. Those women unable to manage the task themselves would be shaved by another female prisoner or by one of their captors. It was a powerful introduction to their new lives.

Second, the units would be trained to move gracefully into a few basic Positions. Seeing a unit move from kneeling to a display position almost always aroused a buyer, improving the sales price.

Albert had, after some experimentation, come to the belief that sex with these units at this time was usually lacking in enthusiasm, except that, for some women, the act of forced fellatio was a powerful humiliation, leading to a more compliant trainee. Protocols allowed any of his crew to use the merchandise for this, always with the warning that the use of teeth would be dealt with harshly. So far, there had been no trouble on this point.

TheBlue Bayouoperation was winding down. The female passengers had been auctioned successfully and their buyers had departed. This morning, Albert expected the "troopship" from one of the slaver organizations to come alongside for the men and crew. A few of Albert's organization had prepared some breakfast and his squad was enjoying a final cup of coffee before this last transfer.

"Regular protocol for the men?" asked one of the newer members.

"Yes," Albert answered.

"Mind a question, Sir?"

"No, we've got some time before the troopship is due. What's on your mind, son?"

The young man hesitated a moment, but finally seemed to get his question together. "Sir, we almost always work with the females naked. We even get them shaved, so they're more naked. But, the book says to leave the men in their shorts. Why not get them naked also? I mean, they're also going to be slaves, right?"

It was a good question, Albert thought. He recalled the series of raids they'd made a few years back. Mostly by accident, on some raids, the men had been stripped naked; on other raids, they had been left in their shorts. He described the situation to the questioner. "It was not really an experiment, but it worked out that way. We found that the naked men just didn't want to move. There was a lot of crouching and bending. We had to use a whip or a cattle prod to get them to go where we wanted them.

"For the men with shorts, this wasn't a problem. They had just as much resistance in other ways, but when we said to move, they moved. It was just something that made it easier for them, so it was easier for us. Eventually, we wrote it into the Protocols."

"And the use of coffles? We put the men into one, but I've never seen a coffle of women?"

Albert laughed. "Well now, most of these men will be going to some field or mine. They'll be working in a gang. They get used to the coffle that much sooner, and they learn to be careful who they're pulling or pushing on, as well as how to balance."

The young man nodded thoughtfully. "There's really a lot of thought that's gone into these Protocols?"

Albert gave him a pat on the back. "Son, this stuff has been going on for centuries of centuries, all around the world. It's all gotten pretty standardized by now."

As his questioner moved off, Albert thought he saw a younger version of himself, always noticing things, analysing things, asking why anything was done the way it was done. He'd learned a lot from the stories the non-coms and the officers had told him. Except for one colonel who'd chewed him out for being an "upstart," most were willing to explain things. Through all the combat, lots of these "trivia" had proved to be much more than trivia.

The one thing that wasn't standardized was what to do with the captured ship? It always seemed like a major waste to just scuttle it, although that certainly put an end to efforts to trace the crew or passengers. But, markings had become so sophisticated that it was dangerous to simply paint the ship, stencil a new name and number on her, and sail her into any port. Ship construction was so detailed to an individual craft nowadays that even a silhouette could become identification for a wanted ship. Back in his Macau business, Albert had overseen some modifications of a few ships, but they were time- and labor-intensive and the result was often unsatisfactory.

His thoughts were interrupted by his radioman's approach. "Troopship called, sir. They think they're about four hours away."

Albert smiled. "Thanks, Sparks. Any traffic dogging them?"

"Didn't say, sir. I'll ask with the next position squeal."

"Very good." The Protocols called for Albert's ship to "squeal" its location, encrypted, every half-hour from sun-up to sundown. He knew there was a backup force out there somewhere, usually just a half-hour away. So far, they hadn't had to use it, but Albert always felt better with a Plan B in operation. Four hours meant the ship would arrive just as dusk was falling. Transfers of the merchandise would be hard to spot in the dark.

Another of his squad came up. "Sir, the Captain of this bucket would like a word with you. He wasn't acting up or anything, just seemed a bit scared but resolute, if you get my meaning."

"OK, bring him up, handcuffs behind and leg shackles, if you please."

A few minutes later, the Captain, chained and looking a bit dishevelled appeared. He shuffled towards Albert until stopped by a hand gesture. Albert smiled a bit, trying to let his prisoner know none of this was personal. "You wanted a word, Captain?"

"Yes, Sir." His voice was strong and confident. Albert sensed some strength in this man, even though he could see the tension in the man's face.

"Go on, then."

"I'm not sure of what your plans are for my crew and me. I get the impression that you've done this before, because I can see you're good at it. I suppose you've had some military? Anyway, if you've got a moment, I'd like to see about a deal."

Albert was intrigued. No hysterics. No threats. An opening of negotiations? "What kind of deal do you have in mind? We've got some time before the next act, so go ahead, lay it all out."

The Captain's expression relaxed a bit. "Thank you. I watched how you managed the auction. Clearly, you've made quite a pile here. I was comparing you to myself. You can't be doing this every day. It takes a while for all the planning and surveillance, I would guess."

Albert's eyebrow flickered as he registered some surprise at the man's opening speech. Where was he headed? "So?"

The Captain noticed Albert's reaction, satisfied that he'd managed to score a point or two. "I said I was comparing our two positions. You're in charge of quite some organization here, or at least a senior exec in this group. I'm just one of the hired help at the charter company. They give me grief most of the time. The rest of the time, it's the damn passengers who have no idea about running a ship, keeping them all safe, keeping them all entertained. Well, this time they weren't safe. My guess is they disappear into some underclass spread out around the world. Well, Sir, I don't want to be part of that world. I'm not as young as you, but I'm a damn good skipper. I'd like a chance to join your organization. I'd pay my dues, if you want, but I'm not an asset to throw away in some mine or dump."

Albert considered the startling proposition for a moment, trying not to let on that he was, just a little, thrown by it.

Albert put on a bit of a chuckle and asked, "So, what would you prefer to some mine or dump?"

The Captain was clearly ready for this one. "Sir, I've been in the smuggling business for some time. Interpol knows me, so I can't really go to the cops and tell them about you. I'd probably get prosecuted as an accessory. So, I'm a good risk to keep on the water. And, there are some things aboutBlue Bayouthat you may not have found. It'd be a shame to just scuttle her."

Now, Albert was hooked. "OK, Captain, let's have a tour of what makes the usual scuttle not a good idea."

The Captain grinned and turned to enter the companionway to below decks. He showed Albert where the passage seemed to end before the boat ended. A few taps on a fixture made a door slide open, revealing another room, lined by shelves and cabinets. The Captain explained the door code and described the contents of the shelves. Most was the usual run of marijuana and heroin, but there was also a surprising amount of counterfeit medications. The big prize, however, was a drawer containing a leather pouch. The Captain's voice was soft when he explained, "This should pay my ransom, I would think."

Albert hefted the pouch; it had to be less than a pound. Opening it, he poured a few diamonds onto a counter. Most were small enough for rings, but a few were of a size likely to be impressive in a necklace or pin. Carefully covering his interest, Albert agreed with the Captain and said he'd see about "adjusting" his plans.

"I suppose you also have a suggestion for the future of this ship?"

That produced another grin from the Captain. "The problem with ships is they're so easy to identify. Each is built for a particular purpose, so each is designed and constructed pretty much as a 'one-off.'Blue Bayouis easily recognized by her superstructure. However, when we built her, we made that superstructure easy to change. A few cuts with a torch and most of it lifts off. Then, you can build whatever you want on the hull. Presto, new ship. In my quarters, I've got two sets of papers for this ship, one blank enough for whatever you want. There's a shipyard in Marseilles that's done this before."

Albert nodded, pocketed the leather pouch, and ordered the Captain to his quarters. There, he took the papers for the ship as well as those for the Captain. If he was going to be sold separately, his new Owners would need these documents.

Back on deck, Albert assigned a crewman to return the Captain to his cage; the chains could be removed there. He turned to thinking about how to structure the Captain's new career. There was no place for him in Albert's organization, and he didn't think his friend in Macau would want him. He'd have to talk the slavers on the troopship into taking him for a slot different from the one advertised. Such "perturbations" in a business deal were not welcomed in this industry, he knew. Still, the man made good sense; how long would he last down in a mine or out in a field when he would last so much longer on a ship?

Albert laid out the last instructions for how the male passengers and the crew were to be presented. Albert's crew passed a meal to each of the remaining merchandise and then had them taken to a bathroom where each was made to shave, shit, shower, and dress in just their shorts. The female crew member was given the laciest bra and panty set thatBlue Bayouoffered. The merchandise was told a bit about what to expect at evening: their presentation to new buyers. They were drilled on how to address these buyers, what to say and what not to say, how to stand and how to behave. Albert himself explained what these units of merchandise were being judged on. He pointed out that he had a reasonable expectation that the merchandise would cooperate. The presence of crewmen holding whips and canes emphasized Albert's instructions. Stories about the women's humiliations, spankings, and auctions had been allowed to circulate among these units. None were expecting a miraculous rescue. As dusk fell, the merchandise was collared and the collars were locked into a coffle.