Outside the cave, the scorching wind swirled up the sand, as if echoing the rising murderous intent within.
Almost concurrently.
Somalia, Bosaso, a dilapidated port.
The salty, decayed sea breeze mingled with the stench of fish and garbage, blowing past the rusty corrugated iron shacks and the wrecks of stranded boats on the mudflat.
On a modified boat barely recognizable as a high-speed interception craft, a group of dark-skinned, nacing-eyed n crowded into the cramped cabin.
The mix of sweat, cheap tobacco, and fish oil was suffocating.
The pirate chieftain "One-Eyed" Bakal's face bore a centipede-like scar, and at that mont, his remaining eye was fixed on the satellite phone screen handed over by his subordinate, which displayed the text of the bounty notice.
He gulped down a mouthful of cheap palm wine, the spicy liquid burning his throat yet igniting a terrifying gleam in his single eye.
"One billion! US Dollars!"
Bakal's voice was like a sanding wheel, full of incredulous joy and greed, "Damn it! I could hijack ten oil tankers or a hundred fishing boats and not even co close to that amount!"
"Boss, that's an Arican transport ship..."
A young pirate with a youthful face but seasoned eyes looked anxiously at the murky sea outside the ship's side, "Their ship must have cannons! Big cannons! These boats of ours..."
He pointed at the few poorly maintained AK-47s and RPG-7 rocket launchers hanging on the cabin wall.
"These...don't stand a chance?"
"Fool!"
Bakal slapped the back of the young man's head, knocking him off balance, "No matter how big the cannon is, if it can't hit our small boats, it's just scrap tal! How big is the sea? How many eyes can they have watching? Notify all the brothers! Drag out all the guys from the boathouse that can still move! Bring all the guns, all the rockets! Contact the other groups we have at sea! Tell them, the fat sheep are coming! Even fatter than they could ever dream, ten thousand tis fatter! One billion! Divided among everyone, enough for us to build palaces in Mogadishu, play with the most beautiful won to death!"
He grinned, showing his yellow teeth, the gambler's madness burning in his single eye, "Do this job! Either enjoy it in Hell or count money in Heaven! Bet it!"
On the docks, several modified fishing boats outfitted with extra outboard engines, and crude steel plates welded onto the bows as rams, were being hastily pushed into the water amidst the puffing black smoke from diesel engines.
Pirates wearing tattered vests and carrying assorted weapons sward like hyenas slling blood.
...
That night
Beirut, deep inside a noisy and luxurious nightclub.
Deafening electronic music was blocked by heavy soundproof doors.
In an opulently decorated VIP room, smoke swirled.
The local influential gang leader Faris Zahran was lounging in a finely tailored silk shirt on a soft Italian leather sofa.
He leisurely swirled the amber whiskey in his crystal glass, the ice clinking against the glass.
On the expensive cherry wood coffee table before him lay an encrypted tablet, with the screen displaying the bounty notice making waves on the Dark Web.
Zahran's lips curled into an amused smile, yet his eyes were as calm as a frozen lake.
"One billion? Or weapons?"
He chuckled lightly, his voice deep with a barely noticeable hint of mockery, "Quite a grand gesture. So grand it feels...like a mad trap."
The trusted bodyguard standing beside the sofa, a man towering like a block of iron, bent slightly: "Boss, the risk is extrely high. The target is too hot. Aricans will react very fast, very ruthlessly. Our n are mainly on land and in ports, our mariti force is weak."
"I know, Joseph."
Zahran sipped the whisky, the spicy, rich liquid sliding down his throat, "Going directly to the sea to clash with that ship? That's sothing only fools and desperados would do."
He put down the glass, his long fingers lightly tapping the screen.
"But one billion US Dollars, or equivalent value in arms...this bait is too big. Very soon, the entire Arabian Sea, even the Red Sea, will turn into a shark pool. Chaos...is the best cover."
A shrewd calculation flashed in his eyes: "Notify our n at the Suez Canal, Aden Bay, Djibouti...all the critical points, to keep an eye on that Marlin Fish ship, as soon as they dare dock for resupply..."
He showed a smile of an experienced hunter, picked up his glass again, and made a cutting motion at his throat with his other hand.
"Do you understand what I an?"
Short two days.
The invisible flow of information catalyzed the tangible actions. Greed, hatred, ambition, despair...
The primal human motivations, under the crazy stimulus of one billion dollars or weapons, transford into actions aid at the ocean.
The peace of the entire sea region was utterly torn apart.
The Marlin Fish was sailing on the vast Arabian Sea.
The sky was blue, the sea was wide, with only a slight sea breeze blowing.
Within the bridge, the atmosphere was initially routine after completing a task.
No one dared to touch a US ship.
Especially a US Army logistics transport ship.
This was a fact that every crew mber on the ship believed in.
Captain Jackson was holding a coffee cup, watching the green blip on the radar screen.
He had just finished a routine encrypted communication with CIA headquarters, reporting everything was normal and expected to pass through the Mandela Strait and enter the Red Sea as planned.
Suddenly, a sharp, tranquility-shattering alarm rang out unexpectedly within the ship bridge!
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