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For Your Paws Only

Chapter 3 - Cruising on a Sorry Boat

Conrad managed to hide out in the second engine of the ore train until it arrived in the port of Dar Es Salaam.

Tanzania's largest city, Dar Es Salaam was also Tanzania's financial and industrial center. It was built around a natural harbour, and the port was responsible for eighty percent of the shipping in and out of the country.

There were several districts in Dar Es Salaam, some of which were very exclusive while others were tourist favourites, but the port area was not either of those. The Temeke District, which included the port, was home to most of the city's industry, and the majority of its low-income residents. Because of its economic importance and the high crime rate the Police barracks and the Military base were also located there, so their prominent presence could help bring order to the rough and unruly community.

The port itself was the roughest of the neighbourhoods, with hundreds of sailors arriving every day flush with cash to spend. There they were met by hordes of people waiting to take advantage of them among the cheap bars and flophouses.

It was in one of those that Conrad waited for his contact from F.O.X.

He had found what was perhaps the cleanest hotel in the port, which was not saying much. He had taken a room on the top floor where he could watch the ships coming and going and keep an eye on the ship that the lithium ore was being loaded onto. On his second day he was instructed to meet his contact in the bar of the hotel. There were no identifying signs or signals for the meet, he was told that they would know each other.

Conrad was slightly surprised, and a bit disappointed when he saw Marcel in his Anthony Foxx guise enter the hotel. He had been hoping that Geno would be his contact.

Marcel sat down without a word at the corner table that Conrad had chosen. He pulled a black box from the backpack he was carrying and placed it in the middle of the table. Conrad recognized it as a signal detector and suppressor, in case there were any electronic listening devices in the bar.

They both waited until a small green light on the box blinked and then glowed steady. Marcel spoke first.

"Sorry to make it look like I'm breathing down your neck," Marcel told Conrad, "but no one else was available to come brief you." The black fox looked around. "Good choice of table." He conceded. Its placement allowed them both to sit with their backs to the walls while observing the rest of the bar and the lobby of the hotel.

Conrad had already ordered a pot of tea, a popular and safe drink in Tanzania, and two cups, so there was no need for the waiter to come over. Used to unsavoury types holding secret meetings in his bar, the baboon behind the counter would not send anyone over unless they signalled for service.

Marcel took a sip of tea before he leaned in and lowered his voice.

"We checked up on the ship you identified, the MS Ocean Ghost, the one the ore is being transferred to. The manifest and the route they filed are false. It has a history of transporting illicit cargo without its transponder on, so we need another way of tracking it."

"Satellites?" Conrad guessed.

Marcel shook his head. "Not a high enough priority. They're all busy watching other lithium mines for signs of movement. The Navy is also engaged elsewhere, so it looks like we'll have to get somebody on board, and that somebody is you."

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know, you'll have to figure something out." Marcel said with a humourless grin. "You can try to get hired on, but unless there was something you left out of your work history I doubt you could pass as a sailor. Failing that you'll have to sneak onboard and hope you don't get caught. Meanwhile, your rules of engagement are essentially the same. Don't kill any innocents to get on the ship. The officers and crew are definitely involved in criminal activities so once you are onboard you can take out any threats to you or the mission. Use your discretion though, if too many members of the crew disappear, they'll get suspicious."

Conrad nodded. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Just let us know anything you find out when it's safe to do so. We'll be tracking you through your wristwatch so don't lose it."

"Is there an emergency code in case I need rescuing?"

Marcel shook his head again. "The government won't acknowledge you or this mission. You're on your own, but it's not all bad; if the watch detects that your bodily functions have ceased, we'll send a team in to recover it."

"My corpse?"

"No, the watch." Marcel nonchalantly as he stood up to leave. "Those things are expensive and full of proprietary tech. Thanks for the tea."

* * * * * * * *

Conrad started by asking the clerks at the hotel where one would go to sign on to a ship. They directed him to the Port Authority building where there was a marine employment office. There he was told that the MS Ocean Ghost was not hiring at the moment.

"Besides," the official at the desk told him, "you need a Certificate of Sea Service to get work as anything other than general labour ... or security."

"Security?"

"These are dangerous waters." The official shrugged. "Ships with valuable cargo carry their own weapons and hire mercenaries to protect against pirates. But, like I said, the Ghost isn't hiring."

Outside the Port Authority Conrad was accosted by a jackal in a red fez.

"You looking to hire onto a ship, effendi? I know many quality ships looking for crew, no experience necessary. We pay good bonuses for signing on."

"Don't believe him." A passing official called to Conrad. "That jackal works for the tramp steamers and coffin ships. If you're lucky you'll be working for less than they charge you for food and confined to the ship so you can't desert."

"And if I'm unlucky?"

"They'll sink the ship for the insurance money with you still on it. I'd stay away from this one."

"Good to know, thanks."

Conrad waved the jackal off and went back to studying the ship. It wasn't difficult to pick out the mercenaries from the sailors; the sailors did all the work on the ship while the mercenaries stood sentry, guarding the cargo as it was transferred and keeping the curious away.

The ship was due to sail the next morning. When the lithium ore was fully loaded half the security team were placed on sentry duty, watching for stowaways most likely. Their presence and the rat catchers on all the lines that bound the ship to the wharf were enough of a deterrent for most, Conrad supposed.

The other half either went to bed or left the ship for some last-minute recreation. One guard in particular, a muscular aardvark with several military tattoos, broke off from the rest and headed for the nearest bar. Conrad put down his binoculars and followed him.

The aardvark already had a drink in his paw when Conrad caught up to him and he downed it quickly, ordering another right away. Having gotten drunk with professional soldiers in a number of dives around the world, Conrad recognized the type. The guy was probably suffering from PTSD and trying to drown the ghosts that haunted him, which never worked. Either that or he was a genuine tailhole that just wanted to get drunk and start a fight as quickly as possible.

There was only one way to find out.

Conrad did not have any tattoos himself; he had resisted the urge on the belief that if he ever needed to go undercover a distinctive tattoo would give him away. He did have a black Sharpie marker though, and he used it to draw a passable eagle holding a lightning bolt similar to the one on the GROM patch. Hopefully the aardvark would fall for it. Drawing it also gave the guy time to down another two drinks.

Entering the bar, Conrad made his way to where the aardvark was drinking and deliberately bumped the arm it was holding its drink with, just as he was raising it to his long snout.

"Hey, tailhole! Watch where you're going!" The aardvark roared as half its drink spilled onto the counter. Placing the half-empty glass down it stood and confronted Conrad.

This close, Conrad could see that the aardvark had the sixteen-pointed star of the South African Special Forces Brigade on its chest. The accent was South African also.

"Whoa, there soldier." Conrad said as he raised his open paws to show he wasn't a threat. "Let me buy you a couple to make up for that, after all ..." he lifted his sleeve to show his makeshift tattoo, "... we SF types have to stick together."

The aardvark blinked through the haze of several drinks in rapid succession. Conrad had already dropped his sleeve and was signalling the bartender for more drinks.

"Jesus." the aardvark spat. "You get that tattoo when you and the artist were both drunk?"

"Yeah, you know how it is. Cheers!"

Conrad raised his glass, a single, as he passed a double to the aardvark. He downed it in a flourish and his long-nosed companion followed suit. Then the aardvark puled Conrad down onto the stool beside him and put his arm around the coyote's shoulders.

"Hey, you're okay, you know that? Let's have a drink."

For the next four hours Conrad tried to keep up with a creature that obviously had a much higher tolerance for alcohol than he did. They traded war stories while Conrad contrived to give the aardvark stronger and stronger drinks while sticking to singles himself. Whenever he could he dumped his drink into a large planter at the end of the bar, usually while the aardvark was head up draining the last drop from his own glass.

Finally, around midnight, the aardvark's arm went up and his head went back, and they both kept going until he crashed to the floor. Conrad, his legs a little wobbly, bent down and scooped up the bulky body.

"I'll take him back to his ship." He informed the bartender, who gave Conrad a look that said he didn't give a shit what the coyote did with the aardvark, as long as he tipped well. Conrad took the hint and dropped some notes on the bar as he staggered out under the weight of the unconscious mercenary.

He was wondering where he could dump the aardvark so that the mercenary could not get back to his ship when he saw the jackal in the red fez going through the pockets of an unconscious rodent further down the dock.

"Hey, you!"

The jackal stood up quickly, shoving something into its pocket. "Effendi! So good to see you again. I was just, ah, helping this poor fellow get to the ship he signed onto. It sails within the hour."

"I'll bet. Do you think they have room for one more?" he jerked his head to indicate the comatose aardvark.

The jackal pinched a thick bicep. "For a strong one like this there is always room. Drop him here and I'll have my colleagues, uh, sign him up."

Conrad let the aardvark down easy while the jackal made a call on an old flip phone.

"Thank you, effendi." The jackal said dismissively. "I can manage things from here."

Conrad did not move.

"Is there a problem, effendi?"

"You said you paid good bonuses." Conrad had spent most of his cash getting the aardvark drunk and he doubted that he would find an ATM before the Ghost sailed.

The jackal gave Conrad a knowing grin. "Ah, I knew that the effendi was a person of quality from the moment I set eyes on him." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a wallet that had the rat's ID photo in the flap. Taking half the cash inside he passed the tattered bills to Conrad.

"Will this be sufficient?"

Conrad reached past and took the other half, which consisted of larger denomination bills than the ones offered.

"This will do."

The jackal looked like he had just swallowed a turd, but he shrugged and pocketed the remaining money.

"A most discerning eye. Goodnight, effendi."

Conrad turned and headed back towards his hotel. He should just have enough time to get cleaned up and grab a few hours sleep before the MS Ocean Ghost was due to sail.

* * * * * * * *

The next morning they were already starting to cast off the lines when Conrad, still slightly hung over, appeared at the base of the gangplank.

"Ahoy the ship!" He called out. "Permission to come aboard."

A male lion with captain's braid on its cap leaned over the ropes. "What do you want?" It sounded irritated.

"I heard you could use someone familiar with guns."

The captain mumbled something to a wart hog beside him before turning back to Conrad. His brows were pinched in suspicion.

"It seems that we are indeed short one sentry. How did you know?"

"I saw an aardvark get into a fight in a bar last night. His did some serous damage to a few locals before the police grabbed him. He yelled to them to contact this ship, but it turns out that guys he beat up were off-duty cops, so I figured he wasn't going anywhere for a while."

The lion swore. "I knew that bastard would get in trouble he couldn't get out of one of these days. What's your experience?"

"Tanker security and assault boats in the Persian Gulf." Conrad lied. It was close enough to the duty on his Blue phase at GROM.

"You say you saw him in a bar. You a drinker too?

"Not as much of one as that aardvark."

The captain laughed. "Not many are, not that can walk and talk the next day anyway. Come aboard. The mate here will get you sorted out."

Conrad boarded the ship and the wart hog, who turned out to be the First Mate, took him to his office to sign him up. When that was done he led him to the head of security to be assigned to a team and a bunk.

"Are there many pirates in these waters?" Conrad asked.

"There's enough, so keep a sharp eye out." The gruff old bulldog that had seen service in the British SAS replied. "Also, if you see any ships tailing us let me know. The captain doesn't like other people knowing our business."

* * * * * * * *

Conrad's days settled into a routine.

He stood sentry for eight hours a day and was on standby for another eight. He ate and cleaned and maintained weapons while he was on standby. The head of security watched him closely the first day and was pleased by the coyote's familiarity with a number of different weapons. When they test fired them at chunks of scrap thrown into the sea or the air Conrad hit every target, earning him the nickname 'Ace' among the other mercenaries.

They told him that they expected to be at sea for a few weeks, but they had no idea where the next port of call was, other than they were heading due east. They were also in the dark when it came to what type of ore they were shipping, other than that it must be valuable to require such a large security team.

As a new member he was confined to quarters and his post. He dared not leave his post when on duty and he was not allowed to wander the ship when off duty. Their food was brought to them in the small wardroom off their quarters where they serviced the weapons, played cards and arm wrestled.

The crew were all related to the Captain and none of them would engage in even the most innocent conversation. The Captain hardly ever came down to their level and when the Mate did it was only to give orders.

There was talk of two passengers, but they were keeping to their cabins on the upper decks and none of the other sentries had seen them since the ship left Dar Es Salaam.

"Probably seasick." A wolf that had deserted from the Russian army opined. "I puked for a week the first time I went to sea."

By the fifth day Conrad was convinced that he would have to figure out a way to sneak out when he was supposed to be sleeping and climb the bulkheads to get to the bridge and upper cabins if he wanted to get any information. That would require some hooks to wedge into the seams of the metal plates, so Conrad started looking for baling hooks or other bits of metal that would not be missed.

He was thinking of this on the sixth day when he noticed something moving on the surface of the ocean. A large ship like theirs could be spotted almost forty kilometres away, but this was much smaller. It was dark, whatever it was, and narrow. Perhaps it was a small whale, he thought.

But a few minutes of study ruled that theory out. The object was moving too fast and in a straight line, straight for their ship, as a matter of fact. Even though the sun in his eyes was making it hard to see Conrad was able to make out a number of similar objects following it. They had used the setting sun and the choppy water of the freighter's wake to hide them while they closed in.

"A number of small craft incoming off the port stern." He reported on the radio he carried while on shift. "Looks like eight or nine assault craft travelling at forty knots. No sign of any weapons yet."

As if to make him a liar there was a flash from the lead boat, followed by a 'bang' and the sound of a large caliber shell hitting the metal of the stern superstructure. It was probably just a warning shot, he thought, to convince the crew of the unknown freighter to surrender peacefully. The rest of the sentries would have heard it too, so Conrad didn't bother reporting it.

The heavy weapons were kept locked up in their quarters. The standby team would be getting them ready now, he knew. Meanwhile, the on-duty sentries were supposed to hold off the pirates. Most sentries carried small assault rifles while on duty, because they were easy to carry and could put a lot of bullets into a wide area quickly, but Conrad had chosen to carry a long-range hunting rifle with a scope.

He steadied himself against the railing and took aim at the craft that was quickly closing the gap between them. It was difficult because the ship was rolling and the assault boat was rising and falling in the freighter's wake, but after a few moments Conrad got the rhythm and was able to track the approaching boat. When it was at maximum range for the rifle he fired a single shot.

He doubted that he had hit anything or anyone, but the effect was immediate none the less. The boat pitched to one side as it swerved to avoid a follow-on shot. Then it started weaving back and forth across the waves as erratically as possible to make a more difficult target. Behind it the other boats fanned out and began doing the same.

"Is that what you hoped to accomplish with your one shot?" The head of security, who had come up behind Conrad, growled in his ear.

"Yes." Conrad answered. "It slowed them down. Now the rest of the team has time to get their weapons in position."

The bulldog grunted approvingly. "Keep shooting at 'em whenever they get in range. We'll have the fifty-calibre set up momentarily."

Conrad did as instructed, but he suspected that the pirates had even bigger guns on their boats, twenty millimeters most likely. That was confirmed when the lead boat fired again and a hole about that size opened up in the bulkhead behind him. A barrage of small arms fire followed, forcing Conrad and the bulldog to drop to the deck behind the low gunwale that ran along the edge of the deck.

Conrad heard the fifty open up from the next deck up on the stern superstructure. There was a second fifty caliber machine gun but that one would be setting up on the other side of the ship, as the pirates would likely try to encircle them.

He watched the boats swerve and maneuver to avoid the tracer bullets that helped the machine gun crew aim. The fifties could make mincemeat out of the fast rubber craft, if they could catch them. Small arms fire would not do much at long range, those type of boats had separate compartments in the hull so they wouldn't deflate or sink even if a few were punctured.

The only good thing about keeping the boats moving was that the pirates couldn't use their big gun effectively. That did not stop them from firing it in their general direction to intimidate them though. Meanwhile, the boats' zig-zag pattern was bringing them closer and closer. Once they got in the shadow of the big ship's hull the fifties would be useless, and leaning over to fire at them with assault weapons would expose them to counterfire.

Conrad used the rifle and scope to pick off individual pirates as the assault boats closed in, but he was only successful with about one shot in three; there were just too many moving parts to keep a bead on a small target. Meanwhile, the pirates continued to draw in closer.

Conrad was aware of others nearby shooting at the pirates also, but he had been concentrating on his shots so much he had not had time to look around to see how many there were. When he did he counted half of the security force in positions around him. He could also hear firing from the other side of the ship, where the rest of the security force would be deployed to deter those assault boats that had gone around.

"These bastards are certainly persistent." The head of security growled. "They must think we're carrying gold or Taylor Swift tickets for all the effort they are putting into it."

"With this much security, can you blame them?" Conrad asked. The assault boats were so close now that it weas difficult to aim low enough to shot at them, and most of the pirates had covered up with black tarps so there were no definite targets for an accurate weapon like his anyways.

The head of security knew it too, and he grabbed Conrad by the shoulder.

"They'll be boarding soon, and we don't have enough people to cover every line and ladder they may throw up. I'm going to pull everybody back to the bow and make a stand there. You run ahead and get more ammo for the assault rifles from the mate's cabin. He keeps them locked up in a chest under his bunk. He'll have the key on him, and he'll be on the bridge. Go!"

Conrad went, just as the first of a series of grappling hooks soared up over the gunwale. He ran as fast as he could for the stairs that lead to the bridge while the rest of the force cut free what hooks they could reach as they moved in teams back along the deck.

The bridge was on top of the bow superstructure. Crewmembers were guarding the doors but they recognized Conrad and let him pass. The Captain and the First Mate were both armed with assault rifles and pistols. Neither was anywhere near the radio, and Conrad guessed that they had not sent out a distress call. That told him a lot about how secretive the cargo of lithium was.

"The Chief sent me for ammo." Conrad told the ship's officers. The lion nodded to the wart hog. The first mate pulled a keyring with several keys from his pocket.

"You remember where my cabin is?" the Mate asked as he passed the keys to Conrad.

"Yes."

"The old brass key is for the door of my cabin. The big silver one is for the ammo chest under my bunk. Take whatever you need from it, but don't touch anything else in my cabin ... understand?"

Conrad nodded and ran out of the bridge. There was firing coming from the stern which was being answered from amid ships. The pirates must have gotten a toehold. His security comrades would need that ammo quickly.

He reached the Mate's cabin, slotted the key in and turned it, pulling the steel door open with a clang. He looked around and located the bunk. He was about to dive under for the chest with the ammo when he noted several charts and message print outs on the Mate's desk. There was, however, no time to examine them. His mission would fail if pirates took the ship, even if he survived, so defeating them was his first priority.

Pulling the chest out Conrad unlocked the big padlock that secured it. Inside were dozens of clips for the assault rifles, spare magazines for the pistols, a lanyard with ten paw grenades and a few canvas bags. Conrad pulled two canvas bags out and divided the ammunition between them. The grenade belt he slung over his shoulder and across his chest.

Leaving the Mate's cabin, Conrad jumped onto a ladder that led back to the main deck and slid down with his paws and feet on either side. Rolling under cover as soon as his feet touched the deck he saw the bulldog and what was left of his security team falling back toward him. Their assault rifles were slung, and they were reduced to providing covering fire with their pistols.

Conrad passed a bag of ammunition to the first guard to reach him and pointed to a gangway that ran to the other side of the ship. The guard nodded and took off at a run. Conrad stayed and passed out clips to the others as they fell back.

"What's that you got?" The bulldog said as he dumped his empty clips in the bag and reloaded. "Grenades? Perfect. Give me half."

Conrad complied. There was a momentary lull in the shooting from the rear of the ship.

"There's quite a few of 'em still, but scant cover for 'em on the main deck." The bulldog explained. "They'll regroup and send a hail o' bullets to cover their advance. The first group will take up positions behind the cranes there." The bulldog pointed to where the folded cranes offered the only cover behind the forward superstructure. "Once there they'll provide cover fire while the rest move up. Then they'll all reload and come at us like pack of wild wolves. What I want you to do is cross over to the starboard side and get those grenades ready. When they charge you toss 'em all onto the deck in front of them. Everyone else hold their fire until then, but once the grenades go off let 'er rip. Got that?"

"Aye, aye."

"Don't give me that naval shite ... go!"

Conrad scrambled through the gangway as the sound of renewed gunfire erupted at the stern. On the other side he passed the bulldog's instructions on to the German shepherd in charge there and began gathering the grenades. He slipped each digit on his left paw through the ring and bent back the safety clips. Then he straightened the wires on the pins slightly so that they would pull out easier without letting the grenades fall off at his feet.

Peaking out from cover when the firing abated Conrad saw a number of hyenas hiding behind the cranes. He resisted the urge to throw the grenades right then and waited as they began shooting while their comrades ran up to join them. There was another lull, just long enough for them to load fresh magazines into their weapons, and then they all came over and around the cranes at once, firing as they did.

Conrad flung his paw full of grenades back and whipped it forward. All five came off their pins and sailed through the space between him and the advancing horde. Some of the hyenas saw them and tried to retreat, others swore and ran faster, one tried to pick up a bouncing grenade and throw it back, but before he could the ships security team opened up and the pirate dropped the green sphere at its feet.

The grenades, Conrad's as well as those the bulldog tossed from the other side of the ship, all went off within a second of each other. Those pirates that were not ripped apart by the shrapnel were stunned and exposed to the security guards' fire. A couple made it as far as the superstructure, only to be cut down by guards hiding in the doorways. Several others high-tailed it back toward the stern and their boats, but the bulldog and his group were in hot pursuit and none of them made it as far as the rear superstructure.

The Chief and his team came back, sweeping the deck for survivors. There were several individual shoots when they found pirates still alive; there would be no arrest and court at the next port of call for them.

The Shepherd swept the bow with his team, including Conrad, in case more pirates had come aboard behind them, but they did not find any. Conrad saw that one of the canines in this group was chewing bubble gum, and he asked for a piece. The dog passed a big pink square over and Conrad began to chew.

Once the two teams had met up and compared notes the head of security called 'all clear' up to the bridge, where the officers and crew were barricaded. The wart hog emerged and climbed down the ladder to get the bulldog's report. While they talked, Conrad spat the soft gum out into his paw and put the key for the mate's cabin on it. Then he squeezed his paw tight for a few seconds before peeling the gum off the key and putting each in a sperate pocket.

He was just in time. The wart hog appeared in front of him with his paw out.

"Keys." He demanded.

Conrad pulled the keyring out of his pocket and passed it over.

"Why are they sticky?" The porcine mate asked, shaking his paw where bits of pink were stuck to the bristles.

"One of the pirates got right up on me before one of the other guys shoot him in the back of the head." Conrad ad-improvised quickly. "His brains got all over me."

"Echk. Go get cleaned up before you catch something from them."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

* * * * * * * *

After the pirate attack Conrad was a trusted member of the security force. The Chief made Conrad his assistant, with a view to grooming him for a team leader position on future contracts. As such, the coyote had free run of the ship when he wasn't on duty.

In the toilet stall Conrad retrieved the dried-out gum and studied the makeshift mould. He could not make a copy of the key with it, but the impression told him how the lock was keyed and which lock picks to use first to open it fast. He doubted that he would have much time so the quicker he got in and got what he wanted the better.

He took to idling near the bridge as much as he could. From that position near the top of the superstructure he could overhear the crew in their quarters talking. From the bits and pieces of conversation he overheard he gathered that they were bound for an unnamed island off the coast of West Sumatra, where the ore would be off-loaded for processing. The ship would not return to Africa for more right away. Instead, they would take on a cargo of refined metal from a previous delivery and sail East with it, although to where none of the crew seemed to know.

A quick trip to the mate's cabin while the wart hog was engaged on the bridge revealed the location of the island where the ore would be processed. Conrad memorized the longitude and latitude. There was another course plotted that headed west around Indonesia and the Philippines, but it ended in mid-ocean. The final destination could be in China, Russia, the Koreas or Japan.

Maybe, Conrad speculated, they would sell it to the highest bidder once they arrived in the region. As it was, he still had no idea who the tiger worked for or why they wanted so much lithium in the first place.

After relocking the mate's cabin Conrad made his way towards the ladder closest to the guards' quarters. The route brought him close to the freighter's few passenger cabins. The port hole was open on one, and Conrad could hear voices coming from it.

"The Administrator insists that production be sped up." He heard a female voice say as he leaned against the bulkhead below the porthole. "We need to process sixteen million kilograms of ore to get the sixteen thousand kilograms of pure lithium needed for further processing for each device. The tailings we stole from under the snouts of the Canadians were barely enough for one device!"

"What can I say?" A voice Conrad recognised as that of the Tiger's replied. "We have already bought up as much of the world's reserve as we could."

"The leader is demanding results now!"

"After we drop off this ore we'll take the refined lithium from the tailings we stole to the extraction facility where they can make the material for the first device. After that I'll return to the Congo and see that they triple the production ... by any means necessary."

"See that you do."

The tiger's voice dropped to a low growl.

"Don't you threaten me. You are just the Administrator's gopher and plaything. You have no real power."

"And neither will you if you fail." The female voice shook a bit when she replied. "All of us are as good as dead if we fail."

Conrad was wondering what kind of device would need whatever you could extract from sixteen thousand kilograms of lithium when he heard footsteps inside the cabin heading for the door. He quickly scrambled away from the porthole before standing up and pretending that he was just approaching when the door opened and a beautiful snow leopard stepped out. His brown eyes locked onto her emerald-green ones for an instant before he ducked his head and touched his cap in respect.

He sensed her eyes following him as he passed and continued along the gangway. A bead of sweat formed on his brow as he waited for her to call for the tiger and report him, but the call never came.

He slid down the first ladder he came to. He needed to find a secluded area open to the air where he could lock onto the F.O.X. satellite and report what he had learned before they caught onto him. Maybe the Professor and his staff could figure something out from all the bits and pieces he had picked up. One thing Conrad knew that they would find interesting was that the language the tiger and snow leopard were conversing in was one that Conrad had only a rudimentary knowledge off, but enough to translate their sort, simple conversation.

They had been speaking Korean.