Fortune Favors Read Online Free PDF Page B

sound of approaching footsteps sent him hastening once more for cover. A young Chinese man with an AK-47 slung over one shoulder, strolled by his hiding place a few moments later. Kismet breathed a sigh of relief that his presence apparently remained unnoticed, but then he heard something that caused his heart to freeze in his chest. It was the electronically reproduced melody of a cellular telephone ringtone.
    Kismet’s hands flew to his pockets, desperate to silence the phone’s trilling, even though he knew it was already too late. The young pirate could not possibly have failed to hear the sound. His worst fears were confirmed as he saw the man stop in his tracks. Kismet’s hand tightened on the twin handle halves of the Balisong, squeezing just enough to release the spring-loaded latch.
    The pirate took his cell phone from his front trouser pocket and pushed a button to receive the call, silencing the ring tone.
    The sudden adrenaline dump made Kismet feel like throwing up. His personal cell phone was in his luggage along with everything else that would have been useful right then, but in the grip of panic he had forgotten that detail. As the pirate commenced chatting with a distant, unseen party, Kismet sagged in relief, biding his time in his place of concealment.
    His grasp of the dialect spoken by the young man was insufficient for him to follow the conversation, but it seemed like a fairly casual exchange; a curious relative or girlfriend perhaps. It took Kismet a few moments to grasp the real significance of the phone call.
    They’ve got coverage out here !
    He had caught a glimpse of the pirate’s phone. It was a regular digital unit, almost small enough to disappear inside a closed fist, not a satellite phone receiver, which despite advances in miniaturization technology, would have been considerably larger. It seemed impossible that phone service existed in the middle of the South China Sea. Nevertheless, the young man carried on his conversation as naturally as if he were on a street corner in Singapore.
    Kismet realized the cruise line must have established a satellite link for their passengers, allowing them to use their personal phones as they pleased—probably passing along a hefty surcharge for the privilege—which in turn had created a cell through which the pirate’s call had been routed. The particulars of the arrangement didn’t concern him; all he cared about was getting his hands on that phone.
    The young Chinese man continued his conversation animatedly, speaking at seemingly random intervals as he leaned against the junk’s starboard railing. The exchange lasted an interminable sixty seconds before the pirate eventually pulled the receiver from his ear and hit the ‘end’ button. He contemplated the bright blue backlit display for a moment, and then moved to return the device to his pocket.
    Kismet leapt forward, wrapping his left arm around the young man’s throat as he seized his right hand in order to prevent the loss of the phone. The pirate struggled in Kismet’s choke hold, but the latter had the advantage of surprise and superior physical strength. After a moment of struggle, the pirate went limp in Kismet’s grasp.
    He quickly dragged his captive back to the niche where he had been concealed only a moment before. The young man was still breathing but had blacked out from the temporary disruption of the blood flowing to his brain through the carotid artery. Kismet hastily relieved the pirate of his weapon, and bound the man’s hands behind his back, using the cummerbund from his tuxedo as an impromptu rope. As an afterthought, he tugged his black bow-tie free and stuffed it into the captive’s mouth. Only then did he pluck the phone from the man’s slack grasp. He still had no idea whom to call.
    He contemplated the numeric keypad a moment longer, then hit the zero key, making the universal summons for an operator. As soon as the connection was made, he spoke a single word: