“You speak Somali?” Gadhka Cas smiled. “My beard turned gray at a young age and it is a tradition here to color such a thing with henna for one’s wedding—so the bride does not feel as if she is marrying her grandfather.”

The Somali took his seat and laughed. “It looked ridiculous and my friends stuck me with ‘Gadhka Cas’ forever.”

“It means ‘red beard,’” Pickens said for Jake’s benefit.

“Somali nicknames can be cruel,” Jake said.

“Life can be cruel,” said the Somali, suddenly serious, “but the nicknames are honest—maybe the most honest thing in Somalia.”

The three men sipped their tea.

“So what can I do for you?”

“My associate is interested in investment opportunities in Somalia,” said Pickens. “He’s looking to generate some ‘offshore income.’”

“I understand that some of the pirate syndicates accept outside investors,” Jake said. “And I’d like to make a substantial investment.”

“There are a few syndicates that would welcome your money,” said Gadhka Cas, “but be cautious, very few boardings are successful. The shipping companies and the world’s navies have become much smarter.”

“John has told me that there may be a new syndicate operating—one that has a much higher success rate, one that has professionalized the business. I’d be willing to accept a lower return for a more consistent payout. Are you familiar with it?”

“Somalis are great fans of legends,” said Gadhka Cas, “so I will tell you what I have heard, but I cannot attest to its accuracy . . . There is a story of a young man who was one of the earliest pirates in its earliest days, but he was injured during an attack and could no longer go to sea, so he staffed his organization with professionals and began gathering advance intelligence—not just chasing targets of opportunity with guns and a few qat-chewing boys, like everyone else. The legend goes that he now runs a very large and very effective operation, but that is all I know.”

“Do you believe it?” Jake asked.

“There are parts of it that I find credible, but I also find it strange that this legendary figure and I have never crossed paths. Men such as ourselves operate quite openly in Somalia.”

Gadhka Cas stood. The meeting was over.

Jake and Pickens stood in the empty lot as the man departed with his security detail.

“Sorry,” said Pickens. “I thought he was going to have a name for us. I’ll keep trying my other contacts . . . I’ve asked a couple of the arms dealers, but this ‘legend’ is probably one of their best customers, so nobody is talking.”

Jake watched a barefoot man lead a donkey cart past the warehouse.

“Do you remember when we were in that building in Kitadra?” he said.

“Just before those four guys tried to kill us? Yeah, vaguely . . .”