Pitt looked around the bay, which was lit by a single flickering overhead lamp. The Coast Guard team sat nearby, while another group, members of the Adelaide’s real crew, was sprinkled about the rear of the compartment. Two oblong shapes, wrapped in canvas and positioned off to one side, were responsible for the horrible odor.

“The captain and another man,” Simpson said. “Killed in the assault before we came along.”

Pitt nodded, then turned his attention to the Coast Guard team. They all bore wounds and bruises. Plugrad sat among the men with his back to a bulkhead, a vacant look in his eye.

“How’s Plugrad?”

“They knocked the lieutenant upside the head pretty good,” Simpson said. “He’s got a concussion but otherwise appears okay.”

Pitt stepped across the bay to the other group. They appeared weary but unhurt. A broad-shouldered man with a thick gray mustache rose and introduced himself.

“Frank Livingston, executive officer,” he said with a thick Australian accent. “How’s your comrade?”

“Gunshot wound to the leg. Lost some blood, but the medic thinks he’ll be okay.”

“Sorry I couldn’t help. Our chief bosun was the ship’s medic. He’s over there with the captain.” He pointed toward the canvas-covered bodies.

“How’d they take the ship?”

“A fast freighter came alongside on the evening watch three nights ago. Pulled right alongside our beam, scaring the dickens out of the helmsman. When they didn’t respond on the radio, the captain went on deck with the chief bosun. The vessel fired up some sort of radar device amidships that killed them both.” His mouth tightening into a grimace. “Never seen anything like it. Almost as if they were cooked alive. The freighter sent over an armed boarding party shortly after. There wasn’t much we could do. We’ve been cooped up in here ever since.”

“I’m sorry we were late to the scene,” Pitt said. “I guess they were tipped off to our arrival and came after you early.”

Livingston’s tired eyes flared with vengeance. “Who are they?”

Pitt shook his head. “They’re part of a ring we believe has hijacked a number of bulk carriers transporting rare earth elements.”

“We’re loaded with something called monazite,” Livingston said. “Guess they got what they came for. Any idea where we’re headed?”

Pitt looked around to make sure none of the other men were listening. “We think they usually transfer the cargo at sea, then scuttle the ships. At least two other carriers were sunk in these waters.”

Livingston nodded, but not with the look of a man sentenced to die aboard a sinking ship. “Tell me, Mr. Pitt, how large were those other hijacked carriers?”

“Not large. They were older dry bulk carriers, maybe ten thousand tons. Why do you ask?”