Bodyguard: Ransom (Book 2) (24 page)

Connor shouted a warning to Brad, but the repeated blasts of the shotgun had temporarily deafened him. Leaving Kieran to tend to Jordan, Connor ran to the rail. A pirate was attempting to scale the knotted rope, the bucking skiff making his progress slow, but certain.

Connor pulled the flare gun from his hip pocket. He took aim, then realized it was unloaded. He fumbled for another flare from the clip, but in his hurry he dropped them. They scattered across the deck. He frantically retrieved one. Snapping open the breach, he pushed the flare home then clicked it shut. Just as he went to take aim again, the chef rushed on to the deck, wielding a flaming bottle of vodka.

‘My own special pirate cocktail!’ he shouted as he launched it at the skiff below.

The bottle shattered across the bow, spreading a sea of flame along the wooden skiff. The pirates screamed and scrambled away from the blaze. In his panic the pilot veered sharply, jerking on the grappling rope and catapulting his comrade into the ocean.

Then a wave broke over the skiff, dousing the fire. The pirates, quickly recovering from the shock attack, made another approach. They powered towards the
Orchid
, leaving their fellow pirate to drown.

But the chef had plenty more bottles where that one had come from and reappeared moments later with two more Molotov cocktails.

On the starboard side, Brad fired his shotgun again. This time he hit his mark. The outboard engines of the targeted skiff sputtered and choked, smoke spewing from their exhausts. But the pilot had also been caught in the hail of buckshot. He slumped over the tiller of his outboard and sent the boat swerving off-course.

‘Two down!’ said Brad grimly as he sheltered behind the gunwale.

Despite their losses, the pirates refused to give up. Two of the skiffs now made simultaneous attacks on the
Orchid
’s bow. The crew up front called for help and Brad and Chef rushed to their aid. But, with everyone committed to the port and starboard attacks, no one noticed the stern assault by the third skiff.

Only Connor heard the clang of a grappling hook on the rail. He spun round to see a colossal pirate, an assault rifle strapped across his back, standing on the skiff’s bow like a figurehead. The ease with which he rode the turbulent waves was unnerving. Beckoning his pilot to move closer to the
Orchid
’s stern, the pirate was preparing to make his leap.

Connor had only one shot. He couldn’t afford to miss this time.

The flare rocketed the short distance and struck home. Just as he had planned, it landed beside the fuel canister for the outboard. The pilot shouted in terror and jumped over the side as a spark ignited the diesel. Showered in flaming fuel, the other pirates leapt for their lives. The skiff then exploded in a massive fireball, a plume of black smoke rising into the air like a mushroom cloud. Connor shielded his eyes from the blast. And, when he looked again, the skiff was sinking rapidly beneath the waves.

But the pirate who’d leapt from the bow still clung on to the rope. Like some monster of the deep, he hauled himself up through the rushing water towards the
Orchid
’s stern. Connor couldn’t believe the man’s strength, or his crazed determination.

The hook was pulled tight against the rail and Connor had no hope of wrenching it free. He raced through the salon to the galley. There, he grabbed a fire extinguisher and snatched the carving knife from the block. By the time he’d sprinted back, the pirate had reached the stern and was now clambering up the tender garage’s huge bay door.

Pulling the safety pin from the extinguisher, Connor let loose a jet of white foam, turning the hull slick and oily. The pirate scrambled to make purchase with his feet and thumped hard into the fibreglass hull. Foam glistened off his rippling torso and rivulets of water ran down his smooth bullet-shaped head.

Yet still he held on.

Discarding the empty extinguisher, Connor took up the knife. The pirate snarled like a wild beast when he saw
Connor furiously sawing at his rope. With grim determination, the pirate climbed hand over hand. The rope started to fray, but Connor knew he’d never cut through in time. The pirate was already halfway up. Then the
Orchid
struck the swell hard, the pirate lost his footing again and slipped down to the waterline. Only his Herculean strength prevented him from losing all grip on the rope.

The pirate heaved himself back up as Connor continued to slice frantically at the fraying fibres. The pirate’s fingers reached for the deck. The rope finally parted … and Connor watched the man tumble back into the foaming sea.

‘This is definitely a new breed of pirates,’ said Brad as the
Orchid
’s crew recovered in the salon.

After their joint attack failed, the pirates had finally given up their pursuit and the
Orchid
had escaped, bullet-ridden but unbreached. Jordan had been moved to a guest bedroom, his wound dressed and painkillers administered. Kathy, the second stewardess, was being treated for minor cuts from the shattered window.

‘I’ve never known so many skiffs hunting together as a pack, or seen such firepower,’ Brad continued as he paced the room, his shotgun still in hand. ‘Their outboards were brand new too, top of the range.’

‘But how did they even find us?’ asked Connor, standing near Emily and Chloe who huddled together on one of the sofas. ‘It’s not as if we’re in the transit corridor or cruising the Somalian coast.’

‘That’s a fair point,’ agreed Captain Locke, looking to Brad for an answer. ‘We’re almost as far from the mainland as we can be.’

‘Why not ask
him
?’ said Scott, seizing Cali by the scruff of his neck.

Cali stared back in wide-eyed alarm. ‘I-I know nothing. I not pirate,’ he protested.

‘Of course you are,’ said Scott, shaking Cali like a bag of bones. ‘You signalled for them to attack. And now my friend’s been shot.’

‘Stop!’ cried Emily, rising from the sofa. ‘It’s not Cali’s fault.’

Scott turned on her. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little coincidental that this Somali boy appears at the same time as the pirates?’

‘He’s trying to
escape
the pirates,’ explained Emily. ‘His father was killed by them.’

Scott rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘And you
believe
his sob story? He must have sent them our coordinates.’

‘No! No! Not true!’ cried Cali, struggling in Scott’s grip.

Captain Locke held up his hand to calm the situation. ‘Let’s hear the opinion of our security officer before jumping to conclusions.’

Brad stared hard at Cali, then answered, ‘This far from Somalia, the pirates have to be operating from a mothership – unless they’re on a one-way mission, which could explain their reckless determination. As regards targeting the
Orchid
, Cali may well be responsible. On the other hand, it might just be bad luck that we crossed paths with the pirates.’

‘So are we safe now?’ asked Amanda, who sat in a leather chair, nursing a large gin and tonic. At some point
she’d managed to apply make-up, although her eyes were still glassy with shock.

Brad studied the shotgun in his hand, then glanced towards the open ocean at their stern. ‘It’s highly unlikely the pirates will make another attempt. But I’ll feel more comfortable when we’re in safe harbour.’

‘And how long will that be?’

‘Another forty-eight hours,’ announced the captain.

‘What about Jordan?’ asked Sophie. ‘Kieran may be a first-aider, but he’s no doctor.’

‘It looks worse than it is, Soph,’ replied Brad. ‘I’ve checked the wound. The bullet passed straight through. But you’re right; he does need medical attention.’

‘Our plan is to cas-evac Jordan as soon as we’re within helicopter range,’ explained the captain. ‘We’ve retracted our distress signal, but requested medical help to be at the –’

‘Sorry for interrupting, Captain,’ said Chief Officer Fielding, rushing in from the bridge, ‘but we’ve picked up a Mayday call.’

‘From the pirates, I hope,’ laughed Chef, who was busy behind the bar mixing up more of his speciality cocktails in case the pirates returned.

‘No, a Dutch yacht,’ replied the chief officer, his expression short of humour beneath his beard. ‘Engine failure due to a fire. Four people on board. They’re requesting urgent assistance.’

‘How far are they from our current position?’ asked the captain.

‘They’re nine nautical miles south-east.’

‘Surely you can’t be thinking of going to their rescue?’ said Kieran. ‘We have enough problems of our own.’

Captain Locke gave him a stern look. ‘I’m well aware of that. But we’re legally obliged to help.’

‘Can’t another vessel respond?’ asked Amanda.

The chief officer shook his head. ‘There doesn’t appear to be anyone else in the vicinity.’

‘Then set a course for the stranded yacht,’ the captain ordered.

‘But the pirates!’ exclaimed Scott.

‘Exactly. And, if they’ve picked up the distress call too, they’ll be like vultures on carrion. So keep a sharp lookout.’

Connor scanned the horizon, the binoculars pulling the furthest waves into detail. Small white crests like feathers rippled on the ocean’s surface, but there were no pirates in sight. The empty sea was almost as disconcerting as it was reassuring.

Connor focused on the Dutch yacht drifting a couple of nautical miles to their port bow. Roughly half the size of the
Orchid
, the sleek pearl-white boat was still an impressive sight. There was no one on deck, giving the unsettling impression of a ghost ship. Yet, with only four crew, Connor realized they’d all be below, dealing with the engine fire.

The atmosphere on the
Orchid
herself was tense. While the majority of the crew stood watch or carried out their duties on the bridge, Chloe and Emily sat in the sky lounge playing a silent and seemingly endless game of cards. Kieran kept a close guard over Cali as he tended to Jordan. And Sophie waited on Amanda in the salon, the model on her third gin and tonic as she flicked aimlessly through a pile of glossy magazines.

In the lull after the attack, Connor remembered the text message he’d received. At first he’d been surprised his
phone had a signal so far out at sea. Then he saw the text had been delivered via Amir’s SOS app, which allowed short bursts of satellite communication. He’d replied with a simple message:

ALL CLEAR. BUT RESPONDING TO
ANOTHER YACHT’S MAYDAY.

Brad appeared on the upper deck and joined Connor at the aft rail. His shotgun rested on his shoulder, the weapon now a permanent accessory. ‘The captain’s just hailed the yacht. Any sign of the pirates?’

Connor shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘They’re probably still licking their wounds,’ said Brad, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin.

As the
Orchid
made its final approach, Connor could make out the name on the side of the hull:
Sunriser
. A man wearing a white peaked cap and jacket appeared on the yacht’s main deck and waved. Brad raised his hand in acknowledgement.

The
Orchid
decreased speed and came alongside the disabled vessel.

Captain Locke stepped from the bridge and saluted the other captain. ‘Ahoy there! Captain Locke at your service.’

The Dutch captain returned his salute. The man’s face was haggard, his eyes sunken and a few days of stubble coated his chin. Considering they’d come to his rescue, the Dutch captain didn’t look very pleased to see them. He bowed his head. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘What have you to apologize for?’ said Captain Locke, his brow creasing in puzzlement. ‘We’re only too happy to come to your assistance.’

But the answer emerged from the yacht’s dark interior: a mighty warrior of a man armed with an AK47.

Connor could scarcely believe his eyes. It was the pirate who’d tumbled from the
Orchid
’s stern.

Brad instinctively brought his shotgun down to fire.

‘DON’T!’ shouted the pirate, pressing the barrel of his rifle to the Dutch captain’s head. ‘I’ll kill him.’

Brad faltered in his attack. The Dutch captain stood motionless, what little colour was left in his face draining completely away as his life hung in the balance.

‘Throw your weapon over the side,’ the pirate ordered Brad.

Connor could see Brad weighing up the options. His first duty was to protect the crew and passengers of the
Orchid
. But he couldn’t be held responsible for the death of an innocent man either. With great reluctance, Brad tossed his only weapon into the sea.

A roar of outboard engines suddenly cut through the air as two skiffs powered out of the yacht’s shadow and surrounded the
Orchid
.

‘We underestimated you,’ said the pirate. ‘I won’t do so again.’

He spun the AK47 towards Brad and blasted him in the chest.