Bodyguard: Ransom (Book 2) (28 page)

Connor’s eardrums almost burst at the sudden roar of the
Orchid
’s twin diesel engines kicking into life above him. The bilge rumbled like thunder and the stagnant water rippled with the yacht’s vibrations. Covering his ears, Connor now understood why Cali hadn’t ventured any further than the first compartment. His bones rattled as the propellors began to turn and the yacht got under way.

But this was good news, he realized. The chief officer had said one would need a computing degree to pilot the
Orchid
. And, with the crew secure in the citadel, Connor very much doubted that any of the pirates had the necessary skills or knowledge. Which could only mean one thing:
they’d been rescued!

Wading through the oil-slicked water to the far end of the compartment, Connor found the hatch in the ceiling. He pushed it open and popped his head out. The engine room was glaringly bright, noisy but empty. Clambering on to the metal decking, he felt sheer relief at escaping the bilge’s dark, tight confines. Even the engine room’s diesel-tinged air was a joy compared to the stench of the bilge,
and his throbbing headache and nausea soon began to fade.

Having been cooped up for several hours, though, his limbs were stiff and sore. He shook some life back into them, then strode over to the bulkhead door. Shouldering his Go-bag, he eased the door open and entered the service corridor.

No one was around as he made his way to the access door leading to the main stairwell and lower-deck bedrooms. He checked the girls’ rooms first, discovering them both to be empty and their personal belongings ransacked and scattered all over the floor.

At the foot of the stairs Connor paused, experiencing a strong sense of unease.

Where is everyone?

His bodyguard instincts urged him to remain cautious as he climbed up to the main deck.

From the direction of the salon, he could hear music playing. A thumping party beat. Connor smiled to himself. They were
celebrating
. He almost rushed in to join them when he heard an unfamiliar voice shout above the music, the words indistinguishable but definitely not English.

He froze to the spot. He’d misread the situation. The pirates were
still
in control.

The salon door suddenly opened and Connor dived into Mr Sterling’s study. A pair of pirates, jabbering away, passed right by, oblivious to him. Both of them had AK47s slung across their backs. As they entered the galley, Connor caught a glimpse of the steel door to the citadel. It lay on
the floor like a discarded cardboard cut-out. Next to it were two gas canisters and a blowtorch. In an instant he knew what had happened.

His thoughts went to Emily and Chloe.
Where are they? Are they hurt? Alive even?

Then he became aware of his own predicament. He had to get back into hiding, fast. If the pirates found him, there was no telling what they would do. And he’d be no use to anyone if he was captured.

But first he had to locate the girls. Confirm they were still alive.

As the two pirates raided the galley for party supplies, Connor crept back into the corridor and across to the door leading to the outer deck. Through the porthole, stars gleamed in the night sky. At least he’d have the cover of darkness to move about in. Once again, though, Connor wished his Go-bag wasn’t bright yellow. Yet he couldn’t leave it behind. He might need the protection of its liquid body-armour panel at any moment.

Out on deck, the breeze was cool and sharp, helping to focus his awareness. Keeping to the shadows, he listened out for any pirates, but heard none approaching.

The salon’s floor-to-ceiling windows were obscured, both a blessing and a curse. Although he wouldn’t be seen, he was forced to go to the glazed bay doors at the far end to look for the girls. With the aid of his night-vision sunglasses, Connor checked the route was clear, then headed towards the
Orchid
’s stern. As he passed the salon, the music pounding from within, the windows suddenly
became transparent and he was caught like a rabbit in headlights.

On the other side, the pirates were laughing, drinking and dancing. The
Orchid
’s crew, numb with shock, had huddled on the leather sofas as if marooned. Amanda was gyrating to the music amid the pirates. But by the look on her face this wasn’t out of choice. Then the windows went obscure again.

Connor dropped to the deck, praying he hadn’t been spotted. The windows continued to flick between obscure and clear, a pirate inside finding the optical trick astonishing and hilarious at the same time as he repeatedly pressed the switch. By some stroke of luck, he’d been looking the other way and the darkness had concealed Connor from anyone else.

During the strobe-like flashes of the room, Connor continued to search for the girls. He saw Cali behind the bar, pouring out a steady stream of drinks for the celebrating pirates. At first Connor couldn’t believe how reckless the pirates were being – getting drunk and making themselves vulnerable. Then he noticed that four of the men, positioned strategically round the room, weren’t joining in with the drinking. They were keeping a watchful guard over their hostages, maintaining total control of the situation.

Eventually Connor spotted Emily and Chloe in the far corner of the room, separate from the rest of the group and overlooked by their own personal guard.

Connor despaired.
How can I, one lone boy, fight back against a gang of fully armed pirates?

He may have trained as a bodyguard, but he wasn’t a soldier like his father. He’d learnt to protect, not kill. And these were bloodthirsty men. They’d already proved their willingness to go to any lengths to achieve their aims by murdering Brad in cold blood. Who knew what they had in store for the hostages next.

With dismay, Connor turned away from the scene, realizing he didn’t have a hope in hell of rescuing the girls single-handedly. Then he heard Charley’s voice in his head:
Whether you think you can, or think you can’t – you’re probably right
.

One look at the sheer terror and despair on Emily and Chloe’s faces spurred Connor to act. He was their only hope. And, although the odds were stacked against him, it was his duty to protect the girls … no matter what it took.

Connor stabbed at the buttons on the radio in the crew’s quarters. But it remained stubbornly silent, its screen dishearteningly blank. He’d noticed the front panel had been removed, but he had replaced it, hoping that by doing so the unit would become operational again. No such luck. The only other radio he knew of was on the bridge – along with the satellite phone – and the pirates were occupying that area.

Putting down the dead receiver, Connor reassessed his options. He’d planned to get in contact with the coastguard and update them on the
Orchid
’s situation and their location. But, with the citadel’s radio broken, he feared there wasn’t any search-and-rescue operation in progress at all.

Connor returned to the idea of using the tender to make an escape. He could load it with extra fuel and provisions then, somehow, free Emily and Chloe and – of course, the tender! That had a VHF radio in the cockpit.

Realizing that, even if he did make contact, he might have to hold out for a while, Connor first hunted round the crew’s quarters for food supplies and anything else that might prove useful. He filled his Go-bag with biscuits, dried fruit, tins of
tuna fish and bottles of water. He also found a lighter, a penknife and a flare gun, complete with a spare set of flares. Then he crept back up the stairs to the main deck.

Passing through the galley, the place now littered with bottles and rubbish, Connor peeked into the main corridor. The music was still pumping loudly, but there were no pirates in sight. Then the salon’s door burst open and the pirate with jug ears came staggering out. He lurched to one side, reached for the wall, missed and fell into an open cabin. Connor heard him vomiting all over the floor.

Seizing the opportunity, Connor dashed to the stairwell and down to the lower deck. He stopped short outside Chloe’s room when he heard a rustling sound. A lone pirate was rifling through her belongings, pocketing any jewellery and valuables still left. While the thief was admiring a diamond ring that he’d discovered, Connor crept past towards the tender garage.

The door was still open. After a quick look inside, Connor entered, locked the door and hurried over to the tender. He clambered into the cockpit and located the radio and GPS unit. Switching them on, he was relieved to see a green light and their screens illuminate. Flipping up the safety cover on the radio, he pressed the red DSC Distress button and held it for five seconds, then waited for confirmation of a response.

Nothing registered on the screen.

Connor checked his watch as fifteen seconds went by, then thirty, without any response.

He picked up the hand-held receiver, switched the radio to Channel 16 and pressed the Transmit button.

‘Mayday, Mayday, Mayday,’ he said as loudly as he dared into the mic. ‘This is motor yacht
Orchid
,
Orchid
,
Orchid
. Mayday
Orchid
. Our position is –’ he looked at the GPS unit and saw it was still searching for a satellite connection – ‘mid-Indian Ocean. We’ve been hijacked by pirates. We require immediate assistance. Over.’

Releasing the Transmitter button, he prayed someone, anyone, would answer. But all he got was static.

He tried again. Nothing. And again.

Connor was almost beginning to despair when he noticed he’d forgotten to switch the radio to high power. Cursing his own haste, he sent out the Mayday call once more, now at full transmission power.

The radio crackled and hissed.

Then a voice burst from the speaker: ‘
ORCHID
 … 
MANGYARING ULITIN.
’

The words echoed round the garage and Connor grabbed the radio’s volume knob, twisting it virtually to zero in his panic.

‘
Orchid
 … 
mangyaring ulitin,
’
came the voice again.

Connor had no idea who the person was or what language was being spoken. It struck him that he could even be talking to one of the pirates. But that was a risk he’d have to take.

‘This is Connor Reeves. I’m on board the
Orchid
. We’ve been hijacked by pirates. We need help urgently. Over.’

The radio squelched and spat. ‘
Orchid … maaari kong … bahagya marinig mo …
’

The signal appeared to be getting weaker.

‘I don’t understand,’ Connor hissed desperately. ‘Do you speak English? Over.’

The radio whistled amid a wash of static, the voice barely louder than a whisper.

‘Hello?’ persisted Connor. ‘Can you hear me –’

Behind him, the bulkhead door
thunked
as the lock disengaged. Cutting the power to the radio, Connor lay flat in the bottom of the tender. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges and he heard the soft pad of bare feet enter.

‘
Iska warran?
’ said a man.

Connor stayed stock still, not even daring to breathe. He sensed the pirate approach the tender.

‘
Iska warran?
’ repeated the pirate, now less certain.

The pirate was no more than a couple of metres from him. Connor’s eyes searched the bottom of the tender for a makeshift weapon. But everything was neatly stowed away. He could try to reach into his Go-bag for either the Dazzler or flare gun, but he feared any movement would alert the pirate to his presence.

After what seemed an age, the feet padded away and the bulkhead door closed.

Connor let out a long sigh of relief and lay there a moment recovering. Once convinced the pirate had gone, he sat back up and switched on the radio.

‘Hello! Are you still there? This is motor yacht
Orchid
. Over.’

The radio hissed steadily but no one answered.

‘I
demand
the Seychelles coastguard launch a search-and-rescue mission now,’ Mr Sterling shouted, his face flushed with anger on the video-conference screen.

‘I’ve tried, but after two false alerts they’re understandably reticent to expend their resources on a wild-goose chase,’ Colonel Black explained, keeping his tone even as he sat behind the mahogany desk in his office. ‘Furthermore, both distress calls have been cancelled by the
Orchid
herself.’

‘But
no one
can get through to them. We don’t know what’s happened. They could be shipwrecked or lying dead at the bottom of the sea. It’s been over six hours. Surely the
Orchid
should be reported missing.’

‘We’re in agreement on that. I’ve been speaking with my military contacts to establish if there’s a navy vessel in the area –’

There was a knock at the door and Charley poked her head through.

‘Sorry for interrupting, but Amir’s just intercepted a Mayday relay.’

‘Hold on, Mr Sterling, we may have some news.’

Charley wheeled herself over and presented the colonel with a printout:

Filipino fishing boat reported Mayday call at 2014 hours local time. Message garbled. Bad signal. Transcript of call: ‘Mayday … day … This is … Orc … Orchid … Our position is … require immediate assistance … Conn … eves … need help … Do you … speak Engl … Can – [END]’

‘What’s the news? Are my girls OK?’ Mr Sterling enquired as Colonel Black read the transcript.

Charley looked up at the screen. ‘There’s very little information, I’m afraid, Mr Sterling. Only that the Mayday was made from the
Orchid
, apparently by Connor.’

On the monitor Mr Sterling frowned. ‘Why’s
he
sending the Mayday? Why not the captain or the chief officer?’

‘Perhaps they can’t,’ Colonel Black replied, putting down the transcript. ‘Just be glad it was Connor. At least we know he’s alive. Which means your daughters are still under his protection.’

Mr Sterling grunted. ‘What can he possibly do if they’re
all
in trouble?’

‘I assure you, Mr Sterling, Connor will do everything in his power to keep them safe.’ The colonel glanced at Charley. ‘Do we have the
Orchid
’s position?’

Charley shook her head. ‘No, but the fishing boat was fifty-six nautical miles east of her last known location. As the distress call was sent by VHF radio, the
Orchid
would have been within a ten-nautical-mile range of that.’

‘So what’s being done to find them?’ asked an irate Mr Sterling.

Charley replied, ‘A French frigate, the
Victoire
, has altered course to begin the search.’

The colonel raised an eyebrow. ‘I know that ship. A unit of Royal Marines was posted aboard as part of a joint operations treaty between the United Kingdom and France. I should be able to get a direct line of communication with their commander.’

‘Good. I’m paying top dollar for your services so I expect results,’ snapped Mr Sterling.

‘We have to be realistic with respect to our chances of finding them,’ said Colonel Black. ‘The fact that it’s night will hamper operations and it’s one ship searching a large area of ocean. However, such frigates are equipped with advanced radar, sonar and infra-red detection equipment. They’ve also got a starting coordinate to work from. This all works in our favour.’

Mr Sterling nodded. ‘Then inform me as soon as the
Orchid
is located. I want my Amanda and the girls back safe and sound.’ He cut the call and the conference monitor went blank.