Bodyguard: Ransom (Book 2) (30 page)

‘You should prepare yourself for the worst,’ said Colonel Black, addressing the conference screen in his office.

Mr Sterling’s expression hardened, the lines around his eyes deepening.

‘All evidence indicates the
Orchid
has been hijacked by pirates.’

Mr Sterling nodded gravely, the blow heavy but inevitable. ‘And what about my family?’

Colonel Black leant forward on his desk, his fingers interlaced. ‘No news as yet. But it’s likely they’ve been taken hostage.’

‘What makes you believe they’re still alive? The entire Dutch crew was murdered.’

‘The
Sunriser
was hijacked so she could be used initially as a mothership, then, with the false Mayday, as a deception to draw the
Orchid
into their net. Finally, by planting the EPIRB, she was a decoy to keep search-and-rescue off the scent. However, once the
Sunriser
and her crew had fulfilled their purpose, they were expendable. Your family is not.
Considering the calculating nature of this hijack, I suspect the
Orchid
was
specifically
targeted.’

Mr Sterling sat up, his face filling the screen. ‘By whom?’

Colonel Black held up his hands. ‘Too early to tell. But this isn’t standard operating procedure for Somali pirates. We’ll just have to wait for them to contact us and deliver their ransom demands. Then we may find out more –’

Mr Sterling thumped his desk, causing the webcam image to flicker. ‘I’m
not
going to sit here and do nothing while my Amanda, and my daughters, are at their mercy! I intend to fly out to the Seychelles tonight.’

‘But, Mr Sterling, any negotiations could take weeks to –’

‘Don’t argue with me. I want you on site too.’

‘Absolutely,’ replied Colonel Black, his concern for Connor at the back of his mind. ‘We’ll shift operations to the Seychelles Regional Anti-Piracy Coordination Centre at once. I also have an expert ransom negotiator I can recommend.’

Mr Sterling shook his head. ‘No,
I’ll
be doing the negotiating.’

‘But, Mr Sterling, with the greatest respect, you’re emotionally involved in this.’

On-screen, Mr Sterling jabbed a finger at Colonel Black. ‘I didn’t get this far in business by being emotionally involved. I’ve brokered multibillion-dollar deals before. This is no different.’

‘This is your family we’re talking about. Not some company or asset.’

‘Exactly. So I’m not trusting the negotiations to anyone else. I freed my daughter last time. I’ll free my family this time. On my terms.’

Yes, but at what cost to your family?
thought Colonel Black.

The heavy rumble of the engines eased and Connor sensed the yacht slowing down. Opening his eyes, he glanced at his watch in the darkness – 06:36. Somehow he’d managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep, but still felt groggy and nauseous. His jaw ached and his stomach muscles were tender. The shock of the hijacking, the exertions of the fight and the need for constant alertness were all beginning to take their toll.

A ghostly vision of the pirate’s startled face as he toppled over the stern swam before Connor’s eyes. A sense of guilt at the man’s fate was hanging like a heavy chain round his neck. But Connor reminded himself that he had no way of knowing that the gate would open. And, under the circumstances, was he
really
to blame? He’d been fighting for his freedom and that of the girls.

Thankfully, after escaping to the bilge, no one had come searching for him. Either the pirates didn’t yet realize their comrade was missing, or they’d presumed he’d fallen overboard. Whatever the reason, Connor knew he’d had a lucky escape. But he couldn’t afford to make such a mistake again.

Cautiously, he emerged from the bilge into the engine room, as ever glad to leave the suffocating coffin-like box. Making his way to the lower deck, he heard shouts coming from the stairwell. A man was barking commands and feet thumped overhead, followed by the noise of urgent activity.

Connor crept past the stairs towards his former bedroom. Ignoring the mess the pirates had made, he peeked out through a porthole. The morning sun was crawling above the horizon, a shimmering orange ball like the eye of a waking giant. To the far corner of his vision, he spied a barren coastline still shrouded in darkness. Dotting its countless inlets were the silhouettes of several large container ships. They lay motionless in the water like floating bloated bodies in a graveyard of forgotten ships. Connor swallowed hard, feeling that the noose had now tightened round their necks.

Then a huge shadow was cast over the
Orchid
as a massive tanker loomed into view. Its blue and rusting hull rose sheer from the sea to its main deck high above. From Connor’s limited view of its stern, the tanker appeared endless, its hull disappearing beyond his vision.

The
Orchid
was on a direct collision course and showed no sign of stopping.

Connor braced himself. Although the yacht was going no more than a few knots, the impact was still shocking. The
Orchid
shuddered from stem to stern, there was a screeching of metal and a loud
dong
echoed through the tanker’s hull. As the
Orchid
rebounded off the hull,
Connor caught a glimpse of a gangway being lowered from the tanker’s main deck to the yacht’s stern. Then he heard the
Orchid
’s anchor being dropped.

Whether they liked it or not, they had arrived in Somalia.

‘Move!’ ordered Spearhead, jabbing his gun at the hostages.

Captain Locke led his shell-shocked crew up the steep gangway. With as much grace as she could muster, Amanda followed close behind with Chloe and Emily in tow, the sisters clasping each other’s hands for moral support. Their feet tramped up the metal steps in a slow march of despair. Far below, between the grilles, the wash of the green-blue ocean could be seen lapping against the rusting hull, no longer so inviting for a swim.

Reaching the main deck, the hostages were greeted by yet more armed men. Once aboard the pirate stronghold, the last vestiges of hope drained from the hostages’ faces.

The deck itself was vast. An industrial network of walkways, pipes and machinery lined its length and breadth. The domes of several large storage tanks could be seen, upon which yellow warning signs declared:
CONTENTS HIGHLY FLAMMABLE.
The bow was so far away that it could have been part of another ship. At the stern, the navigation bridge towered over them like a skyscraper. Most bizarre was the sight of a pair of skinny goats tethered
to the rail on the starboard side. They bleated indignantly at the new arrivals.

‘Welcome to Somalia,’ said a man cheerily, stepping from the disorganized ranks of pirates. Better dressed than the others, the man wore a pressed olive shirt, a cotton
ma’awis
in a black diamond pattern and a blood-red shawl slung over his shoulder. His face was smooth, his nose wide and his teeth stained green with khat leaves, but he kept his eyes hidden behind a pair of silver-mirrored aviator sunglasses.

‘It wasn’t our
preferred
destination,’ answered Captain Locke.

The pirate laughed. ‘It’s good that you retain your sense of humour, Captain. I’m Oracle.’

He offered his hand in greeting. Captain Locke ignored it.

‘Oh, come now, Captain. No need to be so impolite.’

Captain Locke’s cheeks flushed with anger. ‘You expect me to shake your hand after your men have hijacked my yacht, killed two of my crew and taken us hostage! I’ve an injured crew member in need of urgent medical attention. That’s my immediate concern.’

Oracle waved away his grievance, barely glancing in the direction of the pale and feverish Jordan. ‘With any luck, I won’t need to detain you for long. Now please follow me.’

With several threatening prods from their guns, the pirates shepherded the group of hostages along the metal deck. Reaching the base of the tanker’s bridge tower,
Oracle led them through a hatch and down a narrow corridor to a large open stairwell.

‘Captain, my men will take you and your crew to your new quarters,’ Oracle informed him. He barked an order in Somali. With a rough shove, Juggs and several other armed pirates hustled them down the steel stairs into the bowels of the tanker.

‘Not you, ladies,’ said Oracle, addressing Amanda, Chloe and Emily. ‘You’re my most
precious
cargo.’

Captain Locke glanced anxiously back at the girls, sensing this might be the last time they saw one another. Then he was gone with the others.

‘This way, if you please,’ said Oracle, heading up the stairs.

With Spearhead behind them, Amanda and the girls were left no other choice. They followed Oracle up two flights and down a stark white corridor to a wooden door. Outside stood a pirate on guard duty. He opened the door at their approach and Oracle strode into the cabin.

‘Captain Takayama, you have guests,’ said Oracle. ‘Do make them feel welcome.’

A stocky Japanese man with round metal-framed spectacles rose from his chair. He blinked in surprise at the appearance of a woman and two girls on his ship, then bowed a respectful greeting.

‘Well, I’ll leave you to get acquainted.’ Oracle smiled warmly at Emily and Chloe as if he were their long-lost uncle. ‘I’ll be contacting your father for the ransom. If he cooperates, you’ll be home sooner than you think.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Emily muttered under her breath.

Oracle raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Then perhaps we’ll need to
persuade
him.’ He motioned to Spearhead. ‘Bring her with us.’

The pirate seized Emily by the arm and dragged her towards the door.

‘No!’ cried Chloe, clinging on to her sister’s hand for dear life.

Spearhead shoved her away and she crumpled to the floor.

‘
Yamae!
Stop!’ cried Captain Takayama, moving to intervene.

The guard levelled his gun at him and the captain backed away, his head bowed in submission.

Spearhead hauled Emily out, slamming the door shut behind them.

As Chloe sat sobbing on the floor, Captain Takayama glanced awkwardly at Amanda, waiting for her to comfort the girl. When she didn’t make a move, he helped Chloe on to a threadbare sofa. ‘I’m Captain Takayama of the chemical tanker
Golden Phoenix
. My crew members are held below.’ He offered her his handkerchief. ‘I am very sorry that you’ve been captured by these thugs too.’

‘No need to be,’ said Chloe, wiping her eyes. ‘It’s not your fault.’

The captain nodded sadly, then said, ‘I’ll make you both some tea.’

As the captain busied himself, Amanda stared morosely
out of the porthole. ‘How long have you been held here?’ she asked.

Captain Takayama offered her a thin regretful smile. ‘Five months and thirteen days … so far.’

With the satellite phone clamped to his ear, Connor crouched beside the comms unit on the
Orchid
’s bridge, listening to the repeating ringtone.

‘Come on,’ he urged under his breath. ‘Pick up.’

He’d finally managed to access the satellite phone, but now no one was answering.

After the hostages had been escorted off the
Orchid
at gunpoint, he’d waited for everything to quieten down before making his move. But his hopes of a deserted yacht were dashed when he discovered two pirates sprawled on the leather sofas in the salon. Fortunately, they appeared intoxicated, chewing on mouthfuls of green khat leaves and drinking the last dregs from the bar. It had been an easy matter for Connor to sneak past and up to the bridge. But he was keenly aware he wasn’t alone on board, so kept his eyes and ears alert.

After three more rings, a voice answered. ‘Hello?’

‘Charley! It’s Connor.’

‘Connor?’ gasped Charley. ‘Where are you?’

‘On the
Orchid
. Close to the Somali coast, I think.’ He
glanced at the GPS unit and continued. ‘Our exact location is North 5° 21' 18", East 48° 33' 30". We were attacked by pirates. Brad’s dead. The girls and the crew have been taken on to a tanker. You need to organize a rescue immediately.’

There was a pause. ‘You’re hundreds of miles from where anyone is looking.’

‘So redirect the SAR teams here.’

He could hear someone talking to Charley in the background. Her voice came on the line again. ‘Connor, you’re in Somali territorial waters now. Colonel Black says that means direct military intervention is out of the question.’

‘So we can’t be rescued?’ said Connor, incredulous.

‘You will be,’ assured Charley. ‘But we have to wait for the pirates to contact us with their ransom demands then –’

A jaunty ringtone sounded aboard the yacht, making Connor flinch. He heard a man answer.

‘I have to go,’ Connor whispered, replacing the receiver and dashing for the opposite door.

He slipped through just as a large pirate strode on to the bridge. Connor pressed himself against the wall of the corridor and held his breath. Continuing to jabber on his mobile, the pirate set aside his AK47 and plonked himself down in the captain’s chair. He had a big nose and a wide mouth that seemed filled with too many teeth, and he talked so loudly that he was almost shouting.

Connor eyed the assault rifle and weighed up his chances of snatching the weapon before the pirate could. But he’d never fired such a gun in his life. Even if he did grab it first,
by the time he’d found and released the safety catch, the pirate would easily overpower him.

The pirate swung his feet on to the console and settled back, showing no signs of leaving the comfort of the captain’s chair any time soon. Connor realized he couldn’t stand in the corridor all day. So, with one final regretful glance at the satellite phone, he silently edged away from the door and headed down to the main deck.

At least Charley and the rest of Alpha team knew he was alive. Where he was. And, most significantly, not held captive.

But for how long?
He was on his own. No rescue was coming. While he could hold out hope of a successful ransom negotiation, the process could take months.

Connor very much doubted Emily would be able to endure another lengthy hostage experience. He also feared that he’d lose track of the girls if they were transferred across to the mainland. But most worrying was the violent and unpredictable nature of the pirates. This more than anything convinced him that he alone had to rescue the girls sooner rather than later.

Connor had already prepared himself for such a mission. He’d dressed in his darkest clothes and baseball cap, and replaced his shorts with cargo trousers. Into the pockets, he’d packed his night-vision sunglasses, the Dazzler and the flare gun. With some black gaffer tape from the storeroom, he’d covered the neon yellow of the Go-bag and emptied it of everything non-essential. He wanted to travel light and move as stealthily as possible.

It also gave him enough room to pack the last of Chef’s special pirate cocktails.

As he crouched at the bottom of the tanker’s gangway, he briefly contemplated waiting until dark. But that was ten hours off and anything could happen to the girls in that time.