Hostage Three (29 page)

Why have I not been playing my violin every day? I ask myself. Because, yes, there's a beauty in electronic music that's like echoes in space, but what Milstein told the world was that the violin has a voice, and it can sing. It's alive, that music; it's not just voices from the past, twisted and distorted over time. It's the sound of the human heart if you could hear what it wanted to say.

There's another soft metallic sound as Farouz starts to squeeze the trigger. My dad is suddenly shouting, my stepmother screaming – nothing comprehensible, just noise.

I take a deep breath . . .

And my dad stops shouting. I open my eyes and turn to see the navy dinghy retreating towards the destroyer. Ahmed is smiling.

— All OK, he says.

I stare at him. OK? Fucking OK? That's all he's going to say? I wonder if Farouz would have pulled the trigger, if he would have killed me. Or if he would have turned and shot Ahmed instead, like it would happen in a movie. Who knows? I'll never know, I realise.

— Sorry, Ahmed says. Sorry. Was just to make scare for navy. Not true.

Not true, I think. Not true.

— Jesus Christ, says my dad. I hope that was worth it for them, to get their closer look.

He hugs me tight and, for once, I don't mind.

— They know now that the pirates aren't messing around, says Tony.

— You would think, says the stepmother a little acidly, that they would have known that already.

My knees feel wobbly, like they're not sure they can keep me up any more.

Then, from the destroyer, comes a sort of pale, far-off whine, and we see the helicopter lift into the air. It banks and flies towards us, before stopping over the ocean to drop the money.

But Ahmed thumbs the VHF.

— No, he says, to the navy and the negotiator. No exchange.

— Sir, a voice comes back, this plan has been agreed by all parties. It can't –

— Quiet, says Ahmed.

He speaks quickly to Farouz, then throws him the VHF. Farouz takes over speaking.

— The plan was agreed, he says. But you were late. And the dinghy was not part of the plan. We now reject your plan.

— You won't get any more money, says the voice at the other end, a man of indeterminate age.

Farouz talks to Ahmed for a moment.

— OK, he says into the handset. But we will no longer let the hostages leave before we return to shore.

He takes his thumb off the VHF. Then he questions Ahmed, frowning, but Ahmed waves at him, insisting on something. Farouz nods reluctantly, presses the button again.

— We will take one of the hostages back to shore with us after we have the money, he says to the person on the other end. When we have safely reached the shore, they will return to you.

— Absolutely not, says the navy voice, crackling.

— It's OK, says Tony, coming closer. I'll go.

— No. Ahmed shakes his head. He points to me, Dad and the stepmother. One of them. One of owners.

— You're mad, says Tony.

— No. Ahmed looks offended. We want safe, that is all. He talks to Farouz for a while.

— As soon as we are on shore, says Farouz, the hostage will be put in a boat with a motor. They can then return to the yacht.

— Listen, all of you, says the navy. This is not acceptable. I repeat: this is not acceptable. No one is going to take the risk of –

Ahmed turns off the VHF. He points his gun at the three of us.

— Choose, he says. Choose one.

— This is crazy, says Dad
. You can't really think one of us is going to go to the shore with you? To
Somalia
. I mean, what guarantee do we have that we'll come back safely?

— What guarantee do
we
have? says Farouz. That after we leave with the money, the navy won't come after us? They have dinghies, a helicopter, guns. This is our guarantee.

— I won't do it, says Dad. I won't risk my life like that. My daughter, my wife – they depend on me.

Farouz shrugs. He and Ahmed are still standing there, guns levelled at us. But for just a moment, Ahmed turns to look at the destroyer, and Farouz winks at me, to say he wouldn't have done it, I suppose, and for a split second I'm all happy because my – my what? my boyfriend? – didn't want to shoot me. I realise I'm being ridiculous. How do I know he wouldn't have done it? Just because he winked?

Winking afterwards is easy, so I don't meet his eye. I look down.

— You have the word of the navy, says Tony. The plan is in place. Let's stick to –

Ahmed points his gun at him, and Tony shuts up. The tension is like the sun – everywhere, pushing down on us. I can see sweat trickling down Farouz's temple. My dad's arm is stiff on my shoulders.

— Oh, screw it, says the stepmother. I'll do it.

I turn to her, surprised. Dad is staring at her, too.

— I'll do it, she repeats, to Ahmed this time. I'll go with you and the money. Just as long as we can get out of here.

— Are you insane? says Dad. Are you actually insane? If you think I'm going to let –

— You're my husband, says the stepmother. You're not my owner.

That makes Dad close his mouth for a moment, and I look into the stepmother's eyes.

— Why would you do that? I say to her. You could get killed.

— I don't think so. She holds my gaze. But if I do, you'll be safe.

— What? I say.

I didn't even think she liked me, but she's looking at me, and I can see something in her eyes that looks like affection. This is a weird moment. Suddenly I'm looking at her, and it seems to me now that her hardness is something thin and on the outside of her, like an eggshell.

Then she ices over again, and is just the stepmother.

— What? says Tony. No, this is not the plan. This is not the plan.

— The plan just changed, says the stepmother.

Suddenly, I feel really ashamed. It didn't even occur to me to volunteer, even to be with Farouz for a bit longer, and here's my stepmother, who's usually selfish and who complains about stuff, saying that she'll go with the pirates because she wants me to be
safe
.

— I forbid this! says Dad. I absolutely forbid it.

— The only way you can forbid it is if you go yourself, says the stepmother. She's looking right at him, challenging him.

Dad looks back for a minute, maybe. Then he drops his eyes. He takes his arm away from me, and it feels like a goodbye, like a defeat.

— I can't go, he says. You know that. He glances at me as he says this.

Coward! I think, but the stepmother looks at him kindly, like she has only this moment worked something out.

— No, she says. Of course not. I understand.

— What? I say. He should go! He's the man.

The stepmother turns to me.

— Don't you get it? she says. He can't.

— He can, I say.

— No. You've already lost your mother.

— What? What's she got to do with anything?

— Think, Amy, says the stepmother. If something happens to your dad what happens to you?

I did think, and I got it. If something happened to him, then I would have no parents at all.

I stare at Dad.

— Is that true? I say.

He looks down.

— Is that true? I say again.

He doesn't answer.

Coward, I think again. But I don't even know if I mean it any more.

GO PLAN VERSION TWO

 

SUBMITTED BY JERRY CHRISTOPHER, NEGOTIATOR FOR GOLDBLATT BANK, ABOARD HMS
ENDEAVOUR
.
RATIFIED BY ALL PARTIES.

1)
At 3 p.m. Royal Navy ship HMS
Endeavour
will give the GO signal on VHF channel 16.

2)
All passengers will report to the rear deck. HMS
Endeavour
will confirm the presence of all passengers by long-range telescope. HMS
Endeavour
will give the exchange signal.

3)
Helicopter will leave HMS
Endeavour
and fly to a point 200 metres to the east of the
Daisy May
.
Helicopter will be weapons cold.

4)
Three Somalis will leave the
Daisy May
aboard a dinghy, carrying a portable VHF unit also tuned to channel 16. They will navigate to a point below the helicopter.

5)
The helicopter will then drop bags containing three million US dollars in cash. The Somalis will recover the bags from the water and count to verify the full amount is present. They will then confirm by VHF to the
Daisy May
that they are in possession of part one of the ransom.

6)
Mr James Fields, Miss Amy Fields and the crew will board a dinghy and repair to HMS
Endeavour
.
Once they are on board, HMS
Endeavour
will give the GO signal to the helicopter.

7)
The helicopter will drop the remaining two million US dollars. The Somalis will count and confirm to their colleagues that they are now in possession of the full ransom.

8)
All the Somalis will leave the
Daisy May
with Mrs Sarah Fields, who will accompany them to the shore. The Somalis below the helicopter will repair to the shore with the money.

9)
All Somalis, the money and Mrs Fields will reach the shore.

10)
Mrs Fields will then get into a motor boat
immediately and return to HMS
Endeavour
.

11)
End of exchange.

Note: if any harm should come to Mrs Fields after delivery of the ransom,
HMS
Endeavour
will respond with EXTREME PREJUDICE.

— Inshallah, you home soon
, Ahmed says to me. Inshallah.

We are standing on the rear deck again, close to 3 p.m., waiting for the exchange signal.

— Inshallah? I ask.

— If Allah wills it, says Farouz.

Ahmed smiles at me.

— Don't smile, I say. You were going to shoot me last time.

— No! Ahmed shakes his head. Because Allah did not will it.

I look at him to try to work out if he is joking or not. But he is just smiling, his features unreadable.

I sigh, and turn away from him.

Again, the two of them are watching over us, guns at the ready. My stepmother – Sarah – and my dad are standing on opposite sides of the deck, watching each other, talking with their eyes. Felipe and Tony are just lounging on the wooden floor of the deck, as if they don't think this is even going to happen, as if they are just casual about it.

And again, the navy are keeping us waiting.

Then, finally, there is a crackle on the VHF that Ahmed is holding.

— We confirm visuals on the hostages, says a voice. We are go on the exchange. I repeat: we are go on the exchange.

Three pirates – and it hasn't escaped my notice that none of them is Ahmed or Farouz – pull away from the yacht, the outboard on their boat sputtering.

On the deck of the destroyer, a helicopter lofts into the air. It seems to hang there for a moment, then it swings towards us, a growing blackness in the sky, until it hovers over the sea between the
Daisy May
and the big navy ship. Soon the pirates' boat is underneath it, the sea around it flattened by the pressure of the helicopter's spinning blades. The sound of the helicopter is enormous in the stillness of the hot air, the whip-like
whoooom
of the rotor.

A shape drops from the helicopter and splashes down into the sea. A gym bag. And then another. One of the pirates leans over and hooks them out, pulling them into the boat. The helicopter hovers in place while the pirates open the bags.

A burst of static, and then Somali, comes over the VHF.

— OK, says Ahmed. OK. He turns to us. Three million, he says with a smile. Then he points to the yacht's own dinghy, which Tony put into the sea earlier. You can go.

And like that, the moment has come. I stare at the dinghy. I flick my eyes to Farouz and stare at him.

The dinghy.

Farouz.

The dinghy.

Farouz.

The dinghy is . . . freedom. Home. But what is at home? What if I want to stay, under this sun, with the sand and scrub of Eyl just over there?