The Power Trip

The party started out as a sedate get-together, but as word spread, it soon turned into a major rave. The beer began flowing, naked girls couldn’t wait to jump into the swimming pool, while the smell of pot wafted in the air.

‘Jeez, Arnie,’ Flynn complained after the cops had visited twice, ‘my freakin’ grandparents are gonna go apeshit. Help me close this thing down.’

And as he watched, Arnie dissolved into a useless stoned heap.

Flynn shook his head, glanced up — and then he saw her. The girl with the heart-shaped face, honey-coppery hair and large brown eyes. ‘Pretty’ did not do her justice. She was a showstopper, and she was busy fighting off Ham, who was trying to persuade her to take a swig from the beer bottle he was holding. Ham had her in a neck-lock.

Flynn didn’t hesitate, but quickly moved in. ‘Easy,’ he warned Ham. ‘Looks to me like she doesn’t want a drink, so get your hands off her. ’

‘Y’ can fuck off,’ Ham slurred, hanging onto the girl with intent to keep her. ‘None of your fuckin’ business.’

Flynn stared at the girl. ‘Are you with this guy?’ he asked.

‘No way,’ she said, suddenly shaking herself free and starting to run off, but not before yelling, ‘You know something? You’re all a bunch of drunken slobs!’

And that was that. Until three weeks later, when he saw her again. She was standing outside a fast-food restaurant in Westwood with another girl, and as luck would have it he knew the girl she was with.

The good news was that he was acquainted with her friend.

The bad news was that he was on a date, and his date was a clinger who refused to let go of him.

Flynn did not allow this to stop him. He walked over to the girl he knew, said hello, and waited for her to introduce him to her friend. Which she did.

Then he had her name. Sierra Snow. A name as beautiful as the girl herself.

Sierra barely looked at him, but it didn’t matter. He was finished, gone — helplessly, hopelessly in love or lust or whatever.

Somehow he knew that Sierra and he were destined to be together. It was fate, karma, whatever you want to call it.

It was, quite simply, inevitable.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Women were Sergei’s playthings. Like new toys he only kept them around until they were broken or he got bored.

His current paramours were Ina Mendoza, a former Mexican beauty queen who lived at his Acapulco villa, and Cookie, a ratty blonde American D-list actress who’d once starred in a successful US comedy where she’d flashed her fake boobs. Since then she’d done nothing of note.

He kept Cookie stashed in his Mexico City penthouse where she spent her days going shopping, always accompanied by a female bodyguard on the vague chance that she might be kidnapped.

‘Kidnapped? You?’ Sergei had sneered when she’d mentioned her fears. ‘Nobody would dare to fuck with Sergei Zukov. Any kidnapping to be done is done by me.’ To placate her, he’d assigned one of his bodyguards to watch over her.

Cookie was thrilled that she had landed a powerful boyfriend. Finally. Her Hollywood career had not been stellar, therefore Sergei was her last chance of hitting the big time. She knew he had plenty of money, and she was hoping that she might get him to finance a movie — starring her. What a coup that would be.

Her ex-husband, a nightclub bouncer back in L.A., had written a banging script, and all she had to do was get Sergei interested. Since he had the attention span of a gnat, this was no easy job.

Lately he’d had something else on his mind, something that seemed to be taking all his attention.

Cookie hoped it wasn’t the fat Mexican so-called beauty queen he kept in Acapulco. She seethed with jealousy over that one. What could Ina do that she couldn’t?

She’d raised the subject of Ina once with Sergei, and he’d slapped her across the face so hard that she’d lived with the imprint of his hand for days.

Bastard! He’d pay for that.

Or maybe not. Cookie knew better than to cross boundaries. Sergei was her ticket back to the big times — if only he’d read the fucking script.

* * *

‘How is your American puta?’ Ina sneered, her Latin eyes filled with jealousy, hands on voluptous hips — she’d put on twenty pounds since winning her title.

Sergei silenced her with a grim look. He did not appreciate being questioned, and certainly not by a woman. Didn’t they realize that they were interchangeable? However sexy and pretty they thought they were, there was always a younger, prettier model creeping up behind.

He had an urge to slap Ina, leave the imprint of his hand on her smooth cheek, exactly as he’d done with Cookie. Women needed discipline.

He couldn’t do it, however, because Ina’s brother, Cruz, was in the house, and Sergei needed Cruz, for he was an important part of Sergei’s plan. In fact, her brother was one of the main reasons he kept Ina around. Family connections were important.

Sergei had conducted business with Cruz before. There were many deals to be brokered when it came to drugs, and when Sergei needed him, Cruz had turned out to be a reliable and useful contact for moving shipments.

How fortuitous was it that Ina had a brother who’d spent the last seven years in Somalia, amassing a fortune from pirating small ships and yachts — any vessel he and his team could hold for ransom. Anything to do with the high seas, and Cruz had it down. Therefore he was just the asset Sergei needed right now, and when Sergei needed something, things always fell into place.

He’d made Cruz an offer he couldn’t resist, and now Ina’s brother was living in his house, and Cruz’s men were ensconced in a downtown hotel ready to move when Cruz gave them the word.

Plans were in motion.

Soon Mr Big Shot Aleksandr Kasianenko would find out how real men did business.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Once all the guests were aboard, Aleksandr instructed Captain Dickson to set sail. The Captain obliged, aware he had precious cargo, and delighted to add the list of esteemed guests to his resume. He was particularly chuffed that Taye Sherwin was on the trip. The man was a brilliant footballer — right up there with the best of them. Twice picked as the BBC’s Sports Personality of the Year, a former Captain of the national English team, a brilliant player, Taye Sherwin had experienced an illustrious career. Captain Dickson was honoured to have him aboard. Of course it was not too shabby either that the movie star, Cliff Baxter, was also with them, and Senator Hammond Patterson and his lovely wife.

The Bianca had a crew of eighteen, which included everyone from an executive chef, to a barman, stewardesses, engineers, a valet, a head housekeeper, deck hands, maids, and Guy — whose job was to keep the guests contented and entertained at all times.