The Power Trip

‘I’m an actor,’ Cliff said, flashing his movie-star smile. ‘We live to listen to other people’s stories.’

‘Okay, you asked for it,’ Flynn said, deciding that if he didn’t tell his story to someone soon, it was going to suffocate him.

And so he began…

* * *

‘Something unfortunate has taken place,’ Hammond announced, as he and Sierra moved around their stateroom getting ready to go up for dinner.

For a moment Sierra panicked. Had Hammond somehow or other managed to throw Flynn overboard. Was he dead?

Oh God! Her face paled, she could barely speak. ‘What?’ she muttered.

‘There’s this young intern,’ Hammond said matter-of-factly. ‘A new girl at the office. She’d developed what you might call an obsessive crush on me.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ Sierra asked, relief overcoming her.

‘Because,’ Hammond said in a sanctimonious tone, ‘as my dear wife, you need to be aware of these things.’

‘And that would be because?’ Sierra asked, eyeing him warily. Something was coming, something she wasn’t going to like.

‘This poor deluded girl is apparently accusing me of improper conduct towards her.’

Sierra almost burst out laughing. Improper conduct indeed! Had Hammond tried to fuck her and gotten caught? She couldn’t be happier.

‘Oh dear,’ she murmured. ‘That is unfortunate.’

‘It’s nothing earth-shattering,’ Hammond continued. ‘However, we do have to deal with it.’

‘We?’ Sierra questioned, taking pleasure in making him squirm a little.

‘Yes, we,’ Hammond said sharply, not appreciating her attitude.

‘And what if I don’t care to help you out on this?’ Sierra said coolly.

Hammond’s jaw tightened as a venomous expression crossed his face. ‘I can tell you’re not listening to me, my dear,’ he said, icy cold. ‘It seems you are forgetting the things I can arrange. It seems that perhaps you do not care about the well-being of a certain someone.’

Threats.

Again.

Forever.

She was still caught in his trap.

* * *

‘Exactly how long are you planning on keeping this up?’ Aleksandr enquired when Bianca awoke from a too- much-red-wine-induced sleep.

Bianca slid from the bed, glared at her lover, made her way into the bathroom and slammed the door. ‘Until you apologize,’ she yelled from behind the closed door.

Aleksandr was frustrated. Bianca and her jealous fits were ruining their trip. She was one obstinate woman behaving badly.

Was he making a mistake proposing to her?

Did she deserve the million-dollar rare emerald and diamond ring he had stashed in his safe?

If she didn’t come around by tomorrow, he was seriously contemplating cancelling the celebratory dinner he’d organized. The dinner, where at the end of the evening he was planning on giving her the ring.

‘I am going up to join our guests,’ he shouted at the closed door. ‘We’ll see you later if you’re not too hungover.’

‘Fuck you!’ a furious Bianca retaliated.

Another fine evening in paradise.

Chapter Seventy-Four

Cruz dressed for business. Army fatigues. Combat boots with special rubber soles. A flak jacket with plenty of useful pockets to store his pistols and knives. He was a walking fortress, ready for anything.

Amiin was dressed in a more colourful fashion, although his main outfit was all dark brown. On his head he wore a bright orange wool cap, and around his neck were several long flowing scarves of various colours.

Cashoo opted for jeans, two T-shirts under a heavy sweatshirt to keep out the cold, and a red bandana across his forehead.

There was no dress code for being a pirate. They wore whatever they chose to wear — it was the weapons that mattered. Each of the two boats was fully loaded with assault rifles, semiautomatic combat pistols, rocket blasters, machetes and an assortment of swords — a Somalian tribal thing.

Cruz didn’t care how his men operated, as long as they got the job done.

Viktor and Maksim, the two bodyguards Sergei was sending to bring Kasianenko back, were both of Russian origin. They’d been with Sergei for several years and they were loyal soldiers in Sergei’s army of security. Neither of them was happy about this mission. They were not sea-faring men, they were security bodyguards who preferred to operate on dry land. However, Sergei paid top dollar, so they did as they were told, whether they liked it or not.

They regarded the pirates as useless scum, way beneath them.

In turn, the pirates jeered and laughed at them with their close-cropped hair, neat clothes and their Glock guns. There was no love lost. There was certainly no respect.

Sergei lectured them both before their departure. ‘What you gotta do is keep your eye on Kasianenko. You bring him to me, an’ you’ll be well rewarded. Oh yeah, an’ see that those morons don’t shoot him in the ass by mistake. I want him alive an’ kickin’ like a fuckin’ wild pig. Got it?’

They got it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Cruz was busy checking the weather. There was a storm brewing, only it wasn’t due to hit until four or five a.m. His goal was to reach The Bianca by two a.m. By the time the storm moved in they would have already boarded and taken over the yacht, and he would be on the phone making ransom demands.

Timing was everything.

Cruz was an expert at timing.

Chapter Seventy-Five

Dinner on The Bianca was a casual affair. Aleksandr had informed everyone that since tomorrow was Bianca’s birthday celebration, tonight would be low key. The theme of the night was a barbecue, to take place on the upper deck. Two tables of six. Checkered tablecloths. Beer and red wine. Country music on the speakers. Couples seated together. Jeans and shorts was the dress code.

Ashley wore faded cut-offs and a pink shirt tied precariously under her breasts. Taye was in jeans and a wife-beater — muscles bulging. Lori opted for cute sequined shorts and a tank top, her red hair tied in bunches.

‘You look exactly like a little kid,’ Cliff told her, tweaking her chin.

‘And you look like a grizzled old cowboy,’ she teased.

‘That’s some compliment!’ he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘Not exactly the look I was going for, but I guess it’ll do. However, I take umbrage with grizzled.’