The Power Trip

Taye opened the glass doors. ‘What the hell?’ he mumbled, disorientated. ‘You fall overboard or what?’

‘The boat’s been taken over by pirates,’ Flynn said brusquely, pushing past him. ‘We gotta get Ashley somewhere safe. Do you think she can manage to climb a rope?’

Taye shook his head to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Nope. He wasn’t dreaming. Flynn was still standing there talking about pirates.

‘Is this some kind of a joke?’ he said, confused.

‘No, I’m deadly serious. You’ve got to get her upstairs to Aleksandr’s suite right now. There’s a rope outside — help her climb it. Aleksandr has a safe room up there.’

‘Jeez!’ Taye exclaimed. ‘You bloody mean it, don’t you?’

‘Who’s next door to you?’ Flynn said urgently.

‘The Senator,’ Taye said. ‘Never stops yellin’ at that poor wife of his.’

‘Okay,’ Flynn said, tucking that information away for later. ‘You take care of Ashley. I gotta try to warn everyone else. I’ll see you up there.’

Moving fast, he took off again, not certain how he could convince Hammond to help get Sierra to safety. But he sure as hell was going to try.

* * *

Frog-marching Captain Dickson back to the bridge, Amiin passed Kyril’s room and spotted Basra asleep on a chair in front of a slew of blank monitors.

‘You,’ Amiin warned the Captain, ‘no move.’ Then he began screaming a stream of expletives at Basra in Somali. Basically telling him to move his lazy ass, and continue looking for any stragglers — which was what he was supposed to be doing.

Basra forced his eyes open, mumbled a weak excuse, stood up, picked up his gun, and set off downstairs.

His job was to inspect the crew’s quarters, make sure they had them all stashed in the mess-hall. Yes, and if he came across anyone, he decided in his groggy state of mind, then he might as well shoot to kill.

Basra had a strong taste for violence.

Chapter Eighty-Seven

‘Whaddaya mean, he won’t come out?’ Cruz demanded, glaring at Amiin as if it was his fault. ‘Open the fuckin’ door an’ haul him out.’

‘He got door locked from inside,’ Amiin explained.

‘Jeez! What a cabron,’ Cruz snarled. ‘Gettin’ him up here is for his own fuckin’ good.’

‘Why do you want him?’ Mercedes piped up.

Captain Dickson stared at her in shock. Mercedes was standing there as if she was one of them. Then it struck him — she was one of them. The little bitch he’d told Guy not to hire was with the pirates! She must have been working with them all along.

Guy was such a fool. Captain Dickson couldn’t wait to confront his director of entertainment — if he was lucky enough for that day to ever come, for right now he had a gun stuck in his face and a strong urge to crap his pants.

Mercedes felt the hate in Captain Dickson’s eyes burning into her. ‘Get over it,’ she spat.

‘I need Kasianenko here,’ Cruz said heatedly. ‘To get the ransom demand started.’ Time was important. He expected the money to be paid within twenty-four hours, every moment wasted ate up precious time.

‘Blow a hole in the chingado‘s door an’ drag him up here,’ he ordered Amiin. ‘Do it now.’

‘Yes, boss,’ Amiin said.

* * *

The door to the Pattersons’ terrace was not locked. Flynn opened it, slid inside and approached the bed.

Sierra was in the bed. Hammond was not.

Flynn checked out the bathroom. Empty. He leaned over the bed and shook Sierra awake. She opened her eyes and gasped.

‘Don’t be alarmed,’ he said, speaking fast. ‘There are pirates aboard.’

She sat up, coppery hair tumbling around her beautiful face. ‘Flynn,’ she murmured, her eyes widening. ‘Pirates. Seriously?’

‘Yeah, I know, it’s crazy,’ he said. ‘I can hardly believe it myself.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. Where’s Ham?’

‘I… I don’t know. He never came to bed.’

‘Put on something warm and grab your tennis shoes. I’m getting you to safety.’

* * *

Cashoo had been expecting to see gorgeous women on this luxurious yacht, but to his disappointment the three females sitting with the male hostages were nothing special.

As usual he was feeling horny. He couldn’t seem to get his mind off the big boss’s woman with her huge breasts — breasts he could play with all day long, given the opportunity.

He had a hunch that they might not be returning to the villa since Cruz had disposed of the two Russian bodyguards. That was a shame, because he would’ve liked to have played around with the boss’s woman some more. Still, Cruz always had a plan, and at the end of the plan there was always plenty of money to share, so he couldn’t complain.

Once more Cashoo eyed the crew of The Bianca. A sorry-looking bunch — and the three women captives, not so pretty.

He started wondering where Mercedes was. The two of them got along fine. Mercedes was a spitfire, up for anything. She was his kind of girl, pretty and dangerous.

Tired of guarding the hostages, he told Daleel that he had to take a piss and would be right back.

Daleel nodded, and Cashoo headed off to search out Mercedes.

* * *

As soon as Cashoo left, Den nudged Guy. ‘There’s only two of ’em now,’ he muttered. ‘C’mon, mate, grow a pair. If we all move together, we can rush ’em’

‘It’s not going to happen,’ Guy said, wishing that Den would settle down and stop bugging him. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, they’ve got guns — nobody wants to risk getting shot. We stay calm, they’ll stay calm,’ he added, trying to convince himself.

‘You think?’ Den argued, jutting out his chin. ‘They’re getting’ drunker by the minute. We don’t do somethin’, we’re gonna be toast. Shove that in your Little Book of Calm.’

* * *

Over in the corner it occurred to Jeromy that if everyone was murdered on the yacht, who would even remember that he was aboard? The headlines would be all about the famous people — Luca, Cliff Baxter, Taye, Bianca, the Senator, and of course, Aleksandr. There was a strong possibility that he might not be mentioned at all. Jeromy Milton-Gold — an also-ran.

For some obscure reason he experienced a strong burst of anger towards Luca. Where was his blond god? Why wasn’t he doing anything?

Jeromy knew he was thinking in an unreasonable fashion because unfortunately there was nothing Luca could do. Stone cold fact — there was nothing anyone could do.

He glanced over at Guy. Was he an enemy or a friend?

Jeromy hoped he was a friend, for he needed to be close to someone at this frightening time.