Just after one p.m., he again heard voices and felt the boat shift as someone came onboard. John looked at his watch. That must be Peter and David. His heart rate increased, and his forehead started to perspire. He stiffened as he heard someone coming down the stairs. Slipping inside the en-suite bathroom, he pulled the door closed. The door to the master bedroom opened, and John tensed.
A voice whispered, “John, are you in here?”
Peter.
John opened the door and looked out. Peter had tucked his head in and grinned when he saw John. He gave him a thumbs up.
“All set?” he whispered.
John nodded and returned the thumbs up. Peter glanced at his gloved hands, a shadow passing across his face briefly, but then he nodded, smiled, and closed the door. There was no sign of Joseph, but John assumed he was hiding in one of the other cabins.
John went back into the en-suite, grabbed a monogrammed hand towel and wiped down any surfaces he may have touched. He had a gnawing feeling in his gut he had to look after himself, and this seemed to be the right thing to do. It never paid to trust too many people. When he was done, he removed the Glock from his waistband and sat at the foot of the bed, facing the door and waited.
32
John had cracked open the door so he could hear what was happening, and the voices from the deck above had become louder in the last thirty minutes. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tone seemed happy enough. He heard the pop of a champagne cork and the clinking of glasses, followed by laughter and what seemed like a friendly discussion. Once he heard the clatter of cutlery on plates, he stood up and took a couple of deep breaths. He looked down at his shaking hands and felt nauseous. He took another deep breath. It was time to put an end to this. Then he would lie on a beach, somewhere quiet, and do nothing.
He opened the door wider and stepped out. There was still no sign of Joseph. The front stateroom door was closed, and John assumed he was in there. He hoped Joseph hadn’t checked his weapon. John felt safer having the loaded weapon—he didn’t trust Joseph at all. He was sure Joseph had an ulterior motive but wasn’t sure what it was yet.
John padded softly to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. He couldn’t see anyone but could now hear the conversation clearly and paused to listen in. He could hear Peter’s voice.
“David, we need to push ahead on the reclamation bid. Without that contract, we won’t get the government subsidies we are seeking.”
“Peter, I’m not sure. I’ve said this before, we are stretching ourselves too thin.” He hesitated, then continued, “Father says we should consolidate the projects we have already. Take things easy and pay down the debts, instead of constantly expanding.”
“Come on, David,” Peter exhaled loudly. “Stop listening to your father. You are a successful businessman yourself. You can make your own decisions.”
“Yes but…”
“I don’t understand why you are being so cautious. If it wasn’t for me pushing things forward, we wouldn’t have grown the company to the size it is. We need to keep growing, we need to keep expanding.”
“Peter, I appreciate everything you have done, and I respect the efforts you have made in making the company what it is today. But this constant expansion has stretched the company’s finances to the max. We are spending more than we are making. Even this boat. Do we really need it? We shouldn’t have bought it.”
Peter’s voice became more forceful, frustration evident in his tone. “I told you at the time, it would be a valuable asset for the company. We entertain clients on it, and it projects a successful image to our suppliers and financiers. Why are we having this discussion again?”
“I just…” David’s voice trailed off. John strained to hear him. “I just feel it’s unnecessary. We have payments due this quarter which we will not make if we bid on the reclamation. We have to consolidate.”
John frowned as he listened. There seemed to be more going on than he first thought. Is this why David wanted Peter dead? He wanted to slow down the expansion, pare down debts, and siphon off cash to pay his gambling debts? Or was there more going on? David didn’t sound unreasonable.
He heard a door click behind him and quickly turned. Joseph was standing in the corridor, a tense expression on his face. He had his weapon in one hand, a handful of cable ties in the other and gestured for John to hurry and climb the stairs. John nodded, took a deep breath, and climbed. As his head cleared the deck above, he could see David sitting with his back to him, Peter across from him. Peter could see John but ignored him, keeping his focus on David. John climbed higher, raising the gun and pointing it at Peter as he stepped onto the deck. Peter turned to look at him, and his eyes went wide in feigned horror. He pushed back his chair and raised his hands in the air.
“What the…?”
David swiveled around, and his mouth dropped open at the sight of John pointing his gun at Peter. His cutlery clattered onto the table, and he shoved his chair backward, scrambling to get out of the way, the napkin falling off his lap onto the floor. As he backed up against the side of the boat, he raised his hands, looking from John to Peter in a panic.
“Wh... wh… what's going on?” he stammered.
John turned and pointed the gun at David.
“No, no, what do you want?” David cried out as he cowered against the side of the boat, a wet patch appearing on the front of his pants.
Peter grinned and lowered his hands.
“You thought you would get away with this, David. Hire someone to kill me, then take over the company. Well, I’m smarter than you. We found out what you had planned. John here has been helping me. You are going to prison for a very long time.”
“What?” David looked from Peter to John and back again, the puzzlement evident on his face. “What are you saying?” He turned to John, “Broken Tooth didn’t send you?”
John frowned. “Who?”
“Broken Tooth. I owe him money.”
“No. You sent me to kill Peter. You have been threatening me. On the phone.”
“What? Who are you?” David shook his head, confusion clearly written across his face. He looked from John to Peter and back again. “Why would I threaten you? I don’t even know who you are.”
John frowned. David looked like he was telling the truth, but Peter seemed genuine too. What the hell was going on? He hesitated and lowered the gun slightly. He glanced over at Peter who was frowning at David.
“Peter, what is going on here?”
Peter turned to face John. He opened his mouth to speak, and at the same time, his eyes flicked over John’s shoulder. Too late, John sensed a movement behind him, then a blinding pain in the back of his head, followed by darkness.
33
John opened his eyes. He was face down on the carpet, and his head was throbbing. He tried to move his arms to push himself up, but they appeared to be fastened behind him. He rolled onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest before swinging his legs around in front and pushing himself against the wall behind him. Using his legs and the wall for leverage, he maneuvered himself up into a seated position. Directly in front of him, leaning against the wall on the other side of the cabin was David, his arms bound behind him, his feet secured with plastic cable ties. He watched John as he sat up. John looked around the cabin—they were alone—then looked back at David. He looked scared, his hair ruffled, and his pants still wet where he had peed himself.
“What happened?”
“Someone hit you from behind, then he and Peter made me drag you down here before tying us up.”
“Shit. What’s going on?”
“You’re sure you weren’t sent by Broken Tooth?”
“Who the fuck is Broken Tooth?”
“I owe him a lot of money. He’s the Shan Tsiu. You know what that means?”
“No.”
“It means Mountain Master. He is the leader of the biggest triad in Macau, the 14K.”
“But you’ve been texting m
e. You put a million dollars in my account, then threatened me, told me I had to kill Peter, or you would kill me.”
“What?” David shook his head. “Why would I put a million dollars in your account? I don’t even know who you are. You’ve been following me. I saw you in the Captain’s Bar. I got an anonymous call telling me Broken Tooth had employed a gweilo to kill me. You.”
John frowned and leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He needed to think. The whole situation was very confusing. He didn’t understand what was going on, and things were getting more complicated by the minute. He opened his eyes again and looked across at David.
“So, you had nothing to do with the messages I’ve been getting?”
David shook his head.
“And you know absolutely nothing about me?”
“No.”
John narrowed his eyes. It was evident Peter was not the friend he had made himself out to be. They needed to get off the boat. John moved his arms and flexed his wrists. They were bound tightly with plastic cable ties as were his feet. He looked around the cabin. If he could find a blade or some other sharp object, maybe he could stand back to back with David, and they could cut each other’s hand restraints.
John bent his legs and pulled his feet toward him, leaning forward until his bodyweight was over his feet.
“What are you doing?” David asked.
“Getting us out of here.” John grunted with effort as he pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled as he stood up but with effort, regained his balance. David looked up at him, fear and puzzlement struggling for prominence on his face. John hopped toward the door and pressed his ear to the door’s surface, listening carefully. He could just make out voices and the sound of movement coming from the upper deck. There were still people onboard. He had to move fast. He turned and looked around the cabin again. His eyes landed on the writing desk, and he hopped over toward it. The surface of the desk was devoid of any items, so he turned his attention to the drawers. Turning his back to the desk, he leaned back toward it and with his fingers, pulled the left-hand drawer open. He twisted around and looked inside. Just paper and a few pens and pencils. He hopped over to the right-hand side and repeated the maneuver with the right-hand drawer. A small pair of scissors lay in the drawer. That would do. He turned, leaned back and scrabbled with his fingertips until he felt the scissors, then picked them up. He looked over at David’s anxious face and grinned.
John hopped across the cabin until he was in front of David.
“You need to stand up. I’m getting us out of here.”
David pulled his feet underneath him and tried to stand. He was much heavier than John, and by the state of his physique, didn’t look like he ever did much exercise. He struggled but couldn’t stand up.
“Come on, man. Put some effort into. If we stay here, they will kill us.”
David looked up in shock, then redoubled his efforts.
“Push your back against the wall, use it as leverage.”
With great strain, he finally raised himself off the floor and stood up, his chest heaving with the effort, his forehead glistening with sweat.
“Good, now turn around, so your back is toward me.”
David hopped around until he faced away from John. John hopped closer and moved, so his back was facing David’s, then opened the scissors with the fingers of his right hand. He leaned back toward David until their hands were touching, then positioned the scissor blades, so they were pointing upwards and slid them over the cable ties. He closed the scissors as much as he could with his fingers and tried to cut the cable tie, but the angle made the movement difficult, and he couldn’t close them enough.
“Bugger it.” He tried again, but the blades kept slipping over the cable tie and not cutting. This would take longer than he thought. With considerable difficulty, he slid the blade of the scissors up and down along the edge of the cable tie, trying to cut a groove in the plastic. His fingers ached with the effort, and his shoulders were cramping. He gritted his teeth—it was painful, but he had to keep going. They had to get free before Peter or Joseph came downstairs. He stopped for a moment, rolling his shoulders, easing the cramp, then started again.
“Is it working?” David asked.
“I don’t know,” John sighed, “but it’s the only idea I have right now.” A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked to his left out the window. He grinned. Everything would be okay. Thank goodness for Plan B.
34
Thapa lowered his binoculars and looked at his watch. It had been an hour and a half since David Yu had boarded the yacht. According to the plan John had discussed with Thapa over the phone, the police should have arrested David Yu by now and escorted him off the boat. There was no sign of the police and no sign of John. It was time for Thapa to move in and put John’s backup plan into play. He nodded to the man standing next to him.
“Garaum, Let’s go.”
Tejpal Bahadur Rai rolled his shoulders back, cricked his neck to the left and the right, then grinned at his son. It had been many years since he had seen any action, and he was raring to go.
Father and son climbed down from the jetty where they had been observing the Pegasus and into the inflatable boat moored at the side. Thapa twisted the throttle handle and pulled the starter cord twice until the engine fired up. His father untied the lines, and they headed slowly across the marina toward the Pegasus.
Thapa guided the boat past as if heading out into the channel, then turned the boat back toward the Pegasus. He killed the engine and allowed momentum to carry them toward the large yacht. Thapa concentrated on guiding the inflatable toward the bow of the Pegasus, and the inflatable gently bumped up against the hull of the boat. Tejpal stood up, bracing himself against the hull. Thapa stood beside him, careful not to rock the boat, then boosted his father until he could catch the lip of the deck and pulled himself up easily. Tejpal prided himself on keeping fit and had the strength and agility of a man half his age. Thapa threw a line up, and Tejpal secured the inflatable to the railing, then reached down for Thapa’s hand and helped him onboard. Both men squatted in the bow.
Tejpal removed the backpack from his back and reached inside, pulling out a large curved leather sheath. He looked at Thapa and winked. Holding the sheath in his left hand, with his right he removed a highly polished curved blade, the deadly khukuri the Gurkhas were feared all around the world for. Thapa nodded and grinned. He raised his head to look over the side on the land side of the boat. All clear. Thapa turned to his father and nodded.
“Ahile, Now.”
Thapa waved his father forward, down the port side of the boat while he advanced down the starboard side, keeping a low profile, bent at the waist. He reached a side door that opened into the main saloon and crouched down. He took a deep breath, counted to three, then straightened up and opened the door.
Two men stood inside, deep in conversation—a fit looking Chinese man in cargo pants and a loose shirt, and a middle-aged gweilo. Thapa didn't know who the Chinese man was but assumed by the way the gweilo was dressed, and his deep tan he was Peter Croft. Both men looked at him in alarm.
“Who are you?” the Chinese man demanded. At that moment, a door on the other side of the saloon opened, and Tejpal stepped inside, the gleaming blade of his khukuri glinting in his right hand. Both men swiveled to look in his direction, and the Chinese man reached behind him and removed a handgun from his waistband. He stepped back, pulling Peter back with him with his left hand. He raised the weapon and pointed it first at Tejpal and then Thapa. “I said, who are you?”
Thapa raised his hands. “Where’s John?” he asked. Tejpal hefted the khukuri in his hand and scowled.
The Chinese man’s eyes widening, he glanced at Peter. “John who?”
“We saw him come on the boat. Where is he?”
“I don’t know who John is, but you need to get off this boat now. You are trespassing.”
Peter edge
d behind the Chinese man and backed toward the door at the rear of the saloon.
“John?” Thapa called out. There was no reply.
“Thapa.” Tejpal glanced in his direction before fixing his eyes back on the man with the gun. “Tala jamca garnuhos, Check below.”
Thapa, his hands still raised in the air, stepped back slowly toward the stairs.
“Stay where you are!” the Chinese man screamed, pointing the weapon back at Thapa. Thapa tensed, spread his feet, a slight bend in his knees, ready to move at any moment. He glanced across at his father, poised like a cat ready to pounce, his khukuri raised in his right hand. Without taking his eyes off the gun, his father gave a slight nod.
“Jao, go.”
Thapa leaped for the stairs. The Chinese man pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing happened. He looked down at the gun in horror. He pulled the trigger again. Click. Click.
With a blood-curdling cry, “Ayo Gorkhali!” Tejpal rushed forward, his khukuri raised above his head. The Chinese man froze in terror, his mouth hanging open in shock. Tejpal brought the blade down, at the last minute changing the angle, striking the Chinese man on the side of the head with the flat of the blade, knocking him to the ground. He kicked him in the stomach, knocking all the air out of him and kicked the Glock out of his reach. He then sat on top of him, holding the blade of the khukuri to his throat.
“Move, and I will kill you,” he growled.
A Million Reasons Page 10