Bodyguard: Ransom (Book 2)

by Chris Bradford

  ‘But no one can get through to them. We don’t know what’s happened. They could be shipwrecked or lying dead at the bottom of the sea. It’s been over six hours. Surely the Orchid should be reported missing.’

  ‘We’re in agreement on that. I’ve been speaking with my military contacts to establish if there’s a navy vessel in the area –’

  There was a knock at the door and Charley poked her head through.

  ‘Sorry for interrupting, but Amir’s just intercepted a Mayday relay.’

  ‘Hold on, Mr Sterling, we may have some news.’

  Charley wheeled herself over and presented the colonel with a printout:

  Filipino fishing boat reported Mayday call at 2014 hours local time. Message garbled. Bad signal. Transcript of call: ‘Mayday … day … This is … Orc … Orchid … Our position is … require immediate assistance … Conn … eves … need help … Do you … speak Engl … Can – [END]’

  ‘What’s the news? Are my girls OK?’ Mr Sterling enquired as Colonel Black read the transcript.

  Charley looked up at the screen. ‘There’s very little information, I’m afraid, Mr Sterling. Only that the Mayday was made from the Orchid, apparently by Connor.’

  On the monitor Mr Sterling frowned. ‘Why’s he sending the Mayday? Why not the captain or the chief officer?’

  ‘Perhaps they can’t,’ Colonel Black replied, putting down the transcript. ‘Just be glad it was Connor. At least we know he’s alive. Which means your daughters are still under his protection.’

  Mr Sterling grunted. ‘What can he possibly do if they’re all in trouble?’

  ‘I assure you, Mr Sterling, Connor will do everything in his power to keep them safe.’ The colonel glanced at Charley. ‘Do we have the Orchid’s position?’

  Charley shook her head. ‘No, but the fishing boat was fifty-six nautical miles east of her last known location. As the distress call was sent by VHF radio, the Orchid would have been within a ten-nautical-mile range of that.’

  ‘So what’s being done to find them?’ asked an irate Mr Sterling.

  Charley replied, ‘A French frigate, the Victoire, has altered course to begin the search.’

  The colonel raised an eyebrow. ‘I know that ship. A unit of Royal Marines was posted aboard as part of a joint operations treaty between the United Kingdom and France. I should be able to get a direct line of communication with their commander.’

  ‘Good. I’m paying top dollar for your services so I expect results,’ snapped Mr Sterling.

  ‘We have to be realistic with respect to our chances of finding them,’ said Colonel Black. ‘The fact that it’s night will hamper operations and it’s one ship searching a large area of ocean. However, such frigates are equipped with advanced radar, sonar and infra-red detection equipment. They’ve also got a starting coordinate to work from. This all works in our favour.’

  Mr Sterling nodded. ‘Then inform me as soon as the Orchid is located. I want my Amanda and the girls back safe and sound.’ He cut the call and the conference monitor went blank.

  As dawn approached, Connor shifted position on the narrow ledge, trying to relieve the steel rivets digging into his backside and the cold seeping into his bones. The bilge was a living hell to hide in, but at least he’d found some ear defenders in the engine room, making his bolt-hole tolerable if not comfortable.

  Sitting in the darkened bilge, spooning cold tuna into his mouth, Connor didn’t miss the harsh irony of his situation. He was now the stowaway on board a hijacked ship.

  Most of the pirates were sleeping off their hangovers following the previous night’s celebrations and as a result none of them had ventured down to the lower deck for the past few hours. However, acutely aware that he couldn’t risk being discovered, Connor had stayed holed up below for the majority of the night.

  Twice he’d made a trip to the upper decks to collect more provisions and pack the tender for a possible escape. The storage boxes under the seats were now crammed with food and water, but as yet he’d only managed to locate a couple of emergency fuel cans.

  Also, he’d continued trying the radio at half-hourly intervals, repeating the Mayday call and waiting in hope for an answer. None ever came; although once he thought he’d heard some garbled transmission.

  His other problem was figuring out the Orchid’s position. The GPS in the tender failed to connect with the satellite every time and Connor began to wonder if the yacht’s hull was blocking the signal. The interference from the hull was probably also limiting the radio antenna’s range, which would explain why he wasn’t picking up any transmissions.

  To counter this, Connor had considered opening the bay doors to the garage. However, he knew that would immediately bring the pirates running. So, using the screwdriver on his newly acquired penknife, he’d tried to remove the radio from the tender instead. But the radio was all wired in and he feared any more tampering would break his only means of communication.

  Connor looked at his watch – 04:26. In one of his foraging missions, he’d come across a small compass and established that the Orchid was heading in an easterly direction, no doubt to Somalia. He was running out of time. If he didn’t make contact soon, the Orchid would sail out of international waters and beyond all hope of help.

  ‘We’ve had a breakthrough,’ Colonel Black announced, as Charley, Amir and the rest of Alpha team entered the briefing room. ‘The Orchid’s EPIRB has been triggered again.’

  Despite it being 3.30 a.m. in Wales, the news quickly dispelled the bleary eyes and stifled yawns.

  ‘This can’t be another false alert,’ said Charley, speeding over to her monitor and scanning the report. ‘The Orchid must be at full throttle! She’s gone some distance since Connor’s Mayday.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the colonel. ‘The Victoire is already on course to intercept.’

  The phone in the briefing room rang and Colonel Black picked it up. He listened intently for a moment. ‘Your help is greatly appreciated, Commander.’

  Placing a hand over the receiver, he addressed Alpha team. ‘The Commander of 815 Squadron has arranged a live link to the operation. He’s patching us through now.’

  Colonel Black switched to speakerphone and Alpha team huddled round the desk to listen.

  ‘Victoire to Archangel. You are cleared for take-off …’ The Lynx helicopter rose from the deck of the Victoire and banked away into the early dawn sky. The ocean was a cold steel-grey, the sun yet to grace it with its warmth. As the helicopter scudded low over the waves, the pilot and his observer scanned the horizon. Apart from a fishing trawler to the west, a large net dragging in its wake, the ocean was empty of shipping traffic. The pilot continued to head on the course dictated by the Orchid’s beacon.

  In the cabin behind, two Royal Marine snipers perched either side, checking the sights on their long-range rifles in preparation for action. With hijacking a distinct probability, resistance was to be expected, if not wanted.

  A blip sounded on the helicopter’s radar.

  ‘Archangel to Victoire,’ said the pilot. ‘Vessel located sixteen nautical miles due south.’

  Slightly adjusting course, the Lynx helicopter darted over the ocean.

  ‘There!’ said the observer, pointing straight ahead.

  In the glow of first light, a yacht appeared on the horizon.

  Alpha team listened in tense silence to the live relay. Static cut in and out but the words were clear enough.

  ‘Archangel to Victoire. Target in sight.’

  Amir smiled reassuringly at Charley. She responded with a flicker of a smile, then became tight-lipped again, her brow taut with concern.

  ‘Target sailing on a north-easterly bearing. Speed, fifteen knots.’

  ‘At least they’re not sinking,’ Marc commented.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ling, ‘but who’s sailing her?’

  It was a long time before the pilot spoke again and tension in the briefing room rose another notch.

&nbs
p; ‘Closing in on target … snipers at the ready …’

  ‘Do you think there’ll be a firefight?’ asked Richie, a little too eagerly.

  ‘Shh!’ said Charley, glaring at him.

  ‘No sign of anyone on deck … Hang on …’ Over the speaker the thud of the Lynx’s rotor blades sounded like distant heavy gunfire. ‘I see someone … port side … a body … male …’

  ‘Connor?’ questioned Amir, saying out loud what was on everyone’s minds.

  Charley closed her eyes. ‘I pray it isn’t,’ she whispered.

  ‘But where’s the crew?’ asked Jason.

  ‘If pirates have hijacked the Orchid, they’ll hold all hostages below deck,’ Colonel Black explained. ‘Now be quiet.’

  ‘Archangel to Victoire,’ the pilot’s voice said. ‘Re-confirm target’s call sign.’

  ‘Victoire to Archangel. Orchid, I repeat, Orchid,’ replied the frigate’s captain.

  ‘Then we have a problem. EPIRB location confirmed, but name on hull is Sunriser, I repeat, Sunriser.’

  Mr WiFi’s grin widened as he scanned the intercepted messages from the Victoire to the Seychelles coastguard on his laptop screen. Oracle’s idea to plant the Orchid’s EPIRB beacon on the other yacht and remote-trigger it had worked like a dream. All the efforts of the search-and-rescue team were focused on entirely the wrong patch of ocean.

  He glanced across at Oracle, who was reclining upon his bolster, picking at a bowl of fresh dates. The morning sun streamed through a barred window, suffusing the spacious living room in a golden light.

  ‘They took the bait,’ he said.

  Oracle replied with a smug smile as he popped a date into his mouth. ‘Of course they did. Dumb Westerners.’

  ‘With any luck, the Orchid should have a clear run.’

  ‘When can we expect our prize?’

  Mr WiFi switched to the live tracking program on his laptop. ‘Around dawn tomorrow.’

  Reaching for the slim mobile phone on the divan, Oracle pressed the Speed-dial button.

  ‘Then I had better inform our investor.’

  Connor peered through the glazed doors at the far end of the salon. Dusk had settled and once again he took the advantage of darkness. Several times he’d attempted to carry out surveillance during the day, but the pirates had been up on deck maintaining a constant watch for any approaching boats. This had made it impossible for him to move about the yacht without being spotted. So he’d stayed below, biding his time for the right opportunity to attempt a rescue.

  The once pristine and stylish salon was now a mess in the aftermath of the pirates’ party. Empty bottles and broken glass littered the floor. Red wine stained the white leather sofas, armchairs and carpet. The hostages appeared dazed, zoned out through a combination of gnawing fear and sheer exhaustion. The crew, minus the captain and the chief officer, remained under armed guard, the pirates lazily pointing their AK47s in their direction while chatting with one another.

  Chloe and Emily were still sitting apart from the rest of the group. They huddled together in an armchair, Chloe dozing fitfully while Emily stared into space. Connor himself had barely slept for the past thirty-six hours, the narrow bilge ledge not exactly being comfortable. Yet, despite his frayed nerves, he’d managed to get some rest, in the knowledge that sleep deprivation would cloud his judgement and that he had to stay sharp if he was to succeed in his mission.

  As he shook off his weariness, Connor wondered how he could attract the girls’ attention without being noticed by the pirates. He had to communicate his plan to the twins. Connor knew his best chance of success lay in completely separating them from the rest of the group, then he’d only have to deal with one armed guard.

  But neither of the girls was looking his way. Tapping on the glass would draw everyone’s attention to him, so he’d have to come up with a better plan …

  Without warning, a hand seized Connor by the shoulder and wrenched him to his feet. A gangly pirate with a hooked nose and wispy beard was glaring at him with furious astonishment.

  ‘I soo rac!’ he ordered, dragging him towards the doors.

  Connor made a split-second decision. He could either surrender, or …

  Flicking his hand out like a snake, he hit the pirate in the throat with a knife-hand strike. Choking, unable to breathe or cry out, his eyes bulging, the pirate staggered backwards under the blow. But he proved stronger than he looked and somehow managed to keep a grip on Connor. He swung a bony fist into Connor’s gut. Connor tried to absorb the blow, but it struck hard. All the air was forced from his lungs and he doubled up in agony, slumping to his knees. The pirate slugged him in the jaw and stars exploded across Connor’s vision.

  However, Connor had taken punches just as hard many times before. During his years of kickboxing training, his body had become accustomed to the sudden shock of a punch or kick. His adrenalin masking the pain, he quickly got back on his feet.

  Twisting himself in the man’s grip, he clasped the pirate’s fingers and rotated them against their joints in a jujitsu locking technique. The pirate grimaced and let go. Connor side-kicked him in the ribs with all his might. A bone cracked. Wheezing, the pirate collided against the access gate in the stern’s handrail, the gate gave way and he tumbled over the side.

  Connor rushed to the rail, but the pirate had already disappeared beneath the dark swell of the ocean, the Orchid powering on into the night.

  Panting and in pain, Connor dropped to his knees and tried to recover his breath. But almost immediately he heard voices heading his way. Dragging himself over to the stairs, he staggered down to the lower deck and dashed for the refuge of the bilge.

  ‘You should prepare yourself for the worst,’ said Colonel Black, addressing the conference screen in his office.

  Mr Sterling’s expression hardened, the lines around his eyes deepening.

  ‘All evidence indicates the Orchid has been hijacked by pirates.’

  Mr Sterling nodded gravely, the blow heavy but inevitable. ‘And what about my family?’

  Colonel Black leant forward on his desk, his fingers interlaced. ‘No news as yet. But it’s likely they’ve been taken hostage.’

  ‘What makes you believe they’re still alive? The entire Dutch crew was murdered.’

  ‘The Sunriser was hijacked so she could be used initially as a mothership, then, with the false Mayday, as a deception to draw the Orchid into their net. Finally, by planting the EPIRB, she was a decoy to keep search-and-rescue off the scent. However, once the Sunriser and her crew had fulfilled their purpose, they were expendable. Your family is not. Considering the calculating nature of this hijack, I suspect the Orchid was specifically targeted.’

  Mr Sterling sat up, his face filling the screen. ‘By whom?’

  Colonel Black held up his hands. ‘Too early to tell. But this isn’t standard operating procedure for Somali pirates. We’ll just have to wait for them to contact us and deliver their ransom demands. Then we may find out more –’

  Mr Sterling thumped his desk, causing the webcam image to flicker. ‘I’m not going to sit here and do nothing while my Amanda, and my daughters, are at their mercy! I intend to fly out to the Seychelles tonight.’

  ‘But, Mr Sterling, any negotiations could take weeks to –’

  ‘Don’t argue with me. I want you on site too.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ replied Colonel Black, his concern for Connor at the back of his mind. ‘We’ll shift operations to the Seychelles Regional Anti-Piracy Coordination Centre at once. I also have an expert ransom negotiator I can recommend.’

  Mr Sterling shook his head. ‘No, I’ll be doing the negotiating.’

  ‘But, Mr Sterling, with the greatest respect, you’re emotionally involved in this.’

  On-screen, Mr Sterling jabbed a finger at Colonel Black. ‘I didn’t get this far in business by being emotionally involved. I’ve brokered multibillion-dollar deals before. This is no different.’

  ‘This is your fami
ly we’re talking about. Not some company or asset.’

  ‘Exactly. So I’m not trusting the negotiations to anyone else. I freed my daughter last time. I’ll free my family this time. On my terms.’

  Yes, but at what cost to your family? thought Colonel Black.

  The heavy rumble of the engines eased and Connor sensed the yacht slowing down. Opening his eyes, he glanced at his watch in the darkness – 06:36. Somehow he’d managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep, but still felt groggy and nauseous. His jaw ached and his stomach muscles were tender. The shock of the hijacking, the exertions of the fight and the need for constant alertness were all beginning to take their toll.

  A ghostly vision of the pirate’s startled face as he toppled over the stern swam before Connor’s eyes. A sense of guilt at the man’s fate was hanging like a heavy chain round his neck. But Connor reminded himself that he had no way of knowing that the gate would open. And, under the circumstances, was he really to blame? He’d been fighting for his freedom and that of the girls.

  Thankfully, after escaping to the bilge, no one had come searching for him. Either the pirates didn’t yet realize their comrade was missing, or they’d presumed he’d fallen overboard. Whatever the reason, Connor knew he’d had a lucky escape. But he couldn’t afford to make such a mistake again.

  Cautiously, he emerged from the bilge into the engine room, as ever glad to leave the suffocating coffin-like box. Making his way to the lower deck, he heard shouts coming from the stairwell. A man was barking commands and feet thumped overhead, followed by the noise of urgent activity.

  Connor crept past the stairs towards his former bedroom. Ignoring the mess the pirates had made, he peeked out through a porthole. The morning sun was crawling above the horizon, a shimmering orange ball like the eye of a waking giant. To the far corner of his vision, he spied a barren coastline still shrouded in darkness. Dotting its countless inlets were the silhouettes of several large container ships. They lay motionless in the water like floating bloated bodies in a graveyard of forgotten ships. Connor swallowed hard, feeling that the noose had now tightened round their necks.