by Wilbur Smith
‘The pirates are aboard. They will be in your cabin in a few minutes. Do not switch on the lights. Get Vincent into the bed with you. Hurry.’
‘Hokay!’
‘Remember, no fighting back.’
‘Hokay!’ she said and Hector again changed the frequency. He grinned at Paddy.
‘That wench of yours is a regular little chatterbox, isn’t she?’
‘One of her many virtues,’ Paddy replied seriously. They turned their full attention back to the TV screens as they lit up in quick succession, following the pirates as they stormed up the companion-way of the stern tower towards the bridge. Five of them burst into the crew’s quarters. The two men seated at the mess table were clubbed to the deck, and the others were dragged from their bunks and forced to their knees while their wrists were pinioned in front of them with nylon cable ties. Another gang of pirates swarmed into the bridge house howling threats and orders in Arabic.
Cyril Stamford sprang up and ran towards them shouting, ‘Who the hell are you? You are not allowed here. Get out, damn you. Get out!’ One of the pirates knocked him to the deck with the butt of his AK-47 and two others pounced on him and bound his wrists together with cable ties. The helmsman and the radio operator received the same treatment. One of the pirates went quickly to the control console and closed all the throttles.
‘It will take at least ten miles for the ship to stop,’ he said in Arabic, and removed his mask to reveal his face. His features were fierce and forbidding, his beard tinged with grey.
‘It is Kamal Tippoo Tip!’ Tariq exclaimed, staring up at the image. ‘He is Adam’s uncle and the commander of the pirate flotilla. I would know him anywhere.’
‘We were expecting him,’ Hector said. ‘The one I’m worried about is Uthmann Waddah. He’s the only one of the gang who will know that Nastiya is not Hazel, and that Vincent is not me. Keep an eye out for him.’
On the screen Kamal was still giving orders to his men. ‘Find the Bannock whore and the Christian assassin. They will certainly be in one of the cabins in the deck below us. Secure them but do not hurt them. If you value your own life make sure they stay alive.’ Five of his men hastened from the bridge to obey him. Kamal turned to his remaining men.
‘Split up into groups of five. Spread out and search every part of the ship. Make certain there are no more of the infidel crew hiding anywhere aboard!’ From the situation room they watched the pirates on the CCTV as they rampaged through the ship. If a door was locked they smashed it open. They tore the doors off the life-jacket lockers and storage bins. They fired AK bursts into the locked cupboards in the cabins. In the crew’s quarters there was a crucifix fixed to the bulkhead above one of the bunks. A pirate ripped it off laughing and dumped it in the toilet bowl.
In the meantime the men Kamal had sent to the owner’s suite had battered down the door with kicks and blows of their rifle butts. Once it was down they swarmed into the suite and raged through the cabins. With insensate violence they destroyed furniture and ornaments, until at last they burst into the bedroom where Nastiya and Vincent were huddled in a corner, feigning abject terror. Like the others they were hauled out and bound with cable ties. Then they were forced to squat on the floor in the middle of the main cabin. Two Arabs stood over them with their AKs pointed at their heads, while one of the others rushed back to the bridge and jubilantly reported to Kamal.
‘Revered Prince, it is with great joy that we can inform you that we have captured the murderer of your sainted father and his whore. All thanks and praise to Allah and his Prophet!’ Kamal glanced at the control panel to make certain that the ship was hove-to and drifting easily broadside to the wind, then said, ‘I will go down to inspect the captives.’ When he entered the cabin in the owner’s suite he went directly to Vincent Woodward and kicked him in the face.
‘You are the animal who killed my father and three of my brothers. When we reach port you will meet a death so exquisite that at the end you will go to it whimpering like a puppy and pleading for release from your agony.’ Kamal spoke fluent but heavily accented English. His kick had broken Vincent’s nose and a trickle of blood snaked over his lips and dripped from his unshaven chin. Vincent showed no emotion and stared back at Kamal. This irked Kamal unendurably. He yelled into Vincent’s upturned face, ‘You are silent now, but you will squeal loud enough when you feel the red-hot iron going up your anus.’ He kicked at his face again, but Vincent dropped his chin and took it on his forehead. Kamal left him, went to where Nastiya was kneeling and stood over her. He took a handful of her thick blonde hair and twisted her head back. He stared into her face. His expression was gloating and vindictive. In the situation room Hazel watched what she had dreaded most beginning to materialize. She seized Hector’s hand and shook it violently.
‘We have to stop this! He’s going to kill her,’ she blurted.
‘No! He won’t do that. He’s too much afraid of Adam,’ Hector assured her. She suppressed her next protest, but her grip on his hand tightened with her anxiety as she watched Kamal stoop to stare into Nastiya’s face.
‘Her eyes are blue,’ he said in Arabic. ‘The eyes of a devil. This is what I was told to expect, but Uthmann Waddah should be here to make certain of this sow’s identity.’
In the situation room Hector nodded and smiled grimly.
‘Well, that takes care of my chief concern,’ he said to his wife. ‘Uthmann is not with the boarding party. There is nobody on board the ship who can recognize us.’
‘How do we know that some of Kamal’s thugs have not seen you and me on TV or seen our pictures in the press?’ Hazel asked anxiously.
‘We don’t have to worry about that. There’s no television coverage in Puntland, and no English-language press. Adam Tippoo Tip has all the media under his control, on pain of death.’
They all watched Kamal spit into Nastiya’s upturned face.
‘Look at her insolence, the bitch! I think I should let a few of my men drive the devil out of her with their meat rods.’ The men around him smiled expectantly and moved closer to peer into Nastiya’s face. She looked back at them so coldly that they dropped their eyes and backed off from her again.
‘Dirty little whore!’ Kamal put his hand over her face to shove her backwards. As fast as a crocodile snatching a drinking buck from the edge of his pool, Nastiya darted her head forward and clamped her teeth into his hand. Kamal howled with shock and pain. With his free hand he struck her across the face, trying to loosen her hold.
‘You poisonous bitch. Let go or I will kill you!’
She smiled through her clenched teeth and his blood mingled with her saliva as it ran down her chin. He raised his free hand for another blow, but suddenly his wounded hand came free and he staggered backwards clutching it to his chest. He stared at it in horror. The two top joints of his little finger were missing. She had bitten them clean off.
‘You cow! You pig sow,’ he sobbed, ‘you filthy animal.’ Nastiya opened her mouth and spat his finger at his feet. She smiled at him again and his blood stained her teeth.
‘She is a devil from hell.’ Kamal backed away. ‘Kill her! Cut her head off and feed it to the dogs.’ Two of his men drew their daggers, but Kamal steadied himself and only just in time stopped them. ‘Wait! No, do not kill her,’ he panted. ‘The Sheikh has commanded that she be brought to him alive.’ He grimaced as he took the keffiyeh from around his neck and wrapped it around the stump of his finger. ‘We will not kill her yet, but I will humiliate her and punish her. You men, draw lots and the winners will cover her as a dog does a bitch in heat. But first I will speak with the Sheikh. Now lock this man Cross in a separate cabin. Leave five men to guard the whore. Then I must get the ship under way again and on course for Gandanga Bay.’ Kamal turned and holding his injured hand against his chest he left the owner’s suite and returned to the bridge. He walked slowly and awkwardly, like an old man.
In the situation room they had watched the whole violent episode and w
ere still staring at the CCTV screen. Hector broke the shocked silence.
‘Minimum retaliation and quick submission.’ He softly repeated the instructions he had given to Nastiya. ‘Should I have said it in Russian for her to understand, Paddy?’
‘Give the poor little lass a break. She was very restrained. You can’t really complain. She only bit his finger off, for goodness’ sake.’
‘I thought she was splendid,’ said Hazel in an awed tone. ‘A little bit naughty not to obey you, but splendid nonetheless.’
‘That was nothing. You should see her when she really gets angry. I think she must have Irish blood in her,’ Paddy said proudly.
Kamal sat in the captain’s chair on the bridge of the Golden Goose. His face was haggard with pain and he nursed his hand tenderly, as he ordered Cyril Stamford to be hauled in front of him.
‘I am going to free your hands,’ he told Cyril. ‘If you make any attempt to escape you will be beaten. You will obey my orders. You will sail the ship where and how I command you. Do you understand?’
‘If you take these ties off my hands, I will sail her,’ Cyril agreed. Kamal nodded and ordered one of his men to cut the nylon cable tie from the captain’s wrists. Cyril went to the control console and opened the throttles. Then he looked at Kamal.
‘Give me a course to steer.’
‘The course is two-eight-five degrees magnetic,’ Kamal told him and Cyril confirmed and punched it into the navigational computer. He set the engine revolutions at 120 rpm. The Goose began to execute a stately turn to port onto the stipulated heading. Kamal checked the compass, and then beckoned to one of his men and snapped the fingers of his uninjured hand. Obediently the man handed him a portable satellite telephone. Kamal punched in some numbers and his call was answered almost immediately by Adam in person.
‘We have captured the ship, mighty Sheikh!’ Kamal stood up from the command seat and moved out onto the port wing of the bridge, where the reception from the satellite would be clearer.
‘All thanks and praise to Allah!’ Adam exulted. ‘What of the Bannock whore and the villain Cross?’
‘They are my prisoners. I am bringing them to you with the ship, my lord and master.’
‘I shall reward you with whatsoever you ask of me, my uncle.’
‘I crave one boon of you, great chieftain.’
‘Ask and I will grant it.’
‘The Bannock whore is a she-devil, a monster with the soul of a hellhound. She has bitten off my finger!’ Adam laughed out loud and Kamal’s tone rose sharply, as his anger boiled over. ‘My Sheikh, I wish to punish her. I wish to humiliate her as she has humiliated me in front of all my men.’ Adam stopped laughing.
‘I have told you many times already that the execution of the woman is my prerogative alone, Uncle! It gives me pleasure to consider the manner of her death. At the moment I am undecided between hunting her with the dogs and having her stretched between two heavy trucks, a wrist and an ankle tied to each of them. When they are driven slowly apart her limbs will be plucked from her carcass like the wings of a roasted chicken.’ Adam chuckled at the mental image. ‘You will be beside me to watch it all.’
‘It will be a very interesting and amusing sight to watch,’ Kamal assured him. ‘I am not asking your permission to kill her. I wish merely to punish her. I want to give her to my men to sport with. I will be there at all times to make sure that none of them take the play too far.’
‘Why do you not wish to enjoy her yourself?’ Adam teased him and Kamal shuddered at the thought. His nephew knew well that his preferences ran strongly to young boys, and the thought of again letting the whore come close enough to touch him made his injured finger throb most painfully, chilling any residual ardour Kamal might have been able to muster for a female.
‘She is beneath my dignity, Master. I would rather rut with a rabid pig.’
‘Very well, my revered uncle. Let the men take her by both her holes, back and front. However, you must stop them at once if she starts to bleed copiously.’
‘My loyal thanks to you, my magnanimous Sheikh and master.’
‘What the hell is Kamal up to now?’ Hector wondered aloud as they watched him on one of the screens coming in from the wing of the bridge. From the situation room they had not been able to monitor his conversation with Adam. While they watched Kamal spoke to Cyril Stamford again.
‘I am leaving four of my men here to watch your every move. You will not alter our speed or our course. Neither you nor any of your crew is to touch the electronic equipment to transmit any message. Do you understand?’
‘I understand,’ Cyril confirmed gruffly. In the situation room Hector nodded his approval.
‘Good man, Cyril. At least somebody on board is following my orders.’ They watched Kamal gather up the rest of his men and lead them down to the owner’s suite on the deck below. The men were all laughing and chattering with excitement. When they crowded into the sitting room, Kamal seated himself in one of the leather armchairs and issued a string of instructions to his men. They dragged in the table from the dining salon next door, and placed it in front of their chief in the centre of the cabin. Once he was satisfied with the arrangement Kamal gave another order and four of the men went through to the bedroom suite where Nastiya was still kneeling in the centre of the cabin. Her guards watched over her warily. They had seen how Kamal had lost his finger. They had bayonets fixed on their rifles and they kept well clear of her, even though her hands were pinioned in front of her.
‘Kamal has ordered us to bring the whore to him,’ they told the guards, who looked relieved. Two of the Arabs moved in on Nastiya and at a signal they seized her arms and hoisted her to her feet. Then they ran with her into the sitting room and bundled her onto the table in the centre of the room. Still holding her arms they stretched her out on her back with her legs dangling over the end. While they held her down one of the others came to the table with his curved dagger in his right hand. He ran two fingers into the front opening of her black jump suit and holding the cloth away from her skin, slipped the point of his dagger into the opening and split the suit down to her crotch. Then he ripped the suit off her body and left her lying naked on the table. Her arms were still pinioned in front of her by the green nylon cable tie on her wrists. The watchers in the situation room far below were shocked into a strained silence as the scene unfolded on the TV screen.
Kamal was sitting forward in the easy chair stroking his curling beard and watching with fascination as his men prepared Nastiya for her punishment. From time to time he gave an order on how to proceed, and his men quickly obeyed. Under the overhead lights Nastiya’s body was pale and sleekly muscled. Her hair was tangled around her face and her lips were swollen, and one of her eyes was half-closed, bruised and puffed up where Kamal had struck her. She seemed very young and fragile in comparison to the men standing over her. They were laughing and joking with each other, aroused by her nudity. The one who had cut away her clothing reached down and squeezed her breast, then tweaked her nipple and pulled it out, stretching it to the limit of her skin’s elasticity. The others guffawed and then one by one they each took their turn to fondle and pinch her breasts. They howled with merriment as she lay quiescent in the grip of the two men restraining her. Her tormentors were egging each other on, clowning and trying to outdo each other. One of them took her nipple between his filthy fingernails. He pinched her so cruelly that a drop of blood welled up from the wound. He licked the blood off his fingers to the delight of his companions. Then another reached down to her pubic bush and seized one of the golden curls. With a savage jerk he pulled out a tuft, and sniffed it as though it were a bouquet of flowers. Then he passed it around for the others to savour. Nastiya did not move or cry out.
‘She can do that,’ Paddy whispered. ‘Self-hypnosis. She can shut out the pain.’
‘This is horrible,’ Hazel said. ‘I never bargained for this. I am totally to blame.’
‘No!’ Hector interv
ened. ‘Not you. It’s Kamal and Adam who are to blame. But there will soon be a reckoning.’
At a sharp command from Kamal the men who were gathered around Nastiya drew back and Kamal leaned forward and showed her his injured hand.
‘Listen to me, you Christian whore. I am going to punish you for the wound you have inflicted on me. Every one of my men will rip into your filthy body and spurt you full of good Muslim sperm. You are going to bleed, whore. You are going to cry for my mercy, you dirty sow.’ Nastiya did not look at him. He eyes were focused far away and her expression was calm and remote.
‘She is preparing herself to act,’ Paddy said almost under his breath. On the screen they saw that Kamal was becoming angry and frustrated at her isolated calm. He turned to his men with blazing eyes.
‘Which of you will be the first to ride this filly?’ he shouted.
‘Bayhas, the lion!’ they shouted. ‘Bayhas of the mighty pole. He was the first to mount this whore’s daughter at the Oasis. He must be first to plough the Mother Whore.’ They pushed Bayhas forward. He chuckled and opened the front of his trousers and brought out his monstrous sexual organ. It stiffened and extended to its full length as he tugged and massaged it.
‘Hold the she-dog,’ he ordered the men around her. ‘She will grow mad with lust when she feels this thing going into her. Open her legs.’ The men on each side of the table pulled her thighs roughly apart, and Bayhas stepped between them. He spat in his hand and anointed the head of his penis with the saliva.
‘I have to stop this,’ Hazel burst out. ‘We have to go in and bring her out of there.’
‘Wait! You cannot stop the war with the first casualty,’ Hector told her.
‘Nastiya is not a soldier.’ Hazel was angry.
‘Oh, yes she is,’ Paddy contradicted her. ‘She would never forgive you if you pulled her out now. This is what she is trained for. This is her trade. Her profession. Watch her!’ He pointed to the screen. Bayhas, the lion, was rubbing his lubricated penis along the opening of her sex, shifting his feet, steadying himself for the first thrust into her. Suddenly Nastiya’s lithe body jack-knifed under him. She broke the grip that the two Arabs had on her ankles. Her knees folded back over her shoulders with seemingly effortless grace, then drove forward again with such power that they seemed to blur. Her naked heels smashed into the base of Bayhas’s pubis. Over the microphones they clearly heard his pelvic bone break, cracking at the juncture of its symphysis into its two separate halves. His engorged penis was caught between Nastiya’s heels and the sharp leading edge of his own pelvic girdle. It was crushed by the force of the blow and his corpora cavernosa, the blood-holding chambers of the penis, were ruptured so that as he was hurled backwards against the bulkhead his penis squirted blood instead of semen. He wailed as his knees buckled under him and he sagged down the bulkhead and fell onto the deck clutching his damaged organs.