by Wilbur Smith
‘Son of a gun! How d’you know that?’ Cyril exaggerated his accent slightly. ‘Darned right I’m an American. Cyril Stamford, late commanding the US Navy cruiser Reno. They put me out to grass for being too old and decrepit.’ He chuckled. From the destroyer there was a momentary silence.
‘What is your port of registry and the name of your owner?’
‘My owner is Bannock Cargoes and the port of registry is Taipei.’
‘Okay! That checks out. Captain Stamford, sir! Did you perhaps have a son graduate from Anapolis in 1996?’
‘Sure did, Commander.’
‘Is his first name Timothy?’
‘You sure as hell know that it was not. His name was Bobby. And yours is Andy. You two were shipmates. Bobby brought you to our house for a barbecue one time. Have you forgotten?’
‘No, sir, Captain. I remember pretty good. I was just making sure. Your wife cooks a great apple pie.’
‘Thank you. She would have been pleased to hear that, Andy. But sadly she passed away four years ago.’
‘I am so sorry, sir.’
‘So am I, Andy.’
In the situation room Hector whistled softly. ‘Where the hell did you find this guy, Paddy? He is a prince.’
‘Sharp as a Samurai sword,’ Paddy agreed. ‘Let’s see how he staves off a boarding party.’ Delicately Andy Robins came back to the business in hand.
‘Captain Stamford, are you in full command of your ship?’
Cyril laughed easily. ‘I darned well hope so. Not senile yet, despite what the Navy thinks of me.’
‘If you need me to do so, I could send a boarding party across to you to render any assistance, sir.’
‘Very good of you, Andy, but that would disrupt both our routines. I assure you it is not necessary. Everything is under control. I am on a strict timetable.’
But Andy came back again. ‘Are you aware that you are sailing into an area of the Indian Ocean which is a hotspot of pirate activity? Only four days ago a Japanese whaler was reported taken by the pirates in the Gulf of Aden.’
‘I heard about that,’ Cyril agreed. ‘However, my owners have made arrangements with the government of Puntland. Puntland has guaranteed us free passage of its waters. We should be safe enough from molestation.’
‘Do you trust the word of a pirate, Captain?’
‘My owners do,’ Cyril responded. ‘That has to be good enough for me.’
‘It’s your call, sir,’ Andy Robins acquiesced reluctantly. ‘Bon voyage, Captain. But tell me before you go, how is my old pal Bobby?’
‘The Taliban got him in Afghanistan, Andy.’
‘Bastards!’ said Andy quietly but intensely.
In the situation room they watched the Manila Bay turn away and head back in the direction from which she had appeared. Hector stood up and stretched.
‘There you have it, my lady and gentlemen. Free passage to Gandanga Bay, compliments of Captain Cyril Stamford. Let’s go and polish off that bottle of Malconsorts, before it too becomes pirate booty.’
Sheikh Adam decided to move his entire household from the Oasis of the Miracle to Gandanga Bay to welcome the Golden Goose when Kamal Tippoo Tip sailed the infidel booty into the bay. The arrival of captured prizes had become so commonplace that Adam seldom stirred himself from the security and comfort of his fortress.
He had seven wives. Three more than the Koran allowed him. The mullah had assured him that a ruler of his stature could take more wives than a commoner. In addition to the wives he had over one hundred concubines. He was never sure of the exact number as it changed continually. His procurers scoured the entire country for nubile young girls. As Adam grew older his taste in females became increasingly paedophilic. Any girl over thirteen years of age held little appeal. They interested him only until they began exhibiting the first signs of puberty. He liked to feel them tear open as he forced his way into them. He liked the feel of warm blood spreading over his belly and the sound of their screams and weeping. At the present time he had thirteen of these little things locked in his harem, awaiting his attentions. He only enjoyed them once, then he sent them back to their families in the villages, with a present for their fathers of one hundred dollars Americani. His peculiar tastes and his generosity were so widely known throughout Puntland that when his procurers arrived at any of the remote villages there were always several families waiting for them with all their youngest children on offer. Adam had discussed his treatment of the girls with the mullah, who had reassured him that all females had been placed on this earth by Allah for one reason only, and that was the gratification of all desires of men, including the provision of children but not limited to that duty alone.
Adam had assembled a personal bodyguard of almost two hundred men, enlisted and trained by Uthmann Waddah. His network of spies stretched across all of the Middle East, from Cairo to Jordan and beyond. He had a communications centre equipped with state-of-the-art electronics, through which he was in constant touch with his bankers and investment advisers in Iran, China, Taiwan and other Far Eastern countries which were beyond the thrall of the US Federal Reserve’s watchdogs and other Western regulatory bodies. Adam had long ago learned how to open secret doors with large sums of money.
He had built an airstrip in the desert close to his fortress. Daily his personal jet flew in every indulgence and extravagance he could imagine or desire. There was very little reason why he should ever leave the Oasis and venture out into a world that he did not completely control. Especially as he was aware that Hector Cross and his American harlot were waiting out there for him with hot vengeance in their hearts. Very little reason indeed to venture abroad, except to welcome into Gandanga Bay the greatest prize that had ever sailed the oceans: the Golden Goose and his two most virulent enemies led before him in bonds and completely at his mercy.
His retainers had erected a city of colourful tents on the higher ground overlooking Gandanga Bay. All the closest members of his family, his most loyal household retainers and his bodyguards, his horses and hunting dogs and falcons with their handlers and four of his as-yet untapped little girls had all been moved down to the coast in a convoy of trucks. When they were settled into the city of tents and all was in readiness to receive him, Adam and Uthmann Waddah flew from the Oasis of the Miracle to Gandanga Bay in one of the Bell Jet Ranger helicopters. Uthmann was at the controls. He had taken instruction in Iran with the airforce of that country, which was well disposed to Puntland and its new Sheikh. The Iranians strongly approved of Adam’s devotion to Islam and enthusiastically supported his undeclared war on the shipping of the infidel nations. Over the past years Uthmann had become a skilled helicopter pilot. He had shown a natural aptitude for the work, and he possessed the hand–eye coordination that it called for.
He circled the bay at low altitude, hovering over each one of the captured ships for Adam to admire them, while one of his militia officers seated in the rear of the helicopter reeled off their tonnages and the value of every hull and its cargo. There were several hundred million dollars’ worth of shipping lying at anchor below them. However, Adam was not satisfied. He lifted his eyes from the ships and gazed out hungrily over the empty waters of the eastern ocean.
‘Soon! Very soon Kamal will come, bringing me not only immense wealth but also the man who has murdered half my family. It will be the sweetest day of my life when I watch the Golden Goose sail into the bay. All else that I have ever achieved will be as nothing against this treasure.’ He was consumed with impatience. He glanced sideways at Uthmann Waddah in the pilot’s seat and considered ordering him to leave the bay and fly out to meet the tanker. They could land on the tanker’s deck and he could begin to enjoy his triumph two days earlier. Then he shook his head. He knew it would be futile to ask Uthmann to fly out to sea. Uthmann was a highly capable and resourceful pilot. However, the intensity of his aquaphobia was such that if he ventured out beyond gliding distance from the shore he would become so paranoiac as to be almost
completely incapable of rational thought or action. If it were possible, this terror would have been aggravated still further by the sight of the huge sharks cruising the waters of the bay below them. These scavengers had been attracted by the sewage and other rubbish that had been dumped overboard from the captured ships. Then Adam considered taking one of the high-speed attack boats and having a crew run him out to meet the tanker. If he were ten years younger he would not have hesitated, but of late he had become soft and accustomed to a safe and comfortable existence. A small fast boat in any kind of sea would be extremely unpleasant; he felt a sneaking sympathy for Uthmann’s loathing of water.
No, he decided, there were many distractions in the tented camp ashore to allow him to pass the time pleasantly enough until Kamal’s arrival. All the headmen and chieftains for a hundred miles around had already arrived to pay homage. Adam had developed an appetite for extravagant praise and cringing subservience. In addition Uthmann had promised the execution of a number of criminals who had been captured by his men, or brought in by the headmen who knew of his interest in the dispensation of justice and punishment. He could rely on Uthmann to be creative and inventive. This was in effect a dress rehearsal for the sentences that he would pass on Cross and his harlot. Uthmann would see to it that the hunting dogs were given a good run. When that sport palled there were always his little babies to play with. He wriggled in the seat of the helicopter with pleasure and then tapped Uthmann on the shoulder and pointed back to the assembly of multicoloured tents on the hillside. Uthmann nodded and banked the helicopter. Adam smiled as he saw the throng waiting on the ground to welcome him. They were dancing, waving flags and banners and discharging their weapons into the air in a feu de joie.
The sea under the Goose’s hull changed its colour and temperament as the ship approached the African continent. It lost the sapphire sparkle of deep water and became dun and sullen, the swells were steeper and they ran before the wind in closer ranks. There were clumps of seaweed and other flotsam drifting aimlessly with the current and seabirds hovering and diving over the seething shoals of small fish. As the sun set and quenched its flames in the waters the GPS showed the distance to run to the entrance of Gandanga Bay as sixty-eight nautical miles.
During the night, the fourth since the taking of the ship, Hector and Hazel were on watch in the situation room. One of the hidden cameras was focused on the bridge and they overheard Kamal ordering Cyril Stamford to reduce speed and alter course four degrees westward. Since Cyril had placated the captain of the American warship and sent him on his way, Kamal’s treatment of his captives had become if not exactly magnanimous, at least slightly more lenient. For the last forty-eight hours he had not been down to the cabin in which Vincent Woodward was imprisoned to curse and kick him, and use the rifle butt on his head. He had even allowed the guards to give Vincent a mug of water and feed him a plate of slops. None of them dared to take food or drink to Nastiya. The doors to the suite remained locked and barricaded, but behind them Nastiya was comfortably ensconced. She had discovered several large cans of Beluga caviar in the refrigerator of the kitchenette, in addition to packets of sliced springbuck biltong, smoked salmon and Swiss chocolates.
On the bridge Cyril suggested to Kamal that he should send one of his men to the ship’s dispensary to fetch the first-aid kit; he agreed and Cyril disinfected and bandaged the stump of Kamal’s finger and made him swallow a handful of antibiotics and powerful painkillers. Kamal’s mood improved quite dramatically. He actually took over the watch from Cyril Stamford, and allowed him to stretch out and sleep on the bunk in the radio room for a few hours. When he sent one of his men to rouse Cyril and order him back to his station, instead of forcing him to stand at gunpoint he allowed him to sit on the captain’s stool, and chatted with him quite amiably about the sailing and handling characteristics of the Golden Goose, the operation of the navigational console and the engine configuration of the ship. He seemed particularly interested in the depth-sounding equipment. Now when he ordered the change of course and speed he condescended to discuss this move with Cyril.
‘We are coming very close to our destination but I do not wish to arrive during darkness. The roads and entrance to the harbour are difficult to negotiate in the dark. Also my beloved Sheikh and many thousands of my people will be gathered to welcome our arrival. When they see the size and importance of this vessel they will be filled with happiness. I do not wish to deprive them of this pleasure. They must see the splendour of the prize I am bringing to them in full daylight, with the rising sun behind it. I must be able to bring it in as close to the beach as is safe.’
‘I am very happy for you, sir.’ Cyril had not made the fatal mistake of letting Kamal know that he was aware of his identity. ‘However, can you tell me what will happen to my ship, my passengers, my crew and myself once we reach port?’
‘Your passengers will become the honoured guests of my Sheikh.’ Kamal smiled coolly at his own understatement. ‘You, your crew and your ship will remain with us for a while, but only until arrangements can be made with your owners and their insurance company. When that is done you will be free to continue your voyage without suffering any harm. Inshallah!’
‘If it is God’s will,’ Cyril agreed. Kamal looked startled and then smiled.
‘I have enjoyed your company, Yankee. I shall regret our parting.’
‘Perhaps if God is kind we will meet again?’ Cyril smiled back at him. One of his front teeth had been knocked out when Kamal’s pirate whipped him with the rifle butt. The empty hole in his mouth gave him a louche expression.
‘I love him, don’t you?’ Hazel smiled as she watched Cyril on the video screen. ‘He is so super cool, as Cayla might have said.’
‘He is a hard case, is our lad,’ Hector agreed. He was delighted to hear Hazel mention Cayla’s name so naturally. Was she at last coming to terms with the fact that her daughter was gone, he wondered?
No! he said to himself in reply. It won’t be over, not for Hazel, not for me, until we have finished what we have come here to do.
Although he now knew the exact time they would sail into Gandanga Bay, Hector let the troops sleep for four more precious hours. Forty minutes before sunrise he passed the word for ‘Stand To’. Quietly each man woke the man on the far side of him and within ten minutes they were all gathered in full kit and body armour in the assembly area on the second level. They watched Hector’s face avidly as he stood before their closely packed ranks. He gestured for them to insert the earpieces of their Falcon battle radios, then cupped his hands around the microphone of his own set and spoke into it quietly. Even though he was speaking directly into the earpieces of his men, there was no sound of a human voice to echo through the bulkheads and alert a listening pirate.
‘We are about to enter the pirates’ home harbour. You have all studied the maps that Tariq Hakam drew up for us, so in general you know what to expect. However, we cannot know the exact anchorage which Kamal will select for the Goose. Sam, it may be a long run in the AAVs to the beach but Dave’s gunners will keep the enemy heads down until you are safely ashore. As you all know our main objective is to capture or neutralize two particular men. You have seen their faces on video many times already, but I am going to show them to you one last time. These fine gentlemen are the first prize.’ Hector turned to the large video screen on the bulkhead behind him and started the projection. The first images to appear were from the archives of Cross Bow Security. There were several excellent shots of Uthmann Waddah, talking with Hector, giving a lecture on firearms on the firing range and drilling new recruits.
‘Many of you know this man,’ Hector told them. ‘He was once a member of Cross Bow. He is extremely dangerous. Mark him well. There is a bounty of fifty thousand dollars on his head, dead or alive.’ The watching men stirred with excitement. Hector changed the projected images. First there were several passport photographs he had obtained from his contact in French Interpol. They were full-face and side
-view images of the subject.
‘This person’s name is Adam Tippoo Tip and he is a man of importance in Puntland; a sheikh and the head of his tribe. He is also the leader of the pirates,’ Hector explained. ‘Bear in mind that these pictures were taken almost seven years ago. Tariq has seen him recently and he says that his beard is now full and dark. Also he has put on some weight.’
Hector brought up another image on the screen. ‘Now this video was taken a little over four years ago.’ Hector started running the clip from the ransom demand that Adam had sent on Cayla’s mobile phone. Blown up to full screen it was slightly grainy and blurred. Adam was looking into the camera and speaking, but the sound had been expunged from the recording, and Adam mouthed his threats silently. At the back of the assembly area Hazel stood up and ran from the room, unable to watch once again the face of Cayla’s murderer. Hector ran the loop three times. Then he switched off the video machine and spoke into the microphone, directly into their ears.
‘The bounty on Adam’s head is one hundred thousand dollars.’ His listeners smiled wolfishly and a few of them nodded and smiled. Hector looked them over with satisfaction. They were as hot as a pack of hounds with the smell of the game in their nostrils, eager to be slipped from the leash. He sent Tariq to fetch Hazel back and once she returned Hector went on speaking into the radio.
‘I am switching now to the camera at the ship’s masthead. This is real-time.’ The image changed to a wide-angle view of the African coastline ahead of the Golden Goose. They were still four or five miles off. The time at the foot of the frame showed as 0617. The heat haze had not yet obscured the line of blue-glazed hills on the westerly horizon. The rising sun was highlighting them. They were looking into the wide, open mouth of an extensive natural harbour, guarded on either side by two low headlands. In the depths of the bay was an untidy assembly of shipping.