Tristan put his hands to his face, wiped away the tears. The desolation in his eyes was no longer masked. He was ready to admit everything, just as Simon had hoped.
“But you changed your mind. I can’t figure this bit out, why did you cancel the order?”
“When I realized I was dealing with Islamic State, what choice did I have?”
Simon shook his head, “How did you not understand that it was the Islamic State who took them in the first place?”
He looked away, unable to speak.
“Your daughter’s kidnapping wasn’t random. They took Ariana because they wanted leverage, to close the deal. That’s why you sent Meinke instead of flying to the Comoros Islands yourself, because you had to be sure Xuesen wouldn’t talk to either us or the police, and let slip what you were up to—”
Fuming, Venter ran at Simon, his fists flailing. The man had no fighting technique, no military experience other than conscription during his teenage years and no physical strength. Simon subdued him, turned him and pushed him hard up against the Jeep. Venter broke down, tears pouring from his raw, red eyes. There was no room left for denial. He had no choice but to face the painful reality of the mistakes he’d made.
“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’M SORRY!”
Out of habit Simon checked him for weapons. Finding none, he released him.
The man turned, then crumpled in upon himself, looking as though he had surged with physical pain. “What are you going to do? Turn me over to the police? Shoot me?”
Simon laughed. “Sorry to disappoint, but no. I just wanted a private conversation, that’s all. I’m sure living with the knowledge of what your actions have done to your daughters is punishment enough.”
Wiping his eyes with his hand, Venter asked, “A conversation about what?”
“This is just between you and me, okay? That’s why I found you out here, in the open. Alone.”
“Okay?”
“Two things.”
“There is a limit to what I’m willing to do.”
“I get that, but my demands are important, and won’t compromise you anymore than you’ve already compromised yourself.”
Venter considered what Simon was saying, then nodded. “What do you want?”
“First, I need you to send Meinke and Ariana far away from this country. I used to work for the Australian Government, so I can help you get them permanent residencies there. They don’t deserve to grow up here where it is not safe for them, after what you did. You can go with them or stay, I don’t care. But you need to get them away.”
Venter looked relieved. He was expecting a far worse demand. That was yet to come.
“What is the second condition?”
Simon grinned. “You work for me now.”
“In what capacity?”
“Information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Anything I need, when I need it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Simon shrugged. “It could be about your clients. If they are like Xuesen, with links to criminal or terrorist organizations, I want to know all about them, and how to manipulate and leverage them. I’ve looked at your portfolio of work. You may not know it, although I suspect you do, but you’ve built properties for arms dealers, sub-Saharan warlords, military officers, and heads of mining and petrochemical companies.”
“Why do you need their information?”
“Mate, I’m a former intelligence officer. Now I’m a security consultant. Information is how I keep my boss’s clients safe and keep myself alive. You are not, Tristan, the first man to get himself in a spot of bother with me, only to find they’re now working for me. Oh, and it’s all for free. There will be no money in this for you, just my silence.”
Tristan Venter rubbed his forehead. “I’ve done business with warlords?”
Simon nodded.
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
Simon walked towards his Land Cruiser, done with Tristan Venter for today. “Nothing right now. But when I do, I know how to find you.”
“This never ends?” he paled.
“It will never end for your daughters either, so why should you have an easy way out?”
Simon didn’t wait for an answer and Venter wasn’t able to give one. He had his man. Tristan Venter worked for him now.
He started up his engine and churned through the dust. He smiled and felt a moment of genuine happiness, watching as the mists started to rise and the sunlight shone on the savanna grasslands, bringing rich earthy tones to the landscape. Simon had time to acknowledge to himself that he missed his wife and daughters every day he was not with them, although he was glad they were in Australia and not here with him. The Venter family was all the proof he needed, that his decision to live apart had been the right one.
#
THANK YOU
Thank you for reading Foreign Hostage. If you enjoyed this book, would you please consider leaving an honest review on Amazon? Reviews are critical for helping independent authors bring their books to the attention of readers who might enjoy them. I would truly appreciate it, and it can be as short as you like.
If you would like to learn more about me and my books, please visit my website here, or my Facebook page here.
Thank you very much.
ALB
HAVE YOU READ THEM ALL?
THE SHATTERHAND SERIES
FOREIGN HOSTAGE
Cripple a global terror network or save Africa’s last elephants. Simon Ashcroft must choose.
THREAT INTELLIGENCE
The Shatterhand Code Book 1
Cyber-terrorists impersonate the U.S. President to provoke a global war. They frame Simon Ashcroft as the culprit.
STRIKE MATRIX
The Shatterhand Code Book 2
Two superpowers battle for dominance of the global information networks. Can Ashcroft know which side he’s fighting for? (Coming Soon)
THE THOMAS CAINE SERIES
SANDFIRE
In this explosive mission from Caine’s past, can he prevent war from consuming the Middle East?
DEPTH CHARGE
A rogue Chinese submarine. A defector with a secret. A deadly cargo, heading for America’s shores…
READERS GROUP
Join my Readers Group and receive a free Simon Ashcroft thriller! When released, you’ll also receive a free copy of the first novella in my new forthcoming series The Trigger Man.
Just click HERE.
Or visit
www.aidenlbailey.com
Thank you
AFTERWARDS
In early 2015 I was approached by a Canadian publisher to write a James Bond novella.
That’s like, Wow, right?
Actually, no … not really. I quickly discovered that this wasn’t anywhere near as prestigious as it first seemed. At the time, in several countries across the world, the James Bond novels, penned by Ian Fleming, had just passed into the public domain. Those countries which honored the death-of-the-author-plus-fifty-years-until-copyright-expired-law included New Zealand, South Africa, Canada and many other smaller nations. I was one of several authors approached to write a Bond adventure for a Canadian imprint. It wasn’t the only publishing house doing so, because at that moment, anyone could publish Bond fiction providing it was sold only in countries where the copyright had expired.
I soon discovered that this exciting opportunity was far more complicated than my initial jubilation had suggested. The laws of the United States, the European Union and Australia (my home country) determined copyright to expire seventy years past the author’s death. This meant that anything related to James Bond remained the property of the Fleming Estate in those countries, at least until 2035, unless someone changed the law.
Looking further into the opportunity, I soon realized the situation was even more complicated. For example, anything that first appeared in a Bond film was, strictly, not public domain, even such
things as Bond’s penchant for witticisms after the death of an adversary, Blofeld’s white cat, almost all the gadgets and even Miss Moneypenny’s flirting with James Bond. In addition to this, there were many continuation novels by other authors, which were not yet public domain either.
Very quickly I realized, that as exciting as writing an unofficial Bond novel would be, it was also a complex and time intensive endeavor. I would have to re-read every Bond story ever written, go through all the comics and watch every film again to know what was in and what was out. I was definitely having second thoughts.
But then there was the other side of me, who has — for as long as I can remember — been a huge James Bond fan. I mean, I really am.
One of my favorite memories as a young child is of sneaking out of my bedroom to watch Live and Let Die from the stairwell, peering from behind my parents who thought I was asleep. I’d heard so much about James Bond at school that I was willing to break all the rules. I was desperate to be one of the cool kids who knew what a License to Kill actually was. When my parents finally noticed me, they must have seen that I wasn’t scared of the content that was so inappropriate for my age but, rather, captivated by it all. They let me watch the rest, ensconced safely between them. They told me later that my eyes had never once left the screen, and they had never before seen me being so silent and still for so long.
That was a moment I will always vividly remember for the rest of my life. I had already decided, many years earlier watching Star Wars, that I wanted to be an author, but now I knew what I wanted to write about — sophisticated, confident, secret agents who completed dangerous missions in exotic locations across the globe. I was captivated by the crazy gadgets: the wristwatch that turned into a buzz blade to cut binding ropes, the anti-shark gun that disintegrated henchmen like bursting balloons, the exotic and beautiful women who could tell fortunes by reading tarot cards, and men dressed as skeletons that could rise from the dead, materializing out of coffins overrun with deadly snakes. Then there was the boat chase through the swamps of Louisiana and the assault on the underground lair in the Caribbean — there was no going back for me after witnessing all of that.
To this day I still remember all my James Bond firsts.
First James Bond film in the cinema: Octopussy.
First James Bond film watched without my parents: The Living Daylights.
First James Bond novel that I read: Live and Let Die.
First moment I encountered a scene in novel which made me wish the scene in question was actually in the film: Bond battling the squid in Dr. No.
First Bond film I watched with my wife: GoldenEye.
First Bond girl I had a crush one … that one I’ll leave a mystery.
I went on to read pretty much every Ian Fleming novel ever written, and many of the novels by the continuation authors. I was surprised at how different the books were to the films, and while I didn’t appreciate how original they were for their era, at the time I had never quite encountered anything like it. What Ian Fleming had achieved — that few authors before or after him have ever achieved — was the creation of a fantastical, almost unbelievable and yet utterly captivating fictional world, grounded in reality. James Bond, Agent 007 at the heart of it — the hero who could stop any evil mastermind scheme dead in its tracks. The novels that stuck in my mind for their sheer originality were Live and Let Die, From Russia with Love, Dr. No, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service and You Only Live Twice. I desperately wanted to write novels like that.
Over time my relationship with Bond had changed. I grew to appreciate how sexist the books and the films were, and how the series had only really matured when Barbara Broccoli and Michael G. Wilson took over the production of Bond films, with the introduction of first Pierce Brosnan and later Daniel Craig as Bond. I came to understand that Bond was not really an individual you would admire or enjoy spending time with if you knew him personally. He was cold, ruthless and a brutal killer, with a pathological need to appear-wealthy-at-all-times and self-entitled. But I still really enjoyed the movies, still counting Daniel Craig’s Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace as the best the series has produced.
So, fast forward three decades from the day I’d crept down those stairs to witness Roger Moore’s first appearance as 007, to the day I was offered the inspiring opportunity to write a Bond story of my own.
Within hours I had a plot line.
By the end of the day I’d started writing it.
I returned to the Fleming novels to familiarize myself with the setting and the era, and made detailed notes to ensure I got the back-story right. It didn’t take long before I had about ten thousand words of a Bond novella set in the tropical seas of 1950s Far North Queensland.
And then all of a sudden, I stopped writing.
Literally — mid-sentence — I put it down and asked myself, what the hell was I doing?
There have been many authors before me who have picked up where Ian Fleming left off. I can name almost all of them off the top of my head: Kingsley Amis, Christopher Wood, John Gardner, Raymond Benson, Charlie Higson, Sebastian Faulks, Jeffrey Deaver, William Boyd, Anthony Horowitz and Steve Cole. They had all done admirable jobs at writing Bond, but none of them were Fleming. Why did I think I could contribute?
So I dropped it, realizing that I wanted to create my own series instead. I threw myself into the completion of the first novel in my Shatterhand Series (another nod to Ian Fleming’s works): Threat Intelligence and the concluding sequel, Stirke Matrix.
But I also wanted a teaser novella for readers, featuring Simon Ashcroft. And so, I decided to release The Assyrian Contraband. The unofficial James Bond novella I had begun in 2015.
I went over it again with fresh eyes and realized that this truly was, with a few minor adjustments, an obvious prequel to Threat Intelligence. This story was the perfect introduction to the character of Simon Ashcroft and with a few links to modern rather than 1950s geopolitical events, The Assyrian Contraband quickly came into existence.
Many of the elements of the story are Fleming inspired, such as the exotic tropical ocean location, the disfigured megalomaniac villain, the wounded but strong and sensual women, the brutal torture scenes and the sharks. Of course there are sharks. No Bond story ever felt complete without a shark in there somewhere.
So The Assyrian Contraband then is not my unofficial Bond novella — that was abandoned long ago.
This is my tribute to Ian Fleming, and everything he created that inspires me in the thriller fiction genre today. He left a lasting legacy, and I’m a proud contributor to the genre he created for us all to dabble in, in our own way.
As for Blood Ivory, which incidentally was written after The Assyrian Contraband, was first released when the last male northern white rhino died effectively making this species extinct. Wildlife poaching is a real and tragic issue and inspired me to write this story. I took many safaris in East and Southern Africa in the 1990s, but I suspect if I returned again, I wouldn’t see anywhere as much wildlife as I experienced a quarter of a century ago.
If you are interested in the plight of elephants and other African species and wish to learn more, or support anti-poaching and wildlife causes in any way, I recommend checking out the following sites and organizations.
The Ivory Game: a Netflix documentary on the War on Ivory which highlights the efforts of conservation and activist groups such as PAMS Foundation, Big Life Foundation, WildLeaks, EAGLE Network and the Wildlife Justice Commission.
Virunga: another Netflix documentary on the fate of gorillas and other wildlife in the eastern Congo, with information on how to support conservation efforts in this part of the world.
Global March for Elephants and Rhinos which happens in 140 cities worldwide every March.
— Aiden L Bailey, September 2019
AIDEN L BAILEY BIO
Aiden L Bailey is an international bestselling thriller author from Australia. Formerly an engineer, he built a career marketing mu
lti-national technology, heavy industry and construction companies. His various roles have included corporate communications with the Australian Submarine Corporation, technical writing for several defense contractors, engineering on a petroleum pipeline constructed in the Australian desert, and a magazine editor and art director. He has travelled widely in six continents and his experiences are the basis of many of his stories. Aiden lives with his wife and daughter in South Australia.
Aiden loves to hear from his readers! Please feel free to contact him here:
www.aidenlbailey.com
[email protected]
Foreign Hostage Page 12