Bodyguard: Ransom (Book 2) (14 page)

An elderly fisherman in a battered wooden skiff tossed a frayed net into the pale blue waters. Then he sat and waited. His cataract-clouded eyes drifted across the desolate coastline of chalk-streaked cliffs and bone-white sands until his blurred gaze reached the headland. It jutted out into the Indian Ocean like a skeletal finger. Behind his little fishing boat lay the rusting hulk of a long-abandoned cargo ship, hulled on a jagged rock. And beyond that on the horizon, like a mirage, were three more container ships. Not shipwrecked, he knew, but hijacked and held for ransom.

With slow, laborious effort, the fisherman pulled his net in, hand over hand, his ancient limbs protesting, until he was rewarded with … an empty net. He cursed the foreign trawlers who plundered all the fish from their waters without permission or conscience. Then he threw the net back into the sea and waited.

As the old man fished for nothing, six gleaming Toyota 4x4s raced across the desolate beach. Spitting sand from their tyres, they were weaving dangerously in between
one another in a daredevil game of cat and mouse. One of the vehicles threatened to roll over, but miraculously righted itself at the last second. Another cut through the waves, sending up showers of spray. The 4x4s ground to a sudden halt beside a row of overturned skiffs on the shoreline.

Spearhead got out of the lead vehicle and started shouting orders to his men to unload. The band of pirates flung open their doors and began dragging out wooden boxes and plastic jerrycans. Out of the back of a trailer, several pirates struggled with the enormous weight of a massive outboard motor, the first of four brand-new engines.

Stumbling across the burning sand, the skinny young pirate with the buck teeth dropped one of the boxes and an assault rifle tumbled out, still in its protective packaging.

‘Cool!’ he said, kneeling down to retrieve the rifle. ‘Oracle has got us new weapons.’

‘Move aside, Bucktooth, before you get hurt,’ said the pirate with sticking-out ears. Barging the lad with his elbow, he picked up the rifle, slipped it from its protective wrapper and admired the well-oiled weapon. ‘AK47. Chinese manufactured. Very reliable.’

‘Let me have a go, Juggs,’ begged Bucktooth.

Juggs gave him a dismissive look. ‘These are for real men, not boys! Here, you can have this.’

He passed Bucktooth an old revolver. The boy gazed at it in awe and grinned.

From another box, Juggs slammed a full magazine
into the assault rifle and took casual aim at the nearby cliff face.

CLACK, CLACK, CLACK …

‘
Wooooooo!
’ he shouted above the roar of gunfire. The defenceless cliff spat shards of rock and dust as the barrage of bullets ripped into it.

‘CEASE FIRE!’ ordered Spearhead.

The earsplitting
crack
of the AK47 echoed off the cliff then faded.

‘But there are
boxes
of them,’ protested Juggs, still grinning from ear to ear with the buzz of his newly acquired firepower.

‘Then load the boxes on to the boats,’ snapped Spearhead, snatching away the weapon.

Juggs scowled but nonetheless bent down and heaved the ammo box across the sand.

The pirates worked slowly in the blistering sun, the harsh onshore wind offering no respite from the furnace-like heat. Gradually the skiffs filled with weapons, ammunition, diesel, navigation equipment, water and food supplies.

‘And what have we got here?’ muttered Big Mouth to himself as he discovered a long wooden box in the back of the last 4x4. He jimmied off the lid and hefted out a brand-new rocket-propelled grenade launcher. Sifting through the paper-pulp packaging, he also uncovered several rockets. ‘I think I’m in love,’ he said, caressing one of the warheads.

With hands trembling from anticipation, he carefully loaded one of the rockets, shouldered the launcher and took aim at the rusted cargo ship in the bay.

‘Look out for that old fisherman,’ warned Bucktooth as he eyed the formidable weapon with a mix of awe and fear.

‘It’s
he
who should look out.’ With a crooked grin, Big Mouth depressed the trigger.

The rocket
whooshed
out of the launcher and scorched over the waves. Even at this distance, the pirates could see the old fisherman’s face widen in terror. He dived into the waters just before the rocket passed over his little boat and struck the cargo ship behind. There was a deep howl of twisting metal as a massive explosion ripped through the hull. The ship’s fuel tanks ignited with the last of their diesel and a ball of fire engulfed the entire bow. The little fishing skiff was caught in the expanding blast, disintegrating into a shower of flaming splinters.

‘Did you see
that
?’ whooped Big Mouth, dancing a jig on the beach. ‘These babies are tank-busters!’

The other pirates hollered and bent double with laughter as the fisherman’s head bobbed back up amid the carnage of his fishing boat. He swam desperately for the shore, leaving his only means of scraping a living to float away in shattered pieces.

Spearhead stormed over to Big Mouth and shouted in his face, ‘What did you do THAT for?’

Wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, the pirate held up the RPG launcher. ‘Just checking its accuracy.’

Spearhead clocked Big Mouth round the back of his head with an open palm, the slap almost as loud as the grenade explosion.

‘
Ow!
’ complained Big Mouth, shying away from their commander. The other pirates instantly stopped laughing.

‘You’ll buy that old man a new boat out of your ransom share,’ Spearhead ordered, ‘or I’ll gut you like a tuna fish.’

‘Chill, Spearhead,’ replied Big Mouth, waving him away. ‘With the money we’ll get, I’ll buy that fishhead
two
boats.’

‘The white pickup truck you identified was a ringer,’ said Charley.

‘A
ringer
?’ repeated Connor, holding up his mobile phone so that both he and Ling could see Charley’s face on the screen. They huddled in a quiet area of the Seychelles International Airport while awaiting the arrival of Mr Sterling’s private jet.

‘A stolen vehicle, its licence plates swapped with a set from a written-off car,’ Charley explained. ‘There’s no way we can trace the truck.’

‘What about the two muggers?’ asked Ling.

‘We had a bit more luck with them. Amir scoured CCTV from the local area and found a grainy shot of the two guys on rollerblades. Using the Australian Criminal Intelligence Database, we’ve managed to identify the man with the tattoo as Todd Logan and his associate as Doug Carter.’

Two mugshots, one of a grizzled white man, the other of a bald-headed black man, filled the screen.

‘They’re both heavies-for-hire,’ Charley’s voice continued in the background. ‘Linked to numerous criminal gangs,
they’ve a list of convictions as long as their arms: robbery, drug-dealing, extortion, arson, GBH and murder. You name it, they’ve probably done it. Released only last month from prison, I guess they were desperate to earn a fast buck.’

Connor exchanged a stunned look with Ling. Both realized how lucky they’d been to get away so lightly in the attack.

‘So where are the men now?’ asked Ling.

Charley’s face reappeared on Connor’s phone.

‘The Sydney police haven’t been able to track them down yet, but as soon as I hear anything you’ll be the first to know. In the meantime, I’ll see what else I can dig up on them.’

‘Thanks,’ said Connor. ‘At least we’ve got decent ID shots of them now.’

‘All part of the service,’ said Amir, nudging into the frame beside Charley. ‘So how’s the weather out there?’

‘Oh, rainy, cold and miserable,’ sighed Ling, putting on her glummest expression.

‘
Really?
’ said Amir, his eyes widening in undisguised delight at the thought.

Connor couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Of course not! It’s twenty-eight degrees and glorious sunshine.’

Amir scowled. ‘Well, it’s the same here,’ he said, ‘apart from the lack of sun and warmth. Anyway, I just wanted to check that my equipment is still functioning.’

Connor waggled the sunglasses on his head. ‘All looking good.’

Hearing his name being called, Connor glanced up to see Brad beckoning them to join him at the arrivals gate.

‘Have to go,’ Connor explained to Amir. ‘Mr Sterling’s jet has just landed.’

‘Oh, it’s a hard life for some,’ said Amir in a gently mocking tone. ‘Give us a shout if you need anything
technical
.’

‘Stay sharp and stay safe,’ added Charley, before ending the video call.

Connor slipped the phone into the pocket of his polo-shirt, the flotation cover making it too bulky for his shorts, then followed Ling across to Brad.

‘OK, guys, let’s look professional,’ Brad said, breaking into a wide grin. ‘Now the hard work really begins.’

Brad had already performed a security sweep of the airport terminal with their help and was satisfied that the location was secure. They watched through the window as the sleek Gulfstream jet taxied up to the private gate. After a minute or so, the aircraft’s doors opened and a stairway unfolded. Mr Sterling emerged followed by a slender blonde woman with long tanned legs in a daringly short dress and high heels. With the poise of a professional model, she gracefully descended the steps on to the runway.

‘Pick your jaw up!’ hissed Ling, glowering sideways at Connor.

Connor hadn’t realized he was gawping. But he wasn’t alone in his admiration. As Amanda Ryder sashayed into the terminal building, every man’s head turned towards her. Rather than appear jealous, Mr Sterling seemed to thrive on the attention his glamorous fiancée attracted.

As the couple approached, Mr Sterling smiled at his
welcoming party. The tautness Connor had noticed in the man’s features while in Sydney had softened, as if he’d left the burden of his work behind, but the media mogul’s eyes still maintained their steely intensity.

‘Good to see you both again,’ he said, nodding at Connor and Ling. ‘Brad, everything in order?’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Brad. ‘And may I welcome you to the Seychelles, Ms Ryder.’

‘Why, thank you,’ she replied, her voice smooth as honey. She squeezed Mr Sterling’s arm affectionately. ‘But hopefully I won’t be using that name much longer.’

In response, Mr Sterling smiled and kissed her warmly on the cheek.

A respectful distance behind the couple stood Mr Sterling’s personal bodyguard, one of the few men in the terminal not to be admiring Ms Ryder. Instead he focused on his new surroundings, offering a professional nod of courtesy to Brad in the process. Dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and chinos, he looked like any other tourist. And since he was wearing shades Connor couldn’t read his expression when he also gave a barely perceptible acknowledgement to him and Ling. Recalling his briefing notes, Connor knew the man’s name was Dan and that he’d been Mr Sterling’s close protection officer ever since the last one was fired following Emily’s kidnapping.

‘And when will your daughters be joining us, sir?’ Brad asked Mr Sterling.

Just at that moment, the gate opened again and the girls entered, dressed in flowery summer tops and white shorts.

Brad gestured to Connor, who stepped forward to greet them. ‘Hi, Emily! Welcome to –’

‘I’m
Chloe
,’ said the sister he was addressing. She flicked back a lock of straw-blonde hair to reveal her ear. ‘I have a mole on my right earlobe; Emily doesn’t, if that helps.’

‘Sorry,’ said Connor, unable to believe he’d made such a faux pas.

‘So how was your flight?’ asked Ling, swiftly moving on from Connor’s mistake as Mr Sterling informed Brad of his plans for the holiday.

‘Fine, although I never can sleep on planes,’ replied Emily. She offered them both an awkward smile. ‘Look, I want to apologize for my behaviour the first time we met.’

‘Nothing to apologize for,’ said Connor diplomatically.

‘No, I was rude and ill-mannered.’ She glanced in the direction of her father, who was being escorted by Brad towards the exit. Still she lowered her voice. ‘I was angry at my father, not you. But you proved your worth in Sydney. So I hope … we can make a fresh start.’

‘Of course,’ said Connor, shaking the hand she offered. ‘Forget it ever happened.’

‘Thanks.’ Emily tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. ‘Sorry, long journey.’

‘Shall we make a move to the yacht then?’ he suggested. ‘You can rest and freshen up.’

Emily smiled and nodded.

Chloe was already skipping off towards the exit. ‘Absolutely. We’re missing out on valuable sunbathing time.’

Ling called after her Principal. ‘You’ve forgotten your bag,’ she said, pointing to a small wheeled carry-on case.

Chloe barely glanced over her shoulder. ‘No, I think
you’ve
forgotten my bag.’

Ling frowned and shot Connor a questioning look. They’d been taught by their instructor Jody that a bodyguard always needed to keep their hands free so they could react quickly to a sudden threat. Carrying the shopping, bags or belongings of a Principal immediately limited a bodyguard’s response time.

Connor shrugged in response. Ling was left with little other choice than to do as she was told. By now Chloe was almost at the exit and would soon be out of sight.
That
was an even more risky situation for a bodyguard. Huffing to herself, Ling snatched the bag’s handle and hurried after her Principal.