The Power Trip

by Jackie Collins

  The shocked crew watched in horror, anticipating their fate. They’d heard stories about what pirates did to their hostages, and it wasn’t pretty.

  ‘Where are the girls?’ Den whispered to Guy. ‘Renee and Mercedes?’

  Guy didn’t want to think about where they might be.

  * * *

  Cruz did not believe in wasting time. Everyone had a job to do, and his job was to get the ransom demand in action as fast as possible.

  He was in charge, and they’d all best listen to him or else, because the faster the money was paid, the easier it would be for all concerned.

  He was in possession of a yacht full of rich, famous people. It wouldn’t be long before some kind of rescue mission was launched. Also he had no doubt that when Sergei’s men failed to return with Kasianenko, Sergei would go on an angry rampage.

  Cruz could only imagine Sergei’s fury, which he’d probably take out on Ina.

  Too bad. Unfortunately there was nothing Cruz could do about that. He had himself to look out for. Besides, he and Ina had never been close. She might be his sister, but he didn’t like her that much.

  The key to getting this all done quickly was Kasianenko himself. Once he had the Russian billionaire’s co-operation, everything should move smoothly.

  Cruz was confident that soon he’d be richer than he’d ever dreamed of.

  * * *

  ‘What the hell is this?’ Bianca questioned, staring at her Russian lover.

  Aleksandr had pressed a hidden button, and the mirrored wall behind his shower slid back revealing a secret room.

  ‘It’s a safe room,’ Aleksandr said matter-of-factly. ‘For emergencies.’

  ‘Is this an emergency?’ Bianca questioned, widening her eyes.

  ‘I have no idea until I see what’s going on,’ Aleksandr said. ‘And before I do that, I must make sure you are protected.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Bianca exclaimed, beginning to experience waves of panic. ‘You do think something bad is happening.’

  Ever so gently, Aleksandr edged her into the compact room – fully equipped for any kind of situation, even including a satellite phone. ‘I’ll make a call when I know for sure what’s happening,’ he said.

  Bianca was in semi-shock. She watched in awe as Aleksandr removed a handgun from a cupboard stocked with all kinds of emergency supplies. Then he checked that the gun was loaded, and stuck it in his belt. Talk about macho! Somehow it was reassuring that he remained so calm.

  ‘In the meantime,’ Aleksandr said, ‘do not even think of coming out until I return.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said meekly. ‘Hurry back and be safe.’

  ‘Oh, I will be, angel moy. No need to worry about me.’

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Adventure had always been Flynn’s thing. Taking risks, getting himself out of dangerous situations, knowing what to do and when to do it.

  Being trapped on a billionaire’s yacht with a bunch of bloodthirsty pirates was not a situation he had ever imagined he’d ever encounter. Only here it was, and here he was, bang in the middle.

  Obviously their main prize was Aleksandr, although who knew what they’d do when they discovered who else was aboard?

  Flynn recalled his conversations with the pirates he’d interviewed in Eyl. At the time they’d been holding a large oil tanker for ransom. They’d proudly informed him that all the captives aboard were being well looked after and treated like guests at a fine hotel. It was only later he’d discovered that two of the female hostages had been raped, and one of the male captives brutally murdered – even though the ransom was eventually paid.

  Flynn’s mind started clicking into overdrive.

  Advantages: he knew every detail of the yacht. He was into martial arts. He understood the pirate mentality. So far he had not been spotted.

  Disadvantages: no weapon. No idea how many pirates there were. No form of communication with the outside world. Unsettling to say the least.

  He’d heard a lot of shouting and a couple of gunshots. Not good.

  His main thought was, Is Hammond capable of protecting Sierra?

  No fucking way.

  It was up to him to figure something out.

  * * *

  Roaming the yacht searching for stragglers, waving his gun in front of him ready to shoot anyone who gave him any trouble, Basra made a frightening figure with his deep sunken eyes, lack of teeth and unkempt, rain-soaked dreadlocks.

  He passed the security room where Kyril now lay on the floor, a neat bullet-hole through the middle of his forehead.

  Had he done that? He couldn’t remember.

  After a moment he doubled back, entered the room, wrenched the watch from Kyril’s wrist and put it on his own emaciated wrist. The watch was black with a red dial. Cheap and cheerful.

  Next he kicked and pushed Kyril’s body out of his way, and sat himself down in the command chair facing a slew of security monitors, all of them blank, for Cruz had cut the feed. A plate of brownies stood on the shelf in front of him. Basra snatched one up and shoved it in his mouth. Sweet and tasty. He wolfed down another one, and then a third.

  Sitting back, he admired his new black watch with the smart red dial. The watch of a dead man was a fine souvenir for him to cherish, especially when he showed it off at home, making his three sons jealous.

  Ah . . . his sons, lazy wacals. It was time to kick some sense into them as only he could.

  Perhaps he’d remember, perhaps he wouldn’t.

  * * *

  On the first day the guests had boarded the yacht, Aleksandr had generously offered everyone the opportunity to take the full tour. Flynn had accepted his offer, and now he was glad he’d done so, for knowing the layout of the yacht was imperative.

  There were four levels. The lower level consisted of staff quarters, kitchens and the engine room. On the next level were a series of luxury suites, all with their own small terraces, plus the movie theatre, spa and other facilities. On the middle deck, there was the swimming pool, gym, and various areas for relaxing and entertaining, plus the bridge, communication centre, and the master suite with its own large terrace. And finally the upper level was all lounges, sun decks and more entertaining areas.

  Flynn realized that he had to figure out a way to reach Aleksandr, for maybe – just maybe – Kasianenko was still in his suite.

  He made a dangerous but do-able decision. Before anyone discovered him, he was going over the side.

  * * *

  After getting Bianca into the safe room, Aleksandr headed towards the door. To his consternation it would not open more than an inch. Bending down and peering through the crack, he soon saw why. The door had been padlocked from the outside.

  He wondered where Kyril was. The big man had protected him for so many years, always been at his side whenever Aleksandr had needed him. Indeed, Kyril had once taken a bullet for him when an irate business associate had attempted to shoot him. Kyril was loyal through and through. If he was alive he would be here now.

  Aleksandr felt a thickness in his throat. Instinct told him that Kyril was either dead or mortally wounded.

  Reaching back, he felt the reassuring presence of his gun. Motherfuckers. Whoever was on his yacht better beware. Aleksandr Kasianenko was not going down without a fight.

  * * *

  Captain Dickson was hauled unceremoniously from his bed by Amiin, who punched him in the stomach and muttered a gruff, ‘Up, mister, this boat now ours.’

  Anxiety overcame the English Captain as he realized what was taking place. In all his years at sea, this was the moment he’d always dreaded.

  ‘What . . . what are you thinking?’ he managed, shying away from the dark-skinned man who stood before him brandishing a gun.

  ‘Come,’ Amiin said. ‘Follow me or I shoot you in gut.’

  ‘Can I get dressed first?’

  ‘Quick,’ Amiin said, waving his gun in the air. ‘You do it quick.’

  Hurriedly the Captain pulled o
n a pair of pants and a shirt. Then at gunpoint he went with Amiin upstairs to the bridge, where Cruz restlessly waited.

  When Captain Dickson came face to face with the man he assumed was the leader, he immediately attempted to assert himself. ‘This is outrageous,’ he said, sounding extremely stiff-upper-lip British. ‘Who are you people? What do you want?’

  ‘Waddya think we want?’ Cruz retorted, rubbing the deep scar on his neck. ‘Wanna make a guess?’

  ‘You won’t get away with this,’ Captain Dickson blustered, swallowing hard. ‘My men have already alerted the coastguard. Help is on its way.’

  ‘Your fuckin’ men were all asleep on the job,’ Cruz sneered. ‘Comin’ aboard was like takin’ a walk in the park.’

  ‘Where are my passengers?’ Captain Dickson demanded. ‘If you’ve harmed them in any way—’

  ‘Shut your fuckin’ mouth an’ listen t’me,’ Cruz said roughly. ‘You’re gonna fetch the Russian motherfucker, an’ bring him here. Understand?’ He gestured towards Amiin. ‘Take him with. He give you any trouble, shoot him in the head.’ Captain Dickson swallowed hard again. Fear coursed through his body. If he survived this, he was retiring.

  The if hung like a neon question-mark before his eyes.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, down in the mess-hall, the pirates had discovered bottles of beer, and Daleel and Hani were swigging it down, quenching their thirst, jeering at their hostages, making lewd signs at the two petrified maids and the housekeeper.

  Jeromy huddled in a corner, still wearing his silk pyjamas, and trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. These men were dangerous savages – God knew what they were capable of.

  Guy did a quick head-count. All the crew were accounted for except the Captain, Mercedes and Renee. He felt fear for the two girls. He’d heard the stories, rape was not uncommon, and Mercedes and Renee were certainly attractive enough.

  Den was thinking along the same lines, and in spite of his head injury he was definitely getting his macho up. Renee was a sweet girl who didn’t deserve what might be happening to her.

  ‘We just gonna sit here an’ do nothin’?’ he muttered to Guy. ‘These dickheads are gettin’ drunker than a dingo’s arse. Fair go, mate, we gotta do somethin’.’

  ‘And get ourselves shot?’ Guy said, eyeing the three pirates who were supposedly in charge. ‘Best to sit tight and wait.’

  ‘For what?’ Den said, his temper rising. ‘We gotta go for it.’

  Guy realized that Den was young – twenty-five, twenty-six – he didn’t understand the danger they were in. This wasn’t a TV show. This was real life. Guy knew that the smart thing to do was absolutely nothing.

  If they didn’t give the pirates any trouble, help would surely come. He had to keep the faith.

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  The side of the boat was wet and slippery. To Flynn’s relief the rain had stopped, the storm seemed to be over, and the sea was almost calm. Slowly and surely he lowered himself down the side of the yacht with the help of strong ropes he’d found in a utility cupboard. He kept going until he landed on the terrace that led to the master suite.

  The glass doors leading inside were locked. He could see Aleksandr. Urgently he banged on the glass with his fists until Aleksandr turned around, saw him, and hurried to open the doors.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Aleksandr exclaimed. ‘What is happening, Flynn? Do you know?’

  ‘Pirates,’ Flynn answered quickly. ‘They’ve taken over the boat.’

  ‘You can’t be serious?’

  ‘Dead serious, I’m afraid.’

  ‘This is a disaster,’ Aleksandr said, shaking his head. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Is the door to this room locked?’

  ‘No. Someone’s secured it from the outside, I can’t get out of here.’

  ‘Lock it now,’ Flynn said sharply. ‘They’ll be coming for you any minute.’

  ‘Why me?’ Aleksandr said, frowning.

  ‘’Cause they’ll be needing you to speak to your business people. They’ll want you to order them to pay the ransom immediately.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Trust me, I have knowledge of the way they work.’

  ‘This is some fucked-up situation,’ Aleksandr said, his face grim.

  ‘It is, but we’ll do our best to deal with it,’ Flynn said, trying to inspire confidence. ‘Where’s Bianca?’

  ‘I put her in the safe room,’ Aleksandr said, moving over to lock the door from the inside.

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Behind the shower door in my bathroom. It was a last-minute decision to incorporate it into the plans. Thank God I listened.’

  Flynn nodded. ‘How many people does it hold?’ he asked.

  ‘Five or six.’

  ‘We need to get all the women inside,’ Flynn said, speaking fast. ‘Is there a working phone in there?’

  ‘Satellite,’ Aleksandr said.

  ‘Call the Coast Guard. Summon help,’ Flynn said. ‘Do you have a gun?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘More than one?’

  ‘Someone took the revolver I kept by my bed.’

  ‘You think they were in here?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘They might have a person on the inside. Maybe one of the crew.’

  ‘How should we handle this?’ Aleksandr asked, thankful that Flynn was aboard.

  ‘You put in a distress call to the Coast Guard, while I try to reach the others. They’ve probably got no idea what’s going on.’

  ‘How can you do that?’

  ‘Same way I got in here. Who’s in the suite below this?’

  Aleksandr thought for a moment, his mind going stubbornly blank. ‘The footballer,’ he said at last. ‘Be careful.’

  Flynn nodded, and headed for the terrace. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said confidently. ‘Go make that call.’

  * * *

  ‘You should have put them all together in the mess-hall,’ Mercedes complained to Cruz. ‘It’s not safe to keep them in their rooms.’

  ‘Why not?’ Cruz said, dragging on a cigarette, then spitting out fragments of tobacco. ‘They’re secure. They don’t got nowhere t’go.’

  ‘Ever think they could jump overboard and swim for help?’ Mercedes said. ‘You never know.’

  ‘My little idiota,’ Cruz said with a benevolent chuckle, flashing his two front gold teeth while exhaling a stream of thick smoke. ‘Who’s gonna risk swimming to a deserted island in the middle of the night? You locked ’em in. There’s nothin’ they can do ’cept wait.’

  ‘What if the ransom takes days?’ Mercedes insisted. ‘You lettin’ them starve to death?’

  ‘Why you so concerned?’ Cruz asked, giving her a what-are-you-hiding look.

  She bit down hard on her lower lip. He knew her so well that it was difficult to hide anything from him.

  ‘I was thinkin’ I could go through their rooms, see if there’s anything worth takin’,’ she said, keeping it casual.

  ‘Were you now?’ Cruz said with a knowing smirk. ‘As if you haven’t already picked out what you’re after.’

  ‘What if I did? I think I deserve a bonus after all the work I’ve put in. It’s not much fun bein’ stuck on this boat with a bunch of rich fuckers ordering me around.’

  ‘You spotted something good, chiquita?’

  Cruz rarely used words of affection toward her. She kind of liked it.

  ‘Oh, just clothes an’ stuff,’ she answered vaguely. ‘These spoiled putas have a ton of nice things.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ Cruz said amiably. ‘Amiin’s taken the Captain to bring Kasianenko back here. Once I get the Russian to make it clear to his people they gotta pay up or he ends up on the bottom of the ocean, then we’ll move ’em all downstairs. That make you happy?’

  ‘Thanks, Poppa,’ she said, already picturing her future.

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ Cruz snapped, his mood abruptly changi
ng.

  She’d forgotten for a moment that he didn’t allow her to call him Poppa. It made him feel old in front of whatever whore he was banging.

  ‘Sorry . . . uh . . . Cruz,’ she muttered. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  * * *

  Since he seemed to be getting nowhere with Guy, Den began canvassing other members of the crew. None of them was prepared to make a move.

  ‘So we just sit here,’ Den said, staring them down. ‘Y’know what that makes us? Nothin’ but a bunch of bloody wankers. Why stay still when we could rush ’em? C’mon, mates, there’s only three of ’em against all of us.’

  ‘Yes, and get our heads blown off for the trouble,’ the chef, a stocky Englishman, said. ‘We sit here quietly and wait for the ransom to be paid. That’s what we do. I’ve got a wife and three kids to think about.’

  Den was frustrated. The pirates were getting drunker by the minute. If the rest of the crew co-operated, he was sure they could turn it around.

  Shit! It wasn’t in his nature to sit back, do nothing and be a victim. Besides, he was still worried about Renee and Mercedes; they could be in deep trouble.

  * * *

  Never the heaviest of sleepers, Taye was instantly awake when he heard tapping coming from the direction of the terrace doors.

  He jumped out of bed, bare-assed, which was the way he always slept – and padded over to the doors where Flynn was standing outside.

  Taye opened the glass doors. ‘What the hell?’ he mumbled, disorientated. ‘You fall overboard or what?’

  ‘The boat’s been taken over by pirates,’ Flynn said brusquely, pushing past him. ‘We gotta get Ashley somewhere safe. Do you think she can manage to climb a rope?’

  Taye shook his head to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Nope. He wasn’t dreaming. Flynn was still standing there talking about pirates.

  ‘Is this some kind of a joke?’ he said, confused.

  ‘No, I’m deadly serious. You’ve got to get her upstairs to Aleksandr’s suite right now. There’s a rope outside – help her climb it. Aleksandr has a safe room up there.’

  ‘Jeez!’ Taye exclaimed. ‘You bloody mean it, don’t you?’

  ‘Who’s next door to you?’ Flynn said urgently.