‘Two …’
‘My job is to protect you. And I’ll fight to save you both.’
‘One!’ shouted Oracle.
Connor drew the flare gun from his pocket, took aim and fired.
The flare struck the oil drums, its sparks igniting spilt fuel and causing a massive explosion. The expanding ball of fire engulfed the nearest pirate. His flaming body plummeted like a comet over the side, the fire extinguished in the sea below.
The force of the explosion then ripped across the deck. Pirates dived for cover. The gantry above rocked on its supports, knocking Oracle and Mr Ali off their feet. Emily, thrown against the rail, struck her head and was laid out cold.
As the pirates reeled from the blast, Connor broke from behind the control box and over to the port side. He pulled Chef’s Molotov cocktail from his Go-bag, found his lighter, lit the fuse and tossed it. The bottle shattered on impact, spreading a river of fire across the deck. The two pirates there fled from the flames. The pirate on the walkway didn’t know which way to turn as chaos reigned around him. The Molotov’s flames reached another set of oil drums.
Connor darted back to Chloe and Cali as the fuel in these now ignited with a roar.
‘Run!’ he shouted.
He felt his skin scorching from the heat of the blast. He tried to shield Chloe as they sprinted for the gangway, the smell of her singed hair in his nostrils.
‘Connor, you crazy!’ screamed Cali, running for all he was worth.
Flames seemed to lick at their heels. Thick black smoke swirled around them. They reached the top of the gangway as the blast from the drums at last subsided.
Chloe stopped, panting hard, her face smeared with sweat and smoke. ‘What about my sister?’
Connor was caught in a dilemma. He couldn’t leave Chloe unprotected, yet he had a duty to rescue Emily, even if she was helping the enemy. Now more than ever he wished he had Ling at his side.
Connor looked to Cali. Once more he’d have to trust the Somali boy. But this time with Chloe’s life.
‘Get Chloe to the tender garage. If anyone comes, hide in the bilge.’
Cali nodded. ‘I guard her,’ he said, holding up Bucktooth’s revolver. ‘With my life.’
Connor hoped Cali wouldn’t have to put that claim to the test, but he admired the boy’s courage. He grinned. ‘We’ll make a bodyguard of you yet.’
The tanker rocked with another explosion. Louder. Deeper. And more ominous. Whatever chemicals were aboard the ship, they were now igniting.
Connor rushed across the deck. With the tanker ablaze, the pirates were panicking, more concerned with abandoning the ship than stopping him. Black smoke billowed in the air, obscuring the halogen spots and turning the scene into a hellish twilight, the fires flickering orange-red.
Connor fought his way through the flames and up the stairs to the gantry. Emily still lay on the metal decking. He prayed she wasn’t seriously hurt. Or worse, dead.
‘Emily!’ he called, running over.
She didn’t respond.
Kneeling down beside her, he put his fingers to the pulse in her neck.
‘You’ve cost me millions!’
Connor spun round. Oracle stood behind him, the tanker’s flames reflecting in his silver-mirrored glasses. He aimed his gun at Connor’s chest.
‘A hundred million dollars, to be exact. And you’ll pay for it with your life.’
Oracle pulled the trigger. The gun blast rang in Connor’s ears. At the same time he felt the devastating impact of the bullet and was thrown backwards over Emily’s body. He lay across her, stunned and immobile. Then he took a heaving gasp for breath. His T-shirt and top had withstood the handgun’s attack. But he’d been winded badly and his chest throbbed from another blunt trauma.
Oracle cocked his head to one side when he realized Connor wasn’t dead. Then he spotted the compacted lead shot that had dropped into Connor’s lap.
‘Bulletproof clothing?’ He laughed. ‘Now that is something I need.’
Through the haze of pain, Connor frantically reached for the Dazzler in his pocket. His flare gun was useless, having not reloaded it. He fumbled for the torch, but his body was still in shock from the bullet’s impact and he dropped it.
‘Well, at least I get the pleasure of killing you twice,’ said Oracle, raising his gun. ‘I’ll shoot you in the head this time, though. Just to make sure.’
Connor’s fingers found the Dazzler. Too late.
A shot rang out.
Connor recoiled, expecting to die. But it was Oracle who fell to the ground, a bullet through his head.
Connor blinked, disbelieving what he saw.
A white man stood on the gantry, flames like hellfire rising up behind him. He seemed completely unperturbed by the destruction and panic around him. His face was a mask, no emotion, no colour, his skin pale as ash.
The man pointed his gun at Emily. ‘Does she live?’
Connor nodded, trying to shield her with his body.
The man studied Connor a moment, his gaze as pitiless and cold-blooded as a snake’s.
A third explosion shook the tanker to its core and a cloud of black smoke enveloped the gantry. Connor coughed, his eyes stinging from the chemical fumes. He heard a voice, disturbingly close, whisper something about ‘a little sparrow’, then Emily spluttered for breath.
When the smoke cleared, the man was gone.
Wincing from the bruising on his chest, Connor lifted the semi-conscious Emily on to his shoulders. Another detonation rumbled through the tanker. The gantry lurched sideways. Connor staggered across to the stairwell. His heart pumping, smoke clogging his lungs, he carried her down to the main deck. Only now did Connor fully appreciate his instructor Steve’s fitness training.
In an emergency, you’ll need such strength to get you and your Principal out of the danger zone.
Connor just hoped he could muster enough. His body had taken a serious battering over the past few days. He was running purely on adrenalin.
At the foot of the stairs, he passed the lifeless body of Mr Ali with a bullet through his head, execution-style.
A pirate raced past screaming, his back in flames as he threw himself over the side.
The tanker’s main deck was now a sea of fire. The route to the gangway seemed impassable. But Connor had no option. He sprinted along the outer edge, the heat so intense that he thought his skin would melt. Acrid smoke swirled in front of his eyes and he became disorientated. He shot straight past the gangway. Backing up, he stumbled down the steps, Emily now a dead weight on his shoulders. Starved of oxygen and pushed to his limit, Connor felt that his legs might give way any moment.
Then his feet touched down on the Orchid’s stern.
As he rushed towards the aft stairwell, he almost tripped over a pirate lying on the deck in a pool of his own blood. The pirate looked up, his face taut with pain. Connor recognized him from the Orchid’s bridge, the one who’d been on the phone. The man was clasping his leg, blood seeping from a gunshot wound. He blathered something in Somali, angry and demanding, but Connor ignored him and kept going.
Hurrying down the steps, Connor entered the lower deck’s corridor. He staggered the last few feet. At the door to the tender garage, he spun the lock, kicked it open and came face to face with a gun.
‘Don’t shoot!’ cried Connor. ‘It’s me!’
Cali lowered the gun. ‘Sorry, I thought you Big Mouth. I shoot him once already.’
‘The pirate on deck?’ said Connor. ‘That was your doing?’
Cali nodded and grinned. ‘He not believe I would. But I bodyguard.’
‘Good work,’ said Connor, impressed that the boy had been true to his word. Connor carried Emily into the garage. ‘Where’s Chloe?’
‘She safe,’ replied Cali, running over to the bilge hatch.
Chloe emerged, damp and dishevelled. ‘I can’t believe you hid in there, Cali, it’s revolting.’ Then she saw her sister. ‘Emily!’
Emily moaned in pain as Connor lowered her into the tender.
‘Is she all right?’ asked Chloe.
‘I think it’s only concussion,’ replied Connor, dashing over to the garage’s control panel. ‘Get in quickly and put a life jacket on her.’
As Chloe climbed aboard, he slammed the green Open button with the palm of his hand and the bay doors slid apart. The monstrous noise of the blazing tanker rushed in, more storage tanks detonating like hydrogen bombs. The Orchid trembled in the tanker’s furious shadow.
Turning a key, Connor initiated the tender’s launch. He ran back and jumped into the boat with Cali. As soon as the tender left its mountings and slid into the water, he pressed the ignition and the engine kicked into life.
‘Hold on tight!’ he shouted, pushing the throttle forward.
The tender’s engines roared and the boat took off. Behind them, the tanker burned like an open furnace. It felt as if the heat was chasing them even as they escaped.
The motorboat cut through the water, the waves fire-red in the reflected light of the inferno. Gradually the sea darkened as the tanker receded into the distance and they entered the open water of the Indian Ocean.
‘You’ve done it!’ sobbed Chloe, cradling her sister in her arms. ‘You’ve rescued us, Connor.’
Switching on the radio, Connor picked up the receiver. ‘Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is motorboat Sunbeam, Sunbeam, Sunbeam. Mayday Sunbeam –’
‘We hear you, Sunbeam. This is HMAS Melbourne. What’s your position?’
Connor glanced down at the GPS which, to his relief, had finally picked up a satellite signal. ‘This is motorboat Sunbeam. Our position is –’
The radio shattered as a strafing of bullets cut across their stern.
‘Everybody down,’ cried Connor, ducking behind his seat.
He spun the wheel hard to port as more bullets whizzed overhead.
Out of the darkness, a pirate skiff surged towards them.
Through his night-vision lenses, Connor identified Spearhead crouched in the skiff’s bow, his AK47 tucked against his shoulder. He let loose another volley of shots, then broke from firing to load a new clip.
Connor leapt back into the pilot’s seat. Straightening their course, he pushed the throttle into the red zone and the tender powered away. They thumped over the waves, Chloe, Emily and Cali clinging on for dear life.
The gunfire resumed and Connor veered left then right, trying to avoid the bullets.
‘They catch up!’ shouted Cali.
Connor glanced over his shoulder. The super-charged skiff was gaining on them rapidly.
‘What now?’ cried Chloe over the strained roar of the tender’s engines. ‘The radio’s gone.’
Connor reached behind and yanked the tag that activated the Go-bag’s SART. The high-powered LED beacon began to flash as the device transmitted its high-powered locating signal.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ exclaimed Chloe. ‘Are you trying to make yourself a target?’
Connor didn’t have much choice. If he shrugged off the backpack, he’d lose the protection of the liquid body-armour panel. But Spearhead certainly seemed to appreciate the flashing light. The tender rattled with the impact of more direct hits from 7.62mm high-velocity rounds.
Cali knelt up and began firing the revolver in retaliation. But he was being thrown around so much that Connor doubted a single bullet was on target.
After five shots, the gun clicked empty.
‘No more,’ Cali despaired, ducking down as Spearhead returned fire.
Spray breaking over the tender’s bow, Connor steered them blindly into the night. There was nowhere for them to hide in the open ocean. All he could hope for was to outrun the pirates. But the tender’s engines were already being pushed to their limit. And still it wasn’t enough.
The pirate skiff relentlessly closed the gap.
‘Cali, grab the flare gun in my pocket,’ ordered Connor.
Crawling over the jolting deck, he pulled out the gun.
‘Spare flares are in the side of my Go-bag.’
Reaching up, Cali unzipped the pocket and found the clip of flares.
‘You need to aim at the rear of the skiff,’ Connor explained, ‘where the fuel cans are.’
Nodding, Cali loaded the flare gun.
Spearhead’s skiff was now so close they could hear him shouting his vengeance. ‘I KILL YOU! I KILL YOU ALL!’
‘Hold boat steady,’ demanded Cali.
Connor shot him a disbelieving look. At this speed that was impossible, but he steered as straight a path as he could.
Cali closed one eye, took careful aim and fired. The flare whooshed across the waves. A bright red trail streaked through the night sky. The flare hit its target and, at the moment of impact, the skiff exploded in a massive ball of flame, obliterating the craft and all on board.
‘What on earth did you load?’ Connor exclaimed, easing back on the throttle, their pursuer now destroyed.
Cali stared in astonishment at the gun, then at the flaming wreck of the skiff.
‘It just a flare,’ he replied with a shrug.
Then they heard the whirr of rotor blades and a Seahawk helicopter armed with hellfire missiles thundered overhead.
The assassin gazed out of his hotel window at the dusty, war-torn streets of Mogadishu. The building opposite, once the glamorous al-Uruba Hotel, was now a crumbling shell, pockmarked with the scars of gunfire. The bullet holes always held such fascination for the assassin. He could never understand why so many missed their target. He only ever needed one bullet.
He put on a fresh shirt, glad to be rid of all the lingering soot and reek of burnt chemicals following his escape from the flaming tanker. He held his fingers up to the light and picked at some residual grime. He hated dirt under his fingernails.
His phone rang. He answered it.
‘Status report,’ the caller demanded, the voice distorted by the encrypted line.
‘Mission parameters were met. Mr Gibb is dead. Files wiped. Australian Daily editor silenced. All evidence destroyed.’
‘But what about the ransom negotiations? Those came to a rather unexpected and premature end.’
The assassin continued to pick at his fingernails. ‘Nothing to be concerned about. The hijacking accomplished what it set out to do. Mr Sterling is no longer a threat to the organization. The story is buried.’
‘And the pirates?’
‘Dead men tell no tales.’
‘The Sterling girl lives. Is that a problem for us?’
A trace of a thin smile cut across the assassin’s lips. ‘My little sparrow served her purpose, so I wiped her memory of our encounter before freeing her. She knows nothing that could unbalance Equilibrium.’
The caller seemed to weigh up his answer, then said, ‘We lost significant investment and risked unnecessary exposure as a result of Mr Gibb. Ensure our next investment is secure.’
‘Of course.’
‘And, Mr Grey, don’t leave any loose ends.’
‘I never do.’
‘Nice suntan,’ smirked Jason as Connor entered Buddyguard’s briefing room with Charley.
Where his fire-retardant clothing hadn’t protected him, Connor had suffered first-degree burns escaping the blazing tanker. The skin on his face, arms and hands was still red and sore a week later, but healing well. ‘Very funny. I must have used the wrong oil,’ he replied.
Jason laughed. ‘Welcome back, Connor. Sorry for the dropbear prank. I honestly didn’t think you’d fall for it.’
After the turmoil of the past few weeks, Connor had forgotten all about that incident. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you back one day,’ he grinned.
Ling walked over. At first Connor thought she might hug him. Instead she bumped fists with him.
‘I can’t believe you blew up a tanker!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why am I never there for all the action?’
‘I wish you had been,’ replied Connor. ‘I could�
��ve seriously done with your help.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Marc. ‘I heard the fire was seen over twenty miles out at sea!’
Connor gave a sheepish grin. ‘I needed a distraction to rescue the girls.’
‘Some distraction!’ Marc replied, holding up his hand and high-fiving him.
‘So who’s picking up the bill?’ asked Amir, patting his friend gently on the shoulder.
Charley produced a letter headed with the official logo of Sempaku Shipping. ‘Connor will be glad to learn the shipping company’s insurance covers that little firework display.’
Amir frowned. ‘I meant for all the gear I loaned Connor and he managed to destroy.’
‘Hey, it wasn’t my fault your smartphones aren’t bulletproof,’ pleaded Connor.
Amir sighed in exasperation. ‘You’re making a habit of getting shot. Perhaps we should just wrap you in a bulletproof bag?’
‘Good idea,’ said Richie. ‘Then you could cover his ugly head!’
‘Make sure Richie’s bag is double-layered,’ shot back Connor. ‘Seriously though, Amir, your tech kit was a lifesaver. I couldn’t have succeeded without it.’
‘Connor’s right,’ said Colonel Black, striding into the briefing room. ‘The success of an operation doesn’t rely on a single bodyguard. It’s the work of a whole team. Without the SART in his Go-bag, Connor and his Principals would have been recaptured by the pirates and most likely dead.’
‘Well, I’m sure glad I stayed in wet and windy Wales then,’ said Amir.
As Alpha team took their seats for the debrief, Connor asked, ‘Have you had any news about Emily?’
The colonel nodded. ‘I just received the report. It appears her somewhat unusual behaviour was the result of brainwashing, carried out during her captivity last year. The perpetrators of that kidnapping and this hijack must be linked – possibly as a way to extort money from Mr Sterling, or to gain control over him or his media companies, or both. But all this is speculation.’
‘Has Emily been able to shed any light on it?’ asked Charley.
Bodyguard: Ransom (Book 2) Page 27
