Hostage to Fortune

by Carolyn McCrae

  “What is it, Arjun?” his mother asked through the locked door of his room. “Have you broken up with your girlfriend? We know you have one. Has she broken up with you? Is that what the problem is?”

  “Go away. Leave me alone.”

  “Arjun, you are not a teenage girl. You are nearly twenty-five years old. You are a man. You have a man’s responsibilities. Your father needs you in the office. He is too old to have all the burden on his own shoulders. Stop being so selfish.”

  The next morning Arjun appeared at breakfast. Nothing was said about his week of isolation; instead he told his father he wanted to learn more about the business and that meant working in Head Office not in one of their twenty or more shops.

  Ashesh was delighted but it was not long before even he could see Arjun’s heart was not in it.

  For four more difficult years his sisters and their husbands covered up for his inadequacies but it was clear to all that he did not have his father’s qualities and the family feared for the future of the business when Ashesh finally retired.

  “You should be married by now. When I was your age not only was I running the business, I had a wife and two children.” Ashesh began a familiar argument on the morning of Arjun’s twenty-eighth birthday. “You are still living at home. Since you have shown no signs of having a steady girlfriend your mother and I have decided for you. Usha is the daughter of—”

  “No.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “No. I will not.”

  “You will do as I dictate.”

  “I will not.”

  “How can you say that and hurt your mother so?”

  “I will not marry this Usha. I will not marry anyone.”

  “What do you intend to do then, because you will not be welcome in my house one day longer.”

  “That trust fund money is mine now, isn’t it?”

  Ashesh sighed. He had feared the argument would come to this. He nodded slowly. “It is. And has been for three years now.”

  “I want it.”

  “Now? You want it now? What can you want it for? It is intended to buy you, your wife and your children a comfortable life. That money is for your wife and sons as much as for you.”

  “I will never have children, or a wife. Do you know so little about me?”

  Arjun waited for some response from his father. He noticed his mother glancing meaningfully at her husband but neither said a word.

  “If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t like women. Not in that way.”

  Again Ashesh sighed. He had had his suspicions, his wife and daughters had warned him, but he had refused to believe them. “You are my only son. I have worked all these years to give you a good life. You will do as I tell you. You will marry the woman we choose for you.”

  “I will not.”

  “You refuse?”

  “I do. Completely. If I ever marry it will be to someone I choose and that person will be a man.”

  It took only a few moments for the disappointment Ashesh felt to give way to anger. He stood up, ignoring his wife’s pleading expression. “You have two days to leave my house, two days to pack up what is yours and say your goodbyes to your mother and to your sisters. We never want to see you again. You are, and have always been, my greatest failure.”

  Arjun said nothing.

  He would leave. He would sort out the money somehow. His father could not stop him accessing his trust fund. His father would no longer have any power over him.

  “You think to use the money from the trust fund? Do you imagine for one moment there are no constraints on the use of that money?” Ashesh asked, his anger subsiding but not his resolve.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That money has come from the hard work of many people; every man and woman who has every worked for me has contributed to our profits and added to the sum you now want to use no doubt frivolously on entertainments and loose living.”

  “So?”

  “I am a trustee of the fund; I am the legal owner of the not insubstantial amount residing in its portfolio.”

  “You own it?”

  “I own it but, under the terms of the original agreement, it is not for my benefit. It is for your benefit and your benefit only unless…”

  “Unless?” his son asked, for the first time worried that his father might, after all, have control over him.

  “It is for your benefit as long as you do not become involved in any actions that are immoral or illegal and until the day I die I will hold you to that.”

  Arjun argued, “But I’m not.”

  “You have just admitted to being homosexual.”

  “Being gay is neither immoral nor illegal.”

  “That’s as maybe but you know I cannot approve.”

  “Your disapproval makes it neither illegal nor immoral.”

  When his father did not reply Arjun knew he had won the argument.

  A substantial amount of money would be transferred to his private account. He could do as he pleased.

  He thought he was free.

  Chapter 8: Arjun Leaves Home

  Ashesh reluctantly cooperated in making money from the fund available to Arjun. He signed the forms with a great show of having no option but to do as his son wanted.

  He had had little choice after his wife had told him that the best way to lose their son forever was to stand in his way. “Perhaps you are right,” he had admitted at the end of a discussion that, unusually, spanned more than a day. “Perhaps if we allow him leeway now he will come back, his tail between his legs, begging for a job and a roof over his head.”

  They may well have hoped that one day he would return but when Arjun left his father’s house he knew it would be forever. He not only knew he would never return to live with them, he thought it highly unlikely he would ever see his family again. He did not care that he would never have to put up with his father’s prejudices but he knew he would regret having to cut himself off from his mother and sisters.

  “Keep in touch by text, email, somehow,” Raima, his eldest sister, had whispered, crying as she had hugged him to her.

  Arjun held back his own tears as he hugged her back.

  “I have to go. I have to,” he had said weakly.

  “You know we’ll always worry about you, my little Arjay. Where will you go?”

  “I was thinking of the Caribbean.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve sort of got this idea of buying a boat, a luxury motor yacht, and then I can sail from island to island and be who I want to be.”

  “But you don’t know how to sail,” Raima had said, shaking her head in disbelief at her brother’s plans.

  “I will hire someone to do that, to keep the boat going to get us from island to island, to deal with all the paperwork and bureaucracy that no doubt will be involved.”

  “You’ll soon learn to do that yourself, won’t you?”

  Arjun shook his head. “If I pay someone I will expect them to do what is necessary. I’ll only have to bother with things that interest me.”

  “Make sure you let us know how you’re getting on,” Raima said, trying not to let her little brother see how doubtful she felt about his plans, “and every now and again let me know you are safe.”

  When Arjun reached Road Town on the island of Tortola he headed straight for the bank where his account had been set up. He knew he would only feel confident when he knew the funds would be transferred regularly to his account.

  “Are you planning on buying a yacht?” the woman in the bank asked him.

  “That’s the plan,” Arjun replied with more self-assurance than he felt.

  “How much do you know about boats and sailing the Caribbean?”

  “Not much,” Arjun admitted.

  “Then you’ll need some
one to help.”

  “That would be good. Do you know someone?”

  “I’ll introduce you to Rick. He’ll help and I think you two might get on really well.”

  Rick was like no one Arjun had ever come across before. He was Australian, from Tasmania, and always said exactly what he thought.

  “Banker-woman says you need help to find a yacht? How much you got?”

  “I just have an idea what I want but I have no idea what something that would suit me would cost.”

  “So what would suit you?”

  “Something small enough to be operated using a crew of only one but large enough to have space and not feel cramped.” Arjun did not want to have the complications of more than one young man on board at a time. “And it must be able to cross the Atlantic, just in case I need to go back to Europe with it.”

  “Her.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Her. Yachts are female. Call them ‘her’.”

  “Okay, I might want her to go over to Europe.”

  “Tell me, what made you think buying a yacht was a good idea? You don’t seem to know much about them.”

  Arjun was not sure why he felt the need to answer what seemed to him to be an impertinent question but he did. “For nearly ten years I’ve spent my days selling overpriced saris to overweight women, and lying about how attractive they looked, now I’m going to live my life my way.”

  “And that means sailing between the islands of the Caribbean?”

  “It does and also indulging myself.”

  “Indulging yourself?” They both knew exactly what Arjun was implying. “Now I see why Banker-woman put you in my direction,” Rick said as he rested his arm, almost nonchalantly, around Arjun’s shoulders.

  Peabody Three was the third yacht the broker showed Arjun and Rick.

  “You can handle her?” Arjun asked.

  “No worries.”

  “On your own?”

  “She’s set up for that.”

  Arjun looked around the spacious saloon and well-equipped galley before heading for the main cabin with its double bed, pop-up television and ensuite facilities and decided he would be very comfortable there.

  “You can cook too?” he asked Rick.

  “Sure can.”

  “And you’ll keep the place clean and tidy?”

  “Sure will.”

  “Right then. Let’s do this.”

  It did not take Arjun long to realise that Rick had lied to him.

  When Arjun asked why they were using the motor, using up fuel, when there were sails and what seemed to be a decent wind, Rick prevaricated, saying he thought it would be easier for Arjun to get his sea legs when under power.

  The first meal Rick cooked was inedible, but the excuse was that he was getting used to the equipment in the galley. When Arjun caught two fish which looked perfectly fit for human consumption once gutted, Rick threw them back into the water and cooked a frozen pizza in the microwave. Nor did Rick show any intention of doing anything to keep the small environment they shared neat and tidy.

  Arjun became increasingly certain, also, that Rick was not properly qualified; he seemed unsure of how some of the equipment worked, including the radio, and did not seem confident with navigation.

  If it hadn’t been for the sex he would have dumped Rick when they made their first stop in Antigua and where he got talking in a quayside bar with a number of personable young men looking for jobs on yachts.

  He was relieved when, the morning after they arrived in Bridgetown, Barbados, he saw Rick walking up the ramp from Peabody Three onto the quayside carrying his two bags. Two months had been all he could stand and he had been about to give Rick his marching orders anyway.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Time to move on.”

  “You weren’t going to say goodbye?”

  “It’s been fun but it’s time to move on.”

  “Didn’t you want paying? You’ve been with me for a few weeks, I must owe you something.”

  “No worries. I’ve made some of my own, you know, wheeling and dealing, island to island.”

  Arjun nodded as if he understood but he had no idea what Rick meant.

  “No point in hanging around when something’s come to an end, is there?”

  Arjun shook his head. “What am I going to do with the yacht?” He knew he sounded as hopeless as he felt.

  “It won’t take long for you to find another boy. Bridgetown is heaving with wannabe sailors, some even know what they’re doing.”

  “More than you do?” Arjun asked meaningfully.

  Rick grinned. “Banker-woman wanted rid of me. She was worried her boyfriend fancied me. You turned up just at the right time.”

  As Arjun watched Rick walk away he was surprised at how little emotion he felt.

  After Raj he had been inconsolable but now he simply looked forward to the next man.

  That next man appeared after only two days.

  This time Arjun checked the qualifications and Guy’s seemed in order. He listened as the young man confidently described his experiences of sailing the Caribbean and was impressed with the tales of how widely he had travelled, and with the certificate that proved he was qualified. He could not help but feel attracted to the tall, dark-eyed, dark-haired young man.

  “Sure, I can sail this boat, no problem. How did she get the name?”

  “Peabody Three? I have no idea. I didn’t choose it.”

  “And what do I call you? If you hire me, that is.”

  “Don’t call me Captain or anything like that, just call me AP.”

  “What’s your name then?”

  “AP,” Arjun replied firmly. He had been too friendly with Rick, they had called each other by their first names, so he was going to keep his distance from this young man, if only for a few weeks.

  “Okay, AP, what do you do with Peabody? Do you just sail around or do you do anything more interesting?”

  “More interesting?” Arjun had no idea what he meant.

  “Do you just do cash and rum or have you got involved in the drugs runs?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Guy laughed. “So you don’t use your Peabody to smuggle anything when you cruise the islands? You’ve never gone up to Florida, to Cuba and Puerto Rico?”

  “Of course I don’t. Of course I haven’t.” Arjun managed to sound indignant.

  “So you’re rich enough to spend your life sailing around the Caribbean?”

  “Is that how you see me?”

  Guy shook his head unconvincingly and changed the subject. “I don’t mean to be rude but do you know anything about sailing?”

  “I’ve only had this yacht for two months.”

  “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

  “No, I admit it. I know very little about boats, yachts, whatever. I wouldn’t have the first idea what to do. That’s why I pay someone else to do it. What is it they say? Why pay a dog and bark yourself?”

  “You can rely on me to bark.”

  Arjun enjoyed Guy’s company and was soon impressed by how well he controlled the yacht and with how respectful he was. It did not matter to him that Guy seemed to have no interest in him personally; he could indulge himself with local talent whenever they were in port.

  A month after Guy joined Peabody Three he served a very special meal.

  “That was really good. What was it?” Arjun asked

  “Freshly caught mahi-mahi, some people call it ‘dolphin’ but it isn’t.”

  “Catch some more sometime, that was a treat, very tasty.”

  “Can I suggest something?” Guy asked as he cleared the table.

  “Fire ahead.”

  “I’ve heard that there’s a couple who would like a ride.”

&
nbsp; “A ride?”

  “They’re stuck on an island just off the coast of Panama.”

  “Stuck?”

  “They’ve run out of money but a friend will pay their fare if we pick them up and take them to Dominica.”

  “A passenger who will pay me?”

  “It won’t be a lot but it might buy a tank or two of fuel for when we need it.”

  “Good thinking. Why not?”

  “No reason at all.”

  That couple were the first of many passengers who Guy learned, Arjun was never sure how, needed helping out.

  Arjun enjoyed the company and the additional money helped stretch out the sums added monthly into his bank account. It became a regular pattern, one voyage with just the two of them and the next with some passengers.

  It did not occur to him that what they were doing might be of questionable legality.

  “Honestly, AP, there’s no need to say anything to anyone about them,” Guy said when Arjun wondered aloud whether ignoring their passengers on the forms he filled in was strictly correct.

  “But I can’t just say there’s two people on board when there’s five, can I?”

  “Of course you can. No one’s interested in those details.”

  But Arjun allowed himself to worry.

  “Those passengers we dropped off yesterday… Who were they? They weren’t just moving between ports to pick up another yacht, were they?”

  “Of course they were. They just wanted to get to St Lucia to pick up another yacht.”

  Arjun changed tack. “So you aren’t engaged in smuggling people?”

  “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  “I was reading…”

  “I thought you liked having different people on board so you wouldn’t get bored with my company. Honestly, AP, we’re simply offering a taxi service.”

  “Are we smuggling anything? If not people then rum? Tobacco? Drugs?” Arjun was remembering Guy’s interview.

  “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that I was reading about what people do.”

  “I know a lot of people do smuggle stuff but not me.”