Bodyguard: Ransom (Book 2) by Chris Bradford

young pirate.
    ‘When you can grow a beard you can!’ laughed Spearhead.
    As other pirates joined in the laughter, a mobile phone chirped loudly.
    ‘It’s not mine,’ said Big Mouth quickly, knowing how much their boss frowned on having his meetings interrupted.
    The ring persisted and now every pirate checked his phone, each one praying it wasn’t his. Gradually all eyes turned to the innocuous sports bag.
    Oracle’s brow furrowed slightly. Then he nodded toSpearhead to investigate. The great man bent down, unzipped the bag and removed a brown envelope. Its contents rang and vibrated. Ripping the envelope open, he pulled out a slim mobile phone.
    Oracle indicated with a jut of his chin for Spearhead to answer.
    ‘
Iska warran?
’ Spearhead listened for a moment, then said, ‘It’s for you, boss,’ offering the handset.
    Oracle warily studied the intruding phone, then put it to his ear.
    ‘
Haa
 … Yes, I speak English …’ he said, switching languages fluidly. ‘Not at all, I was just having lunch … It’s always a pleasure to hear from an investor.’ However, his cordial words did not match his stony expression. ‘Yes, I’ve received the full amount …’
    The other pirates looked on, bemused by the foreign conversation. Only Spearhead among the pirate gang had a working command of English, and he listened with growing curiosity.
    ‘Your request is highly unusual … What do you mean it
isn’t
a request?’ Oracle’s expression darkened at the caller’s unheard response. ‘I answer to
no one
!’ he snapped. ‘No … I have not yet looked in the envelope.’
    Oracle waved an impatient hand at Spearhead to pass it over. Turning out the contents, several typed sheets of paper and a large photo print of a yacht landed on the carpet. ‘Yes, I can see the target you propose. But why would you want
that
when I could get you an oil tanker?’
    Oracle listened to his investor’s reply and his eyes took on a diamond-like sheen. ‘
How much
did you say?’
    As the figure was reconfirmed, a greasy smile slid across Oracle’s lips. ‘Then we are in my business, my friend. I’ll let you know as soon as my men are ready.’
    Oracle flipped shut the mobile and laid it beside his handgun.
    ‘Get Mr WiFi,’ he ordered.
    Spearhead jerked his bald head at Big Mouth, who left the room and returned a moment later accompanied by a bespectacled young man. With a neatly trimmed goatee, Bermuda shorts and a blue New York Yankees T-shirt, Mr WiFi looked more like a university student than a hardened pirate. Under his arm he carried a battered laptop.
    ‘We have a hijacking to plan,’ announced Oracle.
    ‘About time,’ smiled Mr WiFi, opening his laptop and angling the screen so Oracle could see the live satellite image of the Gulf of Aden. ‘I’m tracking several high-value vessels as we speak.’
    ‘Forget about them,’ Oracle said, causing Mr WiFi’s smile to vanish in dismay. He handed him the photo along with one of the info sheets. ‘
This
is our target.’
    Perching on the edge of the divan, Mr WiFi hunched over his whirring laptop. The pirates ostrich-necked to try and see what he was doing as his fingers rapidly danced across the keyboard. In the search window of a hacked Marine Intelligence Unit website, Mr WiFi typed:
motor yacht Orchid …

 
    Maddox Sterling’s office was a glass wonder. A capsule of 360-degree views, its four walls were constructed from electro-chromatic smart windows. The special glass, stretching from the floor to ceiling, automatically altered its transparency according to the sun’s strength and position in the sky. Being mid-morning, the eastern wall had darkened amber-brown against the golden light streaming over Sydney’s Central Business District.
    Maddox Sterling, his back to the shaded sun, stood as Colonel Black, Ling and Connor were ushered in by his PA. Entering the office was almost disconcerting. For Connor, it felt as if he could step right off