Those in Peril (Unlocked) by Wilbur Smith

‘Graff. London’. He snapped open the lid. The diamonds that made up the heavy necklace nestling on the white satin lining were as big as quail’s eggs and bright as sunlight on a mountain stream. Rogier knew they had once belonged to the American heiress to the Wool-worths fortune. These were what had really interested him.
    ‘Thank you, Mrs Hazel Bannock,’ he said with a smile. ‘However, I doubt that the Flowers of Islam will see fit to send you a formal receipt.’ He knew what the other jewellery boxes contained, so he did not waste time opening them but dropped them all into the briefcase. He nodded to the Arab guard and they went up the companionway to the main deck at a run. His uncle Kamal was waiting for him by the rail. Rogier handed him the briefcase. ‘Take good care of this, my honoured uncle.’
    ‘Where are you going?’ Kamal demanded as he turned back to the companionway.
    ‘There is one more thing I have to do before we leave.’
    ‘You have very little time. The delay on the fuses has only an hour and forty-five minutes to run,’ Kamal warned him.
    ‘Time enough,’ Rogier replied. He leaned over the rail and whistled shrilly. Three of his men whom he had delegated to the duty looked up at him. Each of them carried a specially constructed packing case which Rogier had asked his grandfather to send to him. He beckoned to the men and they came up the side of the Dolphin with the cases. Rogier led them down to Cayla’s deserted suite. He moved quickly into the main cabin and stood in front of the large Gauguin oil painting. As always he found the bright colours pleasing but the depiction of a naked female body offended his pious sensibilities. Nonetheless he lifted the painting down from its hooks and laid it face down on the bed. He had brought a folding knife with him expressly for this purpose and he used the blade to lever loose the ornate gold-leaf frame. He discarded the frame and left the painting lying face upwards on the bed. He hurried through into the owner’s private dining room, took Monet’s water lilies painting down from the facing bulkhead, and laid it on the dining table to remove the frame. As he worked he mulled over the fact that the previous year a similar picture had sold at auction for £98.5 million sterling. Then he went to Van Gogh’s The River at Arles that hung on the side bulkhead. He took it down and then laid it beside the Monet. He prised off the frame, and wasted a few moments admiring these two marvellous works. His grandfather was no connoisseur of the arts, but when Rogier told him the value of these three pieces he would be flabbergasted and delighted by this unexpected addition to his war chest. All this time the men with the packing cases had been watching him with expressions of complete mystification.
    Each packing case had been made to the exact size of a particular painting. Rogier had downloaded the dimensions from an arts catalogue on the internet. He packed the Gauguin into its case, and with relief found that his grandfather’s carpenters had done a good job, for it fitted precisely. The other two paintings were equally snug in their own containers. He closed all three and ordered his men to take them up to the main deck. By the time Rogier got back up there Kamal was acutely agitated.
    ‘What took you so long, Adam? The timer on the detonator cannot be cancelled or reset. We must hurry!’ They swung down into the dhow and as Kamal gave the order to cast off, Rogier supervised the stowage of the three cases in the forward hold. Kamal put the dhow on an easterly heading and bore away at her best speed. Rogier stood with his uncle beside the massive wooden tiller and stared back over the stern.
    ‘It is a great pity that we could not have taken the vessel as well as the girl. Its value is enormous,’ Rogier mused.
    ‘What is the value of fifty years in an American prison?’ Kamal asked. ‘That’s all the payment you would get if you were