Ivory (16 page)

George hadn't expected a double-cross from Chan, or his man on the high seas, Captain Wu, and he still didn't know exactly what had happened on board the
Penfold Son
. All Harvey had reported, from the South African Police Service, was what was already appearing on the internet. The ship had entered Durban harbour, skippered by the first mate, with a dead captain on board and significant damage from an attack by pirates armed with machine-guns and hand grenades.

Gillian had fielded and stonewalled calls from a dozen reporters in Africa and the UK already, and he expected more to come during the day. The IMB was badgering him for a report. He'd told Gillian to contact their public relations firm – a slimy bunch of charlatans who almost made him feel honest whenever he got their bills. However, the spin doctors would earn their money today.

And Jane was missing.

He knew he should call her parents, but news of her disappearance had not yet appeared in the media. George had already spoken to Igor Putin, the engineering officer who had been the bagman for the exchange. He'd been below when the helicopter had arrived and had taken cover when the gunfire started. Penfold couldn't blame him. The tabloid media were reporting it as World War III on board the
Penfold Son
.

‘The package was missing from the safe when I got to the wheel-house,' Putin had told him.

He'd told the Russian to make sure none of the crew spoke to any journalists. However, Harvey had told him that the South African police were already asking questions about passengers.

Sooner or later he would have to call them, but he wanted to hear from Van Zyl first. He'd have the man's guts on his tennis racquet.

‘Call for you, sir,' Gillian said when he picked up the ringing phone. ‘Mister Van Zyl from South Africa.'

George was ready to give the man both barrels, but the South African spoke without even a greeting. ‘I think the Humphries woman has your property.'

‘What the devil are you talking about?'

‘Drop the facade, Mister Penfold,' Van Zyl said coolly. ‘It would have been nice of you to tell us we were riding shotgun over that pick-up from the Chinese freighter. You should have briefed us fully.'

George was silent for a few seconds. Where had the information come from? Putin? MacGregor? Both men would have known that George had the contacts and the money to have them killed, wherever they were in the world, if they'd blabbed or tried to double-cross him. It must have been MacGregor. If the pirates had forced the location of the package out of the Scot, then how would Van Zyl have found out? A more likely scenario unfolded in George's mind while he listened to the hum of the international line in his ear.

‘Did the pirates kill MacGregor, or did you, Van Zyl?'

‘They did of course, but I would have thought you'd be more interested in finding the girl. She was with MacGregor when the pirates attacked.'

‘I told you to look after her. Is she dead?'

‘I don't know,' Van Zyl admitted. ‘When she left the bridge the safe was open and she was in a hurry, heading for a lifeboat. She was still in the boat when they escaped. One of my men was shot and nearly killed trying to stop them. I gave the woman my pistol. She hit one of the pirates, but they took him on board before we could get to him.'

‘Good for her.' George didn't care a fig about Van Zyl's hired gun. The bottom line was that the men had failed to protect Jane, and had missed an opportunity to destroy the very gang they were supposed to be looking for. ‘So, despite being armed to the teeth, you and your mercenaries didn't manage to kill a single one of the criminals – although Jane may have. And you let a valuable cargo go missing and failed to protect the master of my flagship. Give me one reason why I shouldn't terminate your contract right now, Van Zyl.'

‘I'll give you two. I'm going to find the girl and, when I do, I'm going
to kill each and every man in that gang, as well as their spouses, their children and their pets.'

George snorted out a laugh, then calmed himself. Despite all that had happened, he liked the South African's style. ‘You do that. Bring me the girl back – intact – and the cargo. You'll get a healthy reward.'

‘Half the value.'

‘Preposterous. Ten per cent, not a penny more.'

‘Forty per cent.'

‘Twenty-five.'

‘Goodbye, Mister Penfold.'

‘No, goodbye and good riddance to you, Mister Van Zyl. You cocked up and you know it. Ten per cent of the cash value of the cargo, and that's my final offer. There are plenty of other soldiers of fortune out there for hire.'

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Van Zyl said, ‘Deal.'

‘I'll be in Johannesburg in two days' time. Have news for me.' George hung up before Van Zyl could reply and smiled to himself. No one outnegotiated him in business. He was concerned about Jane and he fantasised briefly about what he might do to the men who had kidnapped her, had they brutalised her. He wondered what privations she might be going through now.

He felt wired, pumped with adrenaline from his conversation with Van Zyl. He took his BlackBerry off his desk and scrolled through the contact numbers until he found the one he wanted – needed.

‘Black Pearl, how can we satisfy you?' a female voice asked on the end of the line.

 

Jane followed the scent of melted butter and frying garlic and onions to the beachside bar. A pyramid of burning driftwood on the beach sent a galaxy of glowing embers into the sky, which shone a deep, dark blue from the dying light of the sun.

She rubbed the goose bumps that had risen on her bare arms despite
the warmth of the evening. She couldn't believe there was no means of contacting the mainland from this island. Mobile phones, she'd read, could be charged from solar panels, and other electrical gear could be run from car batteries charged by the sun. She'd seen the glint of reflected light from the top of the hotel when they'd stood together on the hill, and the hot water in Alex's shower was scalding. He had solar power, all right. He was lying to her.

True, the generator hadn't run all afternoon, and the lights festooned around the beach bar were paraffin lanterns, but she still didn't believe him. Which was a shame, because he was so very charming.

She'd changed into another woman's swimsuit after the drive. It was odd to be wearing someone else's clothes – something she'd never do at home. She and Alex had plunged into the still waters in front of the hotel. He'd brought a mask, snorkel and fins and taken her a little way out, to where she could see bright coloured fish darting away from her outstretched hands.

When they'd emerged from the water his maid was waiting with a tray of tea and sandwiches, which they'd eaten in the shade of a palm tree. It would have been all so perfect if he wasn't lying to her.

It made her spine tingle, and caused the downy hairs on her arms to stand up.

She was ravenous, so she put her suspicions and fears to one side. She'd already consoled herself with the thought that he could have killed or tortured her by now if he was, in fact, the pirate rather than the rescuer he claimed to be. Alex waved to her and she looked at the other faces around the bar. Some of the men wore painted smiles, but others barely contained their wariness of her.

‘Jane, welcome. What would you like to drink?'

Music was playing – batteries she guessed, for her sake – and Jose the one-legged chemist and barman was working a cocktail shaker vigorously.

‘Mojito?' Jose asked, raising an eyebrow.

She watched him pour and took a sip. ‘What about limes? I can't see any in there.'

‘Maria found a bottle of lime juice in the pantry.'

She grimaced. ‘Just like the real thing.'

‘How'd you pull up?' asked a man with an Australian accent.

‘Excuse me?'

‘Feeling all right after your ordeal? I'm Kevin, by the way.'

She said she was fine and shook hands with him.

‘Evening,' said the grimmest-looking man in the bunch. His drawl was American. He looked up from his drink – a double measure of straight whiskey and ice.

When Jane saw his eyes she swallowed involuntarily as the scene replayed itself in her mind. The violent, unexpected kick of the hand gun; the bright light and deafening bang of the explosion.

Alex introduced her to the rest of the men who worked for him and she learned they all had military backgrounds. She recalled reading the International Maritime Bureau's piracy update, which pointed to the organised nature of the gang that had hijacked the car carrier off the coast of South Africa.

‘Don't mind Mitch, the American,' Alex said as he led her away from the bar to a row of four barbecues made from two-hundred litre fuel drums cut crossways and topped with welded metal grills. She felt the heat of the glowing coals radiating onto her bare thighs as she got closer. Alex took an enamel bowl and a brush and basted a line of cut lobsters with melted butter. Each crayfish was as long as his arm, from tentacle tip to tail. ‘He's actually as grim as he seems, but he means you no harm.'

‘I wish I could believe you,' she let slip.

‘What do you mean? You're perfectly safe here, Jane.'

And she felt that way, for the time being, around Alex. Mitch's green eyes frightened her. She heard giggling behind her and a loud shriek and looked back to see two African women, one on either side of Mitch. He had his arms around them, but when he turned to look into the darkness between the bar and the fire, she felt him searching for her. ‘I know,' she said to Alex, ‘but you can't blame me for being out of sorts.'

‘I understand, and I know how keen you are to get back to the mainland. I'll get you there.'

She nodded her thanks. A young Mozambican girl, perhaps in her early teens, walked over, smiling.

‘
Cerveja, Alexandre?
' she said.

‘
Ola Isabella. Vinho verde, por favor.
'

The girl turned and skipped back across the sand towards the bar. ‘Child labour or does she just have a crush on you?'

Alex laughed. ‘Bit of both, I suppose.'

‘You're quite the lord of the manor around here, aren't you?'

He shrugged. ‘I love it here. The people – even those misfits at the bar – the island, the crumbling hotel. It really is the closest thing I've got to a home.'

‘So you're all one big happy family?'

‘Mostly, yes.'

She watched him chat with the girl in a mix of Xitswa and Portuguese, saying something that made her laugh hysterically, then run off to join her friends. More islanders were arriving at the
braai
, as Alex called the barbecue, and the beat and the volume of the music from the bar seemed to increase by the minute. Even sombre Mitch was now dancing with his two women.

She wondered if she was right, if they really were the pirates. Alex's face was warmed by the light of the fire and when he smiled and winked at her, over the heads of two young boys playing with a football made of rags and tape in the sand, she could see he was a charmer, like his father, and probably a heart breaker too.

They all sat together, under the stars on the beach, villagers, ex-soldiers, the young and the old at a long rickety trestle table laid with starched white linen and colonial-era silver that gleamed with the fire's reflection. Alex brought the lobsters on platters and took his place at the head of the table. Jane was on his right, and he toasted her arrival and her good fortune before they began eating. She blushed and thanked them all for rescuing her.

And the fantasy was almost a reality as she laughed at something Kevin said about a drunken brawl in Manila, her bare toes digging into the cooling sand under her feet, and the cold, crisp vinho verde cutting
through the devilishly delicious lobster tail that was almost too good to swallow.

‘I hope it hasn't been too traumatic for you today,' Alex said to her quietly, below the hum of conversation and occasional outburst of raucous laughter.

She was about to say that no, she had had a lovely day, all things considered, but she felt the chill again. She glanced along the table: three places down on the opposite side, Mitch was staring at her with those green eyes.

‘W
here's the broad?' Mitch was picking his fingernails with the tip of his K-Bar as he walked into the half-renovated room that passed for the resort's office.

Alex swivelled in his chair and rocked back. He placed his hands behind his head and yawned. He was tired after last night's party, but he also wanted to show Mitch he was relaxed about Jane's presence and her movements on the island.

‘She took one of the sea kayaks out. I told her to stay on the leeward side of the island, as the water's rough on the other side. Jose's watching for her return.'

The airconditioner hummed above him and dripped water onto the bare concrete floor. Mitch nodded, satisfied at Alex's ruse to keep Jane away from the other side of the island, where there was actually a sheltered harbour and jetty where the captured
Peng Cheng
was currently tied up. With Jane off the island, temporarily at least, he'd ordered the generator back into action so he could catch up with some paperwork, and Heinrich, Henri and Kevin could get some more work done on the first floor rooms.

‘What if she hears the noise of the generator?' Mitch asked.

It was a valid question, as sound travelled far over water. ‘I'll tell her
we got it fixed, but it broke down again. If she wants to call her boss I'll give her the satellite phone with the dud battery – she'll be lucky to get a minute's use out of it.' They had several phones on the island, but one always had problems. ‘It'll make her feel better, and won't change anything.'

Jane had agreed over post-dinner liqueurs and coffee to his suggestion that he drive her to Johannesburg, via Zimbabwe. If he hadn't found out what she'd taken from the
Penfold Son
's bridge and where it was by the time they left the island, he would have several days on the road with her to get her to open up to him.