She handed it over to him and he opened it and removed the laptop. “This is not a medical supply,” he said. Without another word he flung it over the rail and Heather watched it disappear into the water. Part of her heart sank along with it. Two years of missionary work was detailed on that hard drive—her journal chronicling the highs and lows of the life she’d chosen, her joys and her failures, not to mention GPS tracking—all gone in a brief, floating moment.
He finished digging through the bag and then returned it to her. “Come with me,” he said, gesturing with the gun once more. “My name is Daylan Rajan. I’m in charge of this group. I know you Americans like to cause trouble, but if you can manage to behave yourself you will be allowed to wait with the other passengers until we reach a safe harbor.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you will be bound and gagged and tied to the railing where I can keep an eye on you.”
“I guess I’ll go with option one. Where are we going, anyway?” she asked, heading toward the bow where the other missionaries and crew were being held.
“An island that does not welcome outsiders,” he said. “Once we are there, the commander will decide what to do with you.”
She stopped and looked back at him. “You speak fluent English,” she said. “And you don’t dress like a band of raggedy pirates. You’re too organized. Who are you people?”
“We are people that you don’t want to make angry,” he said. “Now move to the front of the boat.”
“You could stop this, you know,” she suggested. “Take the boat and the supplies and just let us go.”
“Supplies are helpful to our cause and we always need more vessels, but hostages are worth far more. And you are worth more than all the other hostages here combined. So you see, I cannot let you go.”
“You can,” she said shortly. “What you mean is that you won’t.”
“As you will,” he said. “Enough talking. Do not make me regret my leniency, now get up front with the others.”
Daniels nodded and kept moving, taking her place by the other hostages who huddled together for the illusion of safety. She watched carefully, trying to remember faces and names, and decided after a time that these were not pirates in any traditional sense. These were soldiers and while many of them were young—some were teenagers—they acted more like military men than the grasping pirates that haunted the waters near Somalia.
The soldiers crewed the boat, while the craft they’d arrived on gave them an armed escort. The hostages were kept up front, under constant armed guard, and only allowed to move around in the small area of the bow. It took the better part of twelve hours for them to reach their destination, a small island with a well-sheltered cove.
Numerous boats were lined up at the docks. Not far inland, she could see several buildings, including what looked like a main house. Most of the buildings were typical for the region, old wood siding with thatched roofs on stilts, but the main house was more modern. Quite large, with sloping rooftops and a large deck on one side. It was on stilts, as well, and Daniels expected that floods were quite common on many of these islands.
Unfortunately she had no real idea where she was in relationship to anything else. She only knew that they’d been traveling southeast instead of northwest. But there were dozens, maybe even hundreds, of small islands along the coast of Malaysia and this could be any one of them. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the man who was obviously the leader of this group until he cleared his throat.
“When we reach the dock in a few minutes, you will come with me,” he said. “I will present you to the commander.”
“What about them?” Daniels asked, pointing to the other hostages.
“Some will be ransomed, if there are those who can pay for them, or they will be ransomed as part of a larger arrangement. The others will find a different fate.”
“You will kill them, then,” she said, trying to contain her anger and despair. “How pointless.”
“You have come to a very dangerous part of the world, Miss Daniels,” he said. “Do not presume to know anything about us.”
He stood next to her as the boat reached the dock, then he motioned for her to precede him down the gangplank. She stopped and looked out over the island once more. The pier where the boat was moored was not suited for the large vessel, which dwarfed the other boats that were in port. Trucks were lined up, waiting for the stolen cargo to be unloaded, as soldiers moved some of the passengers along the dock including the other missionaries.
“Let’s go.” He pulled her farther down the dock.
Worried for the fate of the other missionaries, she said, “Shouldn’t I be near the other hostages?”
“You are different. They will be part of a larger negotiating package. You will be ransomed separately.”
“I don’t want to be treated any differently than anyone else,” she snapped.
He stopped and spun. His eyes bored into her, dark and fierce.
“Sometimes, it is necessary to kill a hostage or even several to make a point. If you are with them and this happens, you would be just as likely to be chosen for death as the others, as no one but myself knows your true identity. If you want to live, you come with me. If you want to take your chances…” He shrugged and released her hand. “Then go with them.” He pointed to where the other hostages huddled in a small group.
One man was yanked to his feet in front of a video camera. He attempted to flee, but the pirate was quick and efficient, slitting his throat with a large blade, as the other hostages screamed in horror. The crimson spray splattered all of them, adding to the terror of the scene. The man’s body dropped to the deck. Daniels looked at Rajan.
“This is not a game, Heather.” He pointed at a dark sedan rolling to a stop on the edge of the pier. “The man who is about to get out of that car is Kabilan Vengai, the leader of the Ocean Tigers. He is not a patient or kind man, so keep your answers short and direct.”
The combination of Rajan’s warning and the arrogant stride of Vengai as he moved down the pier had Daniels cringing inside. His arrival brought the activity on the pier to a near standstill. Everyone watched as he approached. He was about her height, just under six feet, and reminded her of a tiger stalking its prey. The military-style clothing didn’t hide the scars on his arms that looked as if someone had tried to fillet them and, failing that, had burned the skin.
Rajan didn’t wait for him, but closed the distance and started his report. Daniels caught only every few words, but what she did understand was the look of disdain that Vengai was sending her way. They finished speaking and Vengai strolled in front of her, looking her up and down as though she were a particularly interesting painting rather than a person.
“I did not believe it when Rajan first told me, but he is right. You are the daughter of President Jefferson Daniels of the United States.”
“He’s not the President anymore,” she said. “Just a man.”
Vengai chuckled under his breath. “If you believe that, you must
