LUST & MONEY

Chapter 7: Woman Overboard

"Throw her overboard."

He says it matter-of-fact. Like he just ordered a coffee. That's what's really frightening. I hear the voice: calm and unhurried. No anger or hatred. No rage. My heart is threatening to burst and the adrenaline that's supposed to make me run is shutting down all movement.

Then I hear the motor. We have been bobbing on the sea in silence for what I guess to have been an hour; the silence broken only by the waves as they lap and slap at the boat. Almost calming and meditative. Until reality chose to intrude.

It has to be another boat.

I try hard not to get my hopes up. I breathe deeply and let it trickle from my lungs while they're still empty of sea water.

Then I look up to see that the three monsters have heard it too. One runs into the cabin and stares outside with a rifle. Looking through the scope, he's nervous. That can only mean well for me.

I twist myself round to the right and find that I can see out over the water. It's dark out here, but the skyline throws some light onto the water between us and land. Then I spot it. A small boat churning up foam in its wake as it approaches. It's not loud - probably just a motorboat. I can make out two figures, one at the tiller and the other steering. What starts off as a spark of hope ignites my spine with adrenaline and reassured by the men's activity inside, I look around at my surroundings for a way out of this.

There, under one of the benches: a box of fishing gear and it hasn't been closed properly. Every fisherman I've ever known carries a knife. Then I stop and listen. There's more talking going on inside, their voices raised now. There's a surge of something like panic in the air and it thrills me. The boat is only a couple hundred feet from us. I have maybe a minute to act, but no more.

I shuffle over to the fishing gear by twisting my body left and right, careful not to rush it and hop. Careful to make as little sound as possible. Within moments I realize I've been holding my breath and it's causing me to feel faint so I breathe slowly and steadily. It seems loud in the silent bubble around me. I reach the gear and resist the temptation to allow myself feel victorious when I find a serrated edged gutting knife within reach. I just feel thankful that they used cable ties to immobilize me and not ropes. The cable ties must have made them feel so modern and high-tech, but the truth is, if they'd used rope I'd be a dead woman.

I start by gripping the knife between my hands. It's awkward as hell with my wrists bound so closely, but I'm able to cut the cable tie that binds my ankles. There's a sound from inside the yacht and I become acutely aware of the lack of voices. A glance to my right tells me the boat is almost within reach of us and there's no way I haven't been spotted by the newcomers.

I'm at a higher level than the gangway, so I drop onto my side and squeeze myself under the bench that runs the length of the deck, pulling the fishing gear around to cover me. It's not big enough to completely cover me and I choose to leave my legs and head uncovered. I need to be able to see if this is going to work. There's a bump and I know we're about to be boarded. Still no sound from within the yacht. No welcome party can only mean one thing: an ambush.

From my viewpoint I can see the doorway into the cabins. My back is against the hull and my I'm struggling to make my breathing slow and steady. It's ragged in my chest and wants to burst my lungs. It's then I notice that my shaking hands are tapping out a sound on the floor. I'm freezing and frightened and that's what may get me killed if I don't pull it together.

Footsteps - quiet but there. Then the feet and legs come into view. They turn and face me and I hold my breath, goosebumps spreading around me and I start to feel my hips start to judder. No, no, no, no!

But the legs turn back and the figure comes into view as the man moves towards the cabin door. My eyes have acclimatized to the dark enough that I know I recognize him. I just can't place from where. Now I am really scared because whatever chance I had to remain alive, it just went out the window. I can't see any likelihood that recognizing someone from the scenario about to play out will make me worth keeping alive.

"Hello? Anton?" The new guy calls out tentatively.

He pauses for a moment, then reaches for the door handle.

"Stop right there."

I freeze. But so does the man who stands framed in the doorway. It's the same voice I heard give the order to throw me overboard just a few minutes ago. I look up to the bridge and I see his silhouette. He has a gun in one hand and it's pointed at our guest, unwavering.

"Inside, nice and slow. And you in the boat! You wait there till you're called for."

I realize the guy who wants me overboard must have seen me. What I don't know is what these new guys are here for. If they were police they'd have come in numbers with lights and sirens.

Who cares who they are! Get away from here!

I briefly remonstrate with myself for wasting time with pointless thoughts and push my legs against the hull, forcing my way out from under the metal bench. I ignore the guy below me at the gangway and roll onto my stomach.

A shot rings out from inside the boat.

No time for more thinking. I get one leg in front and push upwards, turning as I do and running backwards. I have to get this right. A quick glance tells me the guy at the boat is focused on the doorway, and then the back of my leg hits the edge of the hull and I push with the other. I'm over the to, bruised but unhurt, and I'm sucking in air. I've no idea how long the fall will be but I don't have time to think as the cold wall of water breaks apart beneath my back and I'm under.

I kick my legs, struggling to push upwards, unable to do anything with my hands still tied behind my back. My heart is hammering against the walls of my chest again and some part of me vaguely wonders how much I can take. My body feels exhausted from the stress, the cold, hunger and fear. On my back now, I start moving my legs and aim myself toward the lights that dot the skyline behind me.

Two more shots. Shouting. Another shot.

I ignore the dull ache in my legs and push with every ounce of strength I can muster. It's then I realize who the man was. Why I recognized him, and where from.

He's Ted Baker's father.