CHAPTER TWO
Three Years Later
Seventy Miles off the Coast of Xonira
Alexander Hyman stood on the
sundeck of his three hundred foot long luxury yacht, The Highwayman and
shaded his eyes with a hand as he peered over the incredibly blue waters. He
couldn’t help but wonder why the other boat seemed to be following them. Or was he just being paranoid? They’d been out here for about three hours
now and the far distant boat was keeping its distance, true. But it also appeared to be keeping The
Highwayman in view.
A tall, angular woman walked over
to where Hyman stood. She held a pair
of apricot coolers in her hands as she joined him. “Alex, you’re neglecting your guests! Myself
in particular! What’s so fascinating out
there?” She followed his gaze as she
handed him his drink.
Hyman accepted it and smiled warmly
at the tall woman. He’d only met Ulrika
Malheur just four days ago and he was positive he was falling in love
already. And why not? Ulrika Malheur had to be the most strikingly
attractive women he’d ever met. Her
wonderfully expressive eyes were the color of an overcast sky. Her luxurious crimson hair worn in a style
that reminded Hyman of a cobra’s hood.
All that, along with her prominent cheekbones lent her an exotic
air.
Her background was equally
exotic. A native born Xoniran she had left
that island nation when she was barely out of her teens. No one knew much about what she had done or
where she had been but when she returned to Xonira twenty years later she was
an extraordinarily wealthy woman. She
didn’t appear to have much purpose behind what she did with her days and nights
outside of giving lavish parties, being seen in the best places with the right
people while romancing rich and powerful men.
“Probably nothing. It’s a beautiful day and we can’t expect to
be the only ones out here enjoying it.
But you hear so much about pirates these days…”
Ulrika’s laughed merrily. “You don’t know much of Xoniran history,
Alexander. Xonira was settled and
founded in 1107 by pirate kings who quickly established that Xoniran waters
were not to be poached upon. That policy holds true even today. Besides, isn’t your crew armed?”
Hyman took a swig of his drink and
rolled it around in his mouth while nodding an assent. He swallowed before continuing his answer
verbally; “Twelve good men who are all ex-military. They’ve all seen combat and have plenty of
steel in their spine. How are the
others doing?”
“Everybody’s enjoying the party
except for you. You’re shamelessly rude,
you know.” Ulrika smiled seductively
over the rim of her glass as she sipped her drink. Alexander Hyman had taken ownership of The
Highwayman ten days ago. He’d had
the yacht constructed for him to his own specifications at the shipyard of
Arcona and Gustloff, one of the best shipbuilders in the world. Saying that The Highwayman was lavish
was something of an understatement. Contemporary
in design and atmosphere, she boasted spacious cabins that were more like
suites with handmade Italian furniture and state of the art entertainment
systems. The fully equipped gym also had
a Jacuzzi large enough to accommodate fourteen with a dropdown plasma screen if
they wanted to watch a movie or any one a thousand different channels via
satellite. The sundeck, upper deck and
main deck were all large enough to accommodate a variety of activities such as
alfresco dining, sunbathing, dancing or just simple relaxation.
“You’re right, Ulrika. Let’s go rejoin the others and-“Hyman
stopped. Suddenly he was freezing cold
as if he’d just stepped into a meat locker.
But that was impossible. The day
was a wonderfully balmy 70 degrees and the sun shone directly on him. He had been feeling nice and toasty just a
minute ago. And why was he breaking out
into a torrent of sweat all over? Literally
rivers of sweat poured down his face, his neck, and his arms.
The glass slipped from his fingers
and hit the deck, smashing into thousands of pieces sparkling in the bright
sunlight. Hyman turned to Ulrika, trying
to ask for help but he couldn’t speak.
It was as if somebody had turned his vocal chords off. He took one faltering step before dropping to
his knees.
Ulrika stepped back several
feet and sipped her drink, watching him with a curious dispassion. She knew that all over the yacht, the scene
was being repeated as the crew and the guests all drank poisoned drinks that
she herself mixed for them. The crew had
thought her charmingly kind to make lemonade for them. The guests had just snatched up the drinks
without a second thought and gulped them down.
Blood poured from Hyman’s nose as
if a faucet inside of his head had been turned on. It splattered on the deck and Hyman looked at
Ulrika with utter terror in his eyes.
“It’s nothing personal, love,”
Ulrika said softly, finishing her unpoisoned drink and throwing the glass
overboard. “You’re just part of the plan
is all.”
Hyman fell forward on his
face. He kicked once, twice and then it
was over.
Ulrika turned and reached into the
top of her one-piece swimsuit to withdraw a small round compact. She flipped it open and used it to signal the
far distant boat by flashing sunlight off the mirror. Ulrika satisfied herself that the other boat
saw her signal and was on the way.
She turned and checked Hyman to
make sure that he was dead. She then
walked through the yacht, checking the other bodies with a clinical
detachment. Some of her victims had not
died as quickly as Hyman. The hideous
contortions of their bodies, the agony on their faces was proof of that. But for all the emotion displayed by Ulrika
she could have been checking on loaves of bread in a pantry.
The other boat came alongside The
Highwayman. Saying it was a boat was
something of an understatement. It was a
combat ship bristling with weaponry and carrying a crew that looked as if they
had just been released from solitary confinement in Xonira’s fearsome Ucaobol
Prison. Indeed, many of them had done
very hard time there and the scars they bore were both physical and mental.
The leader of this band leaped from
his boat to stand on the deck of The Highwayman. He grinned at Ulrika. “A job well done, eh? This is a method that I like! It saves bullets and time.”
Ulrika grinned back as she said;
“But I think your men would prefer a straight out and out fight rather than
letting a woman do their work for them, Fabbozzi.”
Clem Fabbozzi shrugged. “My men do what I tell them. And when I told them that using this method
might save a few of them from getting a bullet in the head, they kept their mouth
shut.” Fabbozzi ran a hand through his straight
black hair. “Everybody dead?”
“Of course. You’ve been in touch with headquarters?”
“Just about to check in. The boss will be pleased that your work has
gone so well.”
As Fabbozzi and Ulrika spoke,
Fabbozzi’s men swarmed over The Highwayman, collecting the dead bodies
and carrying them onto the combat ship.
They treated the bodies with special care, wrapping them all up
carefully in body bags.
“You come back with me on the combat
ship,” Fabbozzi ordered. “I’ll leave a
couple of my men to bring this ship in.
The boss’ll want to talk to you.”
Ulrika nodded and accepted
Fabbozzo’s help as she stepped off of The Highwayman and onto the combat
ship. She didn’t even look back and the
act of mass murder she’d just committed didn’t seem to have affected her in the
slightest. And why should it? She was a partner in a scheme that would pay
off in ways far beyond mere money. There
was nothing less than the fate of countries at stake here and it made her giddy
to think she would have a hand in it.
