33

Oracle regarded his loose band of pirates through the tinted passenger window of his Land Cruiser. The men lolled in the meager shade of a ramshackle fisherman’s hut, bored and listless in the unrelenting heat. Only the young pirate Bucktooth crouched in the full glare of the sun, forced to remain on guard by the skiffs. An unnecessary duty, imposed by the other pirates as a cruel prank, since no villager or fisherman would dare approach Oracle’s gang or their boats. But the boy appeared happy enough with his revolver to carry out the duty.

Picking up the slim cell phone from the seat beside him, Oracle pressed the speed-dial number. After several distant rings, he heard a click and his investor answered. “Yes?”

“My men are ready,” informed Oracle.

There was a crackle on the line, the signal poor at the base of the cliff, but he could just make out his investor’s response. “Have . . . supplies . . . arrived?”

“Yes,” replied Oracle. “And Mr. Wi-Fi has tracked down the target to its current location in Victoria Harbor. We’ll be there by—”

“Your information is out of date . . . The yacht is now at Anse Takamaka . . . Tomorrow . . . sail to Bel Ombre . . . after that to Praslin Island.”

Oracle’s brow furrowed slightly. “How do you know the yacht’s itinerary?”

As Oracle listened to the reply, his upper lip curled into an astonished smirk. “That is quite something . . . Yes, I’ll keep you fully informed of our progress.”

Snapping shut the phone, Oracle lowered his passenger window. A rush of hot dry air invaded the vehicle’s cool interior as Spearhead’s sweating face appeared.

“Get the men boarded,” instructed Oracle.

“Yes, boss. Are we still headed for the Seychelles?”

Oracle nodded. “At this moment, yes, but Mr. Wi-Fi will send you updates via the satellite link.”

Spearhead gave a dismissive snort and waved his hand at a buzzing fly. “That’s all well and good, but his hacked coordinates are always out by a few hours because of the security delay. Sometimes the ship is over the horizon by the time we get there.”

Oracle offered a smug grin. “Not this time. The investor is able to supply the real-time location of the Orchid.”

Spearhead’s eyes widened in his head, and he grunted an incredulous laugh. “Then this is gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

“Let the game begin,” Oracle commanded, winding up his window and barring the all-pervading heat.

As the Land Cruiser sped away across the baking sand, Spearhead barked orders at his men. Idle from chewing khat all morning, the pirates rose to their feet and trudged down the beach to their boats. They threw nets over their weapons and supplies to make it look as though they were legitimate fishermen. Pushing the boats from the shoreline, the pirates clambered aboard and started their engines. The powerful outboard motors roared, churning up a flurry of white water as the small armada of pirate skiffs surged out of the bay.