52

Connor hammered on Brad’s cabin door. He peered out, bleary eyed. “What’s up?”

Connor told him what he’d seen—or at least what he thought he’d seen. The shapes had been so small and distant that he couldn’t be absolutely certain—and he’d soon lost sight of them amid the crests of the ocean waves.

“Give me a minute.” Brad closed the door and then emerged, dressed.

They made their way to the upper deck. Connor pointed in the direction he’d spotted the suspect boats. Brad borrowed Connor’s binoculars and swept the horizon.

“I don’t see anything. Let’s check the radar,” he said, heading for the bridge.

Captain Locke had just come on duty. “Are you sure about what you saw, Brad?” he asked, glancing at the radar screen, which showed nothing within eight nautical miles of the Orchid.

“Well, I didn’t spot them,” Brad admitted. “Connor did. He was on watch.”

Chief Officer Fielding, who had the wheel, glared at Brad in astonishment. “This boy was on watch? What were you thinking?”

“Connor is more than capable of—”

“Oh, don’t bother,” he cut in, shooting Connor a withering glare. “I can’t believe you gave the responsibility of a watch shift to a boy. That’s a serious breach of security protoc—”

“Pardon for interrupting,” said the Second Officer, “but I’m picking up an unidentified vessel fast approaching our stern.”

Captain Locke rose from his chair and studied the radar screen again. A green dot was now traversing the monitor on a direct course for the Orchid. Then several more blips appeared, all converging rapidly on the center. A second later, the blips were gone.

“Whoever they are, they’re in our radar shadow,” said Captain Locke, his expression hardening. “Get me a visual confirmation.”

Brad ran back outside onto the upper deck, Connor close on his heels. The sun was now fully up, a burning ball of red in the dawn sky. They scanned the ocean to the Orchid’s stern. Half a mile directly south, five skiffs loaded with men surged across the waves.

Brad sprinted back to the captain. “Five skiffs. Pirates, by the looks of it.”

“How long to contact?” asked Captain Locke.

“Less than five minutes,” replied the second officer.

Captain Locke leaned upon the radar terminal, his jaw set firm. “If their approach is anything to go by, they mean business. Chief Officer, full speed ahead,” he commanded.

Chief Officer Fielding drove the throttle home. From deep within the bowels of the Orchid, a mighty rumble shook the super-yacht as the twin diesel engines were pushed to their max.

The captain picked up the yacht’s speaker mic. “Calling all crew. Calling all crew. This is the captain speaking. We have a Red Alert. I repeat, a Red Alert. All hands to the bridge.”

Brad turned to Connor. “Get Emily and Chloe to the citadel.”

Without needing to be told twice, Connor turned for the door as Geoff burst onto the bridge.

“What’s going on, Captain?” said the engineer, frowning with deep concern when he saw the rev counter in the red zone. “The engines won’t keep this up for long.”

“Pirates,” Captain Locke explained. “Attempting to hijack us.”

“They’re still gaining,” announced the chief officer, nodding toward the radar where a swarm of green blips reappeared momentarily.

Captain Locke grimaced. “Prepare to send a distress call.”

Realizing there wasn’t much time, Connor headed below deck to look for Emily in the galley. As he raced from the bridge and down the steps, he caught a glimpse of the skiffs cutting like sharks’ fins through the waves. He could make out the pirates, bristling with weaponry. This was the nightmare scenario they’d planned for—yet prayed would never happen.

Dashing along a corridor and into the sleek white galley, Connor found Emily by the fridge pouring out a glass of fresh orange juice.

“I’ve got your breakfast,” she said, smiling at him as she put the glass on a tray, along with a plate of buttered toast.

“No time for that.” Grabbing her arm, he pulled her out of the galley and hustled her over to the stairwell.

“Hey! What’s the problem?” she cried.

“Pirates. We don’t have long before—” The Orchid slammed hard against the swell. The impact was bone shattering. Emily lost her footing, and Connor barely kept her from tumbling down the stairs.

“Keep hold of the rail,” he urged as they descended the staircase to the lower deck.

Rushing along the corridor to Chloe’s room, they could see the walls vibrating from the thrum of the engines. Connor hammered on the door. “Chloe! Chloe! Open up!”

“What is it?” came a sleepy reply.

With no time for discretion, he threw open the door. She sat bolt upright, clutching the bedding around her. “Sorry, but this is an emergency. Grab some clothes. We need to get you to the citadel fast.”

“Citadel?” said Chloe, staring at him wide eyed and confounded.

“Safe room,” explained Connor. “We’re under attack from pirates. Now hurry.”

Too stunned and terrified to protest, she bundled some clothes into her arms and allowed herself to be herded into the corridor. Connor pushed the two sisters along and up the stairs. At the bulkhead to the crew’s quarters, they met Amanda being escorted by Brad.

“Stay in there until I give the all clear. Understood?” said Brad.

Amanda nodded mutely, her angelic features pale with shock. Connor ushered Chloe and Emily in after her, then turned to follow Brad.

“Where are you going?” Chloe cried, a look of abandonment on her face.

Connor hoped his nerves didn’t show as he replied, “To fight off the pirates.”