Read Online The Abigail Affair by Timothy Frost - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Timothy Frost
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flipped it open.
“Ag, man!” Scott said. “This doos has been on the dagga. He’s talking rubbish.” He released Toby’s arm, and Toby rubbed it. Pins and needles shot up and down.
“I’m telling the truth,” Toby said urgently. “I’m sure a crime has been committed against a young lady.”
The reason Scott had released Toby now became clear. The first officer reached into his trouser pocket, produced a wallet and peeled off a number of US dollar notes. Twenties, by the look of them. “Listen, Sandy, we don’t want trouble in this marina. Your boss, Mr McIntyre, wouldn’t thank you, would he? So here’s some overtime money, which you’re always saying you deserve, and I agree. I meant to find you yesterday. This is a ‘thank you’ from the entire crew of the Amelia V .”
The guard tilted his head and eyed Scott’s outstretched hand. “Make it a hun’erd,” he said.
“Sure, Sandy. You’re worth it.”
Scott produced two more notes and handed the wad to the man, who dropped his eyes, snapped off his flashlight, and said, “You fellas just keep it nice and easy, no noise on the jetty after ten at night, OK? Rules is rules.”
“Sure,” Scott said. “Shall do. Goodnight, man.”
Toby’s heart raced. He was going back on board the yacht. Short of screaming like a damsel in distress, there was no other option. The security guard was halfway back down the pontoon now. Scott was more powerful than Toby and had all the moves. Toby had completed one term of judo when he was ten. No contest.
“OK, you win,” he said. He felt his shoulders droop as he turned back towards the mega yacht.
“Atta boy, Toby,” Scott said. He put his arm round Toby’s shoulders. “Now see here, I’m a fair man. I’ve given you the news straight at every turn. Agreed?”
“Yes, sir. I guess.”
“I can’t let you go now. You must see that. But I’m not a vindictive man. Behave yourself and none of this will go in your record. You’ll get a good reference.”
“What about the girl?” Toby said.
“You’ll see her and the rest at breakfast—maybe a little hung over, but all nice as pie. It’s just their way. These people live on the edge. Krigov fought his way to the top of a multi-billion-dollar business empire using only his charming personality. He had nothing. He wrote his own script for life. You’re a tiny bit player in his world. Just mix the drinks and smile sweetly, and I suspect you will look back on this as the most exciting and rewarding time of your life.”
But Toby did not see Irina at breakfast.
He saw the others. The trio picked listlessly at the smoked salmon, caviar and bagels which they had demanded, and washed it down with Bloody Marys. Krigov’s eyes looked red and puffy. The other girl, Natasha, who apparently had done little but consume substances since she arrived on board, sat looking vacant. The man Walther wore a leather jacket over a white shirt. He alone seemed in good humour and refreshed by his night’s sleep. Toby stood by the sideboard, where the coffee pot made a gentle fizzing sound.
After the escape debacle, Scott had frogmarched Toby to his cabin and pushed him in with the words, “One hour and you’re needed for breakfast service. Then change and report to Szczepanski. I checked your passport and it’s fine, by the way.”
He had not slept again, despite his exhaustion. The events of the previous twelve hours continued to play themselves through in his head. He tossed and turned. The image of the girl Irina lying there, injured—dead?—burnt itself into his consciousness until he could think of nothing else. What had they done to her? And who had done it? Krigov must be the culprit—a proven violent thug would think nothing of erasing a hooker, just as Irina had feared. And he, Toby, had been so cowardly, he had done nothing to stop it.
Who was going to help him? Toby had not really met the other crewmembers. He had hardly spoken to
“Ag, man!” Scott said. “This doos has been on the dagga. He’s talking rubbish.” He released Toby’s arm, and Toby rubbed it. Pins and needles shot up and down.
“I’m telling the truth,” Toby said urgently. “I’m sure a crime has been committed against a young lady.”
The reason Scott had released Toby now became clear. The first officer reached into his trouser pocket, produced a wallet and peeled off a number of US dollar notes. Twenties, by the look of them. “Listen, Sandy, we don’t want trouble in this marina. Your boss, Mr McIntyre, wouldn’t thank you, would he? So here’s some overtime money, which you’re always saying you deserve, and I agree. I meant to find you yesterday. This is a ‘thank you’ from the entire crew of the Amelia V .”
The guard tilted his head and eyed Scott’s outstretched hand. “Make it a hun’erd,” he said.
“Sure, Sandy. You’re worth it.”
Scott produced two more notes and handed the wad to the man, who dropped his eyes, snapped off his flashlight, and said, “You fellas just keep it nice and easy, no noise on the jetty after ten at night, OK? Rules is rules.”
“Sure,” Scott said. “Shall do. Goodnight, man.”
Toby’s heart raced. He was going back on board the yacht. Short of screaming like a damsel in distress, there was no other option. The security guard was halfway back down the pontoon now. Scott was more powerful than Toby and had all the moves. Toby had completed one term of judo when he was ten. No contest.
“OK, you win,” he said. He felt his shoulders droop as he turned back towards the mega yacht.
“Atta boy, Toby,” Scott said. He put his arm round Toby’s shoulders. “Now see here, I’m a fair man. I’ve given you the news straight at every turn. Agreed?”
“Yes, sir. I guess.”
“I can’t let you go now. You must see that. But I’m not a vindictive man. Behave yourself and none of this will go in your record. You’ll get a good reference.”
“What about the girl?” Toby said.
“You’ll see her and the rest at breakfast—maybe a little hung over, but all nice as pie. It’s just their way. These people live on the edge. Krigov fought his way to the top of a multi-billion-dollar business empire using only his charming personality. He had nothing. He wrote his own script for life. You’re a tiny bit player in his world. Just mix the drinks and smile sweetly, and I suspect you will look back on this as the most exciting and rewarding time of your life.”
But Toby did not see Irina at breakfast.
He saw the others. The trio picked listlessly at the smoked salmon, caviar and bagels which they had demanded, and washed it down with Bloody Marys. Krigov’s eyes looked red and puffy. The other girl, Natasha, who apparently had done little but consume substances since she arrived on board, sat looking vacant. The man Walther wore a leather jacket over a white shirt. He alone seemed in good humour and refreshed by his night’s sleep. Toby stood by the sideboard, where the coffee pot made a gentle fizzing sound.
After the escape debacle, Scott had frogmarched Toby to his cabin and pushed him in with the words, “One hour and you’re needed for breakfast service. Then change and report to Szczepanski. I checked your passport and it’s fine, by the way.”
He had not slept again, despite his exhaustion. The events of the previous twelve hours continued to play themselves through in his head. He tossed and turned. The image of the girl Irina lying there, injured—dead?—burnt itself into his consciousness until he could think of nothing else. What had they done to her? And who had done it? Krigov must be the culprit—a proven violent thug would think nothing of erasing a hooker, just as Irina had feared. And he, Toby, had been so cowardly, he had done nothing to stop it.
Who was going to help him? Toby had not really met the other crewmembers. He had hardly spoken to
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