Decision Point. Don Pendleton

to make angry,” he said. “Now move to the front of the boat.”

       “You could stop this, you know,” she suggested. “Take the boat and the supplies and just let us go.”

       “Supplies are helpful to our cause and we always need more vessels, but hostages are worth far more. And you are worth more than all the other hostages here combined. So you see, I cannot let you go.”

       “You can,” she said shortly. “What you mean is that you won’t.”

       “As you will,” he said. “Enough talking. Do not make me regret my leniency, now get up front with the others.”

       Daniels nodded and kept moving, taking her place by the other hostages who huddled together for the illusion of safety. She watched carefully, trying to remember faces and names, and decided after a time that these were not pirates in any traditional sense. These were soldiers and while many of them were young—some were teenagers—they acted more like military men than the grasping pirates that haunted the waters near Somalia.

       The soldiers crewed the boat, while the craft they’d arrived on gave them an armed escort. The hostages were kept up front, under constant armed guard, and only allowed to move around in the small area of the bow. It took the better part of twelve hours for them to reach their destination, a small island with a well-sheltered cove.

       Numerous boats were lined up at the docks. Not far inland, she could see several buildings, including what looked like a main house. Most of the buildings were typical for the region, old wood siding with thatched roofs on stilts, but the main house was more modern. Quite large, with sloping rooftops and a large deck on one side. It was on stilts, as well, and Daniels expected that floods were quite common on many of these islands.

       Unfortunately she had no real idea where she was in relationship to anything else. She only knew that they’d been traveling southeast instead of northwest. But there were dozens, maybe even hundreds, of small islands along the coast of Malaysia and this could be any one of them. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the man who was obviously the leader of this group until he cleared his throat.

       “When we reach the dock in a few minutes, you will come with me,” he said. “I will present you to the commander.”

       “What about them?” Daniels asked, pointing to the other hostages.

       “Some will be ransomed, if there are those who can pay for them, or they will be ransomed as part of a larger arrangement. The others will find a different fate.”

       “You will kill them, then,” she said, trying to contain her anger and despair. “How pointless.”

       “You have come to a very dangerous part of the world, Miss Daniels,” he said. “Do not presume to know anything about us.”

       He stood next to her as the boat reached the dock, then he motioned for her to precede him down the gangplank. She stopped and looked out over the island once more. The pier where the boat was moored was not suited for the large vessel, which dwarfed the other boats that were in port. Trucks were lined up, waiting for the stolen cargo to be unloaded, as soldiers moved some of the passengers along the dock including the other missionaries.

       “Let’s go.” He pulled her farther down the dock.

       Worried for the fate of the other missionaries, she said, “Shouldn’t I be near the other hostages?”

       “You are different. They will be part of a larger negotiating package. You will be ransomed separately.”

       “I don’t want to be treated any differently than anyone else,” she snapped.

       He stopped and spun. His eyes bored into her, dark and fierce.

       “Sometimes, it is necessary to kill a hostage or even several to make a point. If you are with them and this happens, you would be just as likely to be chosen for death as the others, as no one but myself knows your true identity. If you want to live, you come with me. If you want to take your chances…” He shrugged and released her hand. “Then go with them.” He pointed to where the other hostages huddled in a small group.

       One man was yanked to his feet in front of a video camera. He attempted to flee, but the pirate was quick and efficient, slitting his throat with a large blade, as the other hostages screamed in horror. The crimson spray splattered all of them, adding to the terror of the scene. The man’s body dropped to the deck. Daniels looked at Rajan.

       “This is not a game, Heather.” He pointed at a dark sedan rolling to a stop on the edge of the pier. “The man who is about to get out of that car is Kabilan Vengai, the leader of the Ocean Tigers. He is not a patient or kind man, so keep your answers short and direct.”

       The combination of Rajan’s warning and the arrogant stride of Vengai as he moved down the pier had Daniels cringing inside. His arrival brought the activity on the pier to a near standstill. Everyone watched as he approached. He was about her height, just under six feet, and reminded her of a tiger stalking its prey. The military-style clothing didn’t hide the scars on his arms that looked as if someone had tried to fillet them and, failing that, had burned the skin.

       Rajan didn’t wait for him, but closed the distance and started his report. Daniels caught only every few words, but what she did understand was the look of disdain that Vengai was sending her way. They finished speaking and Vengai strolled in front of her, looking her up and down as though she were a particularly interesting painting rather than a person.

       “I did not believe it when Rajan first told me, but he is right. You are the daughter of President Jefferson Daniels of the United States.”

       “He’s not the President anymore,” she said. “Just a man.”

       Vengai chuckled under his breath. “If you believe that, you must think quite poorly of him. No man is ever an ex-President of your country, for he is still addressed as Mr. President, is this not so?”

       She bit her lip and nodded her agreement.

       “You are truly a treasure fished from the sea and were you my daughter, I would never allow you to travel in such a dangerous place as the Bay of Bengal. What will he pay, I wonder, for your safe return?”

       Remembering her father’s time in office, Daniels shrugged. “I doubt he’ll pay you anything,” she said, trying to hold on to her courage. “President Jefferson Daniels does not negotiate with terrorists.”

       Vengai chuckled once more. “He will for you,” he said. “You see, presidents and politicians like to say things like that, but they only mean that for other people. They never mean it when it will actually affect them. He will negotiate for you, of this I am very certain.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone. From another pocket, he removed a small business-card-size piece of paper. He dialed a series of numbers, then handed the phone to her. “Call him. Now.”

       She took the phone and saw that all the prefix numbers were entered. She added the area code and phone number for her father’s cell phone, then pressed Send. After several long seconds and a handful of clicks and beeps, the call connected.

       Her father answered on the second ring. “Who’s this?” he said.

       “Dad, thank God you answered, it’s me,” Daniels said. “Don’t hang up.”

       “Heather, where are you calling from? I didn’t recognize the number.”

       Before she could respond, Vengai snatched the phone from her hand, activating the speaker-phone function. “President Daniels, now you know that your daughter is alive, we can proceed with business. We are holding your daughter and if you want to see her alive again, you will follow my instructions exactly.”

       “Who the hell are you?” her father snarled. “Where is she?”

       “This will be the only call, Mr. President, so I suggest you write down what I’m about to tell you. Within ten days, you will transfer…twenty-five million dollars in U.S.