Those in Peril
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In Those in Peril, a nail-biting tale of adventure, bestselling author Wilbur Smith brings his matchless storytelling to bear on the violent, ruthless world of twenty-first-century piracy.
While cruising on the family yacht in the Indian Ocean, nineteen-year-old Cayla Bannock is attacked and taken hostage by Somalian pirates. Her kidnappers demand a staggering ransom: twenty billion dollars. And Cayla's not just anyone--she's the daughter of Hazel Bannock, heiress to the Bannock Oil Corporation, one of the world's foremost oil producers.
The sensitive global political climate means not even the most powerful groups in the world can intervene. Left to handle the problem on her own, Hazel calls on Hector Cross, head of the security agency that protects Bannock Oil. As threats increase and evidence arises of horrific torture, the need to take action becomes more urgent than ever--and soon Hazel and Hector will have no choice but to take the law into their own hands...
spray, engulfing the drums and everything else around them for a distance of thirty yards in a storm of flying metal. When the spray fell back to the surface nothing remained except the ripples. ‘By God and Begorrah!’ Paddy cried. ‘I can hardly wait to watch that happen to one of Adam’s attack boats.’ ‘I would say we are almost ready to go and pay a visit to Gandanga Bay,’ Hector remarked. ‘You are ruddy well correct!’ he agreed with a smile. ‘Paddy actually said “ruddy”,’ said Hazel, nudging
her, to violate and demean her. Slowly she opened her mouth as he had ordered her and he thrust so hard into her that the hinges of her jaws ached. As the pungent warm flood spurted into her mouth again it swamped her senses. She knew then that she belonged to him, to him alone and to no other, not even to herself. Two hours later he left her lying exhausted on the rumpled sheets. Her lips were swollen and inflamed with his rough kisses and the stubble of his new beard, her mascara had run
machine as lightly as a butterfly landing on a rose. Then it bumped and jarred over the rutted ground and pulled up long before it had run out of track. Nella dropped the tail gate, and Paddy led the little convoy of three trucks down off the tail ramp, and with a last wave of his gloved hand roared off back towards the Somali border. Nella used the engines to gun the Hercules around in a 180-degree turn and they were airborne again within five minutes of touch down. ‘Five and a half hours’
nothing to see but the stars. He cocked his head and listened. The sound grew stronger. He stood and picked up the old kerosene can with its lid cut off that Daliyah had given him and carried it into the open. He stacked the stones that he had collected earlier around the sides of the can to hold it securely. He listened again; now there were no doubts. The throb of multiple aircraft engines was unmistakable. From his satchel he brought out the naval distress flare and pulled the ignition tape,
acting as a sounding board so that Hector recognized Uthmann Waddah’s voice as he harangued them, working them up to fighting pitch. Hector knew that the men on the cliff above them would show themselves first, so he concentrated his attention there. He saw a furtive movement against the blue of the sky, and he waited. The movement was repeated and he raised the rifle and mounted the butt to his shoulder. He saw a man’s head peering over the lip of the cliff and he fired a three-round tap. Chips