Free Those in Peril (Unlocked) by Wilbur Smith

few seconds he stepped back from the porthole. With another pang of fear she saw that he had an automatic rifle slung over his shoulder. He vanished from her view but immediately three more dark figures filed swiftly and silently past the porthole. All of them carried automatic weapons.
    Now she realized that it must have been the sound of rifle fire that had woken her. She had to get help. She was terrified and shaking. She ran back into her cabin and snatched the satellite telephone from the bedside table. Frantically she dialled the bridge. There was no reply but she let it ring while she tried to think what to do next. There was only one other person she could appeal to. She dialled her mother’s private line. Hazel’s recorded voice instructed her to leave a message. She rang off and immediately dialled again with the same result.
    ‘Oh, Mummy! Mummy! Please help me.’ She whimpered and began to compose a text message on her mobile phone, her thumbs flying over the keys as she typed.
    Terrible things happening. Strange men with guns . . .
     
    She stopped in mid-sentence. There was somebody at the door of her cabin. Somebody was opening the lock with a pass key. She punched the send button on her mobile phone and threw the device into the drawer of her beside table and slammed it shut. In almost the same movement she sprang from the bed. She rushed to the door and threw her weight against it as it began to open.
    ‘Go away. Get away from me, whoever you are,’ she screamed hysterically. ‘Leave me alone!’
    ‘Cayla! It’s me, Rogier. Let me in, Cayla. It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right.’
    ‘Rogier! Oh, thank the sweet Lord. Is it really you?’ She jerked the door open and for a moment stared at him in disbelief, pale-faced and wide-eyed, and then she sobbed with relief. ‘Rogier! Oh, Rogier.’ She flung herself against his chest and clung to him with desperate strength. He held her with one arm and stroked her hair with the other hand.
    ‘Don’t be afraid. It’s all going to be just fine.’
    She shook her head wildly and blurted, ‘No! You don’t understand. There were men here. One of them looked into the cabin. There were others with him! Men! Horrible men. They all had guns. And I heard shooting . . .’
    ‘Listen to me, my darling. It’s all going to be all right. I will explain to you later. But nobody is going to hurt you. You must be brave. I want you to get dressed. We have to leave here. Dress warmly, Cayla. Wear your waterproof coat. It will be cold outside.’ He reached over her shoulder and switched on the main cabin lights. ‘You must hurry, Cayla.’
    ‘Where are we going, Rogier?’ She pulled back and stared into his face. Then her eyes went down to his chest. ‘You are bleeding, Rogier. There is blood all over you.’
    ‘Just do as I tell you, damn it. We haven’t got much time. Get dressed.’ He took her arm and led her forcibly towards her spacious walk-in cupboard. He shoved her through the door. The shelves on both sides were crammed with clothing, and more dresses and trousers were strewn carelessly over the couches and chairs and even the deck in untidy profusion. On her makeup table stood dozens of pots and jars and bottles of creams and unguents and perfumes, many of them without their tops screwed back.
    ‘You’re hurting me,’ she protested. ‘Let go of my arm.’ He ignored the plea, picking up a pair of strawberry-pink corduroy jeans from a chair and thrusting them at her.
    ‘Here, put those on. Hurry!’ But she stood frozen and staring at the pistol in the holster at his side.
    ‘That’s a gun! Where did you get it from, Rogier? I don’t understand. You’re all splashed with blood, but it’s not yours, is it? And you have got a gun.’ She started to back away from him. ‘Who are you? What are you, tell me that.’
    ‘I do not want to hurt you, Cayla, but you must do exactly as I tell you.’
    She shook her head wildly. ‘No!