wonât get their ransom, no matter whoâs paying it.
Again, not very reassuring. I still wondered, and I caught Felipeâs eye and I could see him wondering, too, was there a point where what Dad said stopped being true?
Say Felipe died. Or Tony. Wouldnât Dad still have to pay to get the rest of us out of here?
But I didnât say anything. I didnât think it would be very good for morale.
I wasnât scared any more, though, not precisely. I was feeling kind of numb. Shock, I suppose. Or maybe itâs me. I mean, Iâm kind of a numb person. Empty, like a hollow chocolate bunny. Iâm not saying that in some, like, self-pitying way. Itâs true.
Tony was stretched out on the biggest sofa, the leather one. One of the pirates had lifted him up and deposited him there. I wasnât really paying attention to the differences between the pirates at that point â I didnât even know for sure how many there were â but something about this one creeped me out immediately. I saw that he had a red bandanna on, a weak chin and hard eyes. Flat eyes. Dead eyes. The cabin walls had more emotion in them than those eyes.
The younger one came in with a kind of bandage made out of cloth and tied it expertly round Tonyâs leg. I hoped the bandage was clean â it looked like it was. He gave some sort of order, by the sound of it, to the cold-eyed one, then he left. The other pirate took some kind of chewing tobacco or something â khat, I found out later â and put it in his mouth, began chewing it. He went over to a chair in the corner, sat down and closed his eyes.
After he did so, Tony turned to Damian with a wince.
â Did you alert anyone? he asked softly.
â Yep. The navy and SSAS.
â Good.
â And your leg? Are you in a lot of pain?
â A little, said Tony. But the bullet just scratched the flesh. I was lucky.
â When they get our money and our stuff, theyâll leave, right? asked the stepmother.
â Iâm afraid not, said Dad.
â Why not?
â They want a ransom.
â Then pay it! Pay whatever they want!
â Yes, said Felipe. Please pay them. I want to go home.
The bandanna pirateâs dead eyes flickered open. He grunted, shook his gun a bit and closed his eyes again. Already I definitely didnât like this one.
â Itâs not as simple as that, said Tony. Thereâs insurance. The navy. We need to sit tight for a bit. Wait and see what they want.
â For godâs sake! said the stepmother. She started to cry again.
I caught Damianâs eyes. He smiled thinly, those Irish dimples flicking on like a light.
Shortly after, the leader came in. He indicated his face.
â Ahmed, he said, introducing himself.
I saw now that he had a scar that went all the way from the corner of his left eye to his chin, skirting his mouth. It looked like someone had tried to cut his face in half. But there was some quality about him â his eyes, mainly, which were clever and bright. You could see why he was the leader, is what Iâm saying.
Then Ahmed pointed to the younger guy, the English speaker.
â He is Farouz. I am the boss, Farouz is translator. OK?
â OK, said Dad. My name is â
â No. You have no name. You Hostage One. Her, Hostage Two. And her . . .
He went round all of us, gave us our new names. I was Hostage Three, you know that already. At the time it was pretty chilling. I mean that literally: I know itâs a cliché, but this cold feeling, fluid, rolled down my back. Because it was obvious why they were giving us numbers. Itâs much harder to kill someone once you know their name. They went on and numbered Tony, Damian and Felipe. Felipe got the last one, number six, and I was pretty impressed, despite myself, with how the pirates had seen the pecking order, just like that, even knowing that although Damian was the captain, Tony basically outranked
Again, not very reassuring. I still wondered, and I caught Felipeâs eye and I could see him wondering, too, was there a point where what Dad said stopped being true?
Say Felipe died. Or Tony. Wouldnât Dad still have to pay to get the rest of us out of here?
But I didnât say anything. I didnât think it would be very good for morale.
I wasnât scared any more, though, not precisely. I was feeling kind of numb. Shock, I suppose. Or maybe itâs me. I mean, Iâm kind of a numb person. Empty, like a hollow chocolate bunny. Iâm not saying that in some, like, self-pitying way. Itâs true.
Tony was stretched out on the biggest sofa, the leather one. One of the pirates had lifted him up and deposited him there. I wasnât really paying attention to the differences between the pirates at that point â I didnât even know for sure how many there were â but something about this one creeped me out immediately. I saw that he had a red bandanna on, a weak chin and hard eyes. Flat eyes. Dead eyes. The cabin walls had more emotion in them than those eyes.
The younger one came in with a kind of bandage made out of cloth and tied it expertly round Tonyâs leg. I hoped the bandage was clean â it looked like it was. He gave some sort of order, by the sound of it, to the cold-eyed one, then he left. The other pirate took some kind of chewing tobacco or something â khat, I found out later â and put it in his mouth, began chewing it. He went over to a chair in the corner, sat down and closed his eyes.
After he did so, Tony turned to Damian with a wince.
â Did you alert anyone? he asked softly.
â Yep. The navy and SSAS.
â Good.
â And your leg? Are you in a lot of pain?
â A little, said Tony. But the bullet just scratched the flesh. I was lucky.
â When they get our money and our stuff, theyâll leave, right? asked the stepmother.
â Iâm afraid not, said Dad.
â Why not?
â They want a ransom.
â Then pay it! Pay whatever they want!
â Yes, said Felipe. Please pay them. I want to go home.
The bandanna pirateâs dead eyes flickered open. He grunted, shook his gun a bit and closed his eyes again. Already I definitely didnât like this one.
â Itâs not as simple as that, said Tony. Thereâs insurance. The navy. We need to sit tight for a bit. Wait and see what they want.
â For godâs sake! said the stepmother. She started to cry again.
I caught Damianâs eyes. He smiled thinly, those Irish dimples flicking on like a light.
Shortly after, the leader came in. He indicated his face.
â Ahmed, he said, introducing himself.
I saw now that he had a scar that went all the way from the corner of his left eye to his chin, skirting his mouth. It looked like someone had tried to cut his face in half. But there was some quality about him â his eyes, mainly, which were clever and bright. You could see why he was the leader, is what Iâm saying.
Then Ahmed pointed to the younger guy, the English speaker.
â He is Farouz. I am the boss, Farouz is translator. OK?
â OK, said Dad. My name is â
â No. You have no name. You Hostage One. Her, Hostage Two. And her . . .
He went round all of us, gave us our new names. I was Hostage Three, you know that already. At the time it was pretty chilling. I mean that literally: I know itâs a cliché, but this cold feeling, fluid, rolled down my back. Because it was obvious why they were giving us numbers. Itâs much harder to kill someone once you know their name. They went on and numbered Tony, Damian and Felipe. Felipe got the last one, number six, and I was pretty impressed, despite myself, with how the pirates had seen the pecking order, just like that, even knowing that although Damian was the captain, Tony basically outranked
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