The Power Trip

Epilogue

Three Months Later

Scandals come and go. There is always something outrageous going on in the headlines, whether it be political, sexual or money-oriented. Sometimes all three combined.

The Bianca débâcle was up there with the best of them, much as the main players involved tried to leave it in their wake.

Aleksandr Kasianenko would always be known as the Russian oligarch whose yacht was taken over by pirates.

Bianca, the famous super-model whose name was synonymous with the scandal, would always be known as the girl after whom the infamous yacht was named.

The press never tired of writing about the pirating of The Bianca. Especially as the main pirate, and the mystery girl who was apparently working on the inside, were never captured. Their speedboat vanished, and since a second storm came in later that same day, the most popular theory was that they had been caught in the storm mid-ocean, and that possibly their boat had gone down, and they’d both drowned.

Mercedes couldn’t help smiling when she read the stories on the Internet. Talk about a clean getaway!

After Cruz had tossed the Captain overboard, a move she considered genius, he’d disposed of Jabrill the same way — although ill-fated Jabrill had no one to rescue him.

As soon as that business was taken care of, Cruz had landed the boat on one of the less tourist-filled islands, sold it to a local fisherman with the stipulation that he hid the speedboat until the name was changed and the boat repainted, then he’d taken off on his own with hardly so much as a goodbye. ‘I’ll be in touch, carino,’ he’d said to his one and only daughter.

Really? Where and when?

Mercedes hadn’t minded. Why would she? She had the money and the ring. Cruz had been too concerned with plotting his getaway to even bother asking her what was in the garbage bag.

After making it to Madrid, where she knew people with connections, she’d gotten in touch with a man who was able to get her a new identity and passport, then she’d flown to Argentina, because it was far enough away, and she’d read about how beautiful it was in a magazine.

Now she was happily ensconced in Buenos Aires, living with a young polo player she’d met while sitting at the bar in one of the big hotels. The boy was twenty-two and his parents were major rich! Naturally they didn’t approve of her.

Did she care? No. He loved her. And so he should. She knew sex tricks he’d never even thought of.

Yes, Mercedes was perfectly content. On her new passport her name was Porsche. She was a girl with a hot boyfriend, some money, and tucked away in a safe-deposit box was the emerald and diamond ring. Her lucky prize. Her annuity.

Mercedes was ready for the next chapter.

Captain Dickson decided that the time had come for him to retire. He did not like the notoriety that now surrounded him, nor did his wife. Much as he’d enjoyed his many years at sea, the events that had taken place on The Bianca were too much for him to stomach.

He settled comfortably in his house in the Cotswolds, and never took to the sea again.

Cashoo, Daleel, Hani, and Galad were arrested and thrown into jail where they were repeatedly questioned through an interpreter.

None of them spoke a word. They upheld the code of silence.

In his heart, Cashoo was convinced that Cruz would come and rescue them.

Three months later, he was still hoping.

Cast out in the middle of the night from the remote villa, with only the clothes on her back, Ina was burning to get her revenge on Sergei. He’d crossed the wrong girl. She wasn’t her brother’s keeper. It wasn’t her fault that Cruz had screwed him.

Freezing cold and soaked by the storm, she’d made it to a narrow road, and huddled under a tree until early in the morning when a gardener’s truck had stopped and picked her up.

She’d lost everything. Her home. Her clothes. Her life.

But Ina was not Cruz’s half-sister for nothing. The vengeful streak Cruz possessed ran in the family.

If she was to end up with nothing, then so was Sergei.

He was a drug lord. She knew plenty of his secrets, and she was prepared to reveal them.

With the one credit card she had concealed on her person, she purchased a ticket to Mexico City and went straight to the police.

There she went into hiding at the expense of the government, waiting to testify at Sergei’s trial.

Unfortunately this never happened, because even though she was in protective custody, an assassin managed to get past her two bodyguards, and shot her to death while she slept.

At least she never knew what hit her.

Guy returned to his hometown of Melbourne and his faithful partner. He’d decided to take a month or two off before going back to work.

Guy was frankly confused. How had Renee been able to change her story and get away with it? She’d quite clearly told him and Jeromy Milton-Gold that Senator Patterson was on top of her when the pirate had entered her room. Then she’d switched, and said it was the pirate on top of her, raping her, when Senator Patterson had burst in to save her.

That’s when the Senator had gotten shot. In the back, no less.

Neither story made sense. And what certainly made no sense at all was Senator Patterson being naked.

Guy realized it was not for him to ask questions. He’d got a right dressing-down from Captain Dickson for hiring Mercedes in the first place. The inside girl. The insolent little twat. Who’d have thought?

Reflecting on all the drama, Guy realized that Mercedes had been a squirrelly piece of work, always skiving off, never around when he needed her.

He’d done nothing about getting his revenge on Jeromy Milton-Gold. Wasn’t it revenge enough that the pervert had gotten himself shot?

Karma was a right old bitch.

Den seized every opportunity he could. Returning to his native Australia, he appeared on countless TV shows, giving interviews and becoming quite a mini-celebrity in the process.

Den revelled in the spotlight. So did his family. Unfortunately it didn’t last. So what next?

He took a chance and sent a letter and resumé to Aleksandr Kasianenko, reminding him of his part in The Bianca fiasco, and requesting a job in security. To his amazement, several weeks later he received a response with a job offer. He was currently packing up and preparing to move to Moscow.

Like Guy and Den, Renee returned to Australia, but unlike Den, she refused to do any interviews. She was still shell-shocked after all that had happened.

Before leaving the yacht, Aleksandr Kasianenko had taken her aside and handed her a cheque for one hundred thousand dollars. ‘It’s best you keep your story to yourself,’ he’d cautioned her. ‘The press have a way of making things up, and you wouldn’t want that, would you, dear?’

No. She wouldn’t want that.

Silence was golden. Especially when it came to protecting a US Senator’s reputation.

Cruz considered going back to his guarded compound in Eyl. Then he reconsidered.

Sergei would know exactly where to find him. And how about the friends and relatives of the missing pirates?

Eight pirates had left. None had returned.

There would be mothers, fathers, wives and other relatives hot to tear him into a thousand little pieces.

Cruz ran to Brazil, planning to lie low for a while. His life was in danger, so, like his daughter, he forged himself a new identity and began scheming about what he would do next.

Whatever it was, he would make money. Cruz always landed the right side up.

Like a snake waiting to pounce, Sergei sat back and bided his time. He could be patient when he had to. He’d waited long enough to track down his brother’s killer. Now he would wait for the pond scum, Cruz, to surface, and only then would justice be done.

Just as he’d dealt with Ina, so Cruz would be next.

And sometime in the future, Aleksandr Kasianenko.

It wasn’t over… Not at all.

Dateline: London

Jeromy Milton-Gold eventually returned to London after spending a week in a hospital in Cabo. A week alone. A week during which Luca seemed to think a phone call or two would suffice.

Jeromy could not believe that Luca would dare to treat him in such a cavalier fashion after all he’d been through. Damn the trumped-up pop singer with delusions of super-stardom. Luca was nothing but a lucky boy plucked from the chorus line to feed Suga’s enormous ego.

Jeromy was angry. And bitter. And filled with envy that only the stars who’d been on the cruise were getting the headlines.

He was the one who’d been shot. Yet it seemed that nobody cared.

Except Lanita and Sydney Luttman, who’d come to the hospital to visit him. They’d wanted to hear everything.

Jeromy had obliged as best he could, digging up whatever salacious details came to mind.

The Luttmans arranged to meet up with him in London, where they’d decided to buy a townhouse.

‘You’ll be in charge of everything,’ Lanita had informed him, waving a diamond-encrusted wrist in the air. ‘Sydney pisses money. Spend whatever it takes.’

Jeromy knew he was capable of doing exactly that.

Two weeks later, Sydney Luttman was felled on the tennis court by a massive heart attack. He died instantly.

A few weeks later, Lanita arrived in London, and Jeromy soon found himself spending more and more time with her. She found him to be the perfect walker, and sometime sex partner when she was up for an orgy or two. Lanita was going ahead with her townhouse, and was ready to spend an outrageous amount of money.

One day she’d sat herself down in Jeromy’s showroom, given him a long penetrating look then made him a proposition he couldn’t refuse.

Well, he could’ve. But who would?

Lanita was super-rich.

Lanita was a sex freak.

Lanita was generous.

Lanita wanted a husband by her side, and Jeromy was the man she had in mind.

‘You do understand that I’m gay?’ Jeromy said.

‘Honey, gay — schmay — we can work it out.’

And so, with a meticulously put-together financial agreement, Jeromy became Mr Lanita Luttman. A role he was most suited to.

Dateline: Miami

‘We should have another baby,’ Luca announced.

The Bianca débâcle was long past. Jeromy was history. And recently he’d persuaded Suga to sell her Miami mansion and move into his. Luca junior was thrilled to see his parents back together,

‘I’m too old, carino,’ Suga responded, stroking his cheek. ‘Besides, you and I — our making-love days are over.’

‘That’s not what I was thinking,’ Luca said. ‘I was thinking adoption.’

‘You were?’ Suga said, noting how much more relaxed and happy Luca was since he’d finally gotten rid of Jeromy. Recently he’d been seeing a young man nearer his own age. Their partnership was a much better fit. And the best news of all was that Suga and he actually got along.

‘Imagine what a blast it would be to have a baby in the house again,’ Luca said, full of enthusiasm. ‘A little girl. A little Suga.’

‘If it’s what you want, then let’s do it.’

‘Should we ask Luca junior what he thinks?’

‘Perhaps, or we could surprise him.’

‘Then tomorrow I’ll speak with my lawyer and set everything in motion.’

They smiled at each other, comfortable in a relationship that suited both of them.

Luca was happy to welcome Suga back into his life.

Suga brought the sunshine, and after Jeromy, that was exactly what he needed.

Dateline: London

‘Wolf’s a right talented bugger,’ Taye said, walking in from the garden with his six-years-old son balanced precariously on his shoulders. ‘One of these days this little bastard’s gonna outdo me on the football field.’

Father and son were both in their football gear, both grinning at Ashley, identical grins which gave her a shiver of pleasure.

Kids. Wasn’t that what life was all about? Raising them. Teaching them. Nurturing them.

Ever since their trip on The Bianca, Ashley had changed her outlook on life. She’d resigned from Jeromy’s design firm, then shortly after that she’d fired her children’s nanny.

‘All I want is to spend time with our family,’ she’d informed a delighted Taye.

‘If it’s what makes you happy, toots, then I’m all for it,’ he’d said.

Ashley was happy. Happier than she’d ever been.

Aimee came running in wearing a pink tutu, Grandma Elise — or as she preferred to be known, Moo-Moo — behind her.

‘I’m not staying,’ Elsie said, winking saucily at Taye. ‘I’m having dinner with a very fine gentleman I met on an Internet dating site.’

‘Get you,’ Taye said, raising a sceptical eyebrow. ‘You’d better be sure to keep your knickers on!’

‘Oh, you are awful,’ Elise responded with a coy giggle. ‘And in front of the children too!’

‘Bye, Mum,’ Ashley said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, that’s if she’s still alive,’ Taye joked. ‘You never know about geezers you pick up on the Internet. Could be a serial killer.’

‘Is Moo-Moo gonna die?’ Wolf piped up.

‘Of course not,’ Ashley said, frowning at Taye.

‘Don’t want Moo-Moo to die,’ Aimee whined.

‘See what you’re done?’ Ashley said, shaking her head.

‘They know I’m only teasing,’ Taye said, laughing as he released Wolf from his shoulders.

‘Go and watch CBeebies, kids,’ Ashley said crisply. ‘Special treat.’

Aimee and Wolf raced off.

‘What about me?’ Taye asked, moving close and nuzzling his wife’s neck. ‘Don’t I get a special treat?’

Ashley smiled. A warm smile. A loving smile.

‘As a matter of fact, you do,’ she said softly.

‘What?’ Taye asked, seizing the moment. ‘Do we get to go upstairs for a cuddle? C’mon, toots, that’d be a very special treat.’

‘Even better,’ Ashley whispered, still smiling. ‘Guess what?’

‘What?’

She took a long deep breath. ‘We’re pregnant,’ she announced.

Taye’s whoop of joy could be heard for miles.

Dateline: Los Angeles

The Golden Globes. A true Hollywood night.

Cliff Baxter. A true Hollywood movie star. A true-life hero too. Handsome, charming, a fine actor and extremely popular.

Cliff Baxter.

An unmarried man.

The press loved him. The hostesses of all the popular entertainment shows creamed their thongs over him. He was their Cliff. His long list of girlfriends were merely along for the ride. And hopefully not too long a ride.

Until Lori.

Lori with the spectacular mane of red hair, racehorse legs and athletic body.

Lori, the girl who’d lasted longer than most.

But wasn’t her time about up?

Enid seemed to think so. As did Cliff’s PR people, his agent, manager, and the wives of all his many friends.

It was time for Lori to go.

Or was it?

Cliff always enchanted at award ceremonies with his self-deprecating grin, his air of sophistication mixed with just that tiny sliver of bad boy.

Oh yes, Cliff Baxter was a man of the people with a sexy edge.

Tonight he was at the pinnacle of his fame, with Lori — clad in a sleek silver dress and sky-high Louboutins — by his side. It was his first public appearance since the tragedy on The Bianca. Expectations of what he would do and say were high. Who would he speak to? What lucky journalist would get an exclusive?

Nobody knew.

Everyone cared.

He chose Jennifer Ward out of all of them. She was smart and feisty and he’d always enjoyed being interviewed by her.

‘So, Mr Baxter,’ Jennifer said, head on one side, mildly flirting, ‘want to tell us all about your summer vacation?’

Cliff smiled. Movie-star smile. Movie-star teeth.

Standing next to him, Lori felt a warm glow.

‘No, Jennifer,’ Cliff said amiably. ‘I think enough has been written about that already, don’t you?’

‘Our viewers are dying to know more,’ Jennifer said, gently pushing the mic towards him. ‘You’re quite the big hero — and yet so modest.’

‘I know you’re anxious, so I do have something for your viewers,’ Cliff said, pulling Lori into the shot. ‘In fact, we both do.’

Jennifer’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Both?’ she queried, because usually Cliff did not include his girlfriends in his interviews.

‘Yes,’ Cliff said. ‘Listen, I know I’ve said I would never do this, but…’ He leaned into Lori and gave her a full-on kiss. ‘This beautiful redhead and I — we’re getting married. So ladies, you can cross me off your lists. I am now well and truly taken.’

Dateline: Paris

Bianca would always be a super-star. She did not need a billionaire Russian oligarch to give her credibility.

After the pirating of The Bianca, things between her and Aleksandr had not gone well. First of all, Bianca had no patience with illness. Not that Aleksandr was ill, but he was on crutches, and that did not sit well with her. She had a certain image to maintain, and that image did not include a limping cripple by her side.

Harsh?

Yes. But Bianca was nothing if not honest.

Back in Moscow they fought constantly, long dragged-out screaming matches about how much time he was spending with his children, and why was his divorce taking so long? They did not make love. Aleksandr was never in the mood.

The thing that really irked Bianca was that he’d never mentioned a ring, and she could’ve sworn she’d seen that girl on the yacht steal a ring from his safe.

One cold Moscow morning, she’d woken up and thought, What am I doing here?

Later that day she was on a plane to Paris. And that’s where she’d been ever since.

Aleksandr never chased after her.

She didn’t care.

Within weeks she’d hooked up with an Internet nerd who’d made billions selling a series of complicated apps and websites.

A month later they were married in Tahiti.

Internet Nerd did not request her to sign a pre-nup.

Dateline: Moscow

Two weeks after Bianca left Moscow, Aleksandr called Xuan. They made polite conversation on the phone, until Aleksandr suggested that he send his plane for her to visit him in Moscow. ‘We have much to discuss,’ he said, sounding very formal.

Xuan was cagey. ‘We do?’ she asked carefully.

‘Yes, we do. The orphanage, other matters. Where are you?’

‘Vietnam.’

‘Of course. I’ll send the plane.’

‘No. I’ll make my own way there.’

‘As you please.’

Xuan took her time. She arrived in Moscow ten days later and checked into a hotel. Only then did she text Aleksandr to inform him she was there.

‘I’ll send a car for you,’ he said.

‘I’ll walk,’ she said.

‘Don’t be so stubborn. The car will pick you up in twenty minutes.’

Xuan stopped arguing and thought about all the good she could do in the world if she was with a man like Aleksandr.

But he was with Bianca.

Or maybe not. She’d heard rumours that Bianca had left him and was currently with someone else.

She prepared herself. If Aleksandr wanted more than a business relationship, could it possibly work?

He was a very attractive and intriguing man.

There was no harm in finding out.

Dateline: New York

Sierra returned to New York and the loving arms of her family. She was no longer perceived as the good political wife. She was now The Widow. A tragic but beautiful figure, feted by all as the brave woman who’d always stood by her husband’s side.

The sex scandal was long gone, wiped off the front pages in an instant.

Senator Hammond Patterson had lost his life defending the virtue of a young, innocent girl. He was an American hero.

Eddie March rallied to Sierra’s side. He tracked down Radical, sent her Goth boyfriend back to Wyoming, and made sure she was front and centre at her father’s funeral, standing right next to Hammond’s grieving widow.

Sierra went through it all in a daze. It was all too much for her to take in. Had she wished Hammond dead? Was his untimely demise her fault?

She didn’t know. She was confused. She was suffused with sadness. And when Flynn tried to contact her, she told him that she needed time to get her head straight and that she would call him when she felt up to it.

In the meantime she threw herself into her work. The rape crisis centre. The battered women’s homes. And anything else to keep her fully occupied.

Eddie was always there for her. Kind and understanding. The man that Hammond never was.

Sierra had no idea what her future held. She was living it day by day.

Dateline: Paris

Flynn returned to Afghanistan, a place where strangely enough he felt safe. He was working on a story about a rebel leader and staying in a hotel with other journalists from across the world. The camaraderie was just what he needed. None of them gave a shit about The Bianca and what had taken place, although one female journalist did ask him what Bianca looked like in real life.

He stayed there for several weeks before returning to his Paris apartment.

Sierra had blanked him — it was painfully obvious she did not want a connection.

He was fine with it. It was her choice, and if that’s what she wanted — so be it.

Enough obsessing over one woman. Finally he was beginning to realize that the past could never be recaptured. Too much had happened. Too many roadblocks.

Aleksandr contacted him and offered him whatever amount of money it would take to track down the mastermind behind the seizing of The Bianca.

‘I don’t want your money, Alek,’ Flynn told him. ‘But I will look into it, see what I can find out.’

He still had his connections in Eyl, and since the pirates were probably from there, a little investigation might go a long way.

‘Xuan is here,’ Aleksandr informed him. ‘Is that all right with you?’

‘Perfectly all right,’ Flynn assured him. ‘I always thought you two would be a great match.’

Since arriving back in Paris he’d gotten together with Mai a couple of times. Their relationship — such as it was — stayed on a casual level. She was exactly what he needed.

For now.

Somewhere out there was the right girl for him, and one of these days he would definitely find her.