When I woke it was getting dark. Shocked I checked my watch, which was missing. As was my phone. Didn't matter, yesterday sunset was between 6.30 and 7 pm so there was every chance it would be the same today. That dive must have really taken it out of me, but my memory after I climbed out of the water was hazy at best. I looked around for Karin, there was music coming from the covered area by the kitchen and I thought I could see a crowd. I say thought, for some reason my vision was blurred and now I thought about it I had a stonking headache, with no clue as to the cause.
"Too much in the way of solar radiation my old son" I told myself and lurched across to the bar where I liberated a two-litre bottle of mineral water, cracking the plastic seal and downing the lot. I felt a bit better for that, then as the effects of sitting out in the sun for so long took effect I heaved and retched, bringing it all up in a sticky stream, leaving lumps of fish, bread and fruit where the gentle waves met the beach.
I found another bottle and drank again, but more slowly this time, helping myself to a couple of bags of peanuts for the salt and protein, cursing the lack of pork scratchings, snack of champions. Finishing the bottle, I grabbed another, then, and only then, noticed I was still naked and returned to my sun lounger. My observational skills hadn't entirely deserted me, and I found my shorts and T shirt then followed the music into the covered area.
Karin, Margaret, Hirani and Daisy were dancing with Samuel and Brandon, in states of dress from topless to naked, while Virgil watched from a large comfortable looking chair. Jasmine was lounged across his lap, also naked.
"What the Actual Fuck is going on?" I asked, more confused than angry. Karin gave me an absent look and waved with a giggle. She at least had her pants on, as did Margaret who beckoned me in. "We're dancing. The party's just getting started" she told me. "Have another Rum cocktail." I held up the water.
"No, I'm on the wagon I think. Massive headache. Too much sun."
She seemed unhappy with this idea, but seemed placated when Virgil said it was fine, he'd get me some water. I waved my two litres at him and said I was fine. I must have been waking up because I spotted a look between Virgil and Margaret, not a good one either. I still felt fuzzy headed, something wasn't quite right, apart from my topless wife dancing in a very intimate and sexy manner with Brandon. I was about to drag her outside for a frank exchange of views when the relative peace was broken by the growl of powerful engines. I swivelled, joining everyone in looking out to sea. Bright spotlights burst into life, moving fast across the water, slowing as the boat came cruising up to shore.
A final blip of the engines, a hydraulic whine and a rushing scrunching sound and an inflatable boat was sitting half out of the water, it must have been nearly twenty feet long with two huge Evinrude outboard motors. It was a pure inflatable, not a RIB, with no part of it more than a metre above the waterline. Everything on it was matt black, it must have the radar signature of a seagull.
Two men entirely dressed in black jumped out, carrying a box about a meter long by maybe half a metre wide and tall, it followed the colour scheme of the night and was also matt black.
They walked up the beach to Virgil, and after a short exchange of words where they confirmed "it was all there" whatever 'it' was, they disappeared out to the back of the kitchen with Brandon and Jasmine, where I heard a sliding van door open then close before the two guys reappeared. Virgil had another terse conversation, lots of head nodding went on and then everyone cheered up. The music, which had been switched off when they beached burst back with a loud steel band calypso beat, the two guys from the boat dumped their stealth gear for the plain black Ts and shorts they had on underneath. Brandon and Jasmine didn't reappear, but shortly after I heard the distinctive sound of a rattly old diesel engine bark into life and one red, and one white taillight disappeared bouncing up the track.
Samuel fired up the barbecue again and the smell of cooking meat wafted across the area, the two boat guys had cans of beer and were swigging enthusiastically, the girls, and I include Karin in that collective, were dancing again. Karin had a large glass in her hand that she presented to Virgil to be topped up regularly. Everyone else seemed to be on the Red Stripe or wine.
Virgil called me over. shouting above the blaring music "Have a drink" offering me a glass of his cocktail. I declined, citing my thumping headache and fuzzy headedness.
"In that case" he told me "We are going to have a problem." Something was poking me in the side, I looked down at an ugly black pistol. Looking along the pistol it was being held by a fairly elegant hand with red painted nails. I recognised that hand. "Hello Margaret" I said in my best trying to sound cool manner. I suspect it came out in a bit more of a squeak than a gruff baritone but at least I didn't piss myself straight away.
"You'd better come with me. Gabe, Paul, I need you for a few minutes." Gabe and Paul must have been the two boat guys, they were beside her in a moment. My first thought was that they were big. Big in a spent time in the prison weights room big. Amongst the many tattoos visible on their arms, I spotted one of an eagle crouched over an anchor crossed with a trident and an old flintlock pistol.
Right. Either an ex-Navy Seal in which case I'd avoid messing with him or a Walter Mitty type, but as he was built like a brick shithouse I wasn't about to put it to the test. The other one was as solid but only seemed to have prison tats, no military ones. I still wasn't about to argue. Looking at them both I did feel more like pissing myself though.
I was propelled across the impromptu dance floor and found myself having my hands cable tied behind my back around a solid post. I tried straining against the restraints and felt they may be moving when Gabe or Paul wrapped a length of gaffer tape around my wrists, reducing my movement to zero.
The mountain leaned in over me holding up the roll. "You goin' sit tight like a good little Brit pussy or do I need to gag you?"
I felt the circumstances called for total acquiescence and agreed that I would indeed be a good little Brit pussy and sit tight.
He leaned right down and spat "Good Boy" into my face, turned and threw the tape and ties to Samuel in the kitchen and sauntered off to join his mate for a beer.
