An Act of Piracy.

By Nicholas Gill

An LNG carrier is loading at Batangas gas terminal in the Philippines. It is hijacked in the South China Sea, and the owners and the insurers begin preparations to pay a ransom. But no ransom demand is made. Then a missing Chief Engineer reappears with a strange tale to tell. The vessel's crew has been replaced by a terrorist faction supporting the Uyghur cause; it is now heading for the center of Shanghai City, carrying the explosive power of 50 Hiroshima bombs. If the terrorist demands are not met the ship will be detonated; thousands will die and the center of Shanghai will be destroyed. The only force in a position to stop the terrorists is Pinoy Protection Services, ironically the very people instrumental in effecting the crew change. Can the vessel be stopped? And can it be stopped in time? A race with a terrible prize begins...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicholas Gill
• Release date: Jun 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005144609

Nicholas Gill

Author Profile – Nicholas Gill.As a young man the author served in the Royal Marines Commandos seeing active service in Malaya, Borneo, Brunei, Sarawak and Aden. In between active service postings, specialist courses and training included arctic warfare training three hundred miles inside the Arctic Circle in northern Norway, and desert warfare exercises in Libya and Western Australia. On leaving the Royal Marines he went back to his roots in engineering and worked in the power industries on refinery and power station construction projects. This led to involvement in the onshore construction of jacket and modular units for the emerging North Sea oil industry. A natural follow on from this was to work offshore on the hook-up and commissioning of major production platform installations.Planning for retirement involved the purchase and renovation of a derelict farm in Wales and ultimately the purchase of twenty-seven thousand acres of the Black Mountain. This proved expensive and returning to the offshore oil industry the author spent a further twelve years on the development of a major North Sea Field for a large American Oil company.On the termination of his contract the author found that he had passed his sell by date and no one wanted or needed his years of experience. Having spent many years writing engineering procedures and specifications it occurred to him that he was perfectly suited to becoming a best selling author! "Retribution" is the first fruit of that idea, and is the first part of a planned trilogy; it is available FREE from Smashwords. The second part, "Sedition", is now published with Smashwords, and the third part, "Attrition", is complete and was published with Smashwords in the last quarter of 2013. Six more novels are planned in detail and will use many of the same characters in further adventures.Read and enjoy,Nicholas Gill.

Book preview

An Act of Piracy.

A novel by Nicholas Gill.

Copyright © Nicholas John Vickers, 2019.

Table of contents.

Prologue.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Thirteen.

Epilogue.

Prologue

Tawi-tawi Island, Sulu Sea.

In a madrassa attached to a Mosque on a remote island in the southern Philippines an argument was raging. Among those present were members of Abu Sayyaf, the Moro Liberation Front, a small delegation of Uighur Chinese Muslims, and a few local residents.

Your policy of terror is harming the faithful; no tourists means less income for the people, the speaker, a local councilor objected.

It also means less income for the Christian Catholic government. The reply came from an Abu Sayyaf supporter of terror.

Agreed, but the people are poor, they have to eat!

Their faith in Allah will sustain them…

Also agreed, but not for much longer, the people are becoming restless, another way must be found.

We hit the government in their pockets, a member of the Moro Liberation Front stated, they understand nothing else.

True! Then we must find other targets to attack!

The speakers at the meeting were senior leaders from the Moro Liberation Front and from the dissident group Abu Sayyaf, the local people had said nothing, or very little so far.

A young fisherman stood. I used to feed my family from the sea, through the bounty of Allah, blessed be His Name. Now I feed them on tinned sardines, the product of Portugal. Heads nodded amongst the villager’s present. There are no fish, the Chinese trawlers take everything, they are even destroying the giant clam beds that we nurtured for years.

More heads nodded. Yes, our fathers and their fathers, and their fathers before them, we shared the seas with everyone, and everyone ate well. Then the Island building began, and the Chinese grabbed everyone’s share, we were pushed further and further from the rich fisheries we had used down the centuries, we had to go great distances to get enough fish, and then we came into conflict with people from other lands. They too were struggling to find food for their families.

Another voice joined in, Indonesians, Thais, Malays, people we had fished alongside for years, all were becoming hungry.

Another spoke up, And still our government does nothing.

Yet another spoke, The Chinese patrol boats stop us from fishing in what they call ‘their waters,’ how can that be?

And the International Courts have ruled in our favor, another voice added.

Other interests are at work here, an Abu Sayyaf leader informed the gathered company, Large, nay vast sums are flowing into the pockets of the Christians, from the Chinese, in natural gas deliveries.

Are you suggesting we should attack the rigs?

No, not the rigs, they are too well guarded. But we have expertise in hijacking ships, mainly coal carriers from Sabah. Maybe we can take an LNG carrier, the ransom would be much more. If we can’t feed our families one way, perhaps we should try another?

There was a silence as those present thought through the implications. Eyes glittered round the table.

In a far corner of the room, Hamad Gul, a man who had come in with the Uighur delegation smiled, he had found another stick with which to stir the pot of simmering Muslim resentment. Do we have anyone experienced in handling such a vessel? he asked.

I will have enquiries made, the Mayor stated.

Be discrete! No word of such a plan must get out.

Of course, I am not stupid.

CHAPTER ONE.

Special Forces Barracks, Camp Atizeri.

Master Sargent Jojo Medrana sat astride his powerful bike, a Kawasaki Ninja, it’s 300bhp pointed directly at the camp gates, and still he hesitated. Out there was change, change in everything he knew. But there was nothing he could do about it, his time was up, he had served 25 years in the Philippine Marines, much of it in the Special Forces. He told himself he had survived some of the hairiest situations he was ever likely to encounter in his years of service, but outside those gates was the scariest thing of all - the unknown.

Standing on the sidewalk next to the guardroom were three of Jojo’s best pals. They were all facing the same problem. They had said their goodbyes in the sergeant’s mess last night, now they were here to give him support at the moment of leaving.

Bong Cardino spoke first, he was unusually tall for a Filipino, tall with a wiry strength, he was a platoon weapons instructor, and off duty, a Basketball coach. Any idea what you’re gonna do yet? he enquired.

Jojo was not a tall man, he was a wide man, solid muscle from constant training, powerful and enormously strong. He shrugged his massive shoulders, None of the crap jobs on the list they offered, he said dismissively.

Nah, I wasn’t impressed with any of them either, another of the trio announced; Ari Oapa was an unarmed combat instructor, deceptively slight in build but perfectly muscled like a gymnast, he could explode into action in an instant. Keep your eyes open Jojo, you see any openings, you’ll give us a shout, right.

The third pal standing by the Guardroom said nothing, taciturn by nature, Rey Lerona merely gave a thumbs up. Swarthy, and with heavily pockmarked features, he was the evil looking one of the group of friends facing discharge in the coming week, but he was actually the kindest hearted man you could wish to meet. Unless you got on the wrong side of him that is.

Jojo shook each of the offered hands, pressed the starter, and roared out of the gates without a backward glance. If there was any trouble ahead, he was pretty sure he could handle it. But what was he going to do for a job? He had no trade or special skills, unless you included killing people. He reviewed the list of Jobs the Marines had offered, Postal workers, concierges, drivers, and was definitely not impressed.

His fuel light was winking at him, he needed to top up his tank, and that meant he needed an ATM. Soon he spotted a sign for Veterans Bank, he pulled over, put his bike on the stand and hung his helmet on the handlebar. Taking out his wallet he removed his card and approached the mechanical teller. Moments later, cash in hand he turned away, and to his astonishment saw an unknown guy sitting astride his prized Kawasaki, trying to start it. He walked over. You won’t start it like that, he said conversationally.

How the fuck do you know, came the uncaring response.

Because it’s my fucking bike, Jojo replied, now get off it.

The potential thief sneered and put his hand inside his jacket.

Jojo didn’t hesitate, he snatched his helmet off the handlebars and turned a fast 180 degrees, smashing the helmet backhanded square in the thief’s face. There was a sickening thwack, and the thief shot backwards off the bike and hit the concrete. A large automatic clattered into