Read Fortune Favors for Free Online Page A

of his tuxedo provided adequate camouflage in the inky darkness and no one noticed him.
    The towering promontory glistened in the perfect water, outlined by a sliver of moonlight. There was a structure atop the rock mass, a walled fortress from Malaysia’s colonial era, from which the silhouette of a roaming watchman was visible. Kismet took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface of the lagoon, stroking toward the wooden pier where he could rise without being spotted.
    The scene above was a patchwork of modern technology and the traditional art of piracy. The crewmen streaming from the junk with crates of booty in their hands would have been right at home in the seventeenth century, but the four-wheeled all-terrain vehicles towing utility carts onto the rickety pier ruined the image. In minutes, the captured treasures were heaped onto the wagons and towed back toward the beach. A group of pirates followed on foot, barely visible to Kismet in his hiding place, but one figure stood out distinctly from the others.
    The scarlet fabric of her evening gown served to accentuate rather than conceal the woman’s figure and the mane of blonde ringlets that cascaded to the middle of her back revealed not only her gender, but also her identity. The woman being escorted from the pirate ship was none other than Elisabeth Neuell, former A-list movie star and currently the Sultana of Muara.
    What Kismet knew about the actress’ career and her marriage into one of the richest families in Southeast Asia, was solely the product of half-glimpsed supermarket tabloid headlines. He had seen her in one or two film roles—just enough to agree with the general complaint of critics that her talent was mostly underutilized by directors—but aside from that, he knew only that she was a lovely woman who had run away from one fairy tale kingdom—Hollywood—and into another, marrying her prince charming. There had been inevitable comparisons to the life of Grace Kelly, and indeed, in another age, Elisabeth Neuell might easily have launched her career as one of Alfred Hitchcock’s blonde bombshells. In any event, once she had taken the hand of the young Sultan, her interest in making movies had waned, this in spite of the rumored infidelities of both she and her husband. Her questionable moral character did not presently concern Kismet. She was a hostage, a captive of the pirate raiders, and as such demanded his attention.
    Her captors were either guilty of very poor judgment, or had effectively trumped a military response; Kismet couldn’t decide which. Either the Sultan would move heaven and earth to recover his bride, or he would leave the pirates alone for fear that harm might come to the Sultana. Kismet decided to remove that wild card from the table.
    There was no hesitation on his part. Attempting to rescue the hostage was a natural extension of the same immediacy of response that had prompted him to leave the cruise ship behind in the first place. That she was a beautiful woman did not matter one bit to Kismet; he would have done the same for anyone held captive by the pirates.
    He caught a last glimpse of her crossing the beach toward the narrow jungle trail, of her shapely figure and blonde curls limned in moonlight.
    Well, maybe it matters a little .
    The tropical sea was a warm soup that sapped his energy as he lingered beneath the pier. He waited until all activity on the junk ceased and the last flicker of light from the shore party disappeared into the jungle before crawling stealthily onto the beach.
    Despite its imposing shadow, the cliff reaching up to the fortress was not sheer. Foliage clung to its steep slopes, highlighting the protrusions of rock that formed a veritable stairway up the face. Moving with a confidence born of urgency, Kismet deftly picked his way up the cliff, slowing his pace only when the upper reaches of his climb were in sight. He paused just below the lip, listening for the telltale sounds of conversation