Three Musketeers

On Mexico's border, at a bar in Tijuana, three men of success and prestige sat outside, sipping champagne, gazing at the ocean as the cool breeze swept in from the coast. The idyllic scene belied the tension bubbling just beneath the surface. These men weren't just here for pleasure; they were deeply entangled in global business dealings and life-altering personal dilemmas.

Mendes Boomerang, the American vehicle importer with mining interests, was the unofficial leader of the trio. Akbar Ouli, the Saudi oil magnate, with a sprawling empire of intercontinental hotels, and Oscar Bloom, a Norwegian politician and legal powerhouse, completed the circle of power.

Their presence in this quiet bar alone generated buzz and commanded respect. But the serenity of the setting clashed with the storm building in their lives.

"Akbar, spill the tea. When will your oil containers arrive?" Mendes grinned. "If they get through the Red Sea safely, Forbes will list you as the smartest and wealthiest person in Saudi Arabia. You're unstoppable."

Akbar, always calm under pressure, took a slow sip of his champagne. "They'll arrive on Saturday, inshallah. I've done all I can to ensure their safety."

As the evening wrapped up, Mendes' driver opened the door to his Rolls Royce. Just as Mendes was about to step inside, his phone buzzed. A text message from Pascal lit up the screen:

"Dad, please call me. It's urgent."

Mendes felt his stomach tighten. Pascal rarely sent messages like this. He glanced at Akbar, gave him a quick hug, and promised to call later. He slipped into the car and immediately dialed his son's number.

Oscar raised his glass. "Akbar, your ambition never ceases to amaze me. Cheers to securing your future and that of generations to come."

The three men clinked their glasses, but beneath the surface, a current of unease began to build. The mention of pirates in the Red Sea sent a chill down Akbar's spine. Despite all precautions, the risks were real.

Mendes leaned in, his voice dropping. "I heard there was an attack last week on a cargo ship. Caused massive damage. Are you sure everything's secure?"

Akbar's confident façade wavered for a split second. "I've spoken to the head of security. We've increased patrols, and I trust my people," he said, forcing a smile. But doubt lingered.

In a matter of days, Akbar's wealth could multiply, or he could face financial ruin. One wrong move, one pirate attack, and everything would fall apart. Yet, his calm demeanor never cracked.

As the conversation shifted, Oscar turned to Mendes. "How's Pascal doing? I haven't seen your boy since that trip to Norway years ago. I hear he's graduating soon."

Mendes' face softened, the mention of his son piercing through the bravado he normally wore. Pascal, his pride and joy, was all he had left after the tragic loss of his wife ten years ago. A reckless driver had stolen her life, leaving Mendes to raise their son alone.

A flicker of sadness crossed his face. "He graduates in two days. I'll be flying to New York tomorrow. I can't miss it. Pascal still struggles with losing his mother… I've tried to be everything for him, but it's not easy."

Akbar and Oscar exchanged glances, fully aware of the weight Mendes carried. His fierce devotion to Pascal was born out of a promise to his late wife on her deathbed: to protect their son at all costs.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the ocean. The tranquil scene was interrupted only by Oscar's departure. He had a flight to London, where an important legal matter awaited him.

As Oscar's white Bentley rolled away, Mendes and Akbar lingered at the cliff's edge, watching the waves. They shared a few lighthearted jokes, but there was an underlying tension. The vastness of the ocean seemed to mirror the uncertainty in their lives.

"So, Akbar, when do you head back to Saudi?" Mendes asked, not just out of curiosity, but concern.

Akbar hesitated. "Soon," he replied, though his mind was still on the cargo containers making their way through dangerous waters. He had planned to spend a few more days in Tijuana, enjoying the sea and weather. But part of him felt like he should return home, just in case.

"Dad," Pascal's voice was shaky on the other end of the line. "Something's wrong. I… I think someone's been following me. For the past few days, it feels like I'm being watched."

Mendes' heart pounded. "Pascal, are you safe? Where are you now?"

"I'm at the dorm, but I don't know for how long. It's not just that… I overheard a conversation today. Something about… you. About the business. I don't know what it means, but it didn't sound good."

Mendes' pulse quickened, his mind racing. The shadow of his past dealings—perhaps the under-the-table deals or enemies he had made—was catching up to him. But more troubling was the thought that his son, his only remaining family, could be caught in the crossfire.

As Mendes processed Pascal's words, another call came in. This time, it was from a blocked number. With a deep breath, Mendes answered.

"Mr. Boomerang," a deep, menacing voice crackled through the phone. "We know about the shipment. You've made some powerful enemies. If you want to keep your son safe, you'll do exactly what we say."

Mendes' blood ran cold. The mention of his son turned his fear into rage. "If you touch Pascal—"

The voice cut him off. "We don't have to. But we could. Play by our rules, and your son walks across that graduation stage. Defy us, and you'll bury him just like you buried your wife."

The call ended abruptly, leaving Mendes gripping his phone in disbelief.

He was a man of immense power, but now, someone else was pulling the strings. And for the first time in years, Mendes felt utterly powerless.

Back at the cliff, Akbar stood alone, sipping his champagne as the waves crashed below. His phone buzzed with a new message. He checked it, expecting routine business news.

Instead, his screen displayed a cryptic message from an unknown number:

"You're next. The sea won't protect you."

Akbar's breath caught in his throat. The threats he had brushed off as baseless warnings now felt too close, too personal. His mind raced back to the conversation about the pirates, his billion-dollar shipment, and the thin line between fortune and failure.

For the first time in years, Akbar felt real fear. The stakes weren't just business anymore. They were life and death.

As both Mendes and Akbar grappled with the shadowy threats against their lives and fortunes, they realized the storm that was coming for them was unlike any they had faced before.

And this time, their wealth and power might not be enough to save them.