“So you are unarmed but still have I.D.”
“According to his paperwork I am, he got the Browning 9mm that I was due to return having been issued, via Madeira, with a Glock.”
“So you are still in the game. Good,” said Campbell. “For God’s sake watch your back, Vaughan, Staunton is an efficient killer. One final thing, only call on this new number for the next three nights, after that, well, I will see what I can arrange through Lorna. I had better get back to the house, Vaughan, otherwise any watchers looking towards my garden shed will start wondering what I’m up to.”
“Right, Sir. I will try contacting you tomorrow night on this number, goodnight.”
Slipping the phone into his pocket, Vaughan focused his thoughts on getting out into the Atlantic and northwards toward Cadiz.
***
The head of the Portuguese Servico de Informaçōes de Segurança, the equivalent of Britain’s MI5 had endured another long day questioning those coup members arrested weeks earlier in Funchal but now imprisoned in Lisbon. Coups are rarely staged for the benefit of those who present the public image and Natanael De Lacerda was determined to discover those powerful backers who would, for obvious reasons, wish to remain anonymous.
His mobile bleeped and glancing at the screen he frowned not recognising the caller’s number. “De Lacerda.”
“Natanael, Alex Campbell here, how are you, my friend, busy I suspect?”
“Alex, it is good to hear you, do you have any more earth-shattering news for me?”
“No, not this time. I am phoning to ask a favour.”
“Ask away.”
“This is a very special operation and I would appreciate you using only this number on which to contact me.”
“I see, it sounds that, like me, you are sailing in a leaky boat. Of course I will keep this only between the two of us, how may I help?”
“I am looking for a powerboat named ‘Corredor Rápido’, my information is that it was involved in a snatch of two rather important people.”
“Where did this happen, Alex?”
“Gibraltar.”
“Gibraltar! You think they came all this way. Why not just across the bay to Spain?”
“You are right, Natanael, that would be the obvious direction and I have put feelers out there as well, but I have a gut feeling that your shores are the real destination.”
“I see, Alex, I will make some immediate enquiries for you. I can easily cover it under another search we are conducting.”
***
At first Vaughan’s progress into the Straits of Gibraltar was good but as he reached the narrowest part the constant eastbound current made sailing progress slow. Starting the engine he set the yacht up to motor sail under control of the auto helm then went below to write up the log starting with the phrase “Blackstrapped”, a term coined in the days of the Georgian navy, when ships entering the Mediterranean took on barrels of a dark red rough wine for their crews. Molasses, the product of the third boiling of sugar cane and known as “Blackstrap” in the Caribbean, soon shared its nickname with the coarse wine issue for ships in the Med. The term’s relevance to Vaughan’s log was the fact that as soon as the Georgian sailors saw the wine being loaded they knew they were heading for the Mediterranean, and the prospect of years away from home, at the end of which they faced days, or even weeks of hard sailing with little progress as they forced their passage through the Straits and back into the Atlantic.
It took four hours of motor sailing against the current before “La Mouette sur le Vent” rounded the Punta de Tarifa O Marroqui to then point hard on the wind in the direction of Punta Camarinal and Cape Trafalgar; and when in sight of the Cape he tacked the yacht to get closer to the shore where the current running south, that also impeded his progress, was slightly less. At seven o'clock in the evening Vaughan brought the yacht round into the Bay of Cadiz and sailed across the harbour entrance to El Puert de Santa Maria where he anchored between the marina and the training wall of the Rio Guadalete. As tempting as marina facilities were, Vaughan wished to avoid appearing on marina registers, preferring the comparative anonymity of the anchorage. By 2210 hours he had dined and cleared away leaving himself free to make the call to Commodore Campbell from the yacht’s cockpit where he could be sure to avoid unexpected interruption should some observant official wish to come from the shore to check his papers.
Dialling the number Vaughan didn’t hear it ring before Campbell’s voice was heard. “Vaughan?”
“Yes, Sir, I am at anchor on the eastern side of the Bay of Cadiz.”
“Slow progress then.”
“Well, as you know it’s a bit of a struggle getting out of the Med. and it has been northerly winds all the way,” replied Vaughan, for some inexplicable reason, feeling that his excuse seemed a little lame.
“Never mind, I learnt from Inspector Lopez that the man you killed was one Christiano Graciano, leader of an enforcement gang that has connections with the town of Lagos on the Algarve coast. His body was found in the back of a car as the driver tried to leave Gibraltar this afternoon.”
“Did they learn anything from the driver?”
“No, except that the body was to be taken to his family in Lisbon,” replied Campbell. “I understand that when the police started asking what was in the box the man got very nervous, so they opened it up and found the body sealed up in several layers of polythene.”
“Does that get us any nearer to finding Ms Ronaldo and Lieutenant Heathcote, Sir?”
“Enough for me to take a gamble and ask you to set sail immediately for Lagos. I have asked for the port to be watched.”
Vaughan went below and looked at his large scale chart. “At a guess that is a full day’s sail, Sir. I had better leave the boat here and go overland.”
“No, Vaughan, don’t do that, I am going to inform my contact in Portugal’s Servico de Informaçōes de Segurança about who you are, with the request that it goes no further. Do the best you can sailing there, Lagos would be a likely port of call for you to take on supplies or do repairs.”
“Right, Sir, I will up anchor now and get underway.”
“Call me this time tomorrow evening, Vaughan, if you can. Oh and buy yourself a few more pay as you go mobile phones. I don’t want any communication risks.”
“Right, Sir, till tomorrow.”
Taking the back of the phone off, Vaughan threw the battery, SIM card and phone separately into the sea. “This is becoming bloody expensive, I hope Campbell gets reinstated otherwise my expenses form submission will be a waste of time.”
Half an hour later “La Mouette sur le Vent” was heading out to sea again under full sail, charging along comfortably off the wind now that Vaughan was able to set a course of two nine five degrees giving a wind angle of more than sixty degrees.
***
The following morning as “La Mouette sur le Vent” romped along with Vaughan below stirring porridge in the galley, Jacobs was inspecting the handy work of the two brothers.
“Neat, yeh very neat, you’ve done this before I bet.”
The brothers had worked solidly throughout the night building the two bunk compartment behind the driver’s cab. Two thick skins of thermal insulation sandwiching thick reflective foil surrounded a marine plywood accommodation box complete with bunks and a chemical toilet. Ventilation was through the roof and could be closed off during periods of vehicle inspection. The only weak point was that it reduced the internal length of the load area by a metre and a quarter, something that a sharp eyed vehicle inspector might notice.
“Once or twice, yes. Senhor Graciano he sometime needs to help people who do not want to be seen,” replied Carlinhos, his chest a little puffed up with pride at Jacobs’ recognition of their skill. “You will see that it is well insulated so thermal cameras will not pick up a heat source.”
“And you get in and out of it via my sleepin’ berth above the cab, yeah that’s good, I might even use it myself cause those b
unks look a bloody sight more comfortable than what I’ve got.”
“We are finished now, yes?”
“No, mate, your friend Leonardo wants you two to stay here and cut down all of the weeds and plants around the house and up the slope, nothing to be left over the width of your hands high.”
“That will take all day, Senhor.”
“Don’t worry you’ll get well paid, if anyone comes and asks, say you are working for the owner, right, meantime, I’ve gotta go and pick up a couple of people.”
“Who is the owner?”
“I don’t know, phone Leonardo and ask him.”
Jacobs patted Carlinhos on the back and, sliding behind the wheel of the lorry, started the engine, “See yer later, dump everything out of sight over the top of that bank.”
CHAPTER 7
Jacobs reached the outskirts of Lagos and as planned refuelled the lorry at the one and only fuel station on the road. After paying for the fuel he parked the lorry up and was just about to make his way to the onsite café when he saw a tough looking man in his mid-twenties walking towards him.
“Senhor Jacobs?”
“Who are you?”
“Fidel.”
“Fidel who? What’s your other name?”
The man sighed, “Fidel Castano.”
“Where is Graciano?”
“He dead.”
“Wait while I check this out.”
Jacobs flicked through his phone list and rang Staunton, “You heard anything about Graciano bein’ topped?”
Staunton’s answer was quite brief. “Yes, he got sloppy.”
“Oh shit right, I’ve got a Fidel Castano standin’ ’ere, is he kosher?”
“Yes, he’s all right, anyone else?”
“Dunno, ’old on.”
Putting the phone to one side he said, “Fidel, you got someone workin’ with you?”
“Si, my friend Gregorio, he guarding women at apartment.”
“Did you ’ear that?”
“Yes, I heard, he’s a right bloody hoodlum. They are both to be used until you get the women back to Burgau and locked up, then I want those two taken out. Neither of them are bright so they are a risk as the police now know that the Graciano gang is involved.”
“Are they looking around ’ere?”
“No, they are still chasing their tails in Gibraltar.”
“Let’s ’ope you are right, speak to you later, Sir.”
Jacobs put his phone back on the dashboard rack. “What ’appens now?” he said to Fidel.
“You follow me to apartment, we put women in back with Gregorio to guard them. The one with red hair is big problem.”
“She won’t be for long. You lead the way then,” then remembering just in time Jacobs called, “Oi, Fidel, if anyone asks we are deliverin’ a refrigerator to this place, you understand.”
“Si, I understand, we deliver refrigerator.”
The development of luxury apartments lay behind a manned gatehouse and Jacobs now realised why Staunton had arranged the escort as even Castano had to argue with the man in order to gain entry.
Opening up the back of the removal lorry Jacobs untied the refrigerator and loaded it onto his sack trolley and with the help of Fidel got it to the lift and up to the apartment.
“Where we put this?” asked Fidel pointing to the refrigerator.
“We don’t, we are seen deliverin’ this one and taking away the old one, got it?”
“Ah, yes I understand. Ah here is Gregorio, Gregorio meet Senhor Jacobs.”
Gregorio, who was older than Fidel, sported two nasty recent scratches across his face.
“You look as if you’ve ’ad some trouble from the two ladies you’ve been looking after.”
“The one with the red hair, she fight like a cat, so I smack her.”
“Sounds like what she needed. Well, let’s ’ave a look at them.”
Fidel led the way through to a bedroom overlooking a quiet side road. Both women were tied and gagged and were lying on the two single beds in the room. Jacobs’ eyes went straight to the redhead’s face.
“So you smacked her eh. Christ, a broken nose and black eye is some smack. Your Leonardo will not be very pleased about this,” he said before moving closer to look carefully at Anna-Maria and seeing the look of fear come across her face, smiled, the type of lecherous smile women fear most.
“Right, ladies, get up, we are going to a new ’otel for a few days.”
Anna-Maria responded straight away making an urgent sounding noise and nodding her head in the direction of the partition wall.
“Ah Miss Glamour wants her make-up and toilet bag,” said Fidel mockingly.
“Go with her,” said Jacobs, who then turned and looked down at Heathcote.
“Oi, you get movin’ as well you little cat or I will give you a smack and I won’t be as gentle with it as Gregorio ’ere.”
Painfully, Heathcote stood and Jacobs guessed that she had many more bruises on her than those on her face. Slowly she shuffled across to join Anna-Maria who was now waiting with Fidel by the door to the apartment.
“Fidel, you and Gregorio here follow me down and whisk these two into the back of the lorry, I’ll be waitin’ in there to make sure they don’t give Gregorio any trouble on the journey. Make sure you are not seen.”
Jacobs had only just got the refrigerator off the sack trolley when Anna-Maria stumbled up the lorry ramp pushed by Gregorio. “Stand her over there against the side,” he said pulling his double-edged Commando knife from its sheath beneath his right armpit. Cutting her wrist bonds he quickly and securely tied her wrists to the horizontal load restraint battens that ran along the side of the load area, as Heathcote shuffled across to stand alongside her.
“Now you, hold still or I might cut more than you would wish.” Heathcote’s head hardly moved as he issued the sinister threat, instead she just stared down at the floor, her resistance for a while at least broken. “Good girl, carry on like this and you and I might get along.”
“Are you sure you need me along, Senhor?” said Gregorio.
“Yeh, better be safe than sorry, I’m told that these two are high value so they better not come to any more harm.”
As the ramp was raised and rear doors closed Gregorio made himself comfortable on the sofa rejected by the farmer’s wife and now tied to the battens opposite the two women. For most of the journey he looked at Penny Heathcote with something of an air of satisfaction as with each turn in the road and bump she moaned in pain. Only one woman had ever dared strike him before and she had been beaten then thrown out through a fourth floor window.
The journey taken at a slow pace lasted just under half an hour with Fidel in his sporty Seat trailing along behind. The track leading off the side road was the worst part of the journey and Heathcote was on the point of passing out by the time the lorry came to a stop outside of the house.
When her bonds were cut Heathcote almost collapsed onto the floor of the lorry but fortunately, Anna-Maria, having been freed first, was there to support her and shuffle with her as they were herded into the house. The climb up the stairs was agony for them both as the ankle tethers cut into their flesh and despite the threats, the climb took a full five minutes. Once on the landing they were separated and wrist tethers fitted again.
When Jacobs got to tying Anna-Maria’s wrist tether he took her holdall from her, “I’ll put that in the bathroom for you, now hold out your ’ands.”
They were then put into different bedrooms neither of which had either carpeting or furniture and with the external shutters closed and the doors locked both found themselves in complete darkness.
Outside Fidel and Gregorio were lounged against Fidel’s car watching the Sousa brothers hard at work when Jacobs came out of the house. “Thanks for your help, I will pass on your apologies for damaging some of the goods, Gregorio.” Then, pulling a silenced pistol from his pocket, shot both men in the head before either had a chance to move.
“Carlinhos, get your arse over here and give me a hand.”
A little confused and curious Carlinhos Sousa put down the saw he was using and strolled across towards Jacobs stopping in horror when only five metres away at the sight of the two dead men.
He looked at Jacobs aghast and was about to turn and run when he saw the slight movement of Jacobs’ right hand holding a gun.
“Leonardo’s orders, mate. Come on we have to get rid of these two. You give me a hand getting them into this car then follow me down the road to a point where we can torch it.”
On unsteady legs Carlinhos approached as Jacobs opened the front passenger door, then bent down and reaching under the armpits of Gergorio hauled his body and sat it alongside the passenger seat.
“You grab that side of him and I’ll take this and when I say lift haul him up into the seat.”
It took several minutes to get the big man into position and fit the seat belt and both men were breathing heavily when finally Jacobs slammed the car door closed.
“Bloody hell he weighed a bleedin’ ton. Right now let’s get his mate into the back seat.”
Fidel’s body was a lot lighter but still a struggle to handle into position.
“When we gets to the place and it’s all clear we’ll have to put old Fidel here into the driver’s seat then hopefully the police will think it was nasty accident.”
“Graciano will kill us for sure, you are crazy to do this, for order of Leonardo or no,” said Carlinhos finally finding the will to speak. “Graciano he very powerful man and very quick temper, he will soon know and we will be punished.”
“No you won’t, mate, ’cause Graciano is dead, Fidel told me earlier and I checked with Leonardo. He’s as dead as those two are.”
“You are sure?”
“Yeh, positive. I think the only reason that these two carried on with the deal is because Fidel there had illusions of takin’ over Graciano’s territory. Fat bleedin’ chance a little punk like him would have had.”
Carlinhos, still looking troubled, turned and went to walk back to join his brother.
In Treacherous Waters Page 17