In Treacherous Waters

by Richard V Frankland

  “When I find him I will call the Colonel, I think he will be more than willing to help.”

  “You think he will help,” Amelia replied shaking her head, “I think he is too much interested in bullying innocent people to want to risk getting hurt or damaging his reputation chasing a real criminal.”

  ***

  As darkness fell, Staunton had left the restaurant and driven south to the house where Reshetnikov had been hiding out, near Achades da Cruz, and parked the car along the same track he had previously used. Again, he used cuttings from the surrounding bushes to camouflage the car, then donning the black all-in-one night camouflage suit and night goggles he carefully made his way through the trees to the clearing surrounding the house. The property in complete darkness had an atmosphere of abandonment about it that encouraged him to test the defences, so he broke cover fully expecting to be illuminated at any moment by the high wall security lights, but all remained in darkness. He circled the property then cautiously approached the front gates where he noted the padlocks and police notices before climbing over the gates and making his way towards the house, still without attracting any electronic security response. He circled round the house to the back door that accessed the utility room where he used skeleton keys on the lock and was inside in under a minute. He found the burglar alarm keypad near to the front door switched off; apparently the police had not bothered to activate it again after they had made their arrests and searched the property. A second box in the cupboard marked with a camera logo was also switched off explaining the lack of response from the equipment along the walls. Now he checked all of the rooms, finding beds unmade and stale bread in the kitchen, confirming that the house had been unoccupied for some time. In the garage he found an extending ladder, and separating the two sections, he used them to climb over the garden wall and return to the car where he sorted through his suitcase and removed just the bare essentials he would need plus the hair dye.

  ***

  On leaving Amelia’s house Vaughan drove back to the hotel, but instead of going in to join Conway he walked up to the Real Canoa for a late snack. The place was packed but after a short wait Bruno found him a balcony table from which he had a grandstand view of the pretty Latvian musician Agnese Alde playing a kokle, a delightful instrument like a horizontal harp on a sound box. The ham omelette was excellent as were the three large glasses of Quinta das Bandeiras red. He had arrived quite late and as he ate the restaurant slowly started to empty and the conversation level decreased to the point where the calming music could be clearly heard.

  Vaughan was still in a state of shock at Amelia’s revelation of her feelings towards him and now, sat alone, his mind was taken up trying to analyse his own feelings for her. She was without doubt very beautiful, highly intelligent with excellent English and with a sense of humour, but she had a Latin temper that erupted like a volcano in a blink of an eye, to calm again almost as quickly. Her dress sense, minimal make-up and the tidiness of her home demonstrated that she had great taste, all of those things were to Vaughan attractive, but thus far in their friendship he had hardly put his arms around her or even shared a kiss. Always it had been either the lingering love for his ex-wife Sarah or his duty to the service that had restrained him from taking the friendship onto a romance. Despite the relationship to her traitorous uncle her parents had been decent hard working people, but a life together with Amelia in Madeira would always be haunted by the ghost of Olavo Esteves hanging over them whichever side of the coup her attackers were on. If he persuaded her to move to England he had also to consider her son, Zeferino, how would he cope finishing his schooling in England when, if Amelia was to be believed, he struggled at school here being taught in his native tongue.

  The thoughts surrounding a relationship with Amelia were still turning over in his mind as he left the restaurant and made his way to the hotel. It was not until he got to his room that he decided what he must do the following day.

  ***

  Staunton had slept well and risen early, washed and was now looking in the mirror scrutinising the grey haired man looking back at him. His face still relatively unmarked by age gave him more the silver fox look than the one he had hoped for. Maybe dirt and scruffy clothing might give a better picture; he needed one more day’s stubble on his chin to really achieve the image he sought. Leaving the bathroom he went into the main bedroom, noting the twin beds, and looked through Reshetnikov’s wardrobe. Curiosity had him also looking through Sonia’s wardrobe, nodding in appreciation at her choice of attire – Channel, Dior and two rather surprising Paco Rabanne dresses that had Staunton picturing Alice wearing. Returning to Reshetnikov’s wardrobe he pulled a couple of suits out and looked at them, noting that, apart from the obvious Saville Row quality, their size put the use of any jacket or trousers out of the question. He moved to the bedrooms at the other end of the house and found where the minder Ivor slept. This was more like it, good quality yes, but not over the top for a tramp to have picked up. Moreover, the jackets were much nearer his own size and the style more uniform than executive. Trying on the trousers he found that he would have to roll up the legs a turn or two and maybe use string to hold in the waist but those adjustments were well in keeping. At the bottom of the wardrobe he found a boot, a half size too large, but with, say, two pairs of socks would be okay, the exposed plaster cast on his right foot was already looking grubby enough for a tramp.

  Satisfied with his finds he returned to the kitchen and made some coffee and toast.

  Finishing his breakfast he searched the house for keys, eventually finding a set hung on a hook behind a cupboard door in the utility room. The next question was whether it should be tramp or silver fox appearance, a decision which required careful consideration. Finally deciding on the tramp he changed, and letting himself out, walked towards the perimeter wall, keeping the house between him and the front gates. The ladders positioned out of sight of the road and driveway made his climb over the wall easy but as he put his good foot on the loose stones outside it slipped and his protecting boot hooked in the ladder causing it to fall sideways to crash to the ground, painfully trapping the booted foot. In agony, Staunton carefully extracted his foot and sat for several minutes waiting for the pain to subside. The fall had, however, served to dirty the suit and his face as he rolled over and began crawling through the low scrub between the wall and the trees. A tear on the back of the jacket from a thorn bush further helped the image which he completed by scuffing the shoulders of the jacket against a tree. Reaching his car he swallowed two more pain killers then drove to the forest shack where he and Boris had re-located the weapons cache. Hiding the car as best he could, Staunton unlocked the shack and got down to painting all of the boxes on the back of Boris’ truck, hidden inside, in white gloss paint.

  ***

  Vaughan was helping himself to a full English breakfast when Conway joined him.

  “Morning, Ian, you had another late night?”

  “Not particularly late but I have learnt a lot about potential places from where one could ship out a quantity of arms and I intend today to visit them to check out the lay of the land.”

  “You reckon that he will supervise the shipment himself?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeh, I probably would considering that it is the only asset I would have. I assume his bank accounts have been frozen.”

  “Probably, or at least the bank accounts we know about, and leaving with the shipment is, by now, the only way that he will get off this island without the risk of officialdom stopping him.”

  “That makes sense. Are you really going to eat two eggs with all that?”

  “Yep. I’ve got a long day ahead of me. What are you up to today, Brian?”

  “Trying to trace the car is first on the schedule and trying to keep my opposite number DS José Livramento focused on this case and not wandering off to interview people who they think may have known about the coup but who in fact had no idea what was
going on or actually cared.”

  Vaughan put down his knife and fork, “Ah, yes, I was thinking through the business of arms and shipping them out earlier, and thought that a vehicle would be required, a truck of some sort. Can you get the local boys to check on what vehicles Kazakov and Boris owned?”

  “Yes, of course, he would have had access to more than just the Range Rover they found at the house.”

  Over breakfast, Conway gave more details about the events of the previous day in the company of his Portuguese opposite number.

  “He is actually a great bloke and I suppose it’s not his fault that he disappears frequently on this coup business, our little game is of no real interest to them in the great scheme of things.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is, though I do have the feeling that Staunton was connected with some pretty murky types in mainland Portugal. The Galician Mafia was mentioned but that was left to their SIS to deal with, and they seemed very keen to do so.”

  ***

  After Conway had been collected by Livramento, Vaughan drove to Calheta where he spent most of the morning studying the tiny harbour. Basically, a marina where there appeared to be no craft tough enough to go alongside a steel-hulled cargo vessel without risk of considerable damage even with strong fenders attached, he also noted the key operated drop posts preventing easy vehicle access to the quayside. Driving on to Paúl do Mar he found a very different situation with a couple of stout fishing boats moored up, easy access to the quay and a quietness about the place that made a night operation look highly feasible. In both locations, if the wind remained from the north east the sea state would be slight enough for a transshipment, provided that it wasn’t too far off shore. Vaughan decided to cover both options, planning to put Conway at Calheta whilst he kept watch at Paúl do Mar. He had spent most of the afternoon at the port and, careful not to be seen, found a way of getting into and out of the derelict building that overlooked the harbour quay without actually coming in sight of the quay itself.

  Satisfied with his plan he phoned Conway, “Hello, Brian, any news?”

  “They found another car with the plates changed, you were right, he had done it again.”

  “What’s the new number?”

  Conway read it out then told Vaughan about Kazakov’s minder, Boris, and the interrogation by a Russian speaking police officer sent in from Lisbon.

  “The guy’s been at it for bloody hours and got nowhere. I’m now convinced that this Boris character is too frightened of your man Staunton to risk shopping him by divulging any information regarding a weapons cache.”

  “You’re probably right there, Brian, Staunton is a highly trained killer and though Boris is big and probably a hard man he would be no match, that’s for sure.”

  “And I’ve been sent here to arrest him, oh, terrific.”

  “Don’t worry, Brian, I’ll hold your coat.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “Staunton would probably have used Kazakov’s daughter’s life to keep Boris in line, that’s why the guy’s keeping mum, then of course there is the money; he would lose that.”

  “What has your day been like?” asked Conway.

  “I’ve been looking at the two most likely shipment ports. I’ll explain later when I get back to the hotel. If I were you I would finish work early and get some rest.”

  “Ah, I sense that you have a plan.”

  “Something like that, see you later.”

  Finishing the call, Vaughan sat for a short time plucking up courage to visit Amelia again. Was he about to confirm his feelings for her or worse find that they did not share that vital spark that would bind them, and he leave her sadder than she already was. The risk of hurting her more than he had already done was something that he wanted to avoid at all costs, but regardless of the outcome with Staunton it was essential that they both knew whether their feelings for each other were deep enough for a lasting relationship. If they were, their future was something that would largely depend on where it would continue, and that was a whole new ballgame, would she leave Madeira and consider settling in England and would she allow him to continue his work with SIS.

  Getting into his car he drove towards Camaro de Lobos still pondering what to do. He had parked the car on the brick-paved apron in front of Amelia’s garage when an unwanted thought struck him; was this a subconscious reaction to Sarah’s new romance?

  Needing now more than ever to know the answer he got out of the car and made his way up to the house. Zeferino answered the door and on seeing Vaughan smiled and stepped aside to let him in.

  “Hello, Zef, is your mama at home?”

  “Mama! It is Senhor Vaughan.”

  Amelia came to the dining room door and looked down the hall at him.

  “Can he watch TV for a while? You and I need to talk.” She nodded. “Zef you can watch TV for a while, I need to talk to your mama, okay?”

  Zef smiled, “Sim, er yes, er okay,” and turned to hurry into the lounge and switch on the television.

  “Have you come to ask me more questions about shipping?”

  “No, I have come to talk about us,” he said, quietly closing the lounge door and walking towards her.

  She stood still in the doorway waiting for him. She looked tired, the scar on her jaw though was not so angry and she had combed her hair differently to hide the scab on her scalp, but it was the tiredness that struck Vaughan.

  “You look all in,” he said quietly looking down at her.

  She frowned, “What is ‘all in?’ All in what?”

  “Oh sorry, it is an English phrase for saying that you look tired or exhausted.”

  “Oh, I do not sleep so well with this,” she replied raising her left arm slightly, “I will be so glad when the plaster is taken off.”

  Vaughan gently put his arms around her, “So will I.”

  As he had reached out so had she, her plaster cast clad arm resting against his right side and her bandaged right arm gently adding pressure to the embrace. The side of her head rested against his chest and he waited for her to look up but she didn’t, instead, after several seconds, she took her arms away breaking the contact.

  “No, Ian, I want to be sure that this is not just sympathy.”

  “So do I, Amelia, I also want to be sure.”

  “At this moment feeling tired and in pain, worried about the impact on my business, how people are treating us and you, how can I know anything for sure,” she said looking at him intently, “I don’t even really know who you are, do I?”

  Vaughan was stopped short by her last comment, “No, Amelia, you are right, you probably don’t know who I am.”

  “So I need to learn who this man, Ian Vaughan, really is, and if you have the time we can start now by you telling me your life story from when you were a small boy. Come, sit at the table and tell me.”

  Two hours later Vaughan got up to leave, “When the Staunton problem is dealt with I will come and let you know, then I will return to England and wait for your invitation to come and see you again, in what, a month, two months?”

  “When I am healed and my life is more stable. I have to think of Zeferino as well as myself. Until my uncle arrived, my life was stable and my future clear, but now I cannot think beyond the next hour. I am sorry, because I said those things about my feelings without fully thinking of the consequences of what I said. Please understand that I meant those things, but now I am too confused and unsure, I am sorry, so sorry, Ian.”

  ***

  Vaughan left Amelia’s house strangely more confident about his own feelings and prepared to wait for her. She was complex yes, but she was also honest and cautious and he could well understand her current dilemma.

  After a hurried farewell to Zef, Vaughan had walked swiftly to the car and driven back to the hotel to enlist Brian Conway’s assistance in a night-time vigil. He found the man sat in the bar taking a sip of the second beer of the day.

  “Hi, Brian, how’s it going?”


  “Slowly, but at least we now have the details of the vehicles you were interested in.” Conway reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “I was just about to spoil your cosy evening with the very lovely Amelia de Lima, then you turn up here. Has she told you that you are not rich enough or only that you are too old and ugly.”

  “How did you know I had visited Amelia?”

  “When you left she phoned Alicia who phoned your mate Bruno who then brought a beer out to me.”

  “The jungle drums, eh.”

  “Yep, he also brought out a photograph of the lady. Wow.”

  “Wow she most definitely is, but sadly you are right again, Brian, one look at me in daylight was enough, she didn’t even ask about the bank balance.”

  “Oh yeh,” Conway chuckled giving Vaughan a friendly punch on the shoulder. He looked down at the piece of paper. “Right, the news is this – apart from the Range Rover there is an Isuzu two tonne truck plus a SEAT Leon both registered as belonging to Boris Kuznetsov. We took a look at the house, but could not find the truck, that was two hours ago. We are going to ask him about it in the morning, bet he’ll claim that it has been stolen whilst he has been in custody.”

  “Wouldn’t you.”

  “Yeh, I suppose I would in the same circumstances.” Conway waved to the barman. “What are you drinking, Ian?”

  “A fruit juice, that’s all. I’m going a-hunting shortly to take a look at a couple of small harbours. Want to come along?”

  “Yeh, all right. What’s this about?”

  Vaughan outlined the theory he had concerning the export of the weapons cache.

  “So you’re about to suggest that each of us keeps watch, one at Calheta and the other at Paúl do Mar.”

  “You’re quick.”

  “Years of working with devious minds like yours. The number of senior officers I’ve had whose apparent aim in life has been my sleep deprivation.”