The Dead Sea

by Andrew Jackson

  Lucas called out to his newly appointed first mate, whose name he kept forgetting, instructing him to set a course for the reserve waters. The crew needed time now to reset the nets, and there at least he would stand a chance of meeting the quota demanded of him.

  He dismissed thoughts of freedom for now. The sailors on board La Mujer Codiciosa could not feed their families on dreams and good intentions, and neither could he. So he stomped over towards the shark, which had trapped itself between an engine housing and the side of the ship, and placed his foot onto its back, pinning it firmly down with his own considerable bulk. A few deft cuts with his knife and the shark had stopped moving enough for him and three others to haul it up and over the side.

  He watched as the body slowly disappeared, sinking beneath the dark water and drifting out of sight behind them, leaving nothing but a trail of blood and guts on the side of his ship that will have disappeared before the morning.

  That's what would happen to him if he didn't get Antonio Correia his money. Nothing left but a trail of blood and guts that would soon be forgotten. He and the shark had much in common.

  # # #

  In a bar, at the end of a dark side street, somewhere on the south side of Fortaleza, Dan sat full drunk. He swayed gently to the hypnotic Latin music playing in the background, with both arms resting firmly on the bar to prevent him falling. He'd been trying his best to drown his sorrows, but this time it just wouldn't work.

  "Another whiskey!"

  The barkeep eyed him warily and several of the other customers, propping up his side of the bar for their own various reasons, lifted their heads at the newcomer causing a disturbance in their otherwise uneventful day. The barkeep lifted down the bottle from a shelf behind him and filled Dan's glass.

  "Not as good as the Irish stuff, but it'll do."

  Before he'd turned away, Dan downed the contents and raised his glass for another. Unimpressed, the barkeep slowly screwed the cap back onto the bottle and wagged a long thick finger at Dan.

  "Enough. Go home."

  Angry at his refusal, Dan tried to stand up, but instead lost his balance and fell backwards, tumbling over the barstool and landing in a heap on the floor. He dusted himself off, clambered to his feet and reached for the stool. Placing it back beside the bar in its original position, or as near as his unresponsive arms would allow him to.

  "Home?"

  There was no such place as home for Dan. As drunk as he was, even he knew that. The thought of where he would go now and what he would do without Heather were fogging up his mind. He didn't even want to think about it.

  "More whiskey!"

  "I said no! Go..."

  The barkeeps eyes flicked over Dan's shoulder to the door behind. He stopped what he was saying, ignored Dan and slinked away to the far end of the bar. All conversation, if there was any beforehand, fell silent. The other men buried their faces in their drinks and Dan was left standing confused.

  The mobile in his pocket chose that very moment to buzz into life once more, and this time, Dan had a mind to answer it. He would tell Heather what he really thought of her. How her betrayal had hurt him so. How he'd travelled across the world just to be with her. She would understand. And maybe she would change her mind.

  He fumbled in his pocket to remove the phone before remembering that something else was happening. Dan could feel a presence behind him. A reason to turn around.

  His slow drunken eyes managed one last glance over to the barman, who was making hard work of polishing glasses and looking in the opposite direction as best he could.

  Dan only just managed to wrestle the phone from his pocket and see Heather's name flashing up on the screen when a searing pain at the back of his head blanked out his vision. His legs gave way beneath him and he fell to the floor unconscious.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Heather had only managed a few fitful hours of sleep during the night before Andrei woke her early the next morning. She'd been checking her phone constantly, which was part of the reason why she couldn't sleep, but still there was no word from Dan.

  As she climbed out of the hotel bed - a low-end downtown dive, where Inspector Portillo had eventually managed to house them for the night - she could hear Andrei's raised voice in the room next door. He was shouting in Portuguese, presumably on his phone, as she couldn't hear anyone shouting back. The conversation was short and heated and a further knock on her door soon followed its end.

  "Heather, please hurry! We must leave!"

  Heather could detect a note of fear in his voice, so she dressed quickly and rushed out to investigate.

  "What is it? What's wrong?"

  She found Andrei hurriedly stuffing his belongings into an overnight bag. He looked agitated. Before answering her he silently opened the door to the corridor just a fraction and popped his head outside, looking in both directions before closing it again and returning to his bag.

  "Inspector Portillo has ordered the guards on our door to leave. I only found out a few moments ago when one of them woke me to say goodbye. When I asked him why they were leaving he told me he did not know but he was under the impression, from Portillo herself,that we knew all about it. I tried to call her but some halfwit kept telling me that she was unavailable. Something is not right, Heather. At this time in the morning they must surely know we would probably still be asleep in our beds. We must leave. Now!"

  Heather rushed into the bedroom and hastily packed her own belongings. She had no time to think about it. They dared not hang around any longer. She and Dan had had enough experience of organised crime and its far reaching influence into local policing to know that anything was possible. Inspector Portillo had never filled Heather with confidence and, if she was on the take from the Tercerio Commandos, then she could easily wipe out the threat to them and her with one well planned hit on the hotel room.

  But what about Dan? As she slung her bag over her shoulder and made for the door she lifted her phone up from the bedside table and checked it for the hundredth time. No missed calls or texts. Had they got to him already? Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes at how he must feel at her betrayal. She did need him. Right now! Just as Dan had predicted.

  She ran out to meet Andrei, who was standing guard at the door waiting for her.

  "I have no firearm if they find us, Heather. Just run if they do. I will try my best to distract them. Go to the British Embassy. It is the only place you will be safe."

  "We'll both be fine, Andrei... but thanks..."

  He nodded his approval and took another peek out from behind the door.

  "The corridor is clear. We will take the stairs to the first floor and then try to slip out of the emergency exit at the rear. From there we will make our way to the embassy."

  With a final check of the corridor, Andrei slipped out of the hotel room and Heather followed. As much as she respected Andrei, she wished it were Dan at her side now. When the shit hit the fan, when trouble was brewing and violence loomed just around the corner, she wished it were Dan.

  What a fool she was.

  # # #

  With a heavier than usual heart, Lucas Machado made his way across the fish market and climbed the stairs to the office of the Harbour Master. The nights catch had been plentiful and his crew were pleased, but Lucas just couldn't bring himself to share in their happiness.

  The whale woman had been right about a good many things and Lucas wished he had heeded her warnings. The fish stocks in the reserve could not possibly withstand the increased fishing within its boundaries, but Lucas could do nothing but fish within its boundaries every night of the week in order to keep up with the insatiable demand of Antonio Correia. It was the only way he could earn enough money for himself and his crew. The figures swam round in his head constantly, but he could never make sense of them. Plundering the reserve night after night was his only option.

  By the time he'd reached the top of the stairs he knew something was wrong. Two large men stood eith
er side of the doorway that took him to the office of Martim Santos, arms folded neatly across their ample chests with hooded eyes glaring down suspiciously towards him. They wore suits and ties, but their shaved heads and heavily tattooed hands and necks gave them away instantly as gangsters.

  He was about to turn back, glad of the temporary reprieve, when one of the two waved him forward. He had a knowing and crooked smile forming in the corner of his mouth as he sniggered to his partner.

  "Here he is now! The great Captain Machado. Bigger than I remembered. Might be a hard man to put down, ehh, Francisco?"

  His partner, Francisco, stepped forward with a few mock jabs and punches and the two of them roared with laughter when Lucas swatted his fists away in bad temper.

  "Settle down big man, settle down! We are only jesting! Mr Correia has been expecting you. He's inside."

  Francisco knocked on the door and without waiting for an answer swung it open. He beckoned Lucas inside with an exaggerated wink of his eye. Reluctantly, Lucas inched forward to enter the office.

  Inside he found Antonio Correia and Martim Santos enjoying breakfast. Both men smiled at him like cats that had gotten the cream, or more appropriately, Lucas thought, vultures who'd found a fresh carcass to gorge on.

  "Ahh, Captain Machado! Come in. Share some food with us."

  Lucas strode forward, growing angrier by the second. What was the joke? Why were these scum so happy to see him? There was nothing funny from where he was standing. He just wanted in and out as fast as he could.

  "I'm not here for food and I don't wish to dine with you. We are not friends. Give me what I am owed for my haul and I will be gone."

  Antonio Correia pushed himself back from his seat at the table. He took time to wipe the corners of his mouth with a napkin and then threw it carelessly to the floor as he strode over to the window to gaze down on the fish market below. Martim Santos looked less smug than Correia, sitting alone at the table in front of him. He averted his gaze from Lucas, choosing that very moment to examine an imaginary stain on his otherwise immaculate three piece suit.

  Lucas' heart began to pound in his chest. He'd seen the two men before together, but the routine of collecting his money from Santos had never been anything but tedious, with only Santos ever present when the money was changing hands. Something was definitely wrong.

  Correia snapped out of his reverie to shed some light on the situation.

  "You seem a somewhat reluctant employee, Lucas. What is it I have done to upset you?"

  The question threw Lucas. The tone of his voice, the way the question was posed, it was a threat more than a question. Even so it riled him further still.

  "I am not your employee! We are partners in a business venture. Nothing more. A business venture that I no longer have a taste for."

  "Ahh! Now we get to the truth of it. You want out of our arrangement then?"

  "No...well...no, I didn't say that exactly. I just mean that there could be other ways to make money. I have been keeping an eye on other ships in the area. Tourists are paying good coin to watch the wildlife and..."

  "The wildlife? Now we get to the heart of it. Have we not discussed this before? The wildlife cannot put food in your belly, Lucas, and the ship you captain is a fishing vessel. It cannot be used for anything else."

  "I know, but the fish stocks will not last forever, Mr Correia. Not at the rate you have us working. The..."

  "So the work is too hard for you also?"

  "No! I am just saying that it is not sustainable. That is all."

  "Not sustainable? You sound like one of those eco-warriors now. Francisco!"

  The two bodyguards entered the room and closed the door behind them. The smiles were still playing on their lips as they sauntered forwards. Lucas noticed a gun appear from behind the back of Francisco.

  "What is this? What is going on here? We were only talking!"

  "I think I have heard enough of your talk, Lucas. I need someone to captain La Mujer Codiciosa. Someone whose heart is in it. By your own admission, you are no longer that man."

  "No. I..."

  Francisco stepped forward and put the gun to his head. Frozen to the spot and utterly helpless, Lucas submitted as his hands were bound tightly behind his back.

  Correia swaggered over to face him, clearly more confident now that Lucas was restrained.

  "Let us take a little sail together in your beloved ship. I will give you one last chance to prove yourself to me. You are a strong and proud man, Lucas Machado. If you succeed, then perhaps you will live."

  # # #

  It was dark when Dan woke. The taste of vomit and blood mixed unpleasantly in his mouth as his mind struggled to make sense of where he was and what was going on. His head was pounding from the mother of all hangovers and a painful bruise at the back of it was seeping blood from a gash in its centre.

  He rolled over and tried to stretch out his legs, but something stopped him. His feet pushed against a solid surface causing his body to slide in the opposite direction. His head touched against yet another solid surface, right on the bruise, causing him to cry out with the sudden pain. In a panic, Dan lashed out with is arms, but they would only extend a little.

  He was boxed in on all sides.

  Dan took some slow, deep breaths to calm himself. When he was ready, he felt his way around. The surfaces were made of wood; long thin boards fixed together with screws and nails. He ran his fingers along the slim gaps between the boards, searching for a latch or a lock, but there was nothing. After a while he raised his face up to one of the larger gaps. He sniffed in a deep breath of fresh salty air. Where the hell was he? And why was he in a fucking box?

  He lay still for a while, listening intently to muffled sounds from outside, suffering with a headache and searching for a clue. After what seemed like an age, bright sunlight streamed in through the cracks and strange voices conversed above him over the rustle of a tarpaulin being pulled to the side. Shadows danced across the sunlight as people moved around him and his world slowly shifted.

  With a grunt and a groan the box Dan was contained within lifted and shunted violently, knocking the bruise on Dan's head once more and sending a shaft of pain through his body. Vomit rose in his throat as the box was lifted and it began swirling around. Dan caught sight of clouds and blue sky whizzing by as he wretched and heaved.

  Then he came down with a thump and more shadows, this time using hammers or tools of some sort, began knocking and banging on his box. The lid was quickly ripped away and Dan was forced to shield his sensitive eyes from harsh sunlight as rough hands pulled and hauled him out.

  He had no time to protest before his arms were twisted behind his back and cable ties were fixed tightly to his wrists and ankles. A gag tasting of salt and oil was stuffed into his mouth as Dan was frogmarched away.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "What do you mean they weren't there? You incompetent fucking imbecile!"

  Erico watched Antonio Correia as he paced around the small cabin on board La Mujer Codiciosa, ranting at some minion or other. Erico sat behind the captain's desk with a smug grin, despite the open aggression and hostility on display in front of him. This time it wasn't directed towards him. It was some poor fool on the other end of the phone.

  This is where Erico was meant to be. This was what Lucas Machado had prevented him from experiencing for all these years. For the first time in his life, Erico would captain a proper ship, with a proper crew and head out to sea to claim his fortune.

  First though, he must deal with Correia; allowing him to see first-hand what Erico could do with his investment and disposing of the one-eyed devil, along with Lucas Machado. He felt no remorse or sorrow for Lucas. Why would he? Lucas had made his choice, complaining constantly and then eventually defying the will of the Tercerio Commandos. Correia had not been satisfied.

  Erico would be different; Correia would see that soon enough. Yes, he had made a mistake with the one-eyed devil. He had underestima
ted him and overestimated the abilities of the idiots Correia and sent with Erico to deal with it. Now, in his natural environment on board a ship, Erico was best placed to impress his new partner and make up for his previous mistake. This second chance was all he needed. For once in his life he'd been given a gift and he wasn't going to waste it.

  Antonio Correia slammed his fist down onto the table, terminating his call and switching his very much unwanted attention towards Erico.

  "And you, Captain Almada! What news do you have for me? Please let it be better than what I have just been told."

  Erico shifted in his seat, trying his best to look confident.

  "Your cargo has been secured below decks, Mr Correia. We are ready to depart when you are."

  "Then let us go, Captain. Take us out to sea for the day. Show me what you can do with my money and let us have some sport with our cargo!"

  The Tercerio Commando overlord swanned out of Erico's cabin like he didn't have a care in the world, leaving Erico to consider what exactly it was he had in mind and whether his maiden voyage might end up memorable for all the wrong reasons.

  # # #

  It turned out that the British Embassy was in Brasilia. Fortunately for Heather and Andrei, Google did manage to direct them towards the next best thing - a British Honorary Consulate situated in a lavish building not far away from the hotel in the eastern quarter of the city.

  They made good time getting there and with little excitement so early in the morning, managing to avoid the attentions of any would be hitmen or prowling gangsters in the process. At one point, Heather wondered if Andrei had overreacted to the removing of the guards and considered turning back, but that would have showed a blatant lack of trust in the man, who was at the end of the day, only trying his best to help her.