by Nick Elliott
‘I don’t know. But after what Grant’s just told us I feel I’m losing control. Why would he want to take over this case, which is pretty much what he said he was doing?’
‘Because he knows something that we don’t,’ I said. ‘Even before I told you both of my conversation with Fernandes, he knew something. Why else would he suddenly intervene?’
‘And I’m the one sorting out those hostile takeover legacy cases,’ she said. ‘I’ve kept him fully informed and he’s never even hinted that he wanted to get involved. So why now?’
‘Perhaps we’re being over-cautious,’ I said without much conviction. The point of convergence between what was a potential claim governed by the CMM’s rule book and something more sinister and therefore of interest to the IMTF, was an indistinct grey line. It hadn’t worried me too much in the past but now things had changed. A year or so back someone had told me that Grant Douglas was a “friend”. In the context of that conversation I’d taken it to mean he worked for either the CIA or some other US intelligence agency. Back then it hadn’t mattered. He wasn’t involved in those cases. But now here he was telling us he was running the show.
We carried on speculating as to Grant’s interest and intentions as to the Dalmatia Star. In the end I asked, ‘How do you want me to handle it?’
‘In your usual masterful way, my love. I trust you, and so does Grant. He told me once you’ve got your own unofficial and exclusive sources of information. You dig out stuff that no one else can find. And what you don’t know you guess at and usually get it right. But he says you’re reckless, and always complaining. I think he just feels a bit intimidated by you, that’s all.’
I guess men often find it difficult to exchange compliments and Grant was no exception. Neither was I for that matter.
‘I have other news,’ she sighed, taking a large gulp of her wine. ‘Edward and I are splitting, finally.’
‘You’ve said that before, Claire.’
‘We’ve handed it to the lawyers this time.’ And suddenly her voice broke and I could see she was close to tears. I’d seen Claire under huge pressure. I’d watched her kill a man. I’d seen her anxious and frightened, but there’d always been that composure derived, I assumed, from an inner strength, and I’d certainly never seen her defeated. Now she seemed to sag and I wondered whether her self-belief was wavering.
‘Tell me.’ I reached over and held her cold hands in mine.
‘It all broke after the last case when we were in Hong Kong. He’s such a bloody hypocrite. He goes off with his PA all over the world attending conferences. She’s always with him. I’ve never told you before but I had him watched on four separate occasions just to be sure.’
‘Watched? Where?’
‘Stockholm, Sydney, Boston, and just recently in Dubai.’
‘What do you mean by watched?’
‘It was over a period of years, four actually. I needed to know for sure. I didn’t use our people of course. Just private agencies who’d been recommended. Same result each time. And it wasn’t just his PA either. He had prostitutes to his room when he was in Sydney. Then I was looking at his phone. I hated doing that,’ she said, the anguish showing on her face. ‘This was just a couple of months ago. He hadn’t even made the effort to hide or delete much of the stuff: calls and texts.’
‘Did you talk it all through with him?’
‘He wouldn’t. Refused point blank and finally I knew what I needed to do. It was just the children that were stopping me. But the tension in the house, at meal times, even on holiday, it was getting to them too. Finally Iona told me they couldn’t stand it. She said she was going to live with Granny, my mum. She’s thirteen now but she wanted to discuss it with me, so we did. You know what she said? She said she was so proud of me, that she’d always love us both – her dad and me but it was better that we lived apart than be together and so unhappy.’ She began crying.
‘Out of the mouths of babes …’
‘Exactly,’ she sniffled. ‘She’d discussed it with Fergus, her brother, and my mum. She’s been brilliant. So when it finally did come to it, the big discussion, it actually didn’t seem as bad as I’d feared. We’ll make it work, the divorce I mean. We’re both determined to for the sake of the kids.’
She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. ‘Sorry to burden you with all this.’
‘You should have told me before. I knew you weren’t happy. You should have come to me.’
‘I didn’t want to make you feel you were under pressure. You’re such an independent bastard. I didn’t want you to feel you needed to look after me.’
‘I love you, Claire. I don’t see that as a burden.’
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I didn’t want to remind her of the hypocrisy of which we were both guilty ourselves.
‘I have some news too,’ I said finally.
‘What? You’ve got back with Elena.’ she said gloomily.
‘Don’t be silly. No, I’ve bought a place on the island.’
‘What! What sort of place?’
‘It’s an old olive mill, a ruin to be accurate. I’ve got an architect drawing up plans, and a local builder. Work’s already started – a few weeks ago. I was going to keep it as a surprise, but with your news … It’ll be somewhere we can go. It’s got land with olive trees. And it overlooks the sea.’
It was on an island in the northern Aegean we’d visited together in the past to see an old, and recently deceased, colleague.
She laughed. ‘You’re mad.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘But I’ve been dreaming of this for years. And I need your input too.’
‘For what?’
‘Well, domestic stuff, interior design issues. You know …’
‘Oh goodie, can I embroider all the cushions for you too?’
‘Don’t be sarcastic. It’ll need a woman’s touch.’
‘You are such a dinosaur. But I love you and I’d love to get involved. You know that.’
‘Great,’ I said. ‘It’ll take your mind off things. And you can bring the children out for holidays.’
‘Lovely, and my mum too?’
‘Did I say that?’
She leaned across and kissed me.
Chapter 5
‘Pedro Fernandes called. You must call him back straight away,’ Zoe greeted me as I came into the office. Zoe enjoyed giving me instructions.
‘Did he say what it was about?’
‘No, otherwise I would have told you. Would you like me to call him now?’
‘Yes please, Zoe.’ Zoe Papadopoulos was the boss in all but name. We both accepted the situation because that was the only way the business could function efficiently. I spent more than half my time travelling, and the IMTF cases had placed even further demands on my time. It made sense.
Zoe was studying maritime law at Piraeus University. Her father was a wealthy shipowner but despite this, Zoe was determined to carve her own career. One day though I was sure she’d get a call from Papa demanding that she joined the family firm – a call she’d find hard to ignore. In the meantime she was my highly proficient office manager.
Pedro had some news concerning Banco Imperio. A delegation from the bank’s executive board was in Macau meeting with the Export-Import Bank of China and the China Development Bank.
‘Is that unusual?’ I asked.
‘Not of itself but apparently there are representatives from a Swiss bank there too. Several of this bank’s officials also sit on the board of a holding company for one of Africa’s sovereign wealth funds. I don’t have names and I don’t know which country or what these people are doing in Macau but I thought you should hear about it.’
‘Thanks, Pedro. I’ll keep it in mind. And let me know anything else you can find out on what these good honest bankers are up to, will you?’
‘Of course, my friend. By the way, the lady who took my call earlier, she is the manager of your company there?’
‘Yes, Zoe. Why?’
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br /> ‘Well, she certainly knows how to manage you I would say. Charming too.’
‘Yes, she can charm the birds from the trees, Pedro, but don’t be fooled, she’s merciless.’
He laughed. ‘Yes, I sensed that too.’
No sooner had I finished the call than Zoe entered, trailing a young woman behind her. ‘Meet Konstantina,’ Zoe announced. Konstantina was a shy girl whom Zoe had hired in my absence. She was as different from Zoe as was possible and I just hoped this wasn’t Zoe finding some timid young thing who wouldn’t pose a threat to her own authority. Konstantina was dark-haired while Zoe was blonde. She was tall and thin while Zoe was shorter with a voluptuous figure. And Zoe wasn’t shy either. She never had been.
Hiring Konstantina, who was also a student of maritime law, wasn’t the only change. The office had been redecorated. It looked good but I couldn’t help wondering if Grant had had a hand in it since it more or less matched his own colour scheme. Or was I being paranoid? Space had been made for the new girl’s desk too.
‘It looks lovely, Zoe, but where are the filing cabinets? Where are the case files? The current ones I mean.’
‘We went through this the last time I moved a mass of old files to the storeroom, Angus. It’s all organised,’ she said soothingly now, noting the panic in my voice. ‘I’ve made more room in the storeroom too, and moving the filing cabinets out it makes room for Konstantina. We’re getting busier every day, as you know.’
‘So I have to walk out of the office, down the corridor and unlock the storeroom to get at my files.’
‘Good exercise for you, Angus,’ she retorted having, as always, the last word. It made sense of course. Everything she did made sense though that didn’t mean I had to like it. Most of our case correspondence was digitised now anyway, but documentation was another matter. Both the shipping industry and the legal profession still preferred to see cargo documentation, charterparties and other legally binding documents signed by human hand on paper to minimise the risk of fraud still so widespread in our business.
‘And you need to be in Thessaloniki tomorrow, remember? Do you want me to book your flight?’
‘Yes, not the early one though.’
She promptly ordered Konstantina to book me on the midday flight. ‘Oh, and that garage in Lucerne has been on the phone. Your car’s ready and they’re wanting to know what to do with it. They say they can deliver it back here if you like.’ I’d left my old Alfa Romeo in the hands of a specialist garage to carry out a full engine overhaul and some bodywork repairs following an IMTF case that had taken me to Switzerland.
‘I bet they do. And add another thousand euros to the bill. Tell them I’ll be collecting it myself next week. I need to go there anyway.’
She hesitated before leaving my office. ‘Angus, that last case – the Dark Ocean thing? I thought it was closed.’
‘It is, Zoe. Don’t worry, this one I’m concerned with now isn’t related. It’s off the books and anyway you know we can’t discuss these things.’ Zoe liked to know everything, not just about our P&I business but my private life, my state of health and increasingly about the IMTF work I’d been involved in and which she had become an innocent victim of in a case which had nearly cost her her life and which she was now referring to. This inquisitiveness was what made her such a good deputy. Zoe didn’t like anything to get past her, but I was bound by a code of secrecy on all my IMTF work.
‘Just bring me up to speed on the P&I work will you?’ I said, pushing a heap of files to one side. And that was what she did, in her usual breezy manner, obliging me to frequently interrupt with questions to which she always had a ready answer. It was a kind of game she liked to play and in which I was happy to join since it reassured me that she was on top of our case load – and back to her old self following the trauma she’d suffered on the Dark Ocean case.
There was a shortage claim on a cargo of Vietnamese rice discharged in Takoradi, a spurious stevedore injury case brought by an ambulance-chasing law firm on the US east coast, an old case involving a cargo that had allegedly been shipped from Turkey but had never arrived at the destination port of Algeciras, and a dozen or so more, all of them claims against Greek shipowners entered with the CMM and which we were retained to defend in order to reach the best possible outcome. Zoe gave me a summary of each case’s current status and we agreed on the course of action we should take – a tactical exercise which would invariably lead to an out of court compromise settlement.
‘One other thing,’ said Zoe. ‘You know I was supposed to spend time in the CMM office in Edinburgh. Is that still going to happen?’
‘Of course it is.’ It had all been arranged months ago. I’d even driven her to the airport for the early morning flight to Edinburgh. Which was when a series of traumatic events had occurred that I’d feared would change Zoe forever. I still wasn’t sure she’d fully recovered but her desire to go to Leith for a six-week on-the-job training course was a good sign. ‘Once Konstantina is up to speed we’ll get some dates organised.’
That evening I walked back to my flat on Profitis Ilias. I’d been lucky to find this relative haven of peace and tranquillity on a hill above the chaos that was the port of Piraeus. The flat was on the top floor of a three-storey block perched on top of the hill. It had three bedrooms, one of which served as an office, and views looking east over the harbour of Micro Limano down the coast to Glyvada and Vouliagmeni. Half of the view, that to the south, took in part of the Saronic Gulf and I stood on the balcony with a beer watching the fishing boats and beyond them, inter-island ferries manoeuvring in towards the port. Beyond them lay the bigger ships at anchor – mostly tankers and bulk carriers. I was spending less and less time here and relished occasions like this when I could relax and reflect, if only for a few hours. The nights were getting cooler now and I stepped inside. One wall of the lounge was lined with books, many of which were waiting to be read. I browsed through some of them for a while then realised there was nothing in the fridge except a few beers. I was putting my jacket on to go across to the neighbouring taverna when my phone rang. It was Grant.
‘Listen, Gus, I’ve got to go the States for a few days so Claire’ll be minding the store, but when I’m back I’m sending her down to Lisbon to check out this Banco Imperio lead. Just keeping you in the loop on this one.’
‘I appreciate that, Grant.’ I’d told Claire of Pedro’s news regarding the bank’s Macau meetings and suspected that it was Claire’s idea, not Grant’s, that she should follow it up in Lisbon. Recently Grant had become over-sensitive about this kind of situation as he strove to impose his authority on a team that was already functioning perfectly well without him. I sympathised with him – up to a point. We chatted on for a while until Grant said he must get going. He had to meet someone for dinner.
Next day I left for Thessaloniki.
***
Greece’s northern city is as different from Athens as Edinburgh is from London. Although vibrant with commerce, festivals and cultural events, it is more laid-back than the capital and its people less frenzied. It was a place I always looked forward to visiting but on this occasion I had mixed feelings. I’d come to see Sonia Babic, the widow of Luka Babic, the recently deceased master of the Dalmatia Star. Claire had set up the meeting through the ship’s owners, Dalmatia Shipping in Rijeka. Although the Babics had an apartment there, Sonia Babic and their two children had moved back to her family home in Panorama, an affluent suburb overlooking the city of Thessaloniki.
It was one of those bright winter days with warmth in the sun and autumn blossom still on the trees that made me glad I lived in Greece. The house was old, dating back to the days when Thessaloniki was a thriving outpost of the Ottoman Empire and well before the depredations of the twentieth century. I walked through wrought-iron gates up the path to the front door. The garden was unkempt but seemed to have everything: fruit trees, vines, flower beds and shrubs, and amongst all this, winding paths leading to hidden corners.
The house itself was more a small mansion and, like the garden, was dilapidated with plaster flaking from the walls and the paintwork around the windows bleached by the sun.
I pressed the bell push and heard it ring inside. An old lady clothed in black came to the door and ushered me in. As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the hall another woman appeared out of the gloom, younger, but also dressed in black.
‘Mr McKinnon? I am Sonia Babic. This is my mother.’ I shook Sonia’s hand but the old woman departed without speaking.
‘Come into our living room,’ she said, turning and heading towards the back of the house. We entered a large room with a high ceiling and tall windows through which the winter sun shone, highlighting the dust on the glass.
She gestured to a chair and sat down opposite me. ‘My mother is not well. But she will bring us coffee.’
Captain Babic’s widow was in her mid-forties, tall with dark hair which was already turning grey. I noticed dark patches under her eyes. She looked and sounded exhausted.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you now,’ I said addressing her in Greek. ‘I won’t take up much of your time.’
Despite herself she smiled. ‘That’s alright. It’s good to have a visitor. But perhaps we should speak English? Your Greek is good, but …’
‘I know. Yes, perhaps we should.’
‘Are you from Scotland? Your name?’
‘My parents were Scottish. I live in Piraeus. I still visit Scotland though.’
‘And you are from the ship’s P&I Club. Miss Papadopoulos explained. I do know something about marine insurance. I met Luka when I was working for an agent here in Thessaloniki. My father had his own business and I worked for him. We handled the Dalmatia vessels when they called. That was twenty years ago. Luka was still second mate then.’
‘Where are your children now?’
‘The boys are both at school. Do you have children?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Tell me, Mrs Babic …’
‘Sonia.’