Black Reef

by Nick Elliott

  ***

  Montijo Air Base is a military facility conveniently located on the opposite bank of the Rio Tejo from Lisbon. One day it will serve as Lisbon’s second civilian airport but for now it was home to three Portuguese Navy transport squadrons and a helicopter search and rescue base.

  After a thirteen hundred mile flight north we landed there late afternoon. Since we were carrying one and a half billion dollars’ worth of gold for delivery to the Banco de Portugal, security was tight, not least because although the gold had lain undisturbed in the Banco Imperio’s Porto vaults for the last seventy-three years, the question of who it actually belonged to was the subject of much heated debate.

  Eventually, after two tallies and in the presence of several Portuguese, British and US officials and various military personnel, I signed the lot over and it was transferred to a fleet of armoured security vans. The convoy departed for Lisbon escorted by half a dozen VBL army vehicles.

  ‘Why didn’t they just load the lot onto a barge and tow it across?’ I asked Conway.

  He allowed himself a grim smile. ‘You would think of a maritime solution wouldn’t you.’

  We watched the two Hercules take off, heading east back to Akrotiri. I turned to Mariana: ‘What now?’

  ‘He was a good man,’ she said. ‘I thought we had a future together.’ Then she slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a pendant. It was set in gold and hung from a gold chain. Smiling faintly she swung it gently to and fro. ‘He got this back for me.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A black star sapphire,’ she said handing it to me. It was heavy, a huge oval-shaped stone. I held it up so the light from the setting sun caught it and the six-rayed star appeared, shifting mystically at its centre.

  ‘Is this yours?’

  ‘It is what Mendesa took when he murdered my father. My mother had left it with him when we fled from Kazunda, as a reminder of their love, but as a symbol of the new nation’s hopes too. It is called the Black Reef Star because that is where it was found – in the basalt rock on Black Reef, below the fort. The sea had eroded the rock around it and left it exposed. It is seven hundred and forty carat, probably the largest black star sapphire in the world.’

  She sighed. ‘My grandfather was the last governor of Kazunda before independence. Did you not know that? He passed it down. I knew Mendesa had it. Grant retrieved it for me. Now I shall take it back to Kazunda and entrust it to Nzinga. It is the nation’s crown jewel.’

  I handed it back to her. ‘What happened, Mariana? What were you doing there? I thought Grant was over in the States.’

  ‘He came back straight from America and met me here in Lisbon. He knew where Mendesa was taking the gold. And he knew how important it was for me to see that man’s life finished.’

  ‘How did he know?’

  ‘He had his contacts. He said he was still in charge of the case. He wanted to help me.’

  ‘And this?’ I said, touching the stone in her hand.

  ‘Mendesa wanted me. He knew that I knew he had the stone. He knew where to find me and he lured us into the desert with the promise of the stone.’

  ‘Grant was in charge of the case,’ I said. ‘And in his shoes I would have wanted to be there at the end too.’

  We talked there until it fell dark and Pedro rolled up in his old Seat. He took us over the 25 de Abril Bridge back into the city, dropping me off at the Hospital da Luz. We drew up and Mariana got out of the car. She reached up and kissed me. ‘Now go to your amante,’ she said, smiling. ‘But do not forget me either, Angus. And be careful out there in your strange world. I do not want to lose another good friend.’

  Epilogue

  Despite the sunshine, it was a bitterly cold day in New England. There had been some doubt as to where Grant Douglas was to be buried. As a serving CIA officer there would have been a place for him at Arlington National Cemetery, but when his will and testimony were finally read his wishes were clear. He wanted to be buried beside his wife. Later there would be a star carved onto the CIA Memorial Wall in Langley, honouring Grant as a CIA officer who had died in the line of service. His name would be listed, but place and cause of death would be recorded as unknown, for security reasons. So we’d come to attend his funeral in Greenwich, Connecticut: Amber Dove, Claire, Ben Wood, Phyllis and three other CMM staff members, a small crowd of old friends and relatives, and half a dozen colleagues from Langley. Mariana wasn’t there. Pedro sent me a message saying she was moving on with her life. I didn’t blame her.

  We were leaving when one of the CIA guys came over and took my arm. He was older than the others, closer to Grant’s age. ‘Can I have a word?’ he asked. We stood under some fine old oak trees which guarded the edges of the cemetery. The other mourners were moving away towards their cars: black figures contrasting with the bright sunshine in this immaculately maintained sanctuary.

  ‘He was a great guy,’ he said. ‘I knew him in ’Nam. We stayed in touch – through work but as buddies too. He thought a lot of you by the way.’

  ‘And I of him,’ I replied, realising how much I was already missing Grant and feeling a twinge of guilt over the acerbic attitiude I’d often shown towards him.

  ‘Oh,’ the spook added, ‘and just for the record, that hit on Cordeiro: it wasn’t us.’

  ‘Who then? Moscow?’

  He just shrugged. ‘You guys have a safe trip home now.’

  ***

  Captain Luca Babic’s body had finally been released from the mortuary in Lisbon. Sonia Babic had arranged for her husband to be buried in a cemetery near their home in Thessaloniki and, following some sensitive negotiations with the local Greek Orthodox priest, it was agreed he would receive a joint Catholic and Orthodox funeral. I’d talked this through with Pedro who had arranged for Father Manuel from the Apostleship of the Sea in Setubal to come over, expenses paid, to perform a Catholic rite of committal; a gesture that both surprised and touched Sonia Babic.

  Benny Carasso was there, and Zoe and I had come up from Piraeus. ‘Was I right?’ Benny asked on our way to the makaria, the traditional post-funeral meal or wake to celebrate Babic’s life.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘What did I say? You got the Portuguese, you got the Chinese, you got the Russkies and you got the Yanks. Who was it?’

  ‘Actually, in one way or another, they were all involved, Benny.’ And as we sat down for our meal I told him what I could about the case and how it had unfolded.

  ***

  For a fortnight each year, so the myth goes, Alcyone the kingfisher made her nest on the beach and laid her eggs. During this time her father Aeolus, god of the winds, calmed the wind and waves so she could lay the eggs in safety. For Greeks it has come to mean any time of peace – a bright interval amidst adversity. But it’s always a pleasant surprise when the weather takes a turn for the better in the middle of winter, even if only for a week or two. Apparently, the meteorological reason for this phenomenon is that barometric pressures between southern and northern Europe equalise on or around the shortest day of the year. Fortunately, the arrival of the halcyon days coincided with Claire’s arrival on the island and for a fortnight we enjoyed mild, sunny weather.

  She was eager to see how work on the olive mill was progressing but it was an informal debriefing session too. We sat out on one of the plaka terraces that had been built on the southern side of the house. The olive trees had been stripped of their fruit in November and had produced my first harvest of oil. Now their silvery green foliage and the hills that flanked the grove framed the view of the sea, which glittered below us in the late morning sunlight.

  Claire had made a good recovery and was now able to walk without the cast or the crutches, though she kept a walking pole handy too. We talked through the events of the last few weeks. She would often ask me to repeat one aspect or another in more detail. She recorded these sessions and took notes. When we got to Mariana and Grant, she said: ‘I still can’t quit
e believe they were an item. I mean, it was all rather sudden wasn’t it?’

  ‘Wasn’t it for us too?’ I replied casting my mind back to when I’d first met Claire. ‘You meet someone in dangerous circumstances and a bond can be forged very quickly. They recognised something in each other: a mutual resolve. More than that though: they were both looking for someone even though they may not have known it.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  At another point she asked me to describe Nzinga. ‘I’d love to meet her, she sounds fascinating. And Mariana too.’

  ‘You probably will,’ I said, standing up. The IMTF didn’t like to lose touch with people of influence whom they’d helped out of difficult situations. ‘You should go down to Kazunda with Mariana sometime. She told me Nzinga had already renegotiated the contract with Sea-En and was in Beijing talking to the Chinese about a new railway network for the country.’

  ‘I might just do that. By the way, do you think Mariana would make a good asset for us?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘She saw what people like us have to do to reach the desired outcome. We say the end justifies the means but it’s not always very honourable is it. She might want nothing more to do with us. Can I get you anything? More coffee?’

  ‘I’d love a glass of wine.’

  I walked into the house to get a bottle from the fridge, the contrast between the dazzling sunshine and the gloom of the interior momentarily blinding me. My mind went back to Mariana and what a strong, resourceful woman she was. I uncorked the bottle, placed it in a cooler and, grabbing a couple of glasses, returned to the terrace.

  ‘You know, now I come to think about it,’ I said, ‘perhaps she’d make a damn good agent. She’s smart, pragmatic, gutsy.’

  Claire had stood up and was staring out to sea. ‘Umm. If I went down there with Mariana to meet Nzinga I could assess her at the same time.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She turned and took the glasses from me, placing them on the old wooden table. ‘You are an angel looking after me like this. I can’t think of anywhere better to convalesce than here.’

  ‘You didn’t always feel this way about the island,’ I said as I poured the wine.

  ‘I know I didn’t, but a girl can change her mind can’t she? Yamas!’

  ‘Yamas!’

  She reached up and kissed me. I held her gently. ‘Hold me tight, darling. I told you, I’m strong now. They did a good repair job.’

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Nick Elliott began his career as a boarding agent attending ships in Edinburgh’s port of Leith. He moved to Hong Kong in the seventies and lived throughout the Far East for twenty years before relocating to Greece and eventually back to the UK.

  Married with two daughters, he divides his time between Scotland and Greece.

  Black Reef is his third novel, and a standalone sequel to Sea of Gold and Dark Ocean.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My thanks to Helen Bleck, my editor, and to Doctor Jane Stanford, Rear Admiral (ret’d) Roger Lockwood, Flight Lieutenant Paul Bevan and Steve Cameron for their input on matters medical, naval, airborne and Africa, respectively. Also to author friends, Craig Russell and Peter A. Flannery for their advice and support.

  IF YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK

  If you enjoyed reading Black Reef I would be very grateful if you would leave a short review on Amazon.

  Good reviews help other readers find and enjoy a book.

  And if you would like to receive my newsletter, please go to my website: www.nickelliott.org or get in touch direct by email at nick@n-elliott.co.uk

  Nick Elliott

  SEA OF GOLD & DARK OCEAN

  185 four and five star reviews on Amazon

  Buy Sea of Gold here: http://amzn.to/1jkQUYT

  What readers have said about Sea of Gold

  “Nick Elliott ticks all the boxes in this fast-paced yarn, with a keen eye for descriptive detail and solidly drawn characters. The first-person narrative, complete with ironic internal asides, is the perfect vehicle for a thoughtful and witty style that draws us swiftly into the shoes of its protagonist, a credible and consistent character.”

  ***

  “A unique twist on the spy detective thriller featuring impeccably researched action that is set in a host of well invoked locations. I look forward with intrigue to Angus McKinnon’s further adventures.”

  ***

  “This is a first rate, well-constructed first novel which benefits from the author’s learned insight into the maritime business world and his familiarity with interesting parts of the world. In addition he introduces us to some interesting characters who fortunately survive the tricky circumstances in which they find themselves and who we look forward to meeting again in the sequel(s). I predict a successful future for Nick Elliott who will I feel sure continue to set his stories in fascinating parts of the world. I thoroughly enjoyed this book.”

  ***

  “In the tradition of Eric Ambler, this is a well written crime novel. What starts out as a case of insurance fraud turns into a battle of international intrigue.”

  ***

  “A fascinating and very well-written story in a world I knew nothing about, commercial shipping. If you are a mystery fan, enjoy reading about international intrigue, appreciate well-developed complex characters and are curious about or fascinated by the high seas, this is for you. A powerful first book.”

  Buy Dark Ocean here: http://amzn.to/2vIPRyJ

  What readers have said about Dark Ocean

  “This really is an expertly researched, very well-written and fast-paced international thriller. The protagonist, Angus McKinnon, is a character with real dimension and credibility, which is something often lacking in this kind of fiction. You believe in him, and you believe in the streets, alleys and seaways he travels: every location is atmospherically and authentically created as your drawn deeper and deeper into a dark world where nothing is what is seems. Superb book.”

  ***

  “Felt like I was back in the Orient when I was reading this book. I could easily visualize every aspect of the author's descriptions of people and places. So many plot twists. Thoroughly enjoyed this book.”

  ***

  “Dark Ocean hit landmarks with which I am familiar (Kowloon and Hong Kong), and I loved all the interesting tidbits of shipping detail, description of ports, and customs of the locals, including the exchange of commerce with Japan. This book grabs your attention immediately then quickly widens to that of international intrigue that includes the collusion of a major cabal in what might be a hostile takeover--a far-reaching takeover. The threatening organization is deeply rooted and far ranging and has Angus flying to retrieve information from sources he thought well buried in his past--only to have to retrieve, relive, and sort. But as with any good thriller, a piece of the puzzle only leads to hints of acquiring the next piece.

  ***

  “The book is a well-plotted, multi-layered suspense with slightly rogue alpha male management style being ever more deeply entangled in MI6 as they coordinate between agencies. There is so much (fictional?) information here reading as gospel that it becomes scary.”

  ***

  “Nick Elliot has done it again. Following Sea of Gold he has come up with an equally gripping, intelligent and well-paced thriller in Dark Ocean. Set in the shipping industry which he knows intimately and in countries which he knows like a native and in which you can feel the pulse of the street life, the plot leads you on in an unputdownable way. Once started you have to read on to the end. The characters, especially the female ones, are excellently crafted and true to life. Who knew that shipping could be so interesting?”

 

 

 
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