Crash Course

by Derek Fee

  “Do as he says,” Doc said quietly. If Kane was right and Barrett was their man, then he was probably capable of killing them both. Doc held his hands behind his back and Morweena tied them, making as good a job of it as she could. She finished tying the knots and stood out of the way so that Barrett could examine them.

  “Satisfied?” she said.

  “Okay, Doc, old pal,” Barrett said, sitting on the bed again. “Spill it.”

  Doc stayed stock still.

  “Oh, come now, Doc.” Barrett eased himself further onto the bed. His left arm was aching. “Do we have to do this the hard way? Let me run through the numbers for you. One, I put one into your knee to make sure that you don’t bother me. Two, I pistol-whip Morweena and while she’s still with us I start to put out burning cigarettes on her pretty face. Three, unless the hard questions get answered first, she ends up with a face which looks considerably worse than yours.”

  Doc moved towards him.

  “One more step…” Barrett levelled the gun at him. “And you get the one in the knee. You have thirty seconds to tell me all or we begin with the numbers.”

  Doc stood where he was. The major rule when you’re undercover and rumbled is to lie like a trooper and do whatever you must to stay alive. “Mark thought that you were responsible for sabotaging our boat. He sent me here to get some evidence against you.”

  “Oh, Doc, my son.” Barrett grinned. “I wish you’d decided to play straight.” Barrett stood up from the bed, moved quickly to Morweena, and struck her a blow with the back of his right hand.

  “You rotten bastard.” Doc moved forward but Barrett levelled the gun at him and he stopped. He’d be no use to Morweena with a bullet in his knee.

  “That’s the boy,” Barrett said moving back to the bed. “No more Ring around the Rosies, if you don’t mind. Morweena only gets hurt when you try to put one over on me. Let’s have the real story and let’s have it bloody damn quick.”

  Doc looked at Morweena. An ugly weal was rising on her right cheek. “Our boat was sabotaged and you’re the prime suspect. That’s the truth.”

  “You see, I might believe you if I wasn’t aware that you’ve been going around poking your nose into other people’s business.”

  He launched another punch at Morweena that sent her flying across the room. “I’m sure that you’d be willing to accept a bit of punishment to hold back the real reason you’re in my room. But there’s a world of pain waiting for Miss Penhalion. You get to watch her suffer for your obstinance.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Don’t hit her again. Mark thinks that you’re involved with a drugs gang. He told me to search your room for evidence.”

  Barrett sat forward, his full attention on Doc. “Does he now? And where did he get that impression?”

  Morweena picked herself up and stared at the two men. “Would somebody please tell me what’s going on? Has the world gone mad? Put the gun away, Graham.”

  “He didn’t tell me,” Doc said.

  “What would he do if you found some incriminating evidence?”

  “He didn’t tell me that either. I’m only the hired help.”

  “Who are you?”

  “An old soldier looking for the main chance.”

  Barrett took a pillow from the bed, crossed to Doc, and put the pillow against his knee. “Who are you and who is Kane? I’ll count to three. One, two…”

  “I’m Detective Sergeant John Watson and Kane is a detective sergeant at the Met.”

  Morweena looked at Doc. “You’re policemen? But you’re a mechanic. And Mark? He’s also a policeman?”

  Doc nodded. “I’m sorry. We’ve been looking for Barrett and his mates. Barrett killed Tom Bell’s daughter. We knew the killer was a powerboat racer but we didn’t know which one.”

  “And now you’ve found me,” Barrett said when Doc had finished.

  ‘You used us,’ Morweena said in a whisper. ‘It was all a charade.’

  He tossed the pillow on the bed. “Get into the wardrobe.”

  Doc stood up and shuffled to the wardrobe.

  “Inside.” Barrett motioned with the gun.

  Doc reversed into the wardrobe and dropped to the ground.

  Barrett smiled. “I think I’ll enjoy this.” He struck Doc as hard as he could on the temple.

  Doc’s head fell forward.

  Morweena rushed to the stricken man. There was blood pouring from Doc’s head. “You’ve killed him.”

  “Depends how hard his head is.” He motioned Morweena away and closed the wardrobe.

  “You’re a callous bastard.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” He took a small notebook from his pocket and tossed it on the bed. “There’s a phone number on the first page. Pick up the phone and make the call.”

  She did as he said.

  “Now put the phone on speaker.” The phone on the other end was ringing. “Now sit on the bed. If you move, I’ll kill you.”

  Barrett sat on the bed but kept the gun pointed at Morweena.

  “Yes?” Safardi’s voice sounded irritated.

  “It’s Barrett. I was right. Kane’s dirty. I found his pal searching my room at the hotel. Watson and Kane are coppers. They’ve been looking for us.”

  “That is most unfortunate,” Safardi said. “Where is Watson now?” he asked.

  “He’s indisposed,” Barrett said.

  “Permanently?”

  “Possibly. I have Kane’s girlfriend, Morweena, here with me. She may prove useful.”

  “I agree. I’m sending the plane to fetch you. Pedro and some of my men will be with you within two hours. I want Morweena here as soon as possible. Understand?”

  “Completely,” Barrett said and put the phone back on the cradle.

  “What do you think of that? We’re going on a little trip.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The sun streamed down on the CD-plated white BMW 730 as it passed through the great plain which is the centre of Spain. Kane sat quietly in the rear of the car with his eyes closed. They had cruised along the Spanish autoroutes with the air conditioner turned up full and salsa music screaming from the stereo system. Jaime sat in the passenger seat beside one of the men from the villa. A second guard sat beside Kane.

  The events in the Doñana had seriously disturbed Kane. Up to that point, tracking down Safardi and his gang had been an adventure. The death of the man in the pine glade had turned it into a deadly earnest game. He kicked himself for being so naive. How could he ever have thought that people earning millions of dollars from the drug trade would simply roll over and give up because he had exposed them? He had opened Pandora’s box and in doing so had put himself and perhaps those close to him in the most terrible danger. Safardi and his trained killers would not blink an eyelid while cutting their throats. He opened his eyes and looked at the countryside. It was flat and burnt and empty. Miles of concrete road extended before them and miles receded behind. He closed his eyes again and willed himself to think of how he could possibly extricate himself from the predicament into which he had jumped with both feet. He should have learned this lesson. Undercover work was risky. Exposing Safardi and Barrett was the easy part. Now he was afraid there would be a heavy price to pay. The noise of the mobile phone cut through his thoughts. He looked in the driving mirror and saw Jaime’s black eyes register what passed for surprise.

  He watched the Colombian switch off the radio, take his phone out and listen. After a few minutes of one-way conversation, Jaime said, “Si, jefe,” and put the phone down.

  Kane kept his stare ahead. Suddenly, Jaime’s eyes flicked into view. There was something new there. A new awareness. Jaime had passed from a sleepy listener of salsa to a wide-awake attentiveness. One of the guards called for the radio to be switched on again. Jaime cut him short with a single word. Silence descended on the interior of the BMW like a cloak.

  Kane turned his head to the monotonous countryside again. Jaime had spoken with the chief.
What possible message had Safardi passed to his minion that could have changed the mood so completely? He had the feeling he was being watched. Kane stared into the mirror. Jaime’s dark eyes stared back at him. Somehow, he’d been rumbled. Something had gone terribly wrong and he had no idea what it was. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. If something were to happen soon, it would already be underway. There were a hundred and fifty kilos of cocaine on the high seas and he was the only one who stood a cat in hell’s chance of getting it ashore. He was probably safe for the moment. He tried to think of what could have gone wrong and could come up with nothing. Perhaps he was being paranoid. He opened his eyes and shot a quick glance at the mirror. Jaime’s eyes stared back and the mirror had been slightly tilted to give the Colombian a better view of him. He wasn’t paranoid.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  It was early evening when the Range Rover carrying Morweena, Barrett and Pedro arrived at Safardi’s villa. Morweena’s hands were bound with plastic cable ties.

  Safardi stepped from the shadows of the front porch as the Range Rover drew up. “I suppose I owe you an apology,” he said as Barrett climbed gingerly down from the passenger seat of the car.

  “Accepted,” Barrett said. “When do we get our hands on Kane? I know a few not so subtle but very painful tortures I want to try out on that swine.”

  Morweena climbed out of the Range Rover. “Get her inside,” Safardi instructed Pablo. “Kane is on his way to Rianxo. I called Jaime and informed him of the new situation. He won’t let Kane out of his sight until the coke is landed. Then it will be curtains for him.”

  “No,” Barrett said, his lips pulled back in a sneer. “I want him. Tell Jaime to bring him back.”

  “Never mix emotion and business.” Safardi put his arm around Barrett’s shoulder. “Kane will die and that’s the most important thing, isn’t it? Now, I think that you should be rewarded for what you’ve done for us. Firstly, there’ll be no need to return the money I advanced you. The job will be done by Kane and he is unlikely to arrive to claim his fee. Let’s go inside and see how our new guests are faring.”

  Pablo slowly circled Morweena, his eyes devouring her body. A smile creased his mahogany face. “Una puta maravillosa,” he said, putting his face close to hers.

  Barrett and Safardi entered the room and laughed.

  “I think I’ll let Pedro have a bit of fun with her,” Barrett said. “She won’t be so bloody high and mighty when he gets through with her.”

  “I knew you were an evil bastard, Graham,” Morweena said through clenched teeth. “But I never thought that you were this low.”

  “I may get the opportunity to show you how low I can go.” Barrett went to the drinks cabinet and using his single good hand poured himself a large whisky.

  “No por el momento, Pedro,” Safardi said touching the Colombian on the shoulder.

  “Soon,” Pedro said. “I want the puta soon.”

  “Okay. As soon as Kane is out of the way, you can have her. Until then we’ll keep her as insurance.”

  “Si, patron.” Pedro went to stand by the door.

  Safardi clapped his hands and his servant appeared. “Lock her in one of the bedrooms and feed her. Pablo will stand guard.”

  The Colombian motioned Morweena. “Ven, puta.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  It was ten o’clock at night when Safardi’s BMW arrived in the tiny cluster of houses by the shore which constitutes the port of Rianxo in the province of Galicia in north-western Spain. Kane had tested his hypothesis that Jaime was paying closer attention to him several times during the journey. Each time he found the black eyes focused directly on him. His apprehension had been rising as they approached their destination. His mind was dominated by one thought only, what had suddenly soured his pitch? What had happened back in Marbella that was making Jaime watch him so closely? He was beginning to get the feeling that the plan had changed and not for the better. Therefore, it was up to him to formulate a variant that would get him clear.

  The village of Rianxo lies on the tip of a peninsula in the wide bay called the Ría de Arousa. The coastline of Galicia is cut by deep Atlantic bays dotted with small and medium-sized islands. Safardi had chosen the site of his operations well. The seas off Galicia are known to be among the most treacherous in the world but once inside the myriad bays that constituted the coastline, a mobile speedboat would have a huge advantage over any pursuing craft.

  The car containing the four men arrived at the U-shaped quay in the centre of the village in the half-light of the Spanish twilight. A few old men seated at the cafés overlooking the small port remarked the smart car but since tourists were not unknown in this region the arrival caused no more than casual curiosity. The driver ignored the stares of the village’s inhabitants and made directly for the port where he stopped beside the mooring at which one of Safardi’s speedboats had been deposited the day before.

  “Out,” Jaime said as the car came to a stop.

  The Colombian watched Kane climb out of the passenger side of the car. Kane’s movements were smooth and powerful. Jaime fought down the feeling of apprehension he had felt ever since they had left the villa. As a small boy scraping a living in the mean streets of Bogota, Jaime had developed a sixth sense which warned him of impending danger. And Jaime’s sixth sense had been working overtime since he’d met Kane. The man smelled of death. The muscular Colombian would not be satisfied until he had complied with his boss’s orders and killed the hijo de puta. He glanced at his watch. In under four hours, they would rendezvous with the Mexican freighter. Two hours later, they would land the goods and the puerco of a traitor would be floating in the Atlantic.

  Kane looked back at the picturesque village and the surrounding low hills covered with eucalyptus groves. The air was full of the crickets’ evening songs and the noise of voices and guitar music wafted through the air from the edge of the port. Villagers seated at tables in front of lit cafés argued animatedly while imbibing their evening brandy. It was a scene of peace. Except for the intrusion of their group. The Colombian was holding the Uzi under a windcheater which lay across his arm leaving enough of the short barrel visible to deter Kane from any premature action. Safardi was leaving nothing to chance. Kane walked along the quayside exercising his cramped muscles. Time was running out and he was still unsure of how to proceed. Unless he was prepared for action, he was sure that this would be his last night on earth.

  “Check the boat.”

  Kane hadn’t heard Jaime move up behind him. The heavy-set Colombian had moved as quietly as a cat. “Check the fucking boat yourself,” Kane said sharply, “I’m a driver, not a mechanic.”

  “Verifica el barco,” Jaime said to one of the other men. He tossed an ignition key to the man who dropped into the cockpit of the speedboat.

  The guard turned the ignition key and the boat’s engines came to life. Kane listened to the heavy throb of the engines and concluded that they had been souped up. The guard gunned the engines attracting some curious stares from the patrons of the café. The dials on the dashboard of the speedboat showed the oil pressure to be normal and the reservoir to be full of fuel.

  “Esta bien,” the guard said, cutting the engine and climbing out of the boat.

  “We leave now.” Jaime motioned Kane towards the boat. “We must be at the location where we meet the boat when it arrives.”

  Kane jumped on board. A state-of-the-art satellite navigation system had been installed on the panel in front of the driver. He turned on the GPS and inserted the coordinates that Safardi had given him as the location of the intercept. A plaque bolted to the control table told him that the speedboat was a REALM 350 with twin 400 bhp Mercury outboard engines. Although it would be no slouch, even with souped-up engines it wasn’t in the same class as a custom-designed powerboat. He slid open the cabin door. All the internal fittings had been removed and two additional fuel tanks had been added for extended cruising. No expense had been spa
red in turning the boat into a smuggler’s dream. The deck of the speedboat heaved slightly as Jaime’s feet hit it.

  “I sit back here.” Jaime sat on the double seat at the rear of the boat.

  “It’ll get pretty cold back there,” Kane said, flicking the switch on the dashboard and bringing the engines to life again. Jaime had ignored the remark. The Uzi lay conveniently in his lap. It wouldn’t be easy to get the better of the Colombian.

  Jaime spoke in rapid Spanish to the two guards. “I tell them we return at four o’clock,” he said by way of explanation to Kane. The Colombian smiled.

  And I’m sure they’ll be ready to welcome us with open arms, Kane thought, looking at the two men on the quayside.

  “Let’s go,” Jaime said.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  The run out to the rendezvous point was the easy part of the journey. A large spotlight had been mounted on the roof of the cabin and Kane used its powerful beam to ease the REALM through the narrow channel which separated the village from the wide expanse of the Ría de Arousa. He pointed the bow directly down the inlet keeping an equal distance between the lights on each of the two jutting landmasses between which he passed. The freighter would stay twenty nautical miles from the coast. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that the Colombian was still aiming the Uzi towards his back. He could feel the presence of the gun and Jaime’s finger on the trigger. The single spotlight of the boat lit up the blue ocean ahead of them as they ploughed through the waves. They had plenty of time so Kane kept the revs down to 3,500 for most of the journey.

  They arrived on station at the rendezvous at exactly one thirty.

  “You go below,” Jaime said, motioning with the Uzi as Kane cut the engines.

  Kane opened the cabin door and switched on the light. He slipped into the decimated cabin and looked around for an improvised weapon. As soon as he entered the cabin, the door shut and he heard the door catch being locked behind him. Would it happen now? He doubted it. The riskiest part of the operation would be the run to the coast and they would need him for that. The more likely explanation was that he was to be kept out of the way during the pick-up. He sat down with his back against one of the fuel tanks. One thirty. He had only two and a half more hours to come up with something. During the voyage to the rendezvous point, Jaime’s concentration had never lapsed, not even for a second. He could hear Jaime speaking Spanish from the deck. The Columbian had a satellite phone. The call was to the freighter carrying the cocaine. They were about to take on board drugs with a value of ten million dollars.