The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6)

by Sewell, Ron

  “You crafty bastard but it’s good to be doing something,” said Bear.

  “But you don’t like boats,” said Petros.

  “I’m just along for the money and this boat I can live with. It’s in dry-dock. Can’t move and therefore I won’t be getting my feet wet.”

  “Charles, before we start, I read somewhere the use of armed guards has neutralised Somali piracy. Right or wrong?”

  “So far not a single ship with armed guards has been taken but Goliath was different. When hijacked, she was five hundred nautical miles from any land, had negotiated the protected route between Somalia and Yemen. At two hundred million pounds plus a time, steal one ship a year and you’re in profit. The pirates were led by a woman, a nasty piece of work who is, we believe, Chinese and understands the workings of tankers. Her armed team were, apart from a few, professional thugs who didn’t give a toss so long as they were paid. As we speak I have people trawling the salvage yards of western India for information on this vessel and the woman. Hiding a crude carrier even on a six mile stretch of beach surrounded by rusting tankers and cruise liners isn’t easy.”

  “Why bother about the woman?”

  Charles placed his elbows on the table, hands clasped and leaned forward, his face fixed. “Number one rule, know thy enemy and believe me the shipping industry has become smug. It’s just a matter of time before the next vessel is taken. The pirates are a part of professional organisations. If you want to catch a criminal follow the money. The most common method of laundering is to run it through the books of a legitimate business. A breaker’s yard is ideal.”

  “Give me a couple of hours,” said Petros, drinking the remains of his cold coffee. “I need to talk to my wife but I don’t see a problem. You get our expertise for two weeks and then we return home.”

  Charles nodded. “I assume your normal rules apply.”

  Petros stood. “Never assume.” He checked the time. “Bear, give me a ring if you have any problems. Charles, as always, great to see you again.”

  They shook hands and walked out of the store room. Petros went to pay but Andreas waved him away.

  Chapter Three.

  Petros stepped through the door when his mobile bleeped. He removed the phone from his trouser pocket and checked the display. “It’s a text from Bear,” he shouted to Maria who was in the kitchen.

  “Leave it. Dinner’s ready.”

  Maria eased her way from cooker to sink as Charlie waited for any crumb to drop. “Alysa, call this animal out of my kitchen before I tread on him.”

  “Yarlie,” she shouted.

  “Alysa, his name is Charlie. You’re old enough to say it as it should be said.”

  “Mama, it’s Yarlie, my Yarlie.”

  With his paws slipping on the polished floor he scampered into the other room. “Sleep, Yarlie.”

  Maria chuckled as the animal lay on the floor and her daughter snuggled close.

  Petros sauntered into the kitchen. “Something smells good.”

  Maria turned to face him. “When are you leaving?”

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. “You’ve spoken to Jocelyn.”

  “The deal is Bear can go with you to South Africa providing I say yes.”

  “I know.” The kitchen telephone rang making him jump. He lifted the receiver. “Petros Kyriades.”

  “Jocelyn has spoken to Maria.”

  “Right in one.”

  “Are we going?”

  Petros covered the mouthpiece. “Bear wants to know if I can go out and play?”

  She nodded. “I’ve never said no before. Why should I start now?”

  “Bear, I’ll see you at Heathrow tomorrow morning.” He laughed an instant before the line went dead.

  Maria stood with her arms crossed. “Sorry, I should have let you tell me first.”

  “Do you want the long or short version?”

  “Short and sweet or dinner will be a burnt offering.”

  “Piracy’s the problem we’ll help to resolve. The shipping companies believe it’s going away. In fact they have reduced the security teams and their wages. Let me assure you the threat is as big as it ever was, maybe bigger. The pirates have proven to be tough and creative. Our job is to come up with a full-proof method to stop them boarding.”

  “What do you know about ships?”

  “Charles says we are inventive, understand attack scenarios and by turning them around, defence.”

  “And tomorrow you’re galloping off to Cape Town.”

  “Max two weeks and I’ll be home.”

  “Alysa, wash your hands. Dinner’s ready.” She turned. “And you show a good example and wash yours.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Maria covered one large and two medium plates with brown rice and chilli con carne and placed them on the table. “Your hands must be clean by now.”

  “I’ve washed papa’s.”

  “You’ve soaked the floor, young lady.”

  “Papa’s big hands soaked the floor.”

  “Enough. Dry your hands and sit.”

  “Come on, Alysa, or we’ll be in big trouble.” They dried their hands.

  “If you kiss mama she’ll forgive you.”

  Maria’s face flushed. “Eat.”

  @@@

  Maria folded Petros’ clothes while he placed them in his suitcase. His trip to South Africa was not unexpected. She knew he was a man of action when they met and married. For a few months he’d acted like a caged animal, desperate for freedom. “I want you back here in two weeks. Alysa and I need you.”

  “Maria, when I get back you can choose anywhere in the world for a holiday.”

  “A holiday I don’t need. Believe me, I understand when you’re not doing anything drives you crazy. I do worry one day some gun-happy villain will kill you.”

  He laughed. “I’m bullet-proof. No one is going to shoot me. And anyway, this job is as far away from being shot as I can get. Bear’s with me and Jocelyn wouldn’t let him go if it were dangerous.”

  She began to feel calmer. “Don’t do anything crazy. Give your recommendations and come home. Remember, you’re not as young as you used to be.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I’m going for a shower. Care to join me?”

  He pretended to be shocked. “You can’t mean what I believe you mean.”

  “Your decision but I do understand when men reach a certain age it’s a bit of a problem.”

  He grabbed her and they crashed onto the bed. “You can tell me later if I’m past my best.”

  Neither heard the bedroom door open or the squeal until Alysa jumped on the bed.

  Chapter Four

  The Jumbo jet engines roared as they raced to full power. A jerk and the plane charged along the runway, the fuselage tilted and in seconds Heathrow was beneath them.

  Petros’ stomach tightened as did his hands on the armrests. A wave of nausea swept over him. He closed his eyes and breathed deep until the craft levelled out and he opened them. He pulled the insurance report from the seat pocket to read, study and pass the time.

  Bear, his eyes closed, sat next to him and dozed.

  He began searching for sensible answers to the ever-growing problem. He was probing for facts or anything which might help their task. One thing was certain, the pirates boarded from the stern and used the external ladders to enter the bridge. He took his pen and underlined the appropriate paragraph.

  After lunch Petros tilted his seat and closed his eyes. He dreaded the end of the flight, aware that most crashes occurred on final approach and landing.

  Bear, as usual, slept the sleep of the dead, ate and slept some more.

  The tone of the engines altered as the aircraft began to descend and the automated announcement began. A member of the cabin crew strolled along the aisle checking seat belts were secure and seats upright. A rumble followed by a thump told everyone the landing gear was in place.

  The increased n
oise woke Bear. He peered out of the window. “We’ve been here before. Thank God this time we’re not wandering around on the wet stuff.”

  By the time the aircraft’s tyres hit the runway in Cape Town, Petros had evolved a plan of sorts.

  @@@

  A tall, muscular man with white hair cropped short, wearing steel-rimmed glasses, glanced through the windows of the first class lounge as the Boeing 747 from London Heathrow landed. The continuous roar of jet engines annoyed him. He understood the men he waited for would ask serious questions. Stanley Ford, the South African Vice-President for the Ocean Shipping Line, contacted his chauffeur. “John, my guests have landed. Bring the car to arrivals in thirty minutes.”

  At arrivals he checked their photos on his iPhone. To his surprise both men with their bags hoisted over their shoulders exited ahead of schedule. He stepped forward to greet them. “Petros Kyriades and William Morris; Stanley Ford.”

  The three men shook hands.

  Stanley’s face wrinkled into what might have been a faint smile. His guests could not have been so different in appearance. One white, athletic and slim, the other, black and built like an American football player. “Hurry. My driver’s waiting.”

  Petros and Bear glanced at each other, fell in step and followed.

  As they approached a shining red Mercedes-Benz S-Class, the black driver jumped out and opened the passenger door.

  “John, Mr Kyriades and his associate, Mr Morris.”

  Petros followed by Bear shook John’s hand.

  The man grinned. “In the rear please, gentlemen. Leave your bags and I’ll put them in the boot.”

  Petros settled himself in the back seat while Bear hunted for the seat belt buckle.

  John lifted the bags and placed them with care into the boot.

  Stanley slid into the front passenger seat and waited for John to close the door before speaking. “I’ve booked you into Blackheath Lodge. It’s been renovated and is the best in the area. You will not have any problems and it’s close to the city centre. John will collect you in the mornings and return you in the evenings. Nothing against you, gentlemen, but why my CEO brought in outsiders I do not understand.” He tapped the dashboard and the car edged away from the curb and into the traffic.

  Bear laughed. “Stanley, we’re not here to check on you or anybody else. You lost a large vessel to pirates. We will suggest certain measures which we believe will prevent another attack. You may have it covered already but if you have, how was Goliath hijacked?”

  Stanley shrugged. “I believe a member of the crew left a door open.”

  “Any idea who?”

  Stanley stared out of the window.

  Petros lost in his own thoughts, gazed at the different styles of building which made up Cape Town.

  The car stopped at a white-painted, two-storey building. “Your hotel, gentlemen,” said John. “I’ll carry your bags.”

  Stanley turned in his seat. “What time can I expect you tomorrow morning?”

  “What time do you start?” asked Petros.

  I’m in my office at seven.”

  “Perfect,” said Petros. “If you don’t mind can John pick us up on your way to work?”

  “Is that necessary?”

  “We’ll work your hours,” said Bear. “This is not a holiday.”

  “I’ll have John drive to the hotel when I’m in my office. Is seven thirty acceptable?”

  Both men alighted but before the door closed Petros stuck his head back in. “Stanley, we were asked to give your ships a safety check and we will. The sooner we get started the quicker we’re out of here.” He shut the door and bounded up the steps to reception.

  John waited and handed them their keys. “Don’t mind Stan. He’s one of the good guys when you get to understand him.”

  “Thanks, John, but somehow I get the feeling the sooner we leave the better.”

  John chuckled, waved and strolled away.

  Both men handed over their passports to the young black female receptionist with sparkling blue eyes. “We’ll collect them later,” said Petros.

  “What time do you serve dinner?” asked Bear.

  “The dining room is open from eighteen hundred to midnight. If you require room service out of these hours it can be brought to your room.”

  Bear rubbed his chin. “Half a dozen roast beef sandwiches, some English mustard and a large pot of fresh coffee. Petros, want anything?”

  “Yes please. One ham salad and more coffee.”

  “I’ll inform the kitchen.” She smiled. “Your rooms are on the second floor.” She pointed to the stairs. “The porter will bring your bags. Enjoy your stay.”

  @@@

  As the two men ascended the stairs Petros remarked, “Most unusual, she possessed the most gorgeous blue eyes.”

  Bear smiled. “No, it’s not. I read that some researchers found a genetic mutation which stopped the eyes changing from blue to brown. When we are born, everyone has blue eyes and in time they change colour. Eons ago, Mother Nature got it wrong and some eyes stay blue.”

  “She still has beautiful eyes.” Petros stopped. “Which room do you want?”

  Bear grabbed a key and opened the door. “Large bed and a sea view. I’ll take it.”

  Petros strolled along the corridor to the next, unlocked the door and entered. The doors to the balcony were open allowing the warm breeze into the room. With his hands behind his back he stared at the Atlantic Ocean.

  Ten minutes later a waiter arrived with his salad and a pot of coffee. He placed them on the table nearest the window. Petros signed the chit and the man left.

  From his briefcase he removed the transcript of the Goliath’s hijacking. Perched on the corner of the bed he scanned the pages until the end. At no point did it mention the possibility of a crew member being involved. He replaced the folder, poured a cup of coffee and nibbled at his salad.

  Weary from travelling, he unpacked and hung his few clothes in the wardrobe. To defeat jet lag he took a long shower, at first alternating the water from hot to cold. Refreshed, he dressed and opened the door adjoining the next room. “Bear, wake up,” he shouted. “We’re going to the docks.”

  Bear rolled off the bed and rubbed his eyes before stretching. “May I ask why it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  Bear slipped his shoes on and stood. “No peace for the wicked.”

  At reception they ordered a taxi and waited on the steps outside. A red Toyota Corolla arrived within a few minutes.

  Petros sat in the front passenger seat while Bear stretched out in the back.

  “Sturrocks Dock, please,” said Petros, “and you’ll have to wait.”

  The driver, an unshaven, thick-set man, shrugged. “The meter’s running so take your time.”

  In ten minutes they circuited the Cape Town Yacht Club and the car stopped halfway along the dock next to a wire mesh fence. Petros and Bear alighted.

  Bear studied the ship in dry dock. “Her sides are upright walls of steel. Hard to believe when loaded most of her is underwater.”

  Petros shook his head. “A man-made iceberg. At first glance it appears, if you shut the doors, impregnable. But when you look again it’s an open door with a welcome sign on the mat.”

  “Plenty of razor wire along the guardrails.”

  “It gives the illusion of defence but you and any fit young man could clamber over. As Charles said, they have been lulled into believing the pirates are finished when all that’s happened is they’ve changed the rules of battle.”

  Bear scratched his backside. “Any thoughts?”

  “A good old-fashioned keep within a safe refuge. If the bad guys can’t get at the crew, we win.”

  Bear studied the vessel. “A few cameras but I see no defence systems. This ship is about as vulnerable as a blind man searching for water in the Sahara.”

  “I wonder what Stan the man will say when we recommend spending a lot of money.”

&
nbsp; “At the moment I couldn’t give a toss. It’s time to return to the hotel, and sample their food.”

  “I agree.”

  The taxi driver waited until they were seated before starting the engine. “They build the ships to fit the dock.”

  “Why this dock?” asked Petros.

  “The company loads oil in the Gulf and delivers to America. This is the first and last major repair yard between here and the States. Labour costs are cheap so it makes sense.”

  Petros let the man talk. “How do you know this?”

  “I sometimes work in the yard. When these boats come in for a scrape and paint they need extra painters. I give this job up for a week and double my money. They insist on a fast turnaround. Time for tankers is mega-bucks a day and let’s face it, a ship in harbour does not make money.” The car slowed and stopped. “Your hotel, guys, and my card.”

  Petros stuffed a hundred rand note in the man’s hand. “For waiting.”

  A smile crept over the driver’s face. “Whenever you need a cab, call me.”

  Throwing his arm around Bear’s shoulder the two men strolled into the dining room. “We need to talk.”

  A waitress directed them to a table next to the window. “Is this acceptable, gentlemen?”

  Bear nodded. “Does your chef cook large portions?”

  “Our chef will cook you a whole ox if you pre-order.”

  “A couple of rare and large T-bones plus a mountain of fries. The ox I may order tomorrow.”

  She turned to Petros. “And you, sir?”

  “Whitebait for starters and the lamb’s liver with onions and whatever your chef serves with it.”

  “Will that be standard or extra large, sir?”

  “For me, standard please.”

  “And to drink?”

  “Fresh orange juice and tonic for me. Bear?”

  “A pot of coffee.”

  The girl sort of bowed and backed away before turning towards the kitchens.

  “What’s bothering you, PK?”

  For a moment, Petros closed his eyes and churched his fingers. “Things ain’t what they seem. I saw a ton of razor wire, nothing else to prevent pirates boarding. A grappling hook fired at the stern would find a thousand places to secure onto. With modern climbing equipment an agile man or woman could climb and secure rope ladders in less than five minutes.”