by Sewell, Ron
Irritated, the lieutenant swung around and stomped away. The sergeant followed. Once in the car, he turned to face his sergeant. “I need some of the Colonel’s fried chicken.”
“You need some fresh air, sir?”
“No. I’m hungry.”
While seated at a plastic table munching his chicken the lieutenant was convinced a piece of the jigsaw had been lost and no one knew where it was. His job was to find it. Once in place he’d be able to see the whole picture. He pointed. “Want some?”
The sergeant sipping his black coffee nodded and withdrew a large piece of chicken from the half empty tub.
Chapter Ten
Tired, Henry cleared immigration and passport control at Cape Town International Airport. For a few minutes he mingled with the throng before getting his bearings. In less than five minutes he stood with his baggage in the taxi queue.
When his turn came he climbed into the rear of the next available cab. “Villa Simona.”
“Business or pleasure?” asked the driver.
With a hint of excitement in his voice, he replied. “Bit of both.”
“Great place, Cape town, located between the sea and the mountains. You must make time to climb Table Mountain. Use the cable car, it’s worth the trip. And if nothing else take the boat to Robben Island where Nelson Mandela spent some time. The waterfront you can see from your room but it’s worth taking an evening stroll along the front. I like the place you’ve chosen, not expensive, and has stunning views over Camps Bay.”
“Good marketing spiel but at the moment so long as the bed’s comfortable, I don’t care. My first choice is to crawl between the sheets and sleep until tomorrow.”
“You’ll need food for your breakfast. I know a great store where you can buy everything you need. What do you want?”
“I’m not fussed. Just grab a few microwave meals, a bottle of milk and strong coffee and add it to my fare.”
The driver blasted his horn, swerved to avoid another car and sped into Checkers Hyper. With a screech of brakes he parked, left the engine running and ran inside the supermarket.
Henry sat back and closed his eyes but awoke with a start when the driver’s door slammed shut.
“You have enough to ward off starvation.” Two plastic bags rested on the passenger seat.
“Thanks. As I said, I need sleep.”
Ten minutes later the driver shouted, “Here you are, home sweet home. How long are you staying?” He grabbed two suitcases and Henry lifted the plastic bags.
“Not sure. Maybe a couple of weeks.” He followed the man into reception. “I can pay in American dollars. Is that okay?”
“Dollars, Yen, British pounds, I don’t care. It pays the rent and keeps my wife happy.”
“How much do I owe you?”
From his jacket pocket the driver removed his iPhone and tapped the screen a few times before looking up. “Twenty-five dollars.”
Henry handed over two twenty dollar notes. “I’ll need a taxi while I’m here. Have you a card?”
“Let me sort out your change and I’ll pop back to the car and find one.”
“Keep it. You saved me a lot of hassle.”
Running, the driver left and returned in moments with his card. “Darren Carpenter, top number’s my mobile. Call me anytime day or night.”
“I might have to do that. Can you be here at ten tomorrow morning? I need to go to Ocean Shipping for a meeting.”
“Ten in the morning, no problem. I’ll be here ready and waiting.”
Henry waited until he left before handing over his passport to the young man at reception and completing the necessary form.
With the formalities finished, a porter lifted his suitcases.
“I’ll take the bags of food.”
“Thanks that helps. Follow me, sir. Your suite is this way.”
Henry gave the porter a ten dollar tip and closed the door. He strolled to the patio doors overlooking the bay. Twenty–four hours ago he had been in India. He turned and noticed the plastic bags; better unpack them at least. He wandered into the open plan kitchen and emptied the contents of both bags on the table. Bread, milk, muesli, orange juice, fresh fruit, tea, coffee, everything anyone might need for breakfast. He placed the milk and juice in the fridge. Sleep beckoned. He undressed, stood under the shower for a few minutes, dried himself and naked crawled into bed, falling asleep almost straight away.
@@@
Lieutenant Johnston pushed his fingers through his greying hair as he sat at his desk. His long and narrow face creased as he pondered the drive-by shooting and the killing of the prime suspects. Somewhere was a link, a key to open the door and unravel the knotted ball of string. He stood and turned to his sergeant. “I’m going to feed the ducks.”
The sergeant nodded and continued typing his notes into the computer.
Living in an apartment was great but Johnston loved the gardens of the Cape. The one with a duck pond gave him breathing space. Most important, he could talk to the ducks and they didn’t care so long as he tossed in an ample amount of bread.
He parked his car, strolled through the Japanese garden until he reached his favourite spot overlooking the pond. Straight away a dozen birds drifted towards his position anticipating food.
Food, that’s your motive for being sociable, he thought, as he broke a few slices of bread into small pieces. Can you assist in my enquiries? Course you can’t, you’re ducks. Me, I have the murder of a policeman to solve. The top brass want answers yesterday. The press demand a story and I haven’t a clue. Someone needed five men murdered. The assassins failed and paid the price. One policeman died as a result of his own stupidity. Thank Christ it wasn’t kids.
A punk is stabbed and you search amongst his friends or enemies and find the culprit. Gangland shootings are easy to solve, interview the opposition. A wife is murdered at home, nine times out of ten arrest the husband or boyfriend or both. With this investigation, I’m walking across quicksand. Soon I’ll be sinking until no trace can be found.
“That’s it, the bag’s empty my feathered friends. You’ve eaten my lunch and I have an answer to my dilemma. I’ll interview the five men again. One of them, if not all, is doing something which annoys someone else. See you next time.”
With his mind cleared of rubbish he strode with determination towards his car.
Back in the police station he booked an interview room for the remainder of the day and the next. “Sergeant, tomorrow morning take a constable, go to the shipyard and bring back Petros Kyriades for a chat.”
“On what charge are we arresting him?”
“None, but I’m confident he knows why he was shot at. A pattern exists but I’m damned if I can make it out.”
“Clear as mud, sir.”
“No rough stuff and he’s not under arrest.”
“What if he doesn’t want to come?”
“Ask him politely. I often find it works.”
@@@
Henry Wood checked two copies of his notes and attached photographs before pushing them into separate large buff envelopes. With a steady hand he addressed one to his immediate boss, Peter Wells, and the other to his own home. When he finished he strolled to reception and asked if they could airmail both and charge his account.
Dressed in his one suit, he clambered into the front seat of the waiting taxi. At ten thirty, he alighted at the entrance to Ocean Shipping. “I may be a long time. Can you wait?”
“As long as you want. I’ll be fair, I know a cafe, and it’s not far from here which drivers use. I’ll take some time out and have my breakfast. If I’m not here when you’ve finished, give me a call.”
Henry handed over twenty dollars. “Take your time.”
Darren beamed. “Thanks.” He waited until Henry disappeared inside the red brick building before driving away.
The woman at Ocean Shipping reception pushed her black hair from her face. Her eyes had a twinkle when she smiled. She stood and placed a pile of
letters on the shelf fixed to the wall. The chunky sweater, short skirt and black tights looked good on her. “Can I help you?”
He nodded. “That’s a large mirror behind you.”
“Reflects the light from the entrance and is perfect for applying make-up.”
He chuckled. “That’s a problem I don’t have.”
She giggled. “I would hope not.”
He nodded. “Is it possible to talk to Mr Stanley Ford with reference to the loss of Goliath and the murder of my father, Captain Wood?”
“Her eyes opened wide. “Mr Wood, my condolences on the loss of your father. I didn’t know him well but on the few occasions we met he seemed a good man.” She lifted a telephone and pressed two digits. “Mr Ford, I have the late Captain Wood’s son in reception. He asked if he could have a chat re the loss of Goliath... Yes sir.”
The handset slipped into its cradle and she pressed a button on her workstation. From a narrow door to the left of the mirror came a tall, young man wearing dark blue jeans and a matching shirt.
Henry took immediate stock. A one way security mirror, most impressive.
The young man indicated for him to follow. He pressed an electronic door lock and waited for it to open. They strolled along a well lit corridor until he opened a door.
“Mr Ford’s secretary will take you in, sir.” He turned and left, closing the door.
A smart woman in a figure-hugging cotton dress looked up as they entered. “Mr Wood, you’re to go straight in. How do you like your coffee?”
“Most kind. Black please.”
“Best knock before you enter.”
He wrapped on the door and went into the office of an important man. The oak-panelled walls and furniture were exquisite. In one corner a bar with crystal glasses and decanters reflected the light in a flash of rainbows.
“Mr Wood,” said Stanley as he came around the desk.. They shook hands. “Please take a seat. No doubt Amelia, my secretary, has covered your coffee requirement. Your father’s murder was a great loss to the company.”
“Thank you.” Henry sat in front of the huge carved desk.
“I assume this is a social call as your father’s affairs have been concluded.”
“Not exactly, as I have important things to discuss.”
Stanley gave Henry a searching look. “I’m intrigued.”
Henry leant forward in his seat. “I’ve found what’s left of Goliath and have a picture of the murdering bitch that killed my father.”
Taken aback, Stanley suppressed any comment and stared at the wall. “If what you say is true, and I’m not questioning your story, it sounds so incredible. Have you any evidence?”
Henry removed his notes and photographs from his bag. “Read and digest. By this time tomorrow I’ll have that bitch in jail.”
A knock on the door announced refreshments. Amelia entered carrying a silver tray with cups and saucers, a steaming cafetiere and sandwiches. “Hope you enjoy smoked salmon, Mr Wood. It’s farmed but very good.”
Stanley waved her away as he grasped the words and pictures in front of him. As if deep in thought, he placed his hands behind his head, shifted his body in the chair and remained silent for a moment. “I’m not certain the hulk is the Goliath but then I’m not the world’s best at ship construction. The woman, do you know where she is?”
Henry stopped drinking his coffee. “In Cape Town.”
Stanley spluttered. “Are you sure?”
Henry noticed the look on Stanley’s face. “You don’t look too good.”
“I’m fine, just trying to come to terms with your revelation.” He held up the picture of Linda Liu. “This woman must be part of a larger group with financial resources to support her activities.”
Henry frowned. “I accept there has to be a chain of command and I believe this woman is close to the top.”
“We must inform the police.”
“Of course but first I must find this murdering bitch. I need to be close by when the police drag her away in handcuffs and with luck lose the key.”
“You have her address?”
“Not yet. I intend to visit the taxi firm who took her from the airport and I hope to her home.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you handed over this information to the police? They have the resources to deal with these people. From the report on Goliath she will kill without thought.”
“You know I work for the United States government.”
“No, I didn’t but what difference does that make?”
“I can and have shot to kill in the line of duty. I’d love this whore to try and escape and for some trigger-happy cop to shoot her. I hate this woman and I want to see her dead.”
Stanley’s eyes met with Henry’s. “I cannot permit you to waste your life on a revenge attack. Determination and anger will get you into trouble. I still recommend you contact the police.”
Henry drained his coffee cup and returned it to the tray. “In forty-eight hours I’ll tell the police everything. You contact who you have to. I’m going hunting and you can’t stop me.”
Stanley raised his eyebrows. “How could I stop you? In fact why would I want to? Any information on the loss of Goliath is welcome but I need it confirmed. I’ve no doubt you believe this woman murdered your father. You’re prepared to risk your life to see her dead or behind bars. I wish you’d reconsider.”
“That’s the way it is,” said Henry. “You have a job to do and I have mine. I can assure you she will not stand trial.”
“Judge you may be but I suggest you think twice before committing a crime. South African prisons, if you are white, are unpleasant and dangerous. It’s a well known fact, unless you can pay for certain privileges, you’ll end up as a bed mate for a gang leader. Fight and your life expectancy is counted in days.”
“I’ve no intention of ending up in jail. She might but I’ll be long gone.”
Stanley sat speechless for a moment. He placed his hands flat on the desk and leant forward. “Are you going to kill her?”
Henry tilted his head to one side. “If I was I’m not going to tell you how and when. Trust me she’s as good as dead meat on a butcher’s hook. What you do now with my information is up to you. As far as I’m concerned, what I’ve said to you never happened.” He stood, didn’t bother to hold out his hand. “I doubt if I’ll ever see you again. Goodbye.”
Worried, Stanley watched Henry leave. He waited a few minutes before locking his office door. As the key turned, pain spread from his chest across his shoulders and along his arms. His whole being shook and his knees gave way. He tried to focus but the room tilted. His back hit the door as he slid to the floor.
He came too on his office floor not knowing how long he had been unconscious. It took a while for his brain to deliver rational commands, so he remained where he was until his head cleared. With the aid of the door handle he dragged himself upright and took slow, deliberate steps towards his desk. His breathing remained steady as he sat in his chair. From his desk he removed a small bottle, unscrewed the cap and took out two small white pills. These he placed on his tongue and let them dissolve. With time wasted, he removed from the right-hand bottom drawer a pay-as-you-go mobile. He pressed one button. His fingers drummed on the desk top. “For God’s sake pick up.” It rang and rang until he ended the call. “Typical,” he muttered. “The shit hits the fan and she’s unobtainable.”
Chapter Eleven
The house was silent as Amadou checked the time and stared out of the window. The risk factor was high as he weighed the decision on his mind. They had to leave now. In the dark of Tripoli’s back streets it was hard to see anything. The noise of the military Humvee vibrated the air. “Let’s go.”
To conceal her fair skin Durrah dressed in a black hijab. Fear filled her eyes as she peered through a gorse-covered slit and opened the main door. She grabbed two suitcases and descended the steps.
A full moon lit their surroundings but not one house shone a
light. The street remained empty.
Hassim, the driver of the beast, operated the rear door from the safety of his armour-plated cocoon.
Amadou placed another two cases on the steps before he re-entered his home for the final time. At the end of the hallway on an ornate marble-topped table the red lights on a metal box glowed. He punched in a number on the electronic keyboard, smiled as the lights changed to green and left, ensuring the main door locked. A sharp beep told him the alarm was set but this system did not fail safe. Any intruder would trip the multiple sensors and vanish amongst the debris of the building as it imploded. The military factions might, if he was fortunate, believe he and his wife were dead.
With his luggage he followed his wife into the rear of the Humvee.
“Is it done?” asked Durrah.
Amadou nodded. “Hassim, you can still change your mind.”
The rear door closed automatically sealing them inside. Hassim gunned the engine and headed out of the city. “My friend, it’s time to leave this hell-hole. If our luck holds we might evade the road blocks. I have no intention of stopping to be murdered by unrestrained thugs. If we don’t make the airport at Sawkanah we’ll be dead.”
“When you’re ready I’ll take over the driving.”
“I’ll take her out of the city to my secret fuel dump. You might have noticed my alterations. This thing can carry forty extra fuel cans. With the main tank filled to the brim we’ll be okay.”
“ZZ will be waiting so you have until we arrive to change your mind.”
Twenty minutes later Hassim shouted, “Road block. Hold tight, I’m going through.” The note of the engine changed when he dropped a gear as if slowing to a stop. With twenty metres remaining his foot stamped on the accelerator. The tyres of the Humvee grabbed at the ground as it gathered speed. The beast struck and obliterated the temporary barrier. Armed men dived out of its path and opened fire, their weapons on automatic. The racket of multiple shots destroyed the peace of the night. At sixty-five miles per hour the vehicle slewed around a shallow bend and out of sight.