The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5)

by Sewell, Ron

  ***

  The following morning, James, dressed in a dark pinstripe suit, his face expressionless, took his seat at the head of the table. He positioned his Admiralty and Maritime Law Guide along with his Journal of Maritime Law and Commerce in front of him and smiled. He acknowledged the two lawyers both with Honours from the Universities of Glasgow and London in Maritime Law who sat on either side and shook hands across the table. “Good morning, Kevin, Allan. Thank you for agreeing to see me and to arbitrate on this matter.”

  He handed across copies of the initial claim forwarded to the UK and European Receiver of Wrecks and a confirmation of receipt plus previous published papers on the law of finds.

  “James, always a pleasure to welcome you to Malta,” said Kevin Attard in a clipped BBC accent. As usual, he wore a double-breasted blazer, crisp white shirt and public school tie, his uniform of choice. He brushed back his dark hair. “I know you are fully cognisant with the letter of the law but does the law of finds apply in this instance?”

  “It is our duty to decide whether there is enough evidence to prove abandonment,” said Allan Vella, a man in his early fifties with a tanned face from sailing, surrounded by an unruly mop of light-grey hair.

  In contrast to Kevin, he dressed casual, open-neck white sports shirt and grey trousers.

  James leant forward dispensing with any formalities. “The sooner we come to an agreement the better. I have every fact I can find but accept there may be something out there which may prove my claim in error. The vessel Jupiter. Built 1927 at Harland and Wolf, Belfast, was sunk by the Royal Navy in October 1944 outside this island’s territorial waters.”

  The door opened and a short, plump, dark-haired woman entered with a large envelope in her hands. With a smile on her face, she strode towards Kevin and placed it in front of him.

  “Thank you, Mikaela.” He waited until the door closed. “Like you, James, after a long night we came to the same conclusion. The Jose Maria Line, the final owners of the Jupiter, abandoned her in Thessalonica sometime in 1940. We are of the opinion she was either sold or was about to be sold for scrap when Germany invaded Greece”

  “The Jose Maria Line has long gone,” said James as he churched his fingers, “and I can find no will disposing of the company of which I understand included large debts.”

  Allan checked the time. “We should take a break. I’ve arranged for lunch upstairs in the boardroom but I made a few notes which are for our agreement and approval.

  “One, as far as can be reasonably ascertained, the Jupiter was not insured.

  “Two, there are no records of any party attempting to recover the vessel.

  “Three, the location of the sinking, although clear in the Royal Navy records, has never until now been investigated.

  “Four, there are no heirs as far as we know to the Jose Maria Line and from available records, we believe they abandoned her.

  “Five, the German Navy reconfigured her upper decks to bear a resemblance to a hospital ship named Gradisca. That’s everything for now.”

  He pushed himself back from the table. “Let’s eat.”

  They climbed the stairs to the boardroom where other partners of the practice relaxed during their lunch hour. In the far corner set for three, stood a polished oak table.

  A pleasant-looking young, dark-haired, slim woman entered pushing a silver trolley laden with food. In less than a minute smoked salmon, various cooked hams and a selection of salads covered the table.

  “I gather this will be on the bill,” said James.

  “What do you think?” said Allen.

  James shook his head. “In that case pass the salmon.”

  Allan carved a chunk of a smoke-darkened ham and added salad to his plate. “Out of interest, how did your client discover this wreck?”

  “He was searching for a train.”

  Allan’s brow wrinkled. “And he found a wreck. I’m sure you realise the seriousness of our findings. It could make your client a rich man.”

  “He is already,” said James.

  “Will you be here for the weekend?” asked Allan

  “Hope not but any particular reason?”

  “I’ll be playing with my new toy.”

  “Must be expensive,” said James.

  “Second-hand, but good as new. I’ve treated myself to a Sunseeker Predator.”

  “Good boat. Rather fast if my memory is correct.”

  “Forty knots, well almost. For a bit of fun, I’ve installed an automatic clay pigeon trap on the stern.”

  “If I’m here, I’ll join you. Long time since I’ve fired a shotgun.”

  “I’ve four. Two single shot and two pump action. Why don’t you stay over?”

  James grimaced. “I have little enough time with my wife as it is. She’s far more fun than a fast boat with shotguns.”

  “Must be love. I’m not going to argue.”

  They finished their second cup of coffee and returned to the silence of their secure room.

  As the sun began to set, James finished discussing the laws of salvage and of finds.

  “So we are agreed,” said Kevin. “The abandonment of the Jupiter, although not confirmed by letter or with the agreement of the previous owners, happened. Furthermore, for the purpose of this claim abandonment is inferred by the vessel remaining untended in Thessalonica and the law of finds applies.”

  James and Allan nodded.

  With the signed originals of the documentation in his briefcase, Kevin handed signed copies to James and Allan. “I’ll have these processed in three to four days. Tell your client to do nothing until you give him the word. Relax and enjoy our island. It has much to offer. Where are you staying, James?”

  “The Phoenicia.”

  “Showing its age these days but still up there with the best,” said Allan, “Need a lift?”

  “Thanks but no thanks. I’ll walk and clear the head.”

  James strolled to his hotel enjoying the hustle and bustle of daily life as it went on around him.

  Once in his room he ran a hot bath and for the next hour relaxed and gathered his thoughts.

  ***

  Petros waited for a phone call from James, his mind deliberating the possibility other claimants might exist.

  Late in the evening his mobile rang, it was James. “How did your day go?”

  “As well as could be expected. We agreed the law of finds is appropriate but it requires the signature of a judge familiar with the laws of salvage. Your claim will be confirmed in three to four days. In the meantime, relax, enjoy the thought of the gold belonging to you. Go stay in an expensive hotel.”

  “And what about the gold itself?”

  “Leave it where it is and don’t tell a soul. Special arrangements will be required to deliver it to the central bank vaults.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll make myself and my associates available at a moment’s notice if the judge wishes to discuss any issue we may have overlooked. I can assure you between the three of us every detail is correct.”

  “Okay, great idea to stay in a hotel. Might just do that.”

  “Better than on a cramped salvage boat. When I have the final decision, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Thanks, James. Must have dinner one evening.”

  “Look forward to it. Bye.” The line went dead.

  Petros strolled to the upper deck where Amadou stood staring across the harbour. “Where’s ZZ?”

  “He’s collecting Scarlet from the airport. He can’t get enough of that one.”

  “Were you any different at twenty-two?”

  “Much the same but never as lucky. He appeals to women, like flies to camel dung. Heard anything from James?”

  “Three to four days before a decision is made.”

  “Could be worse. At least Alfredo can have the bow fixed while we do nothing.”

  “True. I’m off to find a hotel and a comfortable bed.”

  Amadou shif
ted his position and scratched his head. “Good idea. Do you mind if I come with you? Alfredo’s bunks are passable but a large double bed, which doesn’t move, is better.”

  ***

  The evening flight from Rome touched down ten minutes late. Scarlet, with her overnight bag, avoided the luggage carousel and headed straight through customs to arrivals. She scanned the crowd of people waiting to meet someone and in seconds spotted ZZ.

  He ran towards her and they held each other as if parted for months instead of days.

  With more haste than was necessary, he grabbed her bag and dragged her into the chaos of slamming doors and taxis racing away.

  To the sound of a shrill whistle a taxi stopped, waited for them to jump in and with a grinding of gears drove away before ZZ had a chance to tell him where.

  ZZ tapped the driver on his shoulder. “Sliema Chalet.”

  The driver grunted, pressed his horn and cut up a slow moving car.

  ZZ gripped Scarlet’s hand as the car veered in and out of the traffic. In what seemed minutes the vehicle stopped.

  The driver grunted again as he shifted his carcass around. “Twenty Euro.”

  ZZ paid and jumped out of the car. “His breath smelt of garlic and the stench of sweat made me gag.”

  Scarlet studied the front of the hotel. “Not the best in the world.”

  He laughed. “We have a bedroom for as long as we are here. What more do we want?”

  She laughed as they strolled into reception.

  ZZ waved to the bored receptionist as they wandered across the foyer “The view from the balcony is awesome and on the top floor we can’t hear the noise from the road.”

  He inserted the electronic key card into the lock. The curtains were drawn and the room lit by one table lamp. An open bottle of red wine rested on the table and a bottle of white in an ice bucket.

  She grabbed the white, poured two glasses and handed one to ZZ. “To us.”

  With a grin on her face, she pushed him back, rolled on top of him, placed her hands on his chest and kissed him hard on the lips. It was the kiss of life. Spent and breathing heavily they parted and lay side by side.

  The next morning he woke early. In the dimness he saw her gaze follow his every move. “I’m tired.”

  She sat up, her olive skin dark in the half light. “Whose fault is that?”

  “I didn’t hear any complaints. I’ll have a quick shower and then we find breakfast.”

  “Wait. I’ll join you.”

  “It’s a small shower.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Petros rose early, showered, shaved and dressed. With a full English breakfast eaten and washed down with two cups of coffee, he contacted Alfredo on his mobile, simply to ask how the repairs were going.

  “One more day, a couple of coats of paint and good as new. When do we unload?”

  “I hope in two to three days.”

  “Not a problem. My crew is enjoying being paid for doing nothing.”

  Petros laughed. “I’ll try and speed things up.” He disconnected the call and decided to stretch his legs.

  Halfway along Strait Street he saw ZZ holding Scarlet’s hand wandering towards him.

  He stopped and waited. “You two look happy.”

  “I met you on the boat in Syracuse,” said Scarlet.

  “Meet Petros, my boss,” said ZZ.

  “Temporary boss,” said Petros. “With luck we’ll be finished here in two to three days and you and Amadou can go home.”

  “What have you been doing?” asked Scarlet.

  Petros’ eyes met ZZ’s. “Searching for a ship which the Royal Navy sunk before any of us were born.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “We wasted a lot of time and money,” said Petros. “With luck I’ll be flying home in a couple of days.”

  “So why stay in Malta?”

  Petros hesitated. “Two reasons, our ship struck something during the night and it’s being repaired and I have some friends here I haven’t seen for a long time.”

  “When you’ve finished whatever you’re were doing, how much longer will ZZ stay?”

  “That’s up to him and I imagine you being here might influence his decision. We must have dinner.” He paused. “What’s wrong with tonight? I’ll ask Amadou, Alfredo, and James, my lawyer?”

  Scarlet frowned at the sudden change of subject. “I’d like that. I can learn more about ZZ.”

  “Tonight, my hotel, The Silver Sand, seven thirty. We’ll meet in the dining room.”

  “See you,” said Scarlet as she dragged ZZ away.

  “Shit,” said Petros as he pressed the memory key for Amadou on his mobile but the line was busy.

  ***

  ZZ and Scarlet strolled to the gardens overlooking Grand Harbour. At the cliff edge, he pointed to the marina. “The Tuna Turner is berthed over there.”

  Scarlet gave him a huge smile. “Wait here for a few minutes, I have to do something.”

  He paused before answering. “I’ll come with you.”

  She pointed and smiled. “If you follow me you might get arrested.”

  He watched as she wandered off, his mind a mixture of excitement and fixation for her.

  Out of sight, Scarlet contacted Giovanni on her mobile and relayed the gist of the conversation she had with Petros.

  “Did he definitely say two to three days before they leave?”

  “That’s what he said. Oh, and for some reason his lawyer’s in Malta.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have told you.”

  “Don’t get lippy. My brother and his motor yacht have vanished, which, until they arrive in Palermo, makes me Padrino. So anymore back chat and I’ll dump you as the expensive trash you are.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. What are you going to do next?”

  “Not for you to know. You keep lover boy out of the way and he’ll not get hurt. Understand?”

  “Hurt him and you’ll end up in prison for the rest of your life.”

  Giovanni’s voice became menacing. “You made your bed. One word to the authorities and I’ll have you fitted for concrete boots.”

  “I’m not an idiot. Remember women can be useful. Where are you?”

  He ended the call.

  She was in a foul mood but with several deep breaths and a little cold water splashed on her face, her unruffled character returned. She swore, dried her face and returned to where ZZ stared at the deep blue sea covered in white horses.

  “Penny for them?” she asked.

  “Fancy a holiday in Libya?”

  “If I take more time off work, I’ll get the sack.”

  ZZ gripped her hand. You know you really are something else.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “You’re not so bad yourself. I’m hungry.”

  ***

  Petros had the table place settings suitably arranged so he sat directly opposite Scarlet.

  Amadou and Alfredo arrived first, followed by James.

  Petros pointed to the table and motioned for them to sit. “I’m not surprised ZZ and Scarlet are last.” As he finished the sentence, they entered the room. He signalled to the waitress. “Fill the glasses, red or white and keep them full.” Out of sight, he handed a sizeable tip.

  She smiled. “Thank you, sir. May I inform the chef you’re ready for the main course to be served?”

  “Please do. I could eat a horse.”

  The waitress arrived pushing a trolley loaded with steaks, fillets of various fish and roasted vegetables.

  Petros glanced at the food. “My choice, Hope you enjoy.”

  “Sea and turf, an excellent combination,” said James.

  They scooped the food from the platters and ate with passion.

  “First-class,” commented Alfredo. “I must ring Tommaso. My new bow was being painted as I left.”

  “I’m sure that can wait until you return,” said Petros.<
br />
  “My boat is my life. As my wife tells me, I think more of Tuna Turner than her. Sometimes she is right.” He turned away and pressed the memory key on his mobile “My phone is not connecting. Can I borrow one?”

  James handed over his iphone.

  “Yours too is not connecting. I have tried every member of my crew. Something is wrong. I must return to my ship.”

  ***

  In Vittoriosa yacht marina, vessels rocked gently as craft of varying sizes transited their berths. For ten minutes the entrance to the area remained unattended as the security staff busied themselves elsewhere.

  Giovanni Silvio, having bribed the Maltese gate-keepers, sauntered along the jetty followed by three men. He stopped at the Tuna Turner cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Tuna Turner anyone on board?”

  Five minutes elapsed before he made his move.

  Their rubber-soled shoes made little noise on the steel deck as the three men drew their pistols and entered the superstructure. In minutes, they found the crew playing cards and drinking wine in the mess room.

  Tommaso jumped when he saw the three men but on catching sight of the dull metallic gleam of the pistols pointed at him, froze.

  The man leading the trio said, “Good move. Go get our boss.”

  Giovanni Silvio, an overweight man in his forties, glanced around the room as he entered. He stopped in the centre of the deck. “I see four of you. Where’s Alfredo? I need to inform him I’m the new Padrino of Palermo. For years I suffered being number two to a weak man. I will make the Cosa Nostra strong, an organisation to be feared.”

  He pointed. “You’re Marco the cook. Tell me what was found on the wreck and I’ll not touch your mama. She’s a buxom woman and will satisfy many of my men.”

  “We found nothing. The Englishman is mad spending so much money.”

  Giovanni turned, removed the pistol from the nearest man’s hand, cocked and with a steady hand, fired. Marco, with a bullet in his right shoulder, collapsed, screaming abuse.

  Giovanni scowled “The next bullet will be in his left shoulder and I’ll work my way from limb to limb until he’s dead. I told you I’m the new broom that sweeps clean. I’ll ask my question once again. Anyone of you may answer but I’ll shoot Marco if it’s not what I want to hear. What did you recover from the wreck?”