by Sewell, Ron
Petros folded his arms. “You’ve been busy.”
Hawksworth smiled. “The internet is a wonderful tool and these days gathering information from other police forces is so much simpler. I know you acted in self-defence and my report will indicate that. The Crown Prosecutor’s office will rubber stamp my recommendations and another file will gather dust in the archives. You’re free to go but I’ll be a lot happier when you leave my island.”
Petros downed the dregs of juice in his glass. “I’m off the hook?”
Hawksworth chuckled and nodded. “You are. I’d give you a lift back to your hotel but I’m going to grab some sleep. Not as young as I used to be. Goodbye, Mr Kyriades.”
Petros stood and they shook hands.
Outside the marina’s gated entrance three white taxis waited. He jumped into the first one and returned to his hotel.
Chapter Twenty-Five.
Scarlet’s flight arrived back in Palermo where she hired a taxi to the flat she shared with Giovanni in Syracuse. Once inside she threw her coat and bag onto a chair. Outraged by the way Giovanni treated her she sat on her bed. Then a thought struck her. She cursed, and began to pack as much as she could into two suitcases.
Her packing complete, she entered Giovanni’s office and with the aid of a steel letter opener forced the drawer to his desk. What she hunted were his keys that lay on the top of some correspondence. She picked them up and walked over to a large wardrobe. In seconds, she unlocked the doors. “I’ll show you how good I am,” she shouted as on her third attempt the old-fashioned safe inside opened. The top two drawers contained account books, which she placed to one side. The third and largest held what she wanted, thousands of Euro in cash. This she removed without counting, filling large white envelopes. When the drawer was empty she placed one envelope in her handbag and divided the remainder into her suitcases. She then gave the books a cursory once over; dates and names with figures alongside. Interesting, she thought, reading more.
Although second in command, Giovanni controlled a major part of Sicily’s drug trade. Many a cheating dealer’s body turned up tortured, disfigured or in two or more pieces. Giovanni was protected by his brother on one side and with the assistance of the police on the other. She laughed aloud; these volumes contained enough information to put him in jail forever.
With the books wrapped and addressed to the senior police officer of Palermo, she left the flat and strolled to the local post office. When her turn came she paid the clerk behind the counter and left. Her next stop, her bank where she closed the account.
Back in the flat she forced herself to have a shower and relax. Wearing a light grey suit and the darkest of sunglasses, she left. She placed the two cases on the rear seat of her car before returning to the flat for a final look around. “Almost forgot,” she muttered as she emptied the contents of her jewellery box into her bag. A quick rummage in Giovanni’s bedside cabinet revealed a gold Rolex and several pairs of gold cufflinks, one pair encrusted with diamonds. As she hurried to her car she looked pleased. She dumped her shoulder bag on the front passenger seat and jumped in. Very gently she rubbed her stomach. “Looks like I might have something to remember you by, ZZ.” With the turn of the key, the engine started and she drove away.
***
Petros glanced at his watch. Lunch time had come and gone. He strolled across the Tuna Turner’s gangway and went straight to the crew’s mess room.
“The wanderer returns,” said Alfredo. “I was wondering how the investigation was going. Had a call from James. He tells me an armoured car will be arriving sometime this afternoon to take the gold. I told him you gave the orders not him.”
“Alfredo, it’s been an exciting twenty-four hours with little sleep. I’d love a cup of your fabulous coffee and a sandwich or two.”
“I’ll do it,” said Simone. “Ham and cheese?”
“Perfect.” He sat on the bench seat. “The bad news. Adrian was murdered by the men who stole your boat. The good news is those in custody have been charged with his murder and the theft of your boat. I understand from Hawksworth they have confessed and will be pleading guilty.”
“Your coffee and sandwiches, Petros.”
“Thanks, Simone. Alfredo, I have in fact agreed with James to have the gold taken off your ship and stored in The Bank of Malta’s vault. When completed I intend to fly home. But first, as a bonus, I’m giving you one bar of gold each. Does anyone know if Adrian was married or had dependants?”
“I believe he lived with his mother in Rome. I can check it out,” said Davide.
“Take an extra bar and see his mother receives the money.”
“What will happen to his body?” asked Tommaso.
Petros rubbed his chin. “Don’t really know but his mother will have to arrange for it to be transported to a destination of her choice. Without attempting to sound insensitive, Alfredo, make sure he’s given a good send off and I’ll meet whatever it costs. As one of the good guys, he deserves a descent funeral.”
Alfredo paced the room and stopped. “With the number of bars in the bilges it is time to start bringing them up.”
Petros scratched his nose. “If we form a chain it’ll be quicker.”
“I suppose I’m the bilge rat.”
“Davide, it’s your engine room.”
Tommaso laughed. “Petros, as it’s your gold I suggest you watch over the pile on the upper deck.”
In less than an hour one thousand, one hundred and twenty ingots were stacked in piles of ten on the deck.
Petros removed six bars. “One each.”
“I already have the first bar we found,” said Alfredo.
“Keep it as payment for Adrian’s funeral. Donate what’s left over to his mother.”
The roar of a heavy vehicle made them turn towards the jetty. James alighted from his taxi and waved.
Petros and the others stared at what appeared to be a Mercedes plain white van reverse towards the gangway.
It stopped and two armed men wearing full body armour jumped out and took their positions. The two rear doors opened.”
From the jetty, James shouted, “What are you waiting for?”
Petros strolled to the side of the ship. “It’s a bog-standard white van.”
James laughed. “Fully armoured glass and steel. Just looks like a white van.”
“Right team, one more time,” said Petros as he began shifting the ingots.
“I never thought I’d say this,” said Tommaso, “but I’m fed up shifting this gold.”
“You’ll appreciate it when it changes into paper money,” said Davide.
“True.”
Forty-five minutes elapsed before the rear doors to the armoured van shut remotely. The two men ran to the front and clambered inside.
“I need you, Petros. The bank will weigh and log every bar. You, I and the manager will sign the receipt notes.”
“Petros turned. “Alfredo, when are you sailing?”
“At ten twenty tomorrow on the tide.”
I’ll be back later. If you work out what I owe you I’ll arrange for an electronic transfer to your bank in Palermo.”
“I will have your invoice ready.”
***
Petros glanced anxiously at the van as it pulled away. With long strides, he ran to the taxi and jumped into the rear seat alongside James. “Somehow I’ll feel safer when that lot is deposited inside a bank vault.”
James stared wide-eyed. “Stop worrying, those trucks are bulldozer proof.”
Petros clearly did not understand the comment. “Bullshit always baffles brains. Can you explain?”
James shook his head. “Several months ago four men with guns, a white van, and a bulldozer attempted to steal an armoured truck identical to the one we’re following. It started well when their van blocked the road and the bulldozer began pushing from the rear. It appears the two security guards released the brakes and several tons of armour hit the van and squashed it against a wall
. These men didn’t have a clue, as now their escape van was useless. Needless to say, they didn’t give up and continued to ram the rear doors with the dozer while others fired shots at the windows.”
Petros interrupted. “The glass in those vehicles wouldn’t crack if an RPG hit it. Bullets bounce.”
“Exactly but these morons hadn’t done their homework. Which way do the doors usually open?”
“You generally pull them open.”
James raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Correct. The more they pushed with the dozer the longer nothing happened. The force required to burst them open must come from the inside or alternatively if someone forced a guard to open them with a key. These men had no idea as to the construction and function of these vehicles.”
“How far are we from the bank?”
“Five minutes at most.”
“I assume the bad guys were arrested.”
James laughed. “Not only arrested but they pleaded guilty when the police showed them pictures of the failed robbery. They didn’t even wear hoods. Tourists took pictures with their Iphone by the dozen and contacted the police, who blocked the two escape routes.”
“I think we’ve arrived,” said Petros as armed guards surrounded the van.
“Follow me,” said James. “As I said, we and the manager have to witness the ingots being counted, weighed, and stored in the vault.”
One hour later Petros and James signed the last document.
“One moment, gentlemen,” said the immaculately dressed manager. “Please follow me.”
They strolled to the rear of the building and into a windowless room where a young woman sat hunched over a machine. She lifted her head.
“Martese, what are your findings?”
She smiled. “This bar is twenty-two karat. But three of the bars I have tested have given the strangest of readings.”
“Use the electronic test machine to check the conductivity just to be sure,” said the manager with a serious face.
She wrinkled her nose. “The readings I obtained were from the tester.”
The manager thought for a moment. “How long will you require us to store your gold, Mr Kyriades?”
“As long as needs be.”
“Can the bank conduct further tests? I’m certain the results so far are from an error with the machine.”
Petros paused. “It’s marked with the stamp of the Deutsche Reichsbank. I see no reason it’s not what it seems.”
James jumped in. “When we have confirmed legal ownership, arrangements will be made to sell. With luck in less than a week.”
“My point exactly,” said the manager. “You cannot sell if it’s not verified. At the moment, I and my staff have a minor cause for concern. I’m sure it is as we believe a fault with the machine but we must be sure.”
Petros turned up the palms of his hands. “I agree. How long do you require?”
“A day at most.”
“I’m intrigued as to why your machine validates some but not others. You can contact me at the Silver Sand.”
“I will make sure you are kept informed, Mr Kyriades.”
“Thank you.” Petros shook his hand, turned and with James left the room.
“Hope he doesn’t take too long. Once your claim is confirmed I have someone interested in purchasing every bar at a good price.”
“And who might that be?”
“He has a large place in Saudi and his staff bow and call him ‘Your Highness’.”
“I’ll bow when he transfers the money. Must return to the Tuna Turner and pay my dues.”
On the bridge, Alfredo leant with his back on the chart table while Petros studied the sums on a single sheet of foolscap.
“Seventeen days, you haven’t included your return journey, that’s at least another two. The submersible didn’t come cheap but worth every penny. I’ve spoken to the engineers who repaired your bow and replaced the windows on the bridge. All in all, I believe I owe you sixty thousand dollars, American.”
“Agreed.”
Petros removed his mobile from his pocket.
“Yes,” came the reply.
“Bear, I need you to transfer sixty thousand dollars from the company account to Captain Alfredo. I’ll hand my phone over and he can tell you his account details.”
Alfredo took the phone as Petros strolled out onto the port bridge wing and waited. Two minutes later he handed it back.
“When did you say you were leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning.” He chuckled. “Life will be dull without you.”
“But a great deal safer. Will the Cosa Nostra be a problem?”
Alfredo laughed. “I would be surprised. Why would they? Neither my crew nor I will tell them what has happened. They will fight amongst themselves to gain power. Babies are born and people die, life goes on.”
“Very philosophical.”
“Take care, Petros. You never know our paths may cross again.”
“If I ever holiday in Palermo with my wife and daughter, I’ll let you know.”
“That would be good.” Alfredo grabbed Petros and hugged him. “Stay out of trouble.”
Petros stepped back. “I’ll try. Must say goodbye to your team. Without their help none of this would have been possible.”
Twenty minutes later Petros strolled along the jetty. Clear of the marina he hailed a taxi and returned to his hotel.
***
At breakfast the following day, Petros watched as James strode towards him. His look was serious as he pulled out a chair and sat with his elbows on the table.
“There’s a problem with the gold,” whispered James. “The bank manager wishes to see you.”
“Can you be more precise?”
James studied Petros. “All I know is twenty bars failed the test.”
Petros narrowed his eyes as he picked up his glass of fresh orange juice. “Twenty out of one thousand plus. I can live with that.”
James leaned forward. “He still needs to talk to you.”
“Have a coffee and when I’ve eaten my breakfast we’ll visit the bank.”
“James signalled a passing waiter for a cup and ordered more coffee.”
One hour later the two men strolled across the marble floor and out of reception. At a fast pace they walked along the road, which led to the bank. James telephoned the manager as they walked. On their arrival he and his assistant waited by the main entrance.
“Thank you for coming, Mr Kyriades.” The man gave a bleak smile. “What we have discovered is most unusual. Please, follow me.”
Once again, they strolled to the rear of the building and into the windowless room. On a bench lay twenty gleaming ingots.
Petros smiled. “I assume that,” he pointed, “is my gold. What’s wrong with it?”
“Let me explain and please understand the tests we have undertaken are fully justified,” the manager said offhandedly.
“Are they worth anything?” asked Petros. “If not, toss them in the bin.”
“They are worth more than you think.
Petros’ gaze remained fixed on the manager. “So what’s wrong with them?”
The manager paused. “Rather than resort to drilling or cutting the bars to verify their integrity we use a simple ultrasonic test. The results give us a confidence in the purity of the gold. The readings obtained from these bars showed strange reflection from the inside. On your behalf, I instructed our inspector to cut through one bar. This proved more difficult than we initially thought.”
“I always believed gold to be soft when compared to steel,” said Petros.
“A normal metal saw will not cut diamonds, Mr Kyriades. These bars contain diamonds.”
“Well, I’ll be damned, Hitler’s spoils from the Nazi work camps,” said Petros, “it fits.”
“As I see it,” said James, “this was the final shipment. To save time, those in charge placed everything remaining into the melting pot. The route they chose was deliberately diverse but t
he destination more than likely South America. The Gradisca would have made contact with a German submarine in the Atlantic, transferred the gold and then scuttled the vessel with no one any the wiser. Unfortunately, for them the Royal Navy intervened.”
The black telephone on the table rang. The manager picked up the handset. The call lasted a few minutes.
“Mr Kyriades, for us to remove the diamonds will be expensive. There are those who are experienced in the process.”
Petros levelled his eyes at the manager. “What James described has more than an element of truth but we don’t know. Box those twenty bars and send them to the Simon Wiesenthal Centre in Los Angeles. From what I understand, their members promote human rights and teach the lessons of the Holocaust for future generations.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“From what we assume, twenty bars rightly belong to them. The rest are mine.”
“We estimate fifty-two million plus, Mr Kyriades,, less our commission.”
“James, when can I sell?”
“When I know, you’ll know.”
“What do you reckon, days, weeks or months?”
With thinly concealed impatience. “Days. Go home. I have your power of attorney and can deal with everything. Don’t worry; I’ll get you a good price. I want my one percent after tax to be as large as possible. ”
“I agree. Don’t forget to put a note in the box for LA. Tell them it’s a gift.” He turned to the manager. “Thank you. Any more problems, James will deal with them. That’s why I pay him.”
He grinned. “I should have charged you two percent.”
“It was almost one percent of nothing. See you in London.”