He cut the line and addressed Youssef. “Forget Pigalle. Femme Fatale is cordoned off as a crime scene. Head to the hotel.”
“Did I understand correctly that Armand is dead?” asked Youssef.
“He was shot in the head in Hassan’s apartment,” Kaddur replied. “Police across Europe are on the lookout for Hassan in connection to Armand’s murder and possible kidnapping.”
“But Armand killed Hassan,” said Youssef.
“Armand told me he killed Hassan,” Kaddur corrected. “Yet, Armand is dead and Hassan is wanted for his murder. I don’t know what really happened except that Femme Fatale is over as far as I’m concerned. I will get busy making the paper trail disappear and you will make some calls to have some people start looking for Hassan. If he’s out there, I want to find him before the police do.”
“And Henri Petit is no longer a problem?” Youssef asked.
“It seems he suffered a heart attack yesterday morning,” Kaddur replied. “He is still in intensive care and they are not sure if he will pull through. The woman is still a mystery but the boat will be in Casablanca by tomorrow night so we have nothing to worry about.”
* * * *
“What do you think?” asked Normand Lefebvre as he put the phone down. “Did he believe me?”
“You know him. We don’t,” Jonathan replied. “What’s your opinion?”
“I think he did,” said Lefebvre without hesitating. “He didn’t seem to doubt my mobile had run out of power and everything I told him was plausible. In fact, most of it was the truth. If anything, I think he was impressed with the quality of the information I gave him.”
“I agree with you,” said Chris, “And the purpose of that conversation was to have Kaddur believe you are still on his side and that he can trust you. We never know what information we might need to feed to him.”
“What will we do if he wants me to join him for dinner?” asked Normand. “I don’t know that I could handle meeting him face to face.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Chris replied. “You’ll just tell him you aren’t available before Thursday and by then Leslie and I will be keeping him busy.”
“Good,” said Lefebvre as he rose to his feet. “I just want this to be over, although I see no further joy in my life once it is. If you don’t mind, I would like to go lay down for a while. I’m not feeling very well.”
The others watched him as he left the room, remaining silent until they heard a door close down the hallway.
“I’m so torn with this situation,” said Henri. “I’ve known and loved the man for years and I feel sorry for him but could also kill him with my bare hands.”
“I hear what your saying, Henri,” Jonathan replied, “But you have to keep your emotions under control. We have some delicate work to do in the coming days and we’ll have to stay focused.”
“Don’t worry, my friend,” Henri replied. “My daughters are at stake here. I won’t let anything distract me until we have them back home.”
Jonathan nodded. “Good. Let’s get on to business. I’ve received more information about the Seaworthy I. It’s remained on its charted course and should arrive in Casablanca just before midnight tomorrow. Unloading will only take place the next day so, once docked, whatever crew remaining on board will most likely turn in. Trans-Med is a family business and seven of the thirteen on board, including the Seaworthy I’s captain, Omar Hamdi, are related and live in Casablanca so it’s possible some or all will go home.
“Although we can’t be certain, we believe the women will only be taken off the ship the following day once unloading is taking place. Doing so at night when the piers are deserted would be too risky with the port police patrolling. On that basis, our best bet to find your daughters is on the boat once it’s docked and everyone’s asleep.”
“So, what is our plan?” asked Henri, his tone doubtful. “We simply stroll onto the boat, find Dominique and Corinne and take them home?”
“Simply put,” Jonathan replied, “Yes. We still have to work on some details and there’s a lot of guessing involved but it’s the best we can do with what little information we have. Get a good night of sleep tonight because we’re flying to Morocco tomorrow and we’re going to be staying up late.”
* * * *
“I could really use a cigarette,” said Lisette, the curly, dark haired woman from her bunk above Dominique’s.
“I could use a drink,” Corinne replied.
Annie, the pretty blonde, laughed. “I’m not sure about that. Look where going for a drink landed us in the first place.”
“You’ve got a point,” said Dominique, pleased the four of them were generally holding it together to date. “What I could use is a shower.”
“I doubt there are too many other women on here besides us,” said Lisette. “I’m not sure getting wet and naked on a boat full of horny sailors is a good idea.”
“Wait,” Annie said suddenly. “There should be two more.”
“Two more what?” asked Corinne.
“Two other women,” Annie replied. “I just remembered waking up at one point and we were in a long, narrow room, lying down and my wrists and ankles were strapped down on either side of me. There was a black woman sleeping across from me. Dominique, you were past her and Lisette was after you. I could see Corinne between my feet and there was another blonde woman beyond her.”
Dominique nodded. “I remember that now. I think we were on a truck because I thought of potholes on the road. Yes, we were at least five counting me but I couldn’t see above my head.”
“So there are two more of us,” said Lisette.
“At least,” Corinne commented. “There might be more.”
“The more, the merrier,” Lisette replied. “If there are enough of us, maybe we can overtake these bastards.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Dominique agreed. “However, we should act as intimidated and scared as possible until we can determine if we do have a chance to do something.”
Annie smiled. “So I guess beating the hell out of the guy who’s been bringing us food is out of the question?”
“For now,” Dominique replied, “But they’d better improve the menu soon.”
Chapter 10 – Wednesday, May 30, 2012
“What did Monique think of you coming here?” Jonathan asked as they walked along the pier at Bouregreg Marina in Rabat at sunset.
“I really couldn’t tell you,” Henri replied, “Because I didn’t mention it to her. We have a vacation home in Caen and I suggested she go there with her sister until this nightmare is over. She is worried enough as it is and I didn’t think it was worthwhile to add to her stress.”
“Do you think that was a wise idea?” asked Jonathan. “What if something happens to you?”
Henri smiled. “If something happens to me, you will have to tell my wife. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, my friend.”
“Now you have me wishing we could plan this a whole lot better,” Jonathan replied then pointed. “We’re heading on this one.”
They turned onto one of the docks, Jonathan leading the way as they passed a variety of speed boats, yachts and sailing vessels. As they neared the end of the dock, a swarthy, grey haired and bearded man waved from a jet-black, forty-five foot cigarette boat.
“There’s our ride,” said Jonathan. “That’s Mo. He’s not a big talker.”
They climbed on board as Mo fired up the engines before hopping onto the dock where he quickly dealt with the mooring lines. Less than a minute later, the powerful boat was backing out of the slip and they were soon slowly cruising along the Bou Regreg River heading for the Atlantic Ocean beyond.
“What you need is in there,” said Mo over the throb of the engines as he pointed to a storage compartment.
Opening the compartment, Jonathan pulled out a dark canvas duffel and sat down to examine its contents. Inside were two compact Walther P22s with clip-on holsters and extra magazines, two short KA-BAR serrate
d-edge knives, a Dan-Inject CO2 tranquilizer pistol with a home-shortened barrel, a dozen darts in a strap-on case and an extra CO2 powerlet.
“Nice job,” said Jonathan as he examined the modified dart gun.
“Bah,” Mo grunted. “Better be damned close. It’s single shot so be damned quick to reload. Know how?”
“Rotate the barrel and pull,” replied Jonathan.
“No safety on that,” Mo added. “Keep your finger off the trigger.”
“I’ve worked with these before, Mo,” said Jonathan.
“Bah,” Mo grunted again. “Not the best weapon for your little adventure.”
“What would you suggest?” asked Jonathan.
“Shoot the bastards,” Mo replied.
“That might attract more attention than I’d like,” said Jonathan. “I also want to avoid killing any innocent parties.”
“No such thing if they’re riding with Omar Hamdi,” Mo countered. “Be real careful on that boat.”
“You can join us if you like,” Jonathan offered.
“I’m getting too old for that crap,” replied Mo, “But I’ll stick around the neighbourhood. Radio in case of emergency.”
He turned up the throttle as the river widened where it joined the Atlantic.
“Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen. Next stop, Casablanca.”
* * * *
A knock came at the door, their signal to stand back while their meal was delivered. A few seconds went by then the bolt was heard sliding back, the door opened and while an older familiar face kept an eye on them from the passageway, the usual crew member entered carrying a loaded tray.
“Here is your evening feast,” he announced as he set the tray on the shelf.
“Don’t you have anything else besides bread and cheese?” asked Annie from atop her bunk. “I’m getting tired of eating the same thing all the time.”
“You will have better meals tomorrow once we are off the boat,” the man replied.
“We’re getting off tomorrow?” Corinne exclaimed. “Where are we going?”
“Uh, we will arrive in Casablanca tonight,” said the young man.
“Who is that other tray for?” asked Dominique, having noticed another similar tray on the floor outside their cabin.
“It is for the other women,” the man answered, growing uneasy with the sudden barrage of questions.
“Other women? Can we meet them?” Lisette questioned. “Where are they? How many others?”
“Uh, there are two other women, in the cabin next door -“
“Issam,” barked the older man, cutting the young man off. “Enough talking.”
Without another word, Issam left the cabin, the other man closing and locking the door behind him. Immediately, the women heard a muffled barrage of what was obviously a tongue lashing from the older man.
“Seems like we got the boy in trouble,” said Corinne. “I hope they don’t decide to take it out on us.”
“I think that’s the least of our worries,” Lisette replied. “If we’re getting off this ship tomorrow, it’s to be delivered as the latest models to some whorehouse.”
“I know you’re right,” said Dominique, “But I’m not giving up hope. People know Corinne and I are missing. My girlfriend, Leslie, for one, and I know she’ll have contacted our parents. I have a very strong feeling that she and my father will track us down and get us out of this mess.”
“I certainly hope you’re right,” Annie replied, “Because I won’t be able to deal with what’s coming up otherwise.”
* * * *
"So, this Mo," asked Henri, "He's part of your organization?"
They had rendezvoused several miles offshore from the port of Casablanca with a tugboat which would be their mode of transport for the night's operation. At anchor by the seawall near the mouth of the port, they now waited for the appearance of the Seaworthy I, making small talk to pass the time.
"No, not in any official sense," Jonathan replied. "Fact is, my organization is a government agency sanctioned to deal with a variety of criminal and terrorist activities, even if we sometimes do so with unconventional methods. Mo, on the other hand, is, technically, a criminal. He makes his living mainly by transporting hashish from Morocco to Spain. He has a military background and has moonlighted as a mercenary in the past. Over the years, he's developed an enviable network of connections and can usually find pretty much any equipment required for a job.
"Though a criminal, Mo has strong moral values which are etched in stone. For example, he runs hash but would never run any narcotics. He’ll find arms for someone like me but wouldn't supply a penknife to anyone for use in a criminal activity."
Henri smiled. "Interesting. He's like a good bandit."
"A very dependable outlaw," Jonathan agreed.
Carlos, the Spanish operative who was piloting the tug for the night’s activities stepped out of the wheelhouse where he had been monitoring the radar.
“I think our friends are on their way,” he called down to the main deck where Jon and Henri chatted.
Looking to the northeast where Carlos pointed, they could barely make out the dim glow of a vessel’s running lights in the distance.
“Have a look with these,” said Carlos, dangling night vision binoculars by the strap over the railing.
Raising the binoculars to his eyes, Jonathan examined the approaching container ship for a moment.
“I’m pretty sure that’s our boat,” he confirmed, handing the binoculars to Henri. “How soon?”
“She should make port in about twenty minutes,” Carlos replied. “With no traffic, she’ll be docked pretty quickly. After that, it will be wait and see what happens with the crew. Hopefully, we can get busy in an hour.”
* * * *
From where he had been hiding for several hours amidst stacks of containers on the pier, Jorge, the second Spanish operative, watched as a gangplank was lowered from the deck of the Seaworthy I. A moment later, he counted as several crewmen made their way down, joking and chattering in Arabic as they went. As the last one stepped on the pier, he whistled then shouted something and the gangplank was raised back onto the ship.
“Eight men just left the ship,” he murmured into the microphone concealed in the collar of his windbreaker. “They’re raising the gangplank back on board so that should be it until morning. Will I be joining our friends on the boat?”
He heard bits of a rapid exchange before Carlos replied from the tugboat. “No, stay where you are until further notice. Our friends are comfortable with only five on board and prefer having you and me keeping an eye from either side.”
“Bien,” said Jorge. “Some guys have all the fun.”
* * * *
Propelled by a large electric motor, the tugboat glided silently across the calm port waters towards the Seaworthy I. As it reached the freighter’s bow, Carlos briefly reversed the propeller, effectively bringing the boat to a halt, the tires along its side gently caressing the larger ship’s hull.
“Perfect,” Jonathan whispered, noting they were hidden from both the pier and anywhere on the Seaworthy I unless someone leaned over from its deck directly above.
From a duffel bag on the main deck, he retrieved a rubber-coated grappling hook with a black nylon rope already threaded through the eye. He swung the hook on the doubled rope like a pendulum a couple of times then with a practiced snap of the wrist, spun it counter-clockwise and released his grip, hurling it upwards as he let the rope slide though his gloved hands.
The hook sailed into the air, its ascent beginning to lessen just as it cleared the gunwale above. With a quick downward yank, Jonathan pulled it back, securing two of the four claws onto the gunwale with barely a sound. Wasting no time, he tied one end of the rope to the top of a rope ladder then pulled on the other, hoisting the ladder up until it reached the grappling hook. As he secured the loose end of the rope to a cleat, Henri fastened the bottom of the ladder to the tug’s railed side with zip ties.<
br />
“Ready?” Jonathan asked Henri.
Henri touched the holstered pistol and sheathed knife on his belt and nodded.
Jonathan nodded back, slung the dart gun onto his back and started his way up the ladder. At the top, he peered over the bulwark into the darkness, searching for any signs of movement on the container stacked deck or on the partially visible superstructure some two hundred fifty feet away towards the stern. Noting no activity, he signalled Henri to follow before climbing onto the deck where he hurried to cover ahead of the container retaining wall. Seconds later, Henri was on deck and by his side.
“So far so good,” he murmured into his mike for Carlo’s and Jorge’s benefit. “All looks quiet. We’re heading to the superstructure.”
“Shouldn’t we have a look at the containers first?” suggested Henri.
Jonathan gazed at the containers beyond the wall, piled five high, six wide and twelve deep and shook his head. “They were at sea over three days so I doubt they would have left the women in there for the trip. Anyhow, we first need to neutralize any crew members still on board. Once that’s done, we’ll search for the girls and check out the containers if we have to.”
“I guess you’re right,” Henri replied. “Let’s do it.”
They crept off into the darkness with Jonathan in the lead, staying close to the containers to remain out of sight from the superstructure as long as possible. Once they reached the end of the containers and the rear retaining wall, they would have to cross a span of some twenty feet of open deck with no cover but the night. As they reached the last container, Jonathan motioned Henri to stay back then made his way to the edge of the open deck in a crouch and scanned the superstructure for any signs of life. No lights shone in any windows anywhere or outside the superstructure barring a red flashing one atop the communications tower above the pilothouse.
“Looks dead,” Jonathan announced as he rejoined Henri. “We’ll check the perimeter of the superstructure then go in.”
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