Jago collected the bag, tossed it over the fence and followed it. He stopped and made a quick call on his mobile before jogging down the pathway to an impatient Kim.
As he fixed the bag on the pannier, Jago said, “Come on, let’s go!”
“Was there anyone there?”
“Yes, but they were fine. Although I don’t recommend hanging about.”
Kim knew what that meant and was relieved that she was with Jago.
They rode east for a few minutes before Kim asked, “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to take you to a friend of mine, Mark. He’s a good man, a journalist, and a good one. He might have some useful information and will be interested in what’s happening. You’ll like him, he’s very environmentally friendly and lives off-grid out in the boonies.”
“Is it far?”
“No, not far, just outside of the city really but seems a world away. Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
Kim thought to herself that she was being economical with her words and realised that the shock of her situation was kicking in and she didn’t know what else to say. She felt numb with fear. Kim had never seen a dead body before, she’d never been abducted and nearly gang-raped before, and she’d never been shot at before. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours and here she was now, riding pillion with her saviour — another first — and destined to go to god knows where to meet another stranger. She was overwhelmed and feeling lightheaded and nauseous.
They’d been riding for twenty minutes in the twilight. As they rode down a narrow hedge-lined country lane, Jago felt Kim’s grip loosen around his waist.
“Kim, are you alright Kim? We’re nearly there. Come on, stay with me here.”
Her grip tightened a little.
“Good, that’s better. A couple of minutes to go now. Talk to me, Kim.”
“What’s your name?” Kim asked.
“Jago. Do you remember? I told you last night that my name is Jago. We’re about a mile away. Get ready to open the gate coming up ahead.”
Kim became more alert and gripped Jago tightly.
They left the road, rode slowly down a small track in the midst of woodland, and, stopping at a gate, they could see the lights of a house in the distance. Kim alighted to open the gate. As she neared the entrance, a figure appeared out of the shadows causing her to startle.
“You must be Kim.” He saw her flinch away with surprise. “Don’t worry, I’m Mark. I’m here to help. Here, let me open the gate, it can be tricky at the best of times.”
Mark unhooked the gate and opened it enough for Jago to continue to ride the three hundred metres to the house, allowing Mark to walk with Kim.
She removed the crash helmet. “I’m sorry, Mark. I’m a bit edgy. A lot has happened, and I feel lost in all of this.”
Mark’s tone was irreverent. “I’m not surprised. Jago gave me the basics, and I’m not sure how I would have coped with half of what you’ve been through. Let's go and get some food and drink inside you. Maybe you’ll feel a little better then. How do bacon and eggs sound?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure. But coffee would be good.”
Smiling, Mark replied, “Let’s see how we go, shall we?”
They walked the last few metres to Jago who was waiting with Kim’s bag in hand. He outstretched his other hand to shake Mark’s. Kim thought, they seem to know one another very well.
***
Kim washed and changed and could smell the bacon cooking as she descended the narrow cottage stairway.
As she appeared in the kitchen, Mark walked up to her.
“Here Kim, this is yours,” he said, handing her a plate of bacon and eggs. “The bread is on the table, and Jago is fixing coffee.”
She noticed that this fresh-faced man, possibly in his thirties, was gentle. She thought that he was caring and strong and that his hands were rugged for those of a journalist.
Kim took the plate and sat at the table.
“Here’s your coffee, Kim. Do you take milk and sugar?”
“No, black, just black.”
“Kim, Mark and I have been talking, and it may be better if you stay here at least for a while until this blows over.”
“But I have to work; I have to earn money to live.”
Jago threw a look at Mark before replying, “Look, Kim. It’s the living part we’re concerned about. They’ve killed at least two, maybe three people so far; one more won’t matter to them. It seems that you may have some information about them and or their activities that you don’t realise you have. And they’re not taking any chances. They want to prevent something coming out at all costs. Can you think of anything that you might know that would put you in danger?”
Kim finished eating her bacon before replying, “Ian used to send me random pictures on my mobile, and he posted some online and shared them with me. But they were all of the random things that I paid no notice to.”
“Let me see,” said Jago.
She opened up the photos on her phone. “Here, there’s about fifty, I guess. I deleted a load a few weeks ago.”
Jago flicked through the photos with Mark joining him and taking notes of anything notable, such as ships’ names, container numbers, and identifiable locations and people.
“Mark, take note of the dates and times. Let’s see if we can establish a pattern.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea.”
Jago turned to Kim who was finishing off her bacon, eggs and coffee. “Can I take your phone for a while? My team will be able to retrieve the deleted photos and messages. And it’s probably best that you call no one, not even your best friend. They’re bound to be watching and listening out for signs of you.”
“Yes, take it. Take it for as long as you like. Is there anywhere I can sleep? I’m exhausted.”
Mark interjected, “Yes, of course, how rude of me. Follow me; I’ve set up the spare room for you.”
Jago touched her arm before she ascended the stairs. “I’m going now, and I’ll be in touch over the next few days. Mark’s a good man. If you need anything, let him know.”
Looking at him directly in the eye, she replied, “Thank you for what you’re doing, Jago. I do appreciate it. I really do.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get this sorted.” He turned to leave and stopped to ask, “Oh, by the way, do you have any family that we can contact for you?”
“No, nobody.”
“Abi, I need to get a mobile phone to you asap. Do you have anyone close by? And can you discreetly run a check on its owner? I don’t want any surprises.”
“Hi Jago, I have Dom not too far away; he’d be able to take it from you. He could be with you within the hour.”
“That’s great. I also need whatever you have on the firm that Kim works for, Pontus Freight Forwarding Limited. I need to know all of the personalities involved and all of the stakeholders. There’s a disproportionate level of security for a normal shipping company. I don’t know many that carry arms. And I’m guessing that the local police are on the payroll as none of them turned out to our little incident last night, and it was loud enough.”
“Okay, Boss. I’ve got it. I’ll get on with it now. Where will you be?”
“I’m going to visit their offices tonight to see what I can find.”
Chapter 6 - Information is King
It was 11 p.m., turnout time at the port’s Dolphin Tavern. Jago selected this time as the noise of the drunken revellers would provide sufficient background noise to cover his unannounced visit to the office where Kim worked. The guards would be used to the noise and their guard would be down for a short period of time. The office, situated in a part of the port, had been made into an independent compound within the north side of the port. Its perimeter was formed with six old shipping containers, with the remainder comprising of temporary fencing — the type with concrete feet and panel clamps. The office was housed on stilts with space for parking below, the height of
the office providing uninterrupted views of the port.
Atop a container, Jago waited for the guard to disappear to the other side of the compound before stealthily dropping down onto the concrete. He bent down, listening for anyone close. It was quiet. He moved in the shadows to the stairs leading to the office and climbed them at speed. Within seconds, he had entered the office, his arms outstretched and high holding a dark, lightweight piece of material that obscured his face and torso. He approached the lens of the small CCTV camera and promptly placed a couple of post it notes over the lens. He then applied a couple of pieces of sellotape to them.
He made for Kim’s workstation, knowing its position from her description of the office layout. She’d also given him the passwords to the computer system. He fired up Kim’s computer and started a rapid download onto a portable hard drive. He then moved to the manager’s desk and repeated the action on a separate hard drive. Jago scanned the walls and photographed all of the maps and charts. All three filing cabinets were unlocked and he rifled through them while the downloads were taking place. Most of the paperwork seemed straight forward but he photographed a number of files for checking. He then came across one folder marked ‘The Mazu Project’. Inside were numerous Chinese documents and lots of photos. He recorded the contents and, in doing so, came across photos of the dead man, Ian, and Kim and her friend Katie.
Jago heard a noise. There were voices outside and they were getting more animated and seemingly closer.
The downloads were ready to disconnect and he tucked them safely into the pouches at the back of his utility belt. The voices were now fast approaching. Jago calmly moved to the back of the office, slid open the window and leapt onto the roof of a container. As he landed, he set off a smoke canister to cover his getaway.
***
Jago returned to his team’s base, commonly known by the team as the Ranch.
“Hi Bernie, here are the hard drives and photos that I need analysing asap.”
“Okay, Boss. Will do. Abi and I will get onto it immediately.”
“There’s obviously something awry there and I need to put a stop to it before someone else gets killed. Do we know what the post mortem on Kim’s friend, Ian, has revealed?”
“Apart from the obvious death by drowning. He suffered a number of non-life-threatening injuries consistent with having been tortured, multiple cigarette burns, electrical contact burns, and the soles of his feet had been badly beaten.”
“Do we have any timings?”
“He drowned about ten to twelve hours before being found and the injuries took place about the same time. It’s possible that he may have been unconscious prior to that as there was bruising around the area of the right temporal lobe. At least I hope that he was unconscious. I couldn’t think of anything worse.”
“Was Ian working on the Duke’s Crown?”
“No, he was due to work on the Mandurah Princess but never showed up. They set sail at 2359 hours the day before yesterday.”
“Then he was grabbed and held somewhere before being tied. Have the police got any CCTV footage?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Get Abi to see if she can access any CCTV from the area. Let’s see what turns up.”
Jago paused in thought before asking, “Do we know what the Mandurah Princess’ cargo manifest was?”
“I don’t know, but I can check with customs.”
“Okay, by the way, where is Abi?”
“Oh, she’s on one of her six-monthly checks at the hospital. She’ll be glad of the tasks when she returns to take her mind off things.”
“Oh, I see. Keep an eye on her, will you? She’s been through a lot.”
“Of course, Boss. That goes without saying.”
“Right, I’m going to make a drink before I go out. Do you want one? Coffee, milk and two sugars, right?”
“You got it, Boss, that’d be great.”
***
Jago rode his Stealth Hawk motorcycle along London’s Oxford Street and turned into North Audley Street, past a couple of red telephone boxes, and a row of shops and cafes. And then he was in Grosvenor Square, the site of the old US Embassy. He rode around the Square into South Audley Street. He was looking for 68a. He found it and parked his bike and secured his helmet to it. He was outside some shops on Mount Street and made his way to the office on foot via Mount Street Gardens. While standing in the doorway, he read the brass plaque beside the front door.
A.S. MARINE INTELLIGENCE SERVICES.
He pressed a button on the video entry system. “This is Jack Jago to see Robert Hogg.”
After a moment, a voice boomed over the intercom, “Hello, Mr Jago, come on up. We’re on the second floor, first door on the right. Mr Hogg will be with shortly.”
A buzz signalled the opening of the door which Jago pushed. As he ascended the stairway, he looked at the old paintings of ships that were hung every five stairs and along the corridors.
Jago knocked and entered. The mainly open plan office was bright and airy, with contemporary furnishings giving the impression of modernism. There were two glass meeting pods close to the doorway. Jago approached the reception desk.
“I’m here to see Robert Hogg. Do I need to sign in?”
“Good afternoon, Sir. Please sign here,” replied a young woman opening a leather-bound book to a page.
There were three names above his — Gough, Stowe and Van Dooren. He mentally registered them before signing in himself.
“Please take a seat and Mr Hogg will be out shortly. Would you care for a tea or coffee while you wait?” She stood with some empty bone china cups waiting for his response.
“A black coffee would be good, thank you.”
Jago watched the woman as she headed to the kitchen area. She was about thirty and tall with long, auburn hair that was tied back in a pony tail. She wore a pencil-style skirt which accentuated her shapely curves, and a short-sleeved blouse. He’d already noted that she wasn’t wearing a ring. He picked up one of the many shipping magazines and flicked through its pages. He wasn’t reading it; it was more of something to do.
The woman returned with his coffee. “There you are, Mr Jago.” Jago cut in, “Call me Jago, just Jago.” He smiled at her and she reciprocated.
“Well, Jago, I was going to add that I’ve given you a couple of our scrumptious cookies too.”
“That’s very nice of you. May I ask if you have plans for dinner this evening?”
“My, Jago, you are very forward. You have only been in the building ten minutes.”
“I like to seize opportunities. They may not come around again. When I see a woman that I’m attracted to, it would be stupid of me not to ask her out. I mean, I’m not going to have a meeting here every day.”
Having made his point, he stopped talking, waiting for a reply.
She looked at him and smiled, embarrassed but flattered at the same time.
“As it happens, I do have plans, but you can pick me up afterwards if you want?”
“Just tell me where and when, and I’ll be there.”
“Peace and Pilates on Lupus Street, Pimlico at 7.30.”
“Okay, I’ll be there. Whereabouts on Lupus Street is the studio?”
“I’m sure that you’re very resourceful. You’ll find it okay.”
As they finished speaking, the familiar tone of Robert Hogg could be heard. He walked past Jago as he was seeing a client off after a meeting.
The gentle giant turned and extended his arm to shake Jago’s hand. “Long time no see my friend. How are you? You look in good shape. Come on in to my office, we can chat there. I see that Sue has made you a coffee. Oh, and you get biscuits too!” He smiled and faced Sue. “Would you mind making me a coffee please?”
“Yes, of course, Mr Hogg.”
***
Jago scanned Hogg’s office. It was sparse save for a desk and two chairs. There was one small filing cabinet and safe in the corner of the room. An omnidirectional micro
phone hung in the centre of the room. Hogg clocked Jago looking at it. “Don’t worry, it’s not on. I only record client meetings and I’m guessing that you’re not a client, at this stage at least?”
“That’s true, Robert. It must be ten years since we’ve seen each other. Was it in Afghan or Iraq, I can’t remember?”
“It was in Afghan, we passed each other. You were going on the chopper to a god forsaken place that I’d just left. I think that we spoke for about five minutes, no more than that. But as I see you today, it’s as if it were only yesterday that we were in commando training together.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.”
Both men knew that they could only engage in small talk until the coffee had been delivered. And after Sue left, they got down to business.
“I know that this isn’t a social call, so how I can I help you, Jago?”
“I need some shipping intelligence. More specifically, I need some intelligence regarding a ship called the Mandurah Princess, and any of its sister ships. Who owns them, who their customers are, origins and destinations, dates and times in the last two years; you know pretty much anything and everything about them.”
The Plastic Paradigm Page 4