Jago had seen enough; he quickly took a video of the scene and approached Kim.
“Kim … Kim, come on, we’ve got to leave her in peace. We’ve got to leave this place. I’ll contact the police, and they’ll take care of her. But we have to go now. You’re in danger, and I have to get you to safety.”
“But why would they do this to her? She was beautiful inside and out. She wouldn’t harm anyone. There must be something in those photos that Ian sent. Something significant.”
“We’re looking into that, and we’re getting experts to look at them just in case we’re missing something.”
He helped her to her feet, and Kim went to take a last look at her friend.
“Don’t do that to yourself; you don’t need it. Come on, let’s leave and preserve the scene for the police.”
She took his guidance and led the way out of the flat, with Jago closing the door behind them.
“Kim, can you wait just outside the main entrance and get some fresh air. I’ll call the police. And please don’t disappear.”
“I won’t, Jago. I only came here because her messages sounded authentic after some checking. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Jago kept her in sight and called Abi. “I’ve found Kim, and she’s in a bit of state. The girl’s dead in her apartment. She’s suffered a horrible death at the hands of some real butchers. I’m sending you a video of the scene. Can you get it analysed? Also, can you get hold of Doctor Joseph Linden of the Ocean Beautiful Organisation and bring him to the Ranch for his protection? While he’s there, get him to look at the photos that Ian sent to see what he makes of them. Give him no details that would shroud his judgement. I’m going to drop Kim off at Mark’s and then go to the meet.”
Chapter 11 - It’s in the Detail
After a little resistance, Doctor Joseph Linden was secure at the Ranch. Abi was briefing him about the situation.
“Well, that’s about all I can tell you at this stage. You see, we’re not sure if these people would have come after you next as a way of getting to your organisation, Doctor Linden.”
“Oh please, do call me Joe, everyone does. Look, we’re a peaceful organisation. We lobby politicians based on our research and that of organisations similar to ours. We would never hurt anyone.”
“May I ask what you’ve been researching lately, say over the last two years?”
“We have a team of researchers across the world who are interested in the effects of plastic pollution in the ocean and its effect upon marine life and the human food chain. They’ve been compiling papers regarding the origin of plastic and putting a table together of the countries/companies whose plastic has found its way into our oceans and the marine life. In a nutshell, they’re starting to be able to trace the constituent ingredients of the polymers found and their composition. From this, they can determine and trace the plastic footprint. There’s obviously more to it than that, for example, tides and currents play a huge part in distribution. We also search for and trace toxic waste, anything from dumped white goods to computers and hazardous waste, chemicals et cetera.”
“Do you not think that this sort of research might upset a few people?”
“My dear Abi, we’re not naive. We know that our work has the possibilities to expose and, shall we say, ruffle some feathers. But it’s the only way in which governments will respond.”
“So let me get this right. You learn who makes the plastic and then where it’s marketed or sold. That would then give you a prime zone of disposal. And from there you can analyse the disposal chain?”
“Yes, crudely put, but yes. Let’s say some fish are caught as a sample off the nearest coast to here and its found that they have plastic inside them due to consumption of polymer beads from some household items. Our researchers are working to determine who made it and where, and where it would have been sold. From that, they are looking at where it may have been disposed. We then cross-reference that data with the fish habitat and can establish how the plastic came to be in the ocean. We’ve been placing various forms of tracking devices in plastic waste for the last two years, sometimes successfully while other times not so.”
“And you have evidence?”
“Oh yes, we have evidence.”
“Don’t tell me, Ian was one of those, either in your group or helping your group?”
“Yes, Ian was passionate about the ocean and its wildlife. May he rest in peace. Ian worked hard and took many risks to get evidence. Although, he greatly reduced his activity in the last few months. He stopped sending the images and data to the burn phone that we have. We do of course have other helpers around the globe doing similar good work.”
“This evidence that you have, who does it implicate?”
“Oh, many companies and many governments. I have a draft copy of the report here on this USB drive. Would you care to see it? In confidence of course.”
“If that’s possible, it would be great. It would be good to cross-reference any names with those in our investigation.”
During the next hour, Abi and the doctor cross-referenced the list of eighty-three companies and seven governments worldwide. The persons and companies of interest emerging from the record revealed Pontus Freight Forwarding Limited and no fewer than six other companies directly related to Luis Van Dooren's holding company, PAS Pacific. Interestingly for Abi, there were two of Henry L. Greenslade’s companies on the list: Ria Corps Inc. and Pine Line Shipping Inc.
Joe explained, “Van Dooren’s activities have attracted a lot of attention over the years and, to date, no evidence produced against one of his companies has ever stuck. He has friends and investors in high places that want him to continue in his evil trade. They must get terrific returns or are paid off in some other way. He also has quite a brutal security team around him. We have had evidence of witness intimidation, evidence tampering, conspiracy, fraud, as well as assault and burglary. There’s probably more than I care to remember.”
“And these companies belonging to Henry Greenslade?”
“They’re basically companies who rely on union workers and the union is to some extent controlled by Van Dooren’s little gang. To all intents and purposes, he’s a shipping gangster, and nothing more. I certainly would not call him a businessman, at least not one with any ethics or scruples. I’m sure that they’ll continue to function as they have been, and they’ll probably get stronger unless somebody can tackle them.”
“I guess they haven’t dealt with my boss before. They’re about to get a rude awakening. Being a part ex-marine part military policeman, he’s passionate about the ocean too, and he’s also passionate about justice. Unfortunately, most of those that we’re up against at this level have a certain mindset that prevents them from acting rationally when confronted.”
“So, what happens?”
“Jago, my boss, gives them every chance to be taken alive and brought to justice. However, unlike other agencies, we have an advantage in that we have no rules to follow and the situation is handled professionally and expeditiously, preventing further loss or harm to life and, in this case, we can include marine life as well as human.”
“Oh, I see, or at least I think that I do. Am I safe here?”
“Yes, we’re in a secure location, that’s why you're here. Do you think that you could look at some photos for me? They’re the last ones that Ian sent to a friend.”
“Why certainly, can you put them on a screen so that we can blow them up?”
“Yes, sure. Is there any particular reason for the enhancement?”
“Yes, it’s rather simple. Our field workers tend to take photos, and it’s usually the background that contains the message. If anyone looks at the photo on a mobile phone or tablet, they wouldn’t necessarily have the resolution to see the detail or the message.”
“Oh, I see. Right, let’s get them for you on that monitor over there.” She pointed to a monitor on the other side of the room. “Would you care for a coffee or anything?”
“A black coffee with three sugars would be greatly appreciated.”
Abi wheeled herself out to the kitchen while Joe studiously examined the photos, taking notes as he did. A short time later, Abi called out, “Joe, your coffee is ready. It’s here on the kitchen counter. Can you come and get it please? I have difficulty in carrying these days.”
“Sure, no problem, I’m on my way.”
As he entered the kitchen, Abi asked, “Are the photos of any consequence?
“Indeed, they are. Ian managed to be very creative. In one photo there are a couple of pallets of plastic waste, and in the background there’s a drum, much like an old oil drum, which appears to be sealed. Ian’s message tells us that it and forty-eight others contain asbestos waste. He’d also managed to place a tracker in the plastic waste and the message says that they’ve started dumping in a new location. He’s managed to give coordinates too in what appears to be the label of an old computer tower. He was very resourceful. I’m sure that there will be more information.”
“Would you let me have the coordinates so that we can plot them to prevent more dumping?” The phone rings. “Please excuse me, I have to take this call.”
“Sure, I’ll be over at the monitor if you need me.”
Abi answered the call. “Hi Dom, how did the presentation go in your nice new suit?”
“We ate like kings. And it was some slick and fancy presentation. I’ve covertly recorded it. They tell the potential investors and clients that, although the Chinese have formally stopped taking plastic waste, they have granted licences for some essential waste to be imported over a twenty-year transition period. Van Dooren stood up and stated that he has — at a great cost regarding commitment, time and money — managed to obtain one of those twenty-year operator licences which has an exemption to the rule. He and his team have effectively presented a falsehood and wined and dined everyone into either investing in his company or contracting Van Dooren’s companies to take their unwanted plastic waste. I’ll send you the video.”
“Thanks for the sitrep, Dom. Can you go and support Jago? I’ll send you the location, but I warn you it could be all over by the time you arrive. By the way, you’re in the hire car still, aren’t you? The Aston?”
“I sure am, and it’s a dream to drive. I’ll get going as soon as I have—” He cut his words as the bleep on his mobile phone announced Abi’s message which he opened.
“I’m on my way now.”
***
“Kim, I’m taking you back to Mark’s. Can you ensure that you stay with him, please? It's a safe place for you.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I will stay with Mark.”
“That’s good,” he said thoughtfully. “Oh, and I meant to ask you why you changed your name?”
Shocked, she replied, “I’d had enough of being daddy’s little girl. I wanted to do things for myself.”
“So, you are the daughter of the shipping magnate, Henry L. Greenslade, then?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know where I am. And I don’t want him to know.”
“You think that someone so rich and powerful wouldn’t know where his daughter is and what she’s doing?”
Deep down she knew that he was right and that the name change and her efforts to live an independent life were token actions. She was kidding herself. She would always be her father’s daughter.
Jago continued, “You know, you could do with his support right now. What about your mother?”
“She died in a car crash when I was ten. He never married again. He was devoted to her and took it hard. He threw himself into work, and I had a string of nannies. He took care of everything and, although I did see him often, it had changed him. He wasn’t the same man. And I think that he had business difficulties that didn’t help.”
“Do you want to contact him, or for me to contact him?”
“I don’t want to, but you can if you wish,” she replied in a sombre tone. “But I don’t want to see my father, not yet anyway.”
“Okay, we’ll see how things pan out. Can you get the gate? We’re about to reach Mark’s place.”
“Yes, of course.”
They turned into the track leading to Mark’s house and saw Mark at the gate already waiting for them. He had a shotgun in his hand.
As they came to a halt, Kim alighted the motorcycle and walked to Mark timorously.
“Hello, Kim,” said Mark in a quiet voice.
She lifted her head slightly. “Hello, Mark.” She paused, thinking of how to express herself. “I’m sorry that I left you in an awkward position.”
Mark’s eyes widened upon hearing this.
Jago watched the pair, choosing to hold back a few minutes.
“I wasn’t worried about being in an awkward position, Kim. I was worried witless about you.”
As he looked her in the eye, she observed a single tear down his face. She reached out and touched it. “What is this?”
“I think that this is love. I know we’ve only known each other five minutes, but I can’t keep you out of my head, you’re in my every thought. I’ve never experienced this before in my life. I want to protect you, hence the shotgun is out and ready.”
“That is so sweet, Mark. Can I stay with you? I won’t run off again, I promise.”
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You can stay as long as you want.”
“Even forever?”
“If you want.” He held out his hand and she took it. Then their attention moved to Jago. He pulled up beside them. “Look, I’m off to a meeting, and I need to prepare. Mark, you have the emergency number, don’t you?”
“Yes, I have it. We’re going to stay indoors until this is over. Take care, Jago.”
“I will. I’ll see you both soon.”
“Jago?” called Kim as he turned around. “You’re going to the community centre, aren’t you? Kill them for Katie and me. They can’t be left to do this to anyone else. Just kill them and be done with it.” She started crying, and Mark held her tightly as he guided her to the house.
Chapter 12 - Professional Dramatics
Giles Hill Community Centre was situated a mile away from the Port of Fitton Bridge. It was half a mile away from the homes of Katie and Kim. It was a 1970s style single storey building. It had red brick walls and lots of long glass windows with coloured panels below. It was a well-used community facility, and its walls featured an abundance of posters and leaflets of what was on offer. It was
4.25 p.m. as Jago rode passed the centre that appeared closed. The lights were off, and the main door closed with a padlock and chain around the handles. Jago rode around the block twice and then along a path that ran above and behind the centre. He parked his bike on the track under the cover of some shrubbery and secured his helmet to his motorcycle. The position was perfect for observing the centre's access points: the main door and the two fire exits. A silver Mercedes approached, and Tony alighted. He positioned himself in an alleyway opposite the centre's main entrance. The car continued onwards, and Jago watched it make a three-point turn about three hundred metres farther along. It returned and parked in the street a short way from the centre. The chunky figure of Mick headed for the centre. He was carrying a pair of bolt croppers. A few seconds later, Jago heard the snap of the chain being broken on the main door. Tony immediately crossed the road and entered. They were both lying in wait for Kim. A light went on in the entrance passageway and the main hall, making it look inviting.
Jago drew his Sig Sauer from its holster and screwed on the suppressor. He was ready to take them on and keen to stop them at all costs. Jago couldn’t let them continue their horrific spree. Under the cover of trees and shrubs, he descended the incline into the centre’s carpark where three vehicles were parked: two small cars and a high-sided van. The van was closest to the centre. The side of the truck read ‘Giles Amateur Dramatics’. Jago was level with the truck now and decided to tuck his weapon into his waistband under his jacket. He
walked calmly into the centre.
“Mr Harding, are you there Mr Harding? We've got a lot of props to bring in for the rehearsal.”
Jago came upon Tony first.
“Oh hello, are you Mr Harding, the caretaker? Only we’ve got lots of props to bring and little time to do it. That’s us, the Giles Amateur Dramatics.” Jago pointed to the van outside the window.
Tony replied, “No, I’m not Harding. He isn't here yet. We’ve hired the hall for a meeting. You can’t come in now. I’m afraid that you’ll have to wait outside.”
Jago went to walk past Tony.
“Oh, okay, but I just need to see how much space we’ll have.” Jago raced past him, scanning the area for the other man. “I won’t be a moment, promise.”
Empty handed, Tony grabbed Jago’s arm, and Jago sprang into action, turning the grab to his advantage by misdirecting the energy of his pace and the grab hold. This action put Tony off balance, forcing him to stumble yet regain control of his feet quickly. He launched himself at Jago who stepped aside and deflected Tony’s attack, thrusting him into a wall and the low pipe that ran along it. This time, Tony came to his feet, pistol in hand. His eyes met Jago’s, and Jago dropped to a bended knee at the same time as drawing his gun from his waistband and shooting a double tap to the head. That was Tony’s last view. Jago watched as blood splattered the cream-coloured wall behind Tony. He rapidly rifled through Tony’s pockets, taking his wallet and mobile phone. Jago paused, took a photo of Tony, and listened, waiting patiently for any sound. And then he heard it. A creak of a door to his right, along a long passageway which housed toilets, offices and various rooms. Jago peered around the corner into the passageway. It was silent. He waited again. He heard another small sound, and it came from an office on the right. The doors to the offices and rooms all had a vertical pane of glass above the door handle and, as Jago angled a view, he could just make out a silhouette created by the exterior centre lighting and the figure of Mick waiting in the unlit office. Jago retreated down the passageway.
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