by Nick Elliott
‘Yes, for our future. You will learn more but for now we must turn to business. Do you know where we are now?’ he said making a sweeping gesture to encompass the sea around us. ‘We are lying off the island of Dangan Liedao, very close to where Buchan-san’s ship was sunk by an American submarine many years ago.
‘But we have been searching for the wreck without success. As you know, the Lady Monteith was carrying a valuable cargo which we intend to salvage.’
‘So why bring me out here?’
‘We could search the seabed with our side-scan sonar and all other technical devices for many months, but never find her if we are looking in the wrong place.’
‘And you are beginning to wonder whether you are looking in the right place.’
‘Exactly! So you will help us find the exact location, McKinnon-san.’
‘And how would I do that?’ I asked in genuine doubt.
Finally it was Monty Buchan’s turn to speak. ‘We believe your father knew the precise coordinates, Angus. Somewhere, that information still exists.’
‘My father died in a landslide. All my family's possessions were lost too. I have nothing left of his. And anyway, how would he know where the wreck lies?’
‘Trust me, if anyone knew it would be him. He was somehow involved in the search for gold that the Japanese, let’s say “acquired” during the war.’
He glanced at Nakamura almost deferentially. What the hell was Monty playing at? ‘He investigated claims, counter-claims, conspiracy theories. He knew more than anyone.’
‘Maybe, but I have no records of his.’
‘Have you ever looked? Really looked I mean? I have been researching the aftermath of the accident in which your family perished. Possessions were recovered. Some were returned to the survivors or to the next of kin of those who died. You were his next of kin.’
‘I was a child. I became a ward of court before they handed me over to my uncle. I received nothing from him relating to my previous life here, or to my father’s.’
‘That may well be so but your uncle would still have received your father’s effects, or what remained of them, perhaps not realising the significance of what was recorded in a notebook, a diary, a coded message somewhere? Did you ever ask about such matters?’
‘No,’ I lied. I was searching my memory. Years ago my uncle had given me boxes of papers, some photographs, clothing even, but I'd never opened them. It was part of a process of closing off the past. I had no wish to delve into such memories. Now I was trying to recall where those boxes might be. Not at my home in Greece, so in Scotland then? My uncle had died twenty-odd years ago. He'd known that I had no interest in those possessions but would he have retained them anyway? And on his death what would have happened to them? He and my aunt had had no children of their own but what about his will? He'd left everything to my aunt but... but there was something in her will: a small financial bequest to me; and there was something in it referring to the possessions which again I'd ignored. But I did still have her will, in my apartment in Piraeus.
‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘What?’
It was Monty again. ‘I asked whether you'd ever asked about your father's possessions.’
‘No.’
‘But they might still exist surely.’
‘I don't know. My uncle and aunt are long gone. I would have to make enquiries.’
‘We wish you to understand your position in this matter,’ interjected Nakamura. ‘It will be better for us all if we collaborate.’
‘And if I wish not to?’ I might as well know where I stood. In my pursuit of Alastair Marshall’s killers and what lay behind it, I needed to explore all avenues, including the one into which I was now being drawn.
‘To conduct our business by threat is not the way we would choose, McKinnon-san. However.’ He walked over to the bar and picked up a remote control. ‘Your colleague is a very attractive young lady,’ he said pointing the device at the bulkhead on the opposite side of the saloon. A screen slid down from overhead and a sense of foreboding swept over me even before the video images appeared.
She was walking down Notara Street in Piraeus close to our office. Whoever was filming her was on the other side of the street. The next clip had been taken from a greater distance and showed her getting out of her BMW outside a big house. I knew it. It belonged to her parents and was in Ekali, one of Athens’ northern and most affluent suburbs. Then it switched to her on the beach. She carefully spread her towel down on the sand and walked purposefully into the water wading out a few metres before diving in. The final shot showed her emerging and returning to where she'd left her towel. Zoe lay down. Then the screen went blank. The sequence had lasted less than two minutes.
There was silence for a moment. Nakamura replaced the remote control on the bar top and turned to me. I glanced at Monty who was inspecting the carpet again.
I breathed in deeply but remained silent not trusting myself to speak and trying to assimilate what I'd just seen.
‘She is safe, your Zoe-san, for now,’ Nakamura’s manner was calm, his voice soft, reassuring.
‘Why?’ I spoke to Monty but it was Nakamura who replied, his voice harsh again.
‘You must understand that we are serious in our aims. We would not wish you to think you can play games with us. The girl will be safe but only as long as you cooperate. We do not have the time or the patience to wait while you think up some clever plan to upset our own. So find the location of the wreck for us first. Then we shall see about the girl. We will not put our objectives at risk.’
‘And just what are they?’
‘Perhaps you will learn in due course. Perhaps you may collaborate further with us in due course. First the wreck’s coordinates, then we shall see.’
I cursed myself. So this is what happened when I started playing at secret agents. Now Zoe, who had no knowledge of how dangerous this case was getting, was at risk of becoming an innocent victim.
‘First I must find them,’ I said, ‘then we shall see. But do not interfere. You’ve made your threat clear but if you impede me it will make the job more complicated.’
‘We will leave you alone but remember that if you try to double-cross us, we will take the girl. That will not be difficult. And she will be punished for your stupidity. I'm sure I do not need to remind you…’
‘Enough!’ Monty hissed. ‘McKinnon knows what he must do. Let him get on and do it.’
But Nakamura didn’t seem to be listening. He made a call from the house phone and in less than a minute Fat Boy appeared. Then Nakamura simply bowed and walked out of the saloon.
I sat down in a wing chair opposite Monty. ‘I have a couple of questions.’
He addressed Fat Boy. ‘Give us a moment will you, Ah Sun?’ Ah Sun just stood there.
‘First,’ I cut in, ‘the wreck of the Lady Monteith lies in Chinese waters. How do you think the Chinese Coast Guard are going to react if and when you start salvage operations in their back yard?’
‘That’s taken care of. Stick to what we tell you to do and don’t worry about things that don’t concern you, Angus. What else?’
‘What do I tell your daughter?’
‘Tell her nothing. I don’t want her involved.’
‘Not even that I know you’re safe and well?’
‘No, nothing! She would interfere and that would endanger her.’
‘What? Like you’ve endangered Zoe? You’re a duplicitous bastard aren’t you. Is this all about your personal greed? You will put others at risk and disregard your own family while playing footsie with a bunch of criminals. And what’s their game, Monty? Why is this so important to them?’
‘I do what I have to, as do they’ he said, agitated by my questioning. ‘Now take him ashore, Ah Sun.’
It was dark by this time. They took me back in the RIB to Shek O, the same beach we’d left from. It was a warm humid night, but with an offshore breeze. The lights of a hundred fishing boats
twinkled like stars on the dark sea. Under other circumstances it might have been a pleasant end to an enjoyable day out. Instead I felt ill.
Chapter 11
‘Beste mou, tell me,’ Eleni demanded.
‘Go to the study. The key to the filing cabinet is at the back of the right-hand drawer of my desk. In the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, right at the back is a file without a name. I think they're there.’ It was my uncle’s last will and testament and that of my aunt who had died just eight months after him, that I was after.
‘You think,’ she said caustically. ‘Wait while I look.’ Eleni was the only person I could trust to root around amongst my private papers. Besides, she still had a key to the flat.
Although Eleni and I were no longer together, we were still on speaking terms and though neither of us found it easy to admit, there was mutual affection. She'd been my anchor for many years but my work, and particularly the travelling, had taken its toll. We’d somehow agreed to part and there was no shortage of suitors ready and eager to offer the kind of stable, long-term relationship she sought.
I was back in the hotel still shaken by what had taken place since I’d left my room that same morning. I could barely think straight. What I knew was that I couldn't do anything to endanger Zoe further. Somehow I had to ensure her safety.
‘Got it! Now what am I looking for?’
‘Okay. Start with my aunt’s will. Look through it carefully until you find the bequests. There's something there about some documents assigned to me. Take your time.’
It didn't take her long. My aunt’s will mirrored that of my uncle which she turned to next. They referred to documents to be passed to me upon her death. They were deposited at a bank I'd never heard of in Edinburgh.
‘Thanks, Eleni. You’re a gem.’
‘You’re welcome, but I’m not your gem, Angus.’
Already there was the making of a senseless argument. ‘Just thanks. Everything okay with you?’
‘Sure. You?’
We chatted on, trying to smooth things out, not wanting to hurt each other. I asked her about Dimitrios, the new man in her life. She asked me about work – what was I doing in Hong Kong.
I thanked her again and we agreed to have dinner at a new restaurant she’d been reading about once I got back. I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.
Next I looked up the Firth Bank. They were in Edinburgh’s Dundas Street and according to the website their clients valued their expert investment and wealth management advice. It was still working hours over there. I called them explaining that I wished to take possession of documents left to me and placed in their vaults for safekeeping. Reassuringly, they advised me to present myself with proof of identity such as valid passport and driving licence as well as recent evidence of my residential status. I hadn't expected anything less.
Calling Claire at this point was out of the question. My assailants had grabbed me off the street when I naïvely thought I could follow them. For all I knew they could have bugged my room. They could track my movements, perhaps even my calls remotely, if I used my mobile phone. If they had been listening in there was no harm in knowing that I was doing all I could to find the wreck coordinates they were so convinced my father’s papers would reveal. Claire and the IMTF would have to wait.
The next morning dawned grey and wet. Dawn was hardly the word to describe it. On the assumption that both Ronnie Eastfield and myself were being watched and that my phone was being tapped, or even used as a transmitter to track my movements, I decided to leave it behind in the hotel. If Nakamura and his cronies saw us, so be it. But I reasoned they'd have a job listening into our conversation in such a public place as the Peninsula Hotel which Ronnie had mentioned was a favourite hangout of my father’s. I was finding myself drawn into Hong Kong and my father’s ghost no longer seemed something to evade. In fact, anywhere my father hung out I wanted to see for myself.
I called Eastfield from my hotel lobby. ‘Leave your phone at home will you, Ronnie? And make sure you’re not followed.’
As far as I knew Alastair Marshall had been using Eastfield as a walk-in agent on the case but I wanted to get this clarified. I wasn’t convinced of his reliability either, based not least on his propensity for alcohol. But I’d known plenty of Ronnie Eastfields over the years. Some of them were among the best I’d ever worked with.
I walked up to the Star Ferry terminal in Central. If they were tailing me I didn’t notice; neither during the short crossing to Tsim Sha Tsui. But I wasn’t about to make the same mistake I’d made the previous day. I ambled up Nathan Road to Grenville Road from where I took a cab north on up into Mongkok. Crowds are good for losing a tail and Mongkok had them in greater abundance than even Tsim Sha Tsui. It also had plenty of narrow lanes and arcades concealed by street stalls and signs as well as the seething throng. I spent an hour and a half at it. At one point I ducked into a clothes shop and bought a baseball cap and lightweight jacket and, since the rain was getting heavier, an umbrella. Eventually I worked my way back to Tsim Sha Tsui on foot and entered through a side entrance of the Peninsula. By the time I spotted Ronnie in the lobby I’d done what I could to shake off any followers and hoped he had done the same.
‘Don’t worry, I was a cop remember? If I was being followed I’d know it.’
‘I hope so, Ronnie.’ He looked considerably livelier than the last time I’d seen him slumped in his chair fast asleep, drunk. He’d had his hair cut. He’d managed to shave without major incident, and was dressed casually, but smartly enough not to attract attention in the Pen’s stylish lobby.
The finest hotel east of Suez was how it was promoted on its opening in 1928. At the time, before land reclamation had altered the geography of Tsim Sha Tsui, the Peninsula was directly opposite the quays where passengers disembarked from the liners that were regular callers from Britain and the ports of empire along the route, notably India, Singapore and Malaya. Kowloon was also last stop on the Trans-Siberian Railway that brought visitors from across Europe, Russia and northern China. The hotel’s illustrious past had been carried forward to the present interrupted only by the war. It was on the third floor that Hong Kong’s governor had surrendered to the Japanese on Christmas Day in 1941.
We ordered our drinks and I told him of my unplanned excursion to the Toyama Maru. ‘I have to go back to Scotland if I'm to dig through the papers my father left me. I'll be back here soon. But I need to ask you more about this case.’
He spread his arms. ‘Angus, old son, I've told you what I know.’
‘I appreciate that, Ronnie. It's not so much what you know as what you think.’ Ronnie had been in Hong Kong forever, as a cop, a criminal, a private investigator and until a few days ago, as Alastair Marshall’s field agent on the case. I needed someone to talk it through with and Ronnie was my only option.
The problem was that I was used to working in the comparatively transparent environment of the marine insurance world where rules, regulations and the law governed our business - more or less. Now I was in another world, one I'd tasted before but now on the inside I was no longer a hapless victim of circumstance but a player. I'd been enrolled into the secretive world of espionage in which I had no training and little experience. Alastair would have been my case officer; now it was Claire. And yet she had admitted that her masters in the IMTF had little knowledge of what this case was about. Was this their method: to let the field agent blunder along in the hope of finding a way forward? Had Alastair enjoyed complete carte blanche?
Whatever their modus operandi, Dark Ocean had found me and shown their ruthless intent by threatening to take Zoe hostage. I couldn't risk her life by deceiving them now. Her family were wealthy shipowners who could no doubt afford a ransom. This wasn’t about ransom though but hostage taking as security for the fulfilment of a condition: my cooperation.
I voiced some of these concerns to Ronnie as we sat with our beers.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Alastair always made
it clear that I was on non-official cover. I’m a NOC in the parlance and I don’t much like it. But no-one’s going to employ an old soak like me any other way and it pays well so I don’t complain.
‘You’re going to Scotland anyway. Talk to the IMTF people. See what they’ve got. I’ll mind the store here. You can trust me on that. And I’ll see what I can dig up.’
‘Right. Anything you can find out about the cargo she was carrying. There might be some records buried away here, no?’
‘Monty Buchan never found anything so I doubt I can. But I’ve got one or two avenues to explore. I’ll let you know. By the way, what do you want me to do about Susanna Buchan? Monty doesn’t want her to know what he’s up to, is that right?’
‘Correct, and I think it’s best that way. I’ll call her before I leave and tell her I’ve received assurance that her father’s safe but I can say no more.’
‘And you reckon she’ll be content with that explanation?’
‘No, but it will have to do.’
Chapter 12
The wind buffeted the aircraft as we made our final approach over the Firth of Forth. The flight via the Gulf put me into Edinburgh at seven on a Monday morning. Despite the wind, the sun was shining lifting Edinburgh’s gothic mantle and revealing the city’s brighter side.
Besides Ronnie Eastfield, Eleni and the bank, I had told no-one of my visit. To go straight to my flat off Leith Walk was out of the question. It was rented by the CMM and although the landlady and her Jack Russell were old friends, I could not be sure that news of my arrival would not get back to the office. So I found a small hotel near the zoo just off Corstorphine Road, checked in, showered, changed and took a taxi to Dundas Street where the Firth Bank had its discreetly located offices. I was there for opening time.
The woman at the reception desk was stern-faced, grey-haired and wearing a grey skirt, white blouse and grey cardigan. She peered at me suspiciously over heavy-rimmed glasses. I was ready for her with the required evidence of my identity, which she inspected carefully as if she was expecting something to be amiss. I waited until she’d finished and she reluctantly ushered me into a small room with no windows where I was told to wait.