Dark Ocean

by Nick Elliott

  They took me to a small clinic on an upper floor of the terminal building. A doctor came and shone a light into my eyes, felt my pulse and took my temperature. He asked me my name, what day it was and whether I felt nauseous. Then he cleaned the blood from the back of my head, dressed the wound and gave me two paracetamol for the headache.

  ‘The police want to see you,’ he said. He went out of the room and I was left alone to reflect on what had just happened.

  Chapter 17

  ‘I am Captain Stathakis,’ he introduced himself. ‘I understand you were present when the young woman was abducted.

  ‘Yes, I was.’

  ‘I would like you to come to my office now and I will take a statement, if you feel well enough. It is very close and the doctor has agreed.’

  I stood up and the room began to tilt. I sat down again.

  ‘Wait,’ I said. I stood again, more slowly this time. I knew I had to work with this guy. He wasn’t taking an aggressive line. In fact he held me by the elbow as we walked slowly down the corridor to his office.

  It was a functional room looking out onto the airport’s apron where a number of aircraft were parked loading and unloading passengers: a useful viewpoint to have.

  ‘I am the senior officer of the airport police. I am calling in a colleague to assist me with this interview. First give me your name please.’ I told him.

  ‘Perimenete.’ He dialled a number and spoke rapidly telling a colleague to come to his office.

  My mind was still reeling with the shock of what had just happened. I tried to process it rationally but couldn’t. More than anything I was racked with guilt. Shouldn’t I have seen them approaching? My reactions had been slow. We’d been talking and laughing together. I’d seen them approaching but there was nothing unusual about them, except they looked like a couple of toughs. But then half the male population of Athens dressed and looked like them; big burly guys, swarthy, unshaven, long hair.

  I must have groaned for Stathakis looked up suddenly. ‘You are disturbed. Do you want something? Water, coffee?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Both thanks.’

  He added this to the orders he was giving over the phone.

  Despite the nature of my work in Piraeus, I had had little contact with the Hellenic Police in the years I‘d lived here. I sat back and concentrated on the man opposite me. Captain was a senior rank, but then Athens Airport was a high-risk beat for any cop to have under his control. Stathakis was maybe late forties, a wiry man with thinning hair plastered to his skull and a neatly trimmed moustache. Despite his unprepossessing appearance there was something authoritative and oddly reassuring about him. I was thinking how much I should tell him about the background to what had just happened.

  Another officer came in, a young woman bearing coffee and a jug of water. Having gone through some introductory formalities, and with a video camera running on a tripod in the corner, they took my statement.

  I hadn’t had chance to fabricate a cover story so I told them the truth, or the partial truth, that Zoe worked for me and I was taking her to the airport for her flight to Edinburgh where she was due to attend a six week familiarisation and training course at the offices of our principal, CMM, the Caledonian Marine Mutual Insurance Association. I gave them full details of my business and of Zoe’s parents’ address in Ekali. Then I gave a description of the two men I’d seen approaching our table. More than that I did not know I said, other than that there must have been a third man who had come up behind me.

  ‘The other customers in the restaurant must have a better idea of what happened,’ I added.

  After a few more cursory questions the interview was terminated, the video camera switched off and the young assisting officer dismissed.

  ‘Now, Mr McKinnon,’ said Stathakis, settling back into his chair, ‘suppose you tell me the full story. Why do you think your young colleague was taken, snatched violently in a busy restaurant when she was about to leave the country? Before you start, let me tell you that I am already well aware of your activities in Greece serving our shipowners. Your reputation is, how would you say, impeccable. But I have a job to do and I believe our interests in this matter are mutual. We would both like to find the people who did this and who is behind them, who ordered it. I suggest we collaborate. Do you agree?’

  ‘I agree. But I don’t know the answer,’ I lied. I knew damn well. Whoever had been watching Zoe on behalf of the Dark Ocean gang had either received instructions to snatch her, or in the absence of such instructions, had taken matters into their own hands when they saw she was about to leave the country.

  ‘Let me help you,’ Stathakis announced staring at me intently. ‘Do you believe the kidnappers were Greek or foreigners?

  ‘They looked Greek to me. I can’t be sure. Dark, swarthy looking. Sorry, I’m stereotyping. No, I remember now, one was wearing a ski-cap. Not the one with the syringe, the other guy.’

  ‘Did you recognise either of them? From Piraeus perhaps?’

  ‘No, afraid not.’

  He stood up and looked out of the window. An Emirates plane was disgorging weary-looking passengers. Stathakis turned away.

  ‘Well, we are fortunate perhaps,’ he said, returning to his desk. ‘While you were unconscious we spoke with other customers in the restaurant. We have reasonable descriptions of all three men but one witness had the foresight to follow the men, one of whom was carrying Miss Papadopoulos in his arms, as they ran down the escalator and out of the terminal building. This witness has told us that she was still conscious and struggling as she was bundled into the back of a silver-coloured van without number plates. As you’ll know Mr McKinnon, it is an unfortunate legacy from earlier times in this country that the police feel free to remove the number plates from vehicles they believe are illegally parked or have committed some other offence.’ I knew only too well. It had happened to me and I’d had to fight my way through acres of red tape to get them back.

  ‘Of course, the kidnappers might have removed the plates themselves. This also is not uncommon amongst criminals.’ He had the habit of methodically speaking his thoughts as if preparing his report. ‘What our star witness also noted though was that one of the three rode off on what he believes was a Ducati motorcycle which was parked behind the van right outside the terminal building. I believe this offers us our best lead.’

  ’How did he know it was a Ducati?’

  ‘Its distinctive red and white bodywork and frame made him certain. And it had a pillion, which helps narrow the field further.’ He tapped into his laptop and swivelled it round so I could see a picture of the bike.

  ‘Like this he thought, the Multistrada. So, we shall see. But for now you may go, Mr McKinnon and we will keep in touch.’ He passed his card to me. ‘I shall be leading the investigation. You may reach me at any time.’

  ‘Thank you. My priority is to find her and bring her to safety.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Oh, and please don’t leave the country until I authorise you to do so.’

  Chapter 18

  Without Zoe in the office a backlog was accumulating. I realised just how much I missed her – not just for her productivity but her cheerful, feisty presence too. In the days that followed I tried, without much success, to focus on work.

  I called her father’s office but he didn’t want to see me. I’d give it time. Eleni called. I told her what had happened. She was distraught, again. What kind of business was I mixed up in? How could I let a young woman like Zoe be exposed to such dangers? It was time I grew up. I had listened to this viewpoint before. She was probably right.

  Claire was more business-like. She didn’t need to remind me I’d screwed up. Instead she wanted to know what Stathakis was up to.

  By the Friday I was getting on top of the caseload but had barely slept. When I did it was only to be awoken by a recurring nightmare of Zoe’s head jerking violently to one side as the syringe was plunged into her neck. It haunted me when I was awake too.<
br />
  To my relief Stathakis called late that Friday afternoon. He wanted to meet away from both his office and mine. I walked to a café bar near Zea Marina, close to where I lived up on Profitis Ilias, the hill that rises above the noisy bustle of Piraeus. The spring orange blossom had just come out, filling the streets with its heady scent. There had been very little I could do to follow up on Zoe’s disappearance until this point and now I was glad to be out seeing the man who could. I found him in the bar tucked away down a side street. After the bright sunshine the dark interior was almost impenetrable. Stathakis was sitting at a table in the back smoking a cigarette and nursing a cup of coffee. I ordered a beer and sat down opposite him.

  ‘Your colleague, it seems, was taken for reasons we had not guessed at,’ he began.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We found our Dukati man in the leather jacket, and his associates too. There aren’t many bikes fitting the description we were given. All three of these individuals are ex-military. They work for a private security firm now – or did until we arrested them.’

  ‘And they talked?’

  ‘Yes, they talked. Do you know the most effective way to extract a confession from a Greek?’ he asked.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Not by means of physical coercion. No, you don’t need that. Place a Greek in solitary confinement for a few days and he will talk. The very thought of being isolated from his fellow man is enough to send a Greek into a state of such anxiety he will do or say anything you ask.’ He spoke without irony. ‘And believe me, it worked. We kept all three in solitary confinement after their initial interrogation. I told each of them they would remain there until they were ready to talk. The first broke his silence after thirty-six hours. Once the others realised he’d talked, their resistance soon cracked too.’

  Stathakis stared down into his coffee for a moment before looking at me and continuing.

  ‘Zoe Papadopoulos is a brave young woman, but a foolish one. It seems that once she saw she was being watched she thought she could turn the tables on her watchers.’ I winced. It was what I’d thought I could do in Hong Kong a couple of weeks earlier. ‘And at first she succeeded, which of course emboldened her further. She tracked one of them to the offices of a local shipping agent, a small family-owned outfit on Akti Miaouli. It happened that she knew the owner’s daughter. They are studying maritime law together at Piraeus University. What this girl, Fotini, told her was that they had acted as agents for a large private yacht and Dukati man, his name is Mardas by the way, had been to their office to settle the disbursement account covering the vessel’s stay in Greek waters. He had paid an amount of several thousand dollars in cash.

  ‘Fotini was only too happy to tell her friend about this vessel, the Toyama Maru.’ He said it slowly, struggling with the pronunciation, ‘including the fact that another group of five passengers had joined the ship in the port of Iraklion. This group consisted of four Europeans and one Japanese national. Ms Papadopoulos obtained from her friend the passenger list naming all these nine men: the original four Japanese who were on board when the vessel arrived in our waters and this latest party. I have that list.’

  Stathakis took it from his pocket and passed it across the table. Two of the Japanese names jumped out from the page: Hachiro Nakamura and Ikuo Takahashi.

  Takahashi. This was the economist who had written the paper on a reborn Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere. The others on the list, the Europeans, were names I didn’t recognise.

  ‘That copy is for you,’ Stathakis said, pre-empting my next question.

  ‘So far so good,’ he continued, ‘but this is where she made an error. Mardas is not stupid and Zoe was careless. When we interrogated him he admitted that the decision to abduct her was taken when they learned she was spying on their activities. Taking her from you at the airport was convenient for them, you see.’

  ‘Why? They could have taken her earlier.’

  ‘Oh no. They wanted to see what you were up to. And when they saw you heading for the airport with her they knew they had to act. And it turned out perfectly for them for another reason.’ He paused.

  ‘Which was?’ Stathakis liked to string a story out.

  ‘They had a private jet waiting. We have learned that this aircraft had arrived the night before from Zurich. It seems when he had reported to his masters, Mardas had been instructed to seize Zoe and deliver her to the hangar where the plane was parked.’

  ‘So how did they manage to get their unconscious passenger airside without going through Security and Immigration?’

  ‘I’m afraid they bribed certain individuals. Such arrangements are not uncommon, as you will know.’

  ‘And the plane departed for where?’

  ‘The pilot filed a flight plan for Dubai. Whether that is the final destination or not, we don’t know - yet. But we will find out, be sure of that. We are talking about the abduction of a Greek citizen, and one from a rich and influential family. I have already spoken with Interpol and they will ascertain the aircraft’s final destination. The plane left here on Wednesday. It is in Dubai now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. He was not obliged to keep me so closely informed and I appreciated it.

  ‘And in case you were wondering about Mardas and his associates, we have already charged them with kidnapping. They face a lengthy stay in Koridallos. And I’m sure you know something of the conditions there.’

  Koridallos was Greece’s main prison located just outside of Piraeus. Amnesty International and others, including the Committee for the Prevention of Torture, often expressed concern about the place for its overcrowding and inhumane treatment of prisoners.

  ***

  Stathakis was true to his word. He phoned early on Saturday morning and told me the plane had just taken off from Dubai, bound for Hong Kong.

  Zoe had blundered into the case not realising the danger she was placing herself in. She was headstrong even by Greek standards. She was brave, she was loyal and had the inquisitiveness of a good investigator. Sure, she had been foolish but I could not deny my own inadvertent role in her abduction.

  I couldn’t deny either that she had uncovered vital evidence. She had discovered the names of the key players in what was turning out to be a global conspiracy, and had proved beyond doubt a clear connection between Dark Ocean and the Foundation for Oriental and Asian Studies. It was up to me now to find her – before the bastards decided she was superfluous to their needs. I shuddered when I thought of what they’d done to Alastair. Was arsenic their murder weapon of choice?

  ‘You will be returning to Hong Kong I presume?’ Stathakis said.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Normally, I would be obliged to inform Interpol of this latest development, you know that. However, I have received instructions from my superiors to the effect that no further action is necessary on my part. It seems you have friends in high places, Mr McKinnon.’

  I thanked him and promised to call him on my return to Greece. He was a good friend to have. Then I called Claire to discuss my return to Hong Kong. Having seen how efficiently they had spirited Zoe out of Greece, and how susceptible public authorities can be to a well-timed bribe, she insisted that I should return to Hong Kong covertly.

  ‘Nakamura and his gang may well have access to Hong Kong Immigration’s air passenger arrival data,’ she said. ‘It’s safer this way.’

  ‘And how do I accomplish this magical deception?’ I asked her.

  ‘Just leave it to me, darling.’

  Chapter 19

  The IMTF had routed me via Bangkok and on from there to Guangzhou. I came through Guangzhou Baiyun Airport armed with a passport and a six month multi-entry visa. My name was Jeremy Watson and I was representing a firm of Edinburgh solicitors seeking a partner firm in China.

  A thin, middle-aged man came up to me as I entered the greetings area.

  ‘Taxi to Shenzhen?’

  ‘Is it far? I’ve come a long way.’
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br />   ‘You must be tired,’ he said. ‘What was the movie on the plane?’

  ‘Didn’t watch it,’ I replied.

  With the IMTF’s code phrases out of the way he took my bag, introduced himself as Mr Au and led me out to a green taxi waiting at the curbside.

  I’d been told it was a two hour drive to Zau Zai Tau near the town of Xia Sha in Shenzhen. I settled back to relax and maybe catch up on some sleep after the flight but Mr Au was nervous. He’d struck me as nervous from the moment we’d met but as we drove his anxiety seemed to increase.

  ‘Is there something I should know, Mr Au? You seem worried.’

  ‘No, no. It’s okay.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘No. We have very fast boat for you. Get you to Tung Ping Chau Island double quick.’

  ‘It needs to be fast does it?’

  ‘Yes. In case, you know. But Coast Guard never come near Tung Ping Chau.’

  ‘So nothing to worry about then.’

  ‘No, nothing to worry about. Don’t worry.’

  The journey turned out to be nearer three hours and by the time we reached the beach it was midnight.

  Mr Au insisted on carrying my bag down to the dilapidated wooden jetty where a speedboat was tied up. A man was bending over one of its three V8 350 horsepower outboards. He stood up as we approached. He was young and skinny and was wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt. He seemed as stressed out as Mr Au.

  ‘Okay! Let’s go,’ he called, firing up the engines.

  ‘Quick,’ yelled Mr Au handing me my bag. ‘You go now!’ I jumped aboard.

  The night was starless and moonless. The continuous urban sprawl that was Shenzhen lit up the coast like a fairground but where we were on the Dapeng Peninsula was a remote spot, its mountainous terrain home of bandits, smugglers and pirates for centuries. Isolated as this place was, I found no comfort in Mr Au’s assurances regarding the China Coast Guard and their prying eyes although I’d been told that their attention lay elsewhere these days.