Snatched

by Lilburne, Guy

  “Jesus!”

  “Tee rak, you are bleeding. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m okay. I’m going to shower.”

  Nok stayed the night. Nothing happened. They just shared the same bed and, after breakfast in the room, Nok went to work. She was her usual happy self and she arranged for some friends from the local police to go to Borg’s house and collect her things. They were already packed into a suitcase and waiting for the police to collect.

  Danny had the passport photograph of Wolfgang Bauer and he spent most of the day doing old fashioned police work; walking around the bars and showing the photo, but nobody had seen him or if they had, they just didn’t remember him. It had been a long hot day with a negative result. His day got better during the evening when Nok rang him.

  “Tee rak, we might have something!”

  “What Nok?”

  “You have internet?”

  “Yes. I have my laptop. Same email address as I always had. Why?”

  “I send you link to Phuket Gazette. It is story of English boy found dead on beach during the same time that German man was in Patong. The death doesn’t seem normal to me. Man die with broken neck. I send now.”

  “Okay Nok. Well done.”

  Danny opened up his laptop and opened up the link sent by Nok. He read the newspaper article with interest. The article didn’t say much. It just said that he had been out drinking with friends and then they found him dead on the beach with a broken neck. Police believed that he had fallen over whilst drunk and trying to urinate against a tree, but Danny had been a police man for 30 years and he had never known anyone break their neck by falling from a standing position, especially when drunk. When someone is drunk they are relaxed and fall like a rubber band. Danny was as interested in the story as Nok had been and he phoned her straight back.

  “Nok, get the police records for this incident. I need the names of his friends who he was out drinking with the night he died.”

  “Okay, tee rak. You think not accident?”

  “I think someone broke his neck. I think he was murdered!”

  ~3~

  The war in Myanmar was going well - really well, but slowly. The SAS (Special Air Service) and SBS (Special Boat Service) were deep behind enemy lines. Their brief was simple; find Prince William. At the same time they were to wreak havoc amongst the rebel soldiers. It was important that the Special Services worked ahead of the main task force because a blue on blue with the prince was simply not an option. Behind the scenes diplomatic and business ties with Myanmar were being cemented and the Myanmar government had already signed up to billions of pounds worth of business with the British to rebuild Myanmar after the war. With British expertise in engineering and a Myanmar population that wanted to work, the deals would make both countries richer and would help create an even better future for the people of Myanmar. The war had widespread support from the British public too and the Prime Minister’s popularity ratings soared. The negotiations between the foreign office and the Syrian government were heading nowhere. It was an endless circle of ‘you tell us first’ and nobody was ready to - well not yet. The British government had not ruled out doing some kind of deal to get their prince back, but there would be conditions of secrecy and they wanted proof of life regarding the prince and proof of the authenticity of the information. The Syrian government was either unable or unwilling to give either at the moment. They were happy to play a waiting game as the pressure on the British government increased. The Syrian government decided to increase the pressure by leaking the news to their own government controlled media that they may have information regarding the prince and who snatched him. They stated that they are liaising closely with the British government to try and ensure the prince’s safe return. When the British press got hold of the story it went ballistic and global. The story was reported on from every political angle. The leader of the opposition party in the UK, Edward Militin, declared in the Houses of Parliament that he would do a deal with the Syrian President if it meant getting the prince back safe and well and he demanded to know why the Prime Minister wouldn’t agree to it. He also demanded to know what the Queen’s thoughts on the matter were. It was political grandstanding at its very worst and it didn’t help anything, but the opposition leader was also starting to gain support from sections of the British public.

  The war in Syria had moved out of the public eye of the world and the balance was shifting back towards the President with his use of Sarin nerve gas upon his own people. The soldiers sent by Lebanon and Iran were also helping to swing the war in favour of the President.

  ~4~

  Danny had the police reports for the man found dead on the beach. His name was Tom Able. His two friends were Tony Wilkes and Gary Farmer. He had addresses for them in England. Danny took out the list of useful contact number that he had been given. He needed some work doing in England, but he didn’t know most of the people on the list and he didn’t trust any of them. He decided to contact his old friend, ‘Nails’ Lovatt.

  Christopher Lovatt was trained as a young detective by Danny O’Brien when they were both working out of New Scotland Yard. They liked each other and made a good team. Danny had given him the nickname of ‘Nails’, because he was as hard as nails and had a reputation for going from nought to nasty in 30 seconds. He had transferred to the West Midlands Police and gained promotion several times. Promotion, responsibility and age had calmed him down. The last time Danny had spoken to him was over two years ago and, at that time, he was Chief Inspector Lovatt. He helped Danny on the Operation Tiger Lily case and as a result he was now Detective Chief Superintendent Lovatt. He was a good policeman and not scared to take a risk when the job needed it. D/Ch. Supt. Lovatt answered the telephone ringing on his desk. It was still only 8:30am and he was still on his first cup of coffee. His office was on the top floor of the police station now and it afforded him a great view out over the city of Birmingham. He was looking out at the view as he answered the phone.

  “Lovett!” he said, as he always did when he answered the phone.

  “Nails, it’s Danny O’Brien. Jesus! They feckin promoted you again!”

  “Danny! How are you, mate?”

  “I need something doing and doing quick.”

  “Am I going to have British Intelligence waiting in my office again in the morning?”

  “Yes, you might have, if you don’t do this on the QT.”

  Danny told Nails all about the request he had had from the Prime Minister and explained why he didn’t want to inform anyone on his contact list just yet. Nails listened open mouthed.

  “Jesus Danny! How do you get involved with all this stuff?”

  “It just sort of happens to me. I’m supposed to be retired. Nails I need you to have these two men interviewed. I need to know about everything that led up to the death of their friend. He didn’t fall and break his neck. He had it broken for him. He was murdered and you can tell them that. I want statements from them stating everything they know.”

  “Okay Danny. I’ll sort it. Do you think it might be connected to the Prince William abduction?”

  “I don’t know yet, but it stinks to me.”

  Nails rang Danny back later that evening. He had personally travelled to Bristol from Birmingham to go and speak to the two men. It was 2:00am in Thailand when Danny answered his phone to Nails.

  “You were right Danny. There might be more to this incident!”

  “Go on.”

  “The lads weren’t interviewed by the police in Thailand. They just took their names. It seems that they had already decided that it was an accident and these two just accepted that until I told them today that their friend had been murdered and that somebody had broken his neck for him.”

  “What did they have to say?”

  “They had all been out t
ogether and were pretty drunk. They went into some bar on Bangla Road and there was a tough looking Arab man sitting in the bar. He had his right ear cut off and the lads started taking the piss out of him. The Arab man left his drink and walked out of the bar towards the Beach Road. The lads walked that way too, a little later and Tom Able stopped to have a piss against a tree. These two just carried on walking. They say they looked round for Tom just a few moments later and saw him lying on the ground. Here is the interesting bit. Gary Farmer says that the same Arab man was walking away just past where the body was laying. He only saw him from behind but he recognised him. His ear was missing. The lads ran back to Tom Able, but he was dead. Gary Farmer had told the other lad, Tony Wilkes, that he had seen the Arab man with no ear and he told him that he thought he had killed Tom. But they were just young lads away on holiday in Thailand and decided not to mention this to the police, because they were drunk and thought that they might be in trouble. When the police said he had just fallen and broken his neck, they were happy to accept that and talked themselves into believing that it was just coincidence that the one eared Arab man was walking away along the beach.”

  “Have you got statements, Nails?”

  “Yes. I’ll scan them into my computer and email them to you. What do you want me to do with the originals?”

  “Just keep them safe somewhere for now. Thanks mate.”

  Now Danny had a lead and he had a good feeling about it. He knew from experience that, once he had a lead, cases would start to crack.

  The next day Danny, Nok and her team visited every hotel in the Patong Beach area. They were asking about an Arab man who may have stayed at their hotel between the 5th and 12th. The Arab man had his right ear missing. Now there are a lot of hotels in Patong but by the afternoon they had a break through. The Arab man matching the description had stayed in The Palmyra Hotel. He had checked in on the 6th and checked out on the 10th. He had an Israeli passport. Meiwa rang Danny from the hotel and he went to join her there. Once Danny saw the photocopy of the passport and looked at the photo, he knew that he was looking into the eyes of a trained killer. Danny asked if he had made any phone calls from his room and he was given a print out of the telephone calls made. There were several calls to only five local numbers. The girl on the reception desk told Danny that the man often had food delivered by one of the local Arabian restaurants. Danny took a copy of the phone list and a copy of the Israeli passport. He phoned Nok and told her to meet him back at her agency office as soon as possible. She was waiting there when Danny and Meiwa arrived.

  “I need more copies of this passport and I need to know who these five phone numbers belong to” he said, and handed the papers to Nok. Meiwa filled her in on the details. There was an air of excitement in the office. Danny knew that they were on to something big, but he hadn’t expected the Israelis to have been involved. He still couldn’t connect the dead man on the beach to the kidnap of Wolfgang Bauer or the kidnap of Prince William, but he just had that old feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had had so many times before. He just sort of knew that he was onto something. But what?

  It took Nok just ten minutes to account for the five phone numbers on the print out from the Palmyra Hotel. Four of the numbers were from other hotels; The Amata Resort Hotel, The Millennium Resort Hotel, The Baumanburi Hotel and the Novotel Vintage Park Resort. The other number was from a local middle-eastern food restaurant, called Ali’s.

  “What we do now, tee rak?”

  “Come on Nok. We are going to visit these other hotels and see if they had any Israelis check into their hotels on or around the 6th. I’ve got a feeling that they will have.”

  Danny and Nok went to the other hotels. They were all situated on the Rat-U-that Road and every one of them had an Arab man check into their hotel on the 6th with an Israeli passport. Danny now had copies of the passports and photographs of the five man team. He had printouts of the phone calls made, but they were all to each other and to the restaurant called Ali’s. Danny’s adrenaline was coursing through him. He told Nok to go back to her office and scan all the papers into her computer and send copies to him by email and then to meet him in his hotel room with the photocopies that the hotels had given them. He went back to his hotel room while he considered what to do next.

  “Jesus! I need a feckin drink” he said out loud, to nobody but himself.

  Danny had never considered himself an alcoholic. He didn’t even like the word and he liked the words recovering alcoholic even less. When he was within the loving care of his family he didn’t even think about having a drink. It had been over two years since he had. He just didn’t feel the need for a drink, but now he felt like one and, because he wasn’t an alcoholic, it was okay. He was on another big case and he had had a break through. He deserved a drink! What harm would it do! He was a grown man and it was up to him. He opened the mini bar and took out the quarter of Jack Daniels. He unscrewed the top. The smell greeted him like an old friend. There was a promise of more good times together in the air and Danny drank some down from the bottle before pouring some more into a glass. He picked up the phone and ordered a packet of cigarettes. He hadn’t smoked for as long as he hadn’t drunk, but somehow in his mind the two went together. He decided that he liked drinking and smoking and he hadn’t done either for a long time. So what the hell!

  When Nok arrived at his room he was sitting out on the balcony and he was already onto the quarter sized bottle of gin from the mini bar. There were several cigarette butts in the glass ashtray.

  “Are you okay, tee rak?”

  “I’m grand, thanks.”

  Danny had decided that he was going to contact the Foreign Secretary direct. If the Israeli government were involved then he needed the British government on his side. He updated the Foreign Secretary with everything he had and emailed him copies of the five passports. He told him that he hadn’t visited the restaurant called Ali’s yet.

  “Mr. O’Brien, can I ask you to wait before you do anything else. I need to have my people look into this and I don’t want you doing anything else today until I do.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s already night time here. I won’t be doing anything else tonight.”

  “Okay. Thank you…Oh! and Mr. O’Brien…..”

  “What?”

  “Well done. Amazing effort. Amazing!”

  The Foreign Secretary set to work and went to see the Prime Minister in private.

  ~5~

  Danny awoke to the sounds of the palm tree fronds outside his balcony thrashing on the window. There was a storm blowing. Lightning flashes lit up the grey dawn sky and thunder banged so loud it was as if God was angry with something. The rain pelted down and bounced several inches back up from anything it hit. Empty spirit bottles lay on the table on the balcony and the rain washed the over filled ashtray, scattering cigarette ends and ash onto the glass topped table and then onto the floor.

  Danny was naked in bed with Nok. He gathered his thoughts.

  “Jesus!”

  “Good morning, tee rak” she said, without opening her eyes and placing a hand on Danny’s thigh.

  “Jesus Nok! What have we done?”

  “We do nothing. You too drunk. Don’t worry.”

  “I do feckin worry. We’ve been here before and we shouldn’t be here again.”

  “What you mean, tee rak?”

  “Nothing. I’m going to shower.”

  A shower and several cups of coffee later and Danny felt human again.

  His phone rang and it was the Foreign Secretary.

  “Sorry to bother you at this time of night Mr. O’Brien……”

  “It’s the feckin morning.”

  “Oh! Then good morning. I have some news for you.”

  “Good news, I hope!”

  “We think it might be. Between
ourselves, the CIA and MOSSAD….”

  “MOSSAD!”

  MOSSAD is Hebrew and means ‘the Institute’. It is short for ‘The Institute for Intelligence and special operations and is the national intelligence agency for Israel. It is responsible for intelligence collection, covert operations and counter terrorism and its director reports straight to the Israeli Prime Minister.

  “Yes, Mr. O’Brien. The passports are fake and so are the names, but we have managed to identify the five men. They are all special forces of the Syrian government, loyal to the President. The man with one ear, who we believe killed the young man on the beach, has now also been identified at the scene of the snatch. He was the man who drove the decoy away in the car. His real name is Maaz.”

  “The Syrian President had the prince snatched?”

  “Yes. We are pretty certain. His people have already been contacting our people and suggesting that he may have some intelligence as to the prince’s whereabouts. He is trying to negotiate a peace deal which would mean him staying in power with the support of the West.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “We won’t let him know what we know, because we fear when the prince has lost his usefulness he will be killed. So we are going to play along and keep him interested for as long as we can. It is important that we find the prince as quickly as possible.”

  “So I guess you guys are taking over the investigation from now?”

  “No, Mr. O’Brien! We still need you on the case. We think that the prince may be in Thailand.”

  “And why do you think that?”

  “His shoe was found floating in the Andaman Sea by a fisherman.”

  “How do you know it is the prince’s shoe?”

  “Well, because it has the words ‘Handmade’, ‘Real Leather’ and ‘HRH Prince William’ embossed inside the shoe. He was obviously taken by boat after the kidnap. We know that Syria has been supporting the Muslim extremists in the south of Thailand by sending arms to them for a number of years now. It’s a pretty good guess that he is being held somewhere near the border with Malaysia, so we want you to stay on the case.”