by T J Walter
Turning around, Brookes said, ‘Thanks, Jean. What would you like to drink?’
‘Rum of course, Monsieur; with a coke.’
The hovering waiter nodded and, after serving the drink, moved to the other end of the bar.
Brookes smiled. ‘What delights do you have in store for us tonight?’
Jean returned his smile. ‘There are all sorts of delicacies that I like and if you are paying the bill, Monsieur, I shall sample them all.’
Middlemiss arrived in time to hear this. He said ‘Good, with your face full of food, you might stop moaning for a while.’
Petit laughed. ‘And you, my friend, can stick your ‘ead up your Aris?’
*
Back in cold, wet London, the murder team continued to work the case. Fleming’s flat was searched with a fine-toothed comb. A computer disk with Alison MacPherson’s files on it was found. The details of her personal life and her diary identified it as hers.
Fraud squad detectives searched the disc for information on the money laundering. As it seemed that it was this evidence that had got Alison killed, there was a good chance of finding something incriminating on the disc.
*
Chapter 16 – On Grand Cayman
‘And fast through the midnight dark and drear
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept,
Tow’rds the reef of Normans Woe.’
Longfellow. The wreck of the Hesperus.
In Fort de France that evening, the team’s spirits were high. A Royal Navy frigate, HMS Flint, which had been on exercises in the area, had joined the chase. Whilst it could not be used to stop the Julianna, its powerful radar could track the ship from a distance. The Flint would alert the pursuers when the tramp steamer made landfall or rendezvoused with another vessel.
Overhead, the satellite cameras also tracked the tramp steamer. Added to that, the British-led team had eyes in every port en route. There was no escape for Fleming wherever he chose to run.
Middlemiss and Petit continued to cement their friendship in their own unique way. They matched each other drink for drink and insult for insult. Even the more reserved Rose was drawn into the witty exchanges as the wine continued to flow. Petit had taken them to a restaurant that specialised in local cuisine. The menu offered an array of dishes cooked in the French style but with the added spices for which Caribbean cooking was famous. The food was delicious and Brookes ate his share, although he was sparing with the wine. Whilst he was content that everything that could be done had been, he would not be happy until they had Fleming in custody.
It was after midnight when they returned to the hotel. They gave their thanks to Petit for his help and said their goodbyes. Their mood was still high as they got into the lift to go up to their rooms.
Rose said, ‘I think you should rewrite the book on diplomatic relations, Fred; you certainly got Jean’s co-operation.’
Middlemiss smiled. ‘There’s more than one way of skinning a cat or chatting up a frog.’
Brookes let it pass; the DS had done his job and that was what really mattered.
When he got to his bed, he immediately fell into a deep sleep. But it was not to last long.
At 3am, his phone rang.
It was Aitcheson. ‘Puerto Rico, John. The Juliana changed course during the night and docked at a place called Ponce on the south coast just after one local time. But there were no passengers on board. Fleming was not there.’
‘What! That’s impossible.’
‘The customs boarded the ship the moment it landed; there was only the crew on board. They’re still searching it but it looks like Fleming has got away. Are you sure he was on the ship in the first place, John?’
Brookes’ heart skipped a beat, his brain in a whirl. He scratched his head trying to think. Then it came to him.
‘Shit; there were two ships that left La Trinite that night. He’s pulled a fast one. He laid us a false trail and we fell for it. He’s a lot sharper than I gave him credit for. Either that or the crew threw him overboard, which the French police here think is possible, as a man flashing lots of cash about is asking for trouble in these waters.’
‘OK. Calm down, all is not lost. It sounds as if he is still alive, as he’s made contact with his bank on Grand Cayman. He asked the manager for funds to be transferred to a bank in Townsville. That’s in Texas on the Mexican border. It looks as if you were right about his destination; Matamoros is literally just across the border. If he’s on another ship, he can’t possibly have got there yet.’
‘Well, we’re sure he didn’t go by plane; the airports here are tightly controlled because of the local drug smugglers.’
‘Right, so we have time to catch up with him. The bank manager did as we asked him. He told Fleming that a computer hacker had compromised all the customers’ telephone ID codes and he daren’t release any funds until each one’s ID is verified.’
‘How did Fleming react?’
‘The manager is fairly sure he fell for it. He told the manager he’d get back to him and rang off. But if he’s heading for Mexico, he will have to go past Grand Cayman; we think he will stop there and visit his bank. The manager insisted on seeing his passport and his face before releasing funds.’
Brookes’ brain was functioning again. He said, ‘OK, I’ll find out the details of the other ship and let you know. How long have we got if he is aboard?’
‘It’s about two thousand one hundred kilometres to Grand Cayman from where you are; he couldn’t get there until later today by ship. I’m arranging for a charter plane to take you direct; be ready to go by dawn.’
Brookes put the receiver down and searched in his wallet for the business card Petit had given him. On it he found the Frenchman’s home number. It was a long time before he got an answer.
Finally he heard a woman’s voice on the line, saying something angrily in French.
He said, ‘I need to speak to Monsieur Petit. Please let me speak to him.’
There was silence on the other end of the line.
He repeated urgently, ‘Let me speak to Jean; Jean Petit.’
He was rewarded with the sound of the other phone coming into contact with some hard surface; then the distant sound of the woman’s voice talking angrily.
Finally, a man grunted something into the receiver.
‘Jean, is that you?’
‘Oui. Who is this?’
Brookes quickly gave Petit the news, finishing by saying, ‘I need the name of the other ship; urgently.’
‘Merde, someone will pay for this. I am sorry, Monsieur. I can only apologise to you. I will call you back in a few minutes with the details of the ship.’
‘Thanks, Jean; this is not your fault, Fleming has fooled us all. Thanks for all your help.’
Brookes next phoned his two colleagues, and told them to dress and join him in his room. Then he ordered a large pot of coffee from reception and a taxi to take them to the airport at 5am.
Within the hour, Brookes had the details of the other ship. The 2,000 ton Bella Marie was a modern freighter driven by powerful twin diesels, giving it a cruising speed of 18 knots. Registered to a Panamanian company named Flexi Freight, it too was a tramp steamer picking up and delivering cargos across the Caribbean. It was licensed to carry a maximum of four passengers. The crew consisted of a captain, chief engineer, and five hands.
Brookes did his arithmetic. A sea knot equalled a distance of 1.85 kilometres. If the ship cruised at 18 knots that meant it travelled at 33k’s per hour. It would take it about 65 hours to complete the 2,100k’s from Martinique to Grand Cayman if it went direct. Leaving La Trinite at midnight two nights ago, it couldn’t arrive at Grand Cayman until five that afternoon at the earliest. He heaved a sigh of relief. Leaving by air at dawn, they would arrive before it.
*
The Dassault Falcon twin turbo jet touched down at Owen Roberts International Airport on the island of Grand
Cayman at 11am. The flight had been a smooth one and Brookes and his team were able to relax on the four hour journey. The fact that such expense had been lavished on their mission underlined the importance placed on it by the British government.
As a customs official checked their passports, a huge bear of a man stepped forward. His muscular figure was clothed in a tropical police uniform; on his dark face was a beaming smile. He introduced himself as Inspector Chester Holmes of the Royal Cayman Police.
Brookes returned his smile, shook his hand, and made the introductions.
Holmes whisked them off to collect their waiting luggage and led them out through the terminal building. Thanks to Holmes’ uniformed presence, they got a lot of curious glances. A white Land Rover with police markings was parked in the no waiting zone outside. A uniformed constable in attendance threw them a smart salute then put their cases in the rear of the vehicle.
As soon as they were seated in the vehicle, Brookes said, ‘Inspector, it’s kind of you to roll out the red carpet, but it’s not necessary.’
‘Call me Chester, please, sir.’
‘OK, Chester, I’d rather keep our presence here quiet just in case the man we’re after has friends here. We’d rather he didn’t know there is a welcome committee waiting for him.’
‘Don’t worry, he’s not from the island and all the people here are my friends.’ He spoke with confidence that Brookes didn’t share.
‘Just the same, we don’t want a fuss. We are not the only people searching for him; there are some nasty ones too.’
Holmes frowned. ‘Who exactly?’
Brookes gave him a hard look. ‘A London gang of criminals who want him dead.’
‘Really? My briefing didn’t include this information. But don’t worry, foreign criminals have no influence here.’
‘How much have you been told about the man we are looking for?’
‘That he murdered a young woman in London.’
‘That’s true, but it’s why he killed her that is the important thing here. We believe he may have information that will help us bring down the leader of this gang and he’s very rich. We’re sure that this man will try to have him killed first.’
Holmes licked his lips. ‘I see; I will get my people on to this.’
‘Are there many foreigners here on the island?’
‘No, very few. Foreigners need a permit to work here and they are carefully controlled; even those from England.’
‘What about tourists?’
‘There are lots of those of course but don’t worry, the islanders are mostly honest folk and have no truck with criminals. Why is your fugitive coming here?’
‘We think to visit one of the banks.’
‘May I ask which bank, sir?’
Brookes told him and he smiled. ‘I know the bank, I have an aunt that works there as a teller. We must talk, but here is your hotel.’
Looking up, Brookes saw the building, surrounded by palm trees and tropical plants. ‘Wow, that’s some hotel.’
‘Yes, my instructions were to make you comfortable. Please book in, then we can talk about how we will catch this man.’
Brookes found a package waiting at reception. The envelope it was contained in bore the impressive stamp of the governor’s office.
He didn’t open it until he was in his room. It contained a map of Grand Cayman, a fax from Aitcheson, and a compliment slip from the first secretary at Government House. There was a hand-written note on the slip that said:
“A Mr Clark from the governor’s office will contact you.” The signature that followed was illegible.
The fax read: “SS Bella Marie 500 kilometres east of Grand Cayman, steaming your way. ETA 1am local time at current speed. Local police at your disposal. Good luck.”
Taking the map with him, he returned to reception, where Holmes was waiting for him.
‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ Brookes asked.
Holmes led him out onto a terrace overlooking the beach. He beckoned a hovering waiter and ordered iced coffees.
Then he turned to Brookes. ‘How would you like this handled, sir?’
‘As quietly as possible. The ship he’s believed to be on will probably arrive some time tonight. How many harbours are there on the island?’
‘For big ships? Only the one here at Georgetown. We are surrounded by dangerous reefs.’
Brookes frowned. ‘And if he didn’t want to be seen arriving, is there anywhere else he could come ashore?’
‘It’s possible but dangerous; there are so many rocks, some below the surface.’
‘What about at night, could he come ashore then?’
Holmes shook his head. ‘Only in a calm sea and if the people are familiar with these waters; it is very dangerous.’
Brookes scratched his head. ‘The moment he lands he may well be in danger anyway; it’s imperative that we get to him first. If it were you, where would you come ashore?’
Holmes thought for a moment then said, ‘Half Moon Bay, maybe.’
‘Show me on the map.’ He spread the one he’d brought on the table.
Holmes pointed to a spot on the south coast, towards the eastern end of the island. ‘Whilst the rocks are charted, they are still difficult to find. East End lighthouse is just up the coast from there and a good landmark; many smugglers use the spot.’
‘How far is that from here?’
’Eight or ten miles; no more.’
‘Is there anywhere else?’
‘Not on the south coast. He could come into North Sound but there are few places to land and the bay is well-populated; people would notice.’
Brookes nodded. ‘We should get some warning on the ship’s approach to the island; that should tell us if it goes north or south. How many men do you have at your disposal, Chester?’
‘A dozen.’
‘Are they armed?’
‘They will have rifles and revolvers, yes, sir.’
‘Good, you must have them standing by from midnight, tonight. How will I contact you?’
Holmes handed him a business card. ‘My mobile phone number is on here but I will return here at midnight and stay with you until we catch him.’
Brookes smiled. ‘It could be a long night. I think I shall try to get a few hours sleep after lunch. Will you join us for lunch?’
‘No, sir, I’d better go and get things organised.’
Brookes and his two sergeants sat down for lunch. As they ate, he brought them up to date with events.
When they’d finished eating, he said, ‘I think we‘ll have a busy night tonight so you had better get some sleep.’
Going to his room, he lay on his bed reading a leaflet about the history of the Cayman Islands.
He read: “The Cayman Islands are at the western end of the Greater Antilles, the whole chain created by volcanic activity in the distant past. There are dozens of small islands, some above the surface, and some just below, making the waters surrounding them hazardous to shipping. The three main islands are Grand Cayman (on which they were), Cayman Brac, and Little Cayman. The name ‘Cayman’ is the old Carib word for crocodile, which abound on the islands. The beaches are also an important breeding ground for turtles.
“The population of around 47,000 live tax-free thanks to George III. He is said to have granted this freedom as a reward to the islanders for saving his cousin from a shipwreck on the dangerous rocks off Grand Cayman. For many years, the islands were a refuge for pirates and buccaneers. Some were privateers, given licence by their countries of origin to plunder merchant vessels flying enemy flags. Sir Henry Morgan is said to have visited the islands on several occasions.
“More recently, the tax haven has become the base for some six hundred banks and trust companies. The Caymans were once administered from Jamaica, but when that country obtained its independence, the Caymans chose to remain British. The income from banking and tourism provides employment and security for an otherwise impoverished people and they
remain fiercely loyal to the British flag. Those not so employed work in the tourist industry. A few more fish and grow tropical vegetables and fruit that they obtain good prices for from the restaurants and hotels that cater for the rich tourists.
“There is little crime on the islands and the people have a better standard of living than most of their neighbours. A governor and small garrison of soldiers remain as a reminder of the colony’s links with the UK.”
Having read thus far, Brookes dozed off.
He was awakened some time later by a knocking on the door to his room. It was Holmes; his face bore a worried look instead of his usual smile. Brookes invited him in.
As soon as the door was closed behind him, the islander said, ‘There is a complication, sir. A white man and three Jamaicans arrived this afternoon on the shuttle from Kingston. They say they are tourists but they were met by another Jamaican who lives here. This man runs a nightclub but we think he may be involved in smuggling; his work permit is under review. They were followed to a bar by one of my plainclothes men. He overheard them asking questions about other visitors.’
Brookes nodded grimly. ‘As I thought; they are here to kill Fleming.’
‘I could arrest them, sir.’
‘On what charge?’
Holmes smiled. ‘I’m sure I could find something, sir.’
‘I understand your legal system is similar to ours?’
‘It is based on your system, yes.’
‘Then they would be out on bail as soon as their lawyer could get to a judge. That would achieve nothing except alerting them to the fact we know they are here. Besides, there may be more of them. No, put a watch on them; that way we will know if they make a move.’
*
The rest of the afternoon passed slowly. No more news came through. At seven that evening, Brookes went to the dining room with Middlemiss and Rose. As they ate, he gave them the news that Holmes had brought.
Rose said, ‘What will the Jamaicans do, sir; surely they won’t attack armed police?’
‘Don’t be naive, Jacqui. With all that money at stake, they’ll try something.’