The Killing Moon

by Michael Robinson

  It wasn't long before Rob reached the Ethiopian border. He wasn't sure what checks would be done here. By all accounts, it was a poor part of the world. Rob took a $100 bill out of his wallet and as he approached the checkpoint, prepared to pay handsomely to be let in to Ethiopia, leaving Somalia behind. He doubted very much, in this part of the world, that the border would have an ethical conscience.

  Just as he suspected, the border guard was more than happy to take the $100 bill and almost rushed Rob into the country. Soon, Rob had found a cheap and nasty hotel. He pulled into the basic car park, then picked up the sleepy little girl. He looked around him to see if anyone saw him, then he made his way up to the room. Placing the little girl into the single bed, Rob then laid on the floor. Absolutely shattered, Rob fell asleep within a minute.

  Chapter Eighty-two

  Rob woke with a start. It was daylight outside and his mouth was dry. Although he had slept, it still took him a minute or two to realise where he was and what he was doing. He looked across to the bed, but Amelia was gone. Then, within a second, he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom and the door opened and Amelia came in. Rob was relieved beyond words.

  The little girl looked up to him and smiled. "You snore! You woke me up! My daddy doesn't snore as much as you do!"

  Rob smiled and said, "I'm sorry, Amelia, I was very tired last night. Now just sit on the bed because I need to tell you something."

  Amelia did as she was told immediately, at the same time, she picked up her teddy bear and listened to what Rob had to say. Rob did not want to remind her of what she had been through so got straight to the point. "Amelia, it's very important, you listen to what I tell you, and it's really, really important that you do what I tell you to do, because I don't want any bad things to happen to us."

  "Okay," replied the little girl.

  "Also, we've got a very long way to go before we get home. It may take us a lot of days, and it might be a bit scary now and again, but if you do as I tell you, you'll be back home with your mummy and daddy before you know it."

  "Will Mummy be coming to meet us?"

  "I have to get you back into Britain first, and then I'll get you to your mummy as quick as I can, but I want you to promise me, like you promised me at the house, that you will not walk off or go anywhere without me."

  "What, even to the bathroom?"

  "No, you can go to the bathroom, but I'll have to be very close by when you do, but you must promise me that you will not go anywhere or walk off without me."

  "Okay, I promise."

  "Okay then, Amelia, give me a few minutes, and then we'll get going."

  Rob quickly freshened up in the bathroom. With all the stress he'd been through, he did not know whether to take more of his medication early. He checked the box and only two of the syphons had not broken. That would last him about six to eight weeks. Again, Rob toyed with the idea of giving himself another injection, but in truth, he did not know how long it would take him to get out of Africa and into the Med. So for the time being, the medication could wait.

  The sun was baking hot as Rob and Amelia left the hotel. Rob looked at Abass's phone. The nearest city to their location was Raaso. Rob would make his way there and see if he could bribe a pilot to take him to either Egypt or Libya.

  Chapter Eighty-three

  DI Denman had received little in the way of commendation for her actions in Edinburgh, in fact, after ten years in the police force, it was the biggest bollocking she cared to remember. Not even during police training had she received such chastising. The way her superior talked to her, she assumed it would not be long before she was taken off the Beaumont case. This made her want to continue even more. The hierarchy of the police could kick her out of the force if they wanted, but she needed to get this last case closed. She had dealt with many cases in her career, some were horrific, however this case in particular stuck in her throat, because it was not resolved.

  The hierarchy were more concerned because Denman had not followed protocol, but the way the DI saw it, she had a gut feeling and more than this, she knew she was right. In the cop movies, they called it a hunch, but this was more than a hunch. She did what she had to do, and she would do it again given the circumstances. Damn the consequences.

  As she sat at her desk, she noticed how some of her colleagues refused to engage with her, almost giving her the cold shoulder. She had no doubt the gossip would be all over the office floor when her back was turned. 'Fuck the lot of them,' she thought to herself. 'I did the right thing'. Just then, the phone rang. It was a relief from the disassociation from her colleagues.

  "DI Denman, Met Police."

  "This is Margaret Bernard, the Chief Constable's Secretary, can you come up to my office right away, the Chief Constable wants to see you immediately."

  The DI replaced the receiver, picked up her handbag and headed to the door for what she thought was her execution. As she was summoned, all she could assume, was that she had been sacked from the force. As she took the lift to the top floor, every scenario was going through her mind, should she tell the Chief Constable to shove his job up his arse, and that he was a jumped-up, stuck-up, pompous little bastard anyway. In honesty, that's how she felt. Diplomatically, should she take another route? Should she beg to be kept on, at least until the case was resolved. How would she word that without losing her dignity?

  A mixture of emotions ran through Denman's body as she knocked on the secretary's door. A polite, "Come in," was the response, and she turned the handle to see Margaret Bernard, the Chief Constable's secretary. Almost smiling, Bernard simply said, "DI Denman, go straight in, he's waiting for you."

  Chapter Eighty-four

  Denman did as she was told, lightly knocking on the door before she entered the room. It was a similar set up with the Chief Constable in Edinburgh. The usual memorabilia were scattered across the office. Pictures of the chief shaking hands with royalty, the usual pictures of the 2.4 children obvious on the shelves. However, on this occasion, the chief had another visitor, he was a tall man in a dark suit, probably early fifties.

  The chief looked at Denman and almost smiled. "DI Denman, take a seat, and before we begin, I need you to sign this document."

  This took her aback. "What is it I'm signing, sir?"

  It was the third man in the room who answered. "It's an updated version of the Official Secrets Act. What you're about to be told cannot leave this room," there was a pause, and then he reiterated, "Ever."

  "I don't mean to be rude, sir, but who are you?"

  The Chief replied, "Denman, you're in enough shit as it is, sign the document, and sit down." The Chief's tack had definitely changed.

  Denman signed the document and then handed it to the Chief Constable. Just at that moment, the third man picked up the document, shook the Chief Constable's hand, and headed for the door.

  "We'll catch up soon, Walter," were his parting words, and then he took Denman by the hand. His grip was firm, but cold. "DI Denman, good luck with the rest of your career." The third man then closed the door behind him, and was gone.

  "His name's Campbell," said the Chief Constable. "He's a senior officer in Five."

  "Five?" questioned Denman. "As in, MI5?"

  "I've gotta be honest with you DI, you were right on the money to let Foster go, and as it happens, it's not only helped a situation develop, this could also forward your career."

  "Has Foster found the girl, sir?"

  "He's done more than that. Not only has he freed the girl, but he also killed the people that took her. The intelligence we've received indicates Foster and the Beaumont girl are out of Somalia where she was taken to, and are heading north. Had you not let Foster go, there's a good chance the little girl would have been trafficked as a sex slave. Well done, DI. You went with your gut and the result is positive. However, I cannot reiterate to you enough that nobody knows about this information. The Home Secretary rang me personally today to make sure you understand, also, if al
l goes to plan, you'll be having a meeting with the Home Secretary to discuss further options."

  "Where's Foster now, sir?"

  "This is why nobody can know, we do not have a fixed location. What we do know, is the Beaumont girl is with Foster and we're assuming they're heading north. All Foster has to do now is get her into a safe country. Interpol will take it from there, and at the same time, we'll issue an arrest warrant for Foster."

  "With respect, sir, Charlotte Beaumont will have a nervous breakdown if I don't fill her in on developments."

  "This is a direct order, DI Denman. Nobody is to know anything. This includes Charlotte Beaumont, Johnathon Beaumont, any of your colleagues, and if you do not follow this order, you will be punished to the limit of the law. I do not need to remind you, that breaching the Official Secrets Act, can result in a lifetime in prison. Do you understand me, DI?"

  "I understand, sir, but what should I say should Charlotte Beaumont call me?"

  The Chief began to get annoyed. "Either don't take the calls, or tell her we're investigating."

  "Is that all, sir?"

  "For now, as soon as there's any change, I'll let you know."

  "Yes, sir," and the DI stood up, and headed for the door.

  As she entered the outer office, and closed the door on the Chief Constable's office, she whispered the word, "Bastard" under her breath. Then she looked to see Margaret Bernard had overheard her.

  Margaret smiled again and said, "He's like that sometimes when he's not had a coffee in the morning."

  Chapter Eighty-five

  Rob scanned the horizon of the Mediterranean taking in its beauty for all it was worth. He was on the coast of Egypt, a country which was at war with itself. He was less than fifty miles away from Libya. How he had managed to get here, surprised even Rob, but fortunately he and Amelia were still together and by all accounts Amelia was holding up very well. It was about five a.m. as he scanned the horizon and the sun was well and truly up and burning into the golden sands of the coast. Also, the sun beat down on all the other refugees which surrounded Rob and Amelia. There must have been fifty in total, mostly men, with about ten women and children.

  Rob stood out like a dot on a domino, as he was the only white person there. Fortunately, whilst in Raaso, Rob had managed to buy Amelia a burkha. She was tall for her age, and the burkha covered up the fact that she was white. To be fair to the little girl, other than saying a handful of times that she was really hot and thirsty, the Arab clothing had not bothered her in the slightest. Rob almost suggested to Amelia if she put the burkha on, it would make her invisible. Generally, the cover story worked, however this was a different set of circumstances.

  The gangsters Rob had paid to join the refugees in dangerous boats to cross the Mediterranean were ruthless, almost bloodthirsty, but by no means were they stupid. Nothing was said regarding Amelia, but looking in the eyes of one or two, it was obvious they wanted to see who was hiding under the veil.

  From a distance Rob could hear motor engines and it wasn't long before three shoddy looking motor vessels were approaching the shore. Rob doubted himself. He'd come so far, bribing a pilot to bring him and Amelia to the north of Egypt. In theory, he should have had enough US dollars to get him and Amelia home, but the pirates had taken the lot. Rob knew the score. Most of the time these gangsters would bribe refugees, promising a future in the west, only for them to be working as sex slaves in brothels across Europe, or the men used as drug runners, mainly for the Russian cartels. That was, of course, if they survived the journey across the Med.

  Rob looked at the sea. It looked dangerously calm, and the red sky above indicated that a storm was due soon. With no money and no alternative, Rob had zero option but to smuggle himself along with the rest of the refugees. Rob quietly cursed himself and under his breath said, "Fuckin' hell, I've come so far. Don't let it fuck up now. Amelia is counting on me."

  Just then, Rob heard the cocking of rifles. He held Amelia's hand and turned around. Every rifle was a Kalashnikov and five of the gangsters were aiming them straight at the refugees. This included Rob and Amelia.

  Chapter Eighty-six

  The leader of the gangsters began to shout in Arabic to all the refugees. Rob could not understand what he was saying, but it was obviously an order to get into the floating death traps that were approaching the shore. Slowly, everyone started to walk into the sea with the exception of one young Arab. He stopped and began walking up to the leader to protest. The leader said nothing, an iciness in his eyes, then nodded to his henchman on his right.

  Within a second, the Kalashnikov burst into life and at the same moment, all the crowd began running towards the boats. Nobody bothered to look behind to see the protester. His lifeless body at the end of its journey. Rob picked up Amelia and headed for the raft which looked to have the most stability. There wasn't much choice but at least this raft had spare fuel, or at least it had two fuel cans. There was no cover in the raft. There was nothing in the way of food or shelter. Rob hated to admit it, but he was starting to feel afraid that he and Amelia would be lost at sea.

  Soon, all three rafts were heading out towards the north. Rob did not know if his next destination would be Turkey, Malta or possibly even Italy, or whether or not his next destination would be a white shark's stomach. The further out to sea the raft travelled, the larger the swell. As the Mediterranean rose and fell like a fun park ride, Rob held Amelia. The raft was packed and it was not designed for fifteen people. More like three or four at the most. Rob whispered some insurance to Amelia. "Are you okay? Just a short trip across the sea and we'll be home."

  "Was there not enough room on the boat for the man that got shot?"

  Rob did not know the answer he should give, so instead he just responded, "Try not to worry about that now, it won't be long before we're back home, I promise."

  Amelia looked at him through the gap in her burkha. Her eyes were definitely like her mother's. It reminded Rob of why he was here. After all Charlotte Beaumont had done for Rob, he had to fulfil and complete this last mission. He knew full well, he could not live with himself if Amelia died. His own death didn't bother him, it was the business he was in. Just as he looked away from the little girl's glazing eyes, he noticed water beginning to seep in, albeit slowly, through the panels. Rob said nothing, but held the little girl that bit tighter.

  As he looked to the horizon, he noticed the waves getting bigger and bigger. It wasn't long before the storm came.

  Chapter Eighty-seven

  Captain Jack Middleton left Gibraltar two days earlier. The orders were to pick up a refugee boat, identify one of the refugees as Rob Foster, then as soon as the other refugees were dropped in Sicily, to make full speed back to Portsmouth. Jack Middleton was a confident but calm sailor. He never went along with the crowd, not that it was important, but it made him stand out as an officer.

  Middleton had the respect of all the sailors underneath him and he enjoyed his role as Captain of HMS Iron Duke. As he sat on the bridge, Middleton read the orders once more. They had a fixed location on Foster's position. However, the mobile phone signal was all they had to go on, and even that was getting weak. Foster was about one hundred miles north of Egypt, however, given the wind direction, the position seemed to be sliding north west. Foster was in international waters now.

  Middleton took his first officer aside and explained to him the scenario. Everything was top secret, but in honesty, that's how Jack Middleton liked it. The less people that knew, the less questions were asked later. All the crew were told it was a routine humanitarian mission to look for refugees. They would then be taken to a safe zone and await further instructions. Middleton could feel a smoke break coming on. Fifty-seven years of age, and it was the one vice that he enjoyed when at work.

  Jack was the captain of the Iron Duke, no one was going to tell him off for having a smoke. As he left the bridge, he headed for the outer deck, lit a cigarette and looked out at the sea. She was his mistr
ess. He estimated it would take two days to reach Foster. He thought to himself, 'This should be an easy job,' as he took another drag on his Benson and Hedges.

  Chapter Eighty-eight

  Rob had no idea how they had survived the storm. Every wave that crashed against the makeshift raft sent a shiver down Rob's spine. It was made worse due to the fact it was night. It would not have been so bad had the raft been seaworthy, but the fact was, it was only good for firewood. By now the storm had passed and Rob held Amelia for all she was worth.

  During the storm, the two other rafts had become separated and Rob was sure he could hear screams in the dead of night only a few hundred yards from his location. As to the whereabouts of the other raft, Rob had no idea. Everyone was scared, even the pilot looked like he was ready to get off as soon as he could. In reality, he was just as much a victim as the circumstances his masters had put him under.

  Rob took out Abass's phone from his pocket. Turning it on he could see the signal was weak, however he looked for an app which would tell him how far he was away from land.