Finding Linda

by Ron Sewell

  She pressed more keys. “Gotcha. Flights to Egypt and then on to London. She drew money from a hole in the wall and spent a few days in Barrow-inFurness. Now she’s in Gibraltar. If you require her terminated, she’s at the Rock Hotel. I recommend a stealth killing after the SAS fiasco in ninety-eight.”

  “I remember that shambles, but we need to understand what that woman is planning.” Eric rubbed his chin. “What does it mean? What’s of interest in Barrow?”

  “They build nuclear submarines in the shipyard but apart from that nothing else. I’ve heard it’s a twitcher’s heaven if you’re into birds.”

  “Check the area out. There must be a valid reason and it’s our job to find it.”

  Anna grasped her phone and pressed the buttons for Barrow-in-Furness police station.

  “Good morning. Barrow Police Station, Sergeant Hopkins.”

  “Good morning, Sergeant. My name is Anna White, MI6.” She gave him a number to ring. “I’ll call back in ten minutes.”

  Anna selected the biggest doughnut from the box and took a bite.

  “You’ll get fat eating those,” said George.

  “Do you fancy one?”

  “Only to boost your diet.”

  “Pass me one,” said Eric.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall and made the call. Before the person spoke. “Sergeant Hopkins, it’s Anna White. Is my authority confirmed?”

  “Yes, ma’m. What information do you require?”

  “How long have you been a copper?”

  “Twenty years.”

  “Twenty years in Barrow?”

  “Yes, ma’m.”

  “I gather you never took the inspector’s exam.”

  “Top of the class a long time ago but my next job shifted me to another part of the county. I like it here.”

  “I suppose not a lot happens.”

  The sergeant lifted his head at the sound of rain hitting the window. “I wouldn’t agree with you after the pub regulars’ fall out the doors on a Saturday night. Barrow is a glass half-empty place. The locals love a good moan. Go into any bar, and there will be young men mouthing off about this or that. They don’t suffer fools, and can smell insincerity a mile away.”

  “No real problems then?”

  “Greenpeace can be a pain in the arse but most times they’re not any bother. You get the odd loony who tries to climb the anchor chain.”

  “They can’t prevent the yard building submarines. Lose that amount of jobs and Barrow would be a ghost town.”

  “They never go near the shipyard. They are more interested in the boats carrying nuclear waste for processing.” Her eyebrows rose. “So you settled for a quiet life.” He chuckled. “With my wife and five kids is not what I call a quiet life.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant, you have been a great help.” “Can’t see how but I enjoyed talking to you. The usual highlight of my day is noting the details of a lost dog. Out of interest, what’s the weather doing where you are?”

  “It’s a glorious sunny day.”

  “You’re not in the UK then. It’s pissing down here.” “You might have made a brilliant inspector. Take care and thanks.” She replaced the receiver and stared out of the window towards the Atlantic.

  She reached for her keyboard and brought up Green Peace in Barrow-in-Furness. Google had a picture of Green Peace waving banners as two ships berthed in Barrow harbour. She wrote the names, Pacific Heron and Pacific Grebe.

  The information remained limited. Anna pressed the keys on the desk telephone and contacted her old boss. “Good morning, Denver.” answered a deep-voiced man.

  “Anna here. I need info.” “For you the world.” “I also believe the moon’s made of cream cheese. But thanks anyway. I need background info on the vessels that transport nuclear waste. Those based at Barrow-inFurness.” “Can you be more specific?”

  “Crew size? Passage routes for the next three months. I’m told they carry Special Forces but not how many? Communications equipment? Do they report daily, hourly?”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “I could be wrong but I believe someone will soon try to hijack one.”

  “I’ll advise the powers that be, at once. The full spec of those vessels will be on your desk tomorrow morning.” The line disconnected.

  ***

  Denver pressed a memory key on his telephone. It never completed the first ring.

  “Hawkins.”

  “Suggest threat level critical. Nuclear waste ships, Barrow-inFurness.”

  “Is this source kosher?”

  “One of mine.”

  “That’s good enough for me. Thanks for the tip. Any idea when?”

  “Not at this stage. Will keep you informed.” He placed the receiver in its cradle. “What the fuck has Anna got herself into this time?”

  ***

  Anna glanced at the last jam doughnut in the bag. Temptation won as she bit into it and chewed the thick dough, allowing jam to ooze through her fingers. Finished, she used a wet wipe to clean her hands and on her return stood next to Eric. “I believe Rono is right. Someone is soon to construct a nuclear bomb. Linda’s job is to steal the plutonium.”

  He glanced at Anna and smiled. “And after she becomes a liability.”

  “Right in one. They’re setting Linda up for a fall. Once she has taken over the vessel carrying plutonium, they’ll cast her adrift. We might catch her but they have the active part of a bomb. I suggest we stall the ship from leaving Tripoli.”

  There was a long silence before Eric answered. “I beg to differ. We can track this vessel. We can stop and search. My decision but I want Rono to be on that ship when it sails.”

  “It could be a one way trip.”

  He grimaced. “I’ll tell him the good news.”

  19

  Not having slept well had done little to unravel Rono ’s confused thoughts. He tumbled out of bed, stubbed his toe and swore. Because of his chosen career, he was close to few people. His mobile vibrated as it received a text. He read the message. Find a safe place and contact the office. Eric.

  He threw his clothes on and scurried to the dockside coffee house.

  The owner arrived carrying a steaming pot and a mug. “I brought you a mug instead of a cup. Better value for money.” He filled it to the brim. “On the house.”

  Rono nodded his thanks. He pressed the code on his mobile and then the office number.

  “Hi, Eric, and before you ask she’s gone.”

  “Our friend Linda’s in Gibraltar.”

  “I don’t believe I can get a direct flight from here. Might have to go via Tangiers.”

  “You can forget about her for the moment. Can you board that ship and hide?”

  “Not a hope in hell. Anyway, I don’t do boats.”

  “It’s not a boat, it’s a ship.”

  “Okay, I don’t do ships.”

  “I’m thinking you’re not for this.”

  “Give the man a prize.”

  “I am not asking and you don’t work in a democracy. Hide on that ship and our girl will come to you.”

  “Been great working with you, Eric. My ex-wife promised to dance on my grave. Please give her my blessing if she does. She can’t swim.”

  “Sarcasm does not suit you. Be careful.” The call ended.

  “Be careful he says and sends me on a suicide mission.” He drank the remaining half a mug of coffee, placed the money on the table, waved to the owner and strolled away.

  When he trudged into reception, the boy behind the desk handed him a message. He read the scrawl. I’llcollect you at seven.I promised you a meal. David. He climbed the stairs to his room and sat on the bed. With a sigh, he rolled back, placed his hands behind his head and shut his eyes.

  ***

  As he stood on the hotel steps, a gleaming black Mercedes taxi braked and halted. “Mr Rono?”

  “That’s what my mother called me.”

  “This is your taxi.”

  Before h
e secured the seat belt, the car roared away. Ten minutes later, it stopped outside a well-lit restaurant. “How much do I owe you?”

  The dark-eyed driver held out his hand.

  David shouted from the steps, “Pay him nothing. He’s a rogue.”

  Rono patted the driver on his shoulder. “Good try.” He trudged up the steps. “That’s my problem. I trust people until they give me a reason to change my mind.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Rono shook his head. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Rono’s gaze hardened. “Who are you? What’s your actual name?”

  Their eyes met. “Our meal is getting cold. I’m hungry and I like warm food. Let’s eat.”

  Together they ambled through a once impressive dining room. The Arab Spring and years of neglect had taken its toll. Their table was a perfect square of solid dark wood and stood alone on the terrace. Inside, he saw the once ornate wallpaper showed damage from gunfire. Rono gave a half smile; someone had fastened the spoilt sections with masking tape. On the walls hung dirty gilt-framed mirrors. Large and cracked terracotta flagstones covered the floor.

  David saw Rono’s face. “It’s private and we can talk. I’ve taken the liberty to order our meal. You may have something different if you wish.”

  “At home my food has five minutes in a microwave. My hotel serves bland meals. To eat a good meal is a pleasant change.”

  Their waiter served sea bream on a bed of rice with black beans. They sipped water from crystal glasses and ate in silence.

  “Your face has the deep folds of worry, my friend,” said David.

  “Things are a little complicated at the moment. My boss has ordered me onto that ship.”

  The next course comprised a breast of baked chicken in lemon and herbs.

  Rono placed his knife and fork together on the empty plate. “I hope they look after their chef as he’s worth his money. As I was saying, my boss wants to use me as bait to draw Linda out.”

  “You have a problem. I can place you on the ship but it’s an insane assignment. The moment they find you, you’re dead. What’s your background as regards boats?” “That fish I ate understood more about boats than I do.”

  “How big is your budget?”

  “I’m told it’s enough.”

  “We need to fuel a boat.”

  “Whose boat?”

  “Before the Arab Spring it belonged to Gaddifi’s number one son. I don’t think he has much use for it these days.”

  “You can’t steal a boat.”

  “Why not? If you board the American Queen, your head will be fish food in less than a day. We will follow at a distance and see what happens. And we’ll need a ton of food for my team.”

  “Eric will kill me.”

  “Don’t tell him.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “No time like the present. I’ll take you to your hotel; you can collect your bags, pay the bill, and tonight sleep in five star luxury. Hope I can recall how to start the damn thing.”

  David drove to the hotel where Rono checked out and returned to the waiting car.

  Driving fast, David headed west towards the port of Zuara.

  “Are you sure it’s still there?” asked Rono. “If it’s not, my guards will be dead. I left it in their safekeeping after my team enjoyed a scenic cruise from Sirte. My men are the best but most of all they have a quality money cannot buy, loyalty.”

  “You stole this boat?”

  “Borrowed. I’m sure you understand that Isis and government troops are fighting to the death in that locale. If this vessel had remained where it was, a stupid soldier would have set fire to it to keep warm. I repositioned a five million dollar craft.”

  “How much?”

  “Gaddafi never worried about spending a few million on his sons. We’re there. For the next couple of minutes please keep your mouth shut.”

  He drove his Mercedes towards the wire mesh gate, paused and lowered the driver’s window. The single guard ambled across and peered into the car. In perfect military style, he jumped to attention and saluted.

  Rono kept quiet but saw the respect of a man who understood its meaning.

  The guard nodded and pulled back the gate. Shielded by a warehouse a Sunseeker Twenty Eight’s white hull glistened in the moonlight. On the stern in bold black letters its name, Desert Wind

  “Your new home, built in Britain.” said David as he scanned the dock. “As I like it, passive.”

  Rono opened the car door, stood, stretched, breathed in the sea air and stared at the craft. The scream of gulls disturbed by their arrival filled the air and to his left waves crashed against the harbour wall. His eyes drifted to the vessel. It was superb, sleek, polished wood and fibreglass. The lounge was at main deck level, and under the flying bridge. A sweeping line of windows suggested many cabins. Natural wood trimmings glistened with varnish. A planked sun deck with brass lamps hung from the deck-head. The one visible connection with technology, two radar domes. “I assume you have a key.”

  “Have you ever driven one of these?”

  “Nope and I hate boats. Can you?”

  He frowned. “I stole it.”

  They strode across the narrow gangplank onto the main deck. David lifted a concealed flap, groped around until he found a rubber ball attached to a length of cord. A bunch of keys dangled from its end. He entered the lounge and from a wall bracket grabbed a torch. “Sleep in the first cabin on your left. For tonight, there’s no power. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find my crew. One or two of my team can handle this boat. I will also order provisions and fuel.”

  “Did I ever tell you I don’t like boats?”

  David raised his eyebrows. “Go to bed and sleep. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “Let’s get one thing clear. You are my problem and when that damned ship sails so do you with four or five of my men. I take risks for a living and so do you. You want this woman to disappear. That’s why they pay you.” He tossed the keys. “Lock the door when I’ve gone and good luck.” “Okay, I get the picture. Thanks.”

  “It’s a matter of convenience between professionals.” He strode onto the main deck and across the gangway. Rono shone the torch down a few steps to a narrow corridor. He gasped at the cabin’s interior. The main room was huge and reminded him of a palace. The bed was kingsized with pure white cotton sheets. Fastened to the far bulkhead a thirty-six-inch TV. A sprawling leather sofa stood at the end of the bed. On the far bulkhead, a door led to the bathroom and a power shower. The bath could if needed hold a football team with room to spare. Polished marble covered the walls and handmade tiles acted as splash backs. He shuddered at such extravagance. Never had he experienced such luxury. It made the best hotels in Mombasa cheap by comparison. He removed his shoes and tumbled onto the bed, switched off the torch and slept.

  ***

  Rono awoke to the sound of people prowling on the deck. For a minute, he gathered his thoughts until he saw an upside down face through his cabin window. The man gave the thumbs up and vanished.

  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he groped his way aft and unlocked the door to the sun deck.

  Five men dressed in white T-shirts, blue jeans and American navy style caps waited.

  One smiled, but it was hard to judge his age. He was over thirty and under fifty. His muscles bulged, like a man who could be a friend or a hard to beat enemy. “Mr Rono, I speak English well. My wife is from Liverpool. My associates watch plenty of movies and speak good American. We are your crew. I’m Khalid, your captain.”

  Rono nodded. Khalid was tall, dark-skinned, serious, and possessed the eyes of a careful man.

  With his hand on one man's shoulder, he pointed and made the introductions. “This is Abdullah, my assistant. Taruq, our engineer. Mohammed and Ibraham do everything. I’ve ordered the fuel and our food will soon
arrive. We will sail when I am told.”

  “Thank you for volunteering. My experience of boats is zero.”

  “We have plenty to do,” said Khaled.

  The morning disappeared in a flurry of activity. Khaled and his men loaded fuel, stores and a multitude of different weapons. Rono made use of his credit card to pay for the fuel and provisions with no problems.

  Late in the afternoon, the two MTU diesel engines roared into life.

  Khaled and Taruq were in deep conversation when Rono approached. “Problems?”

  Khaled laughed. “Taruq is in love with those engines. He tells me they will work forever. Mr Rono, I wish to take this vessel out of harbour to test the engines.”

  Rono nodded. “You’re the captain.”

  “But you are the boss.”

  “I’ll be on my bed changing colour.”

  “The sea is as smooth as a new born baby’s skin. This boat has stabilisers. You will not feel a thing.”

  ***

  Khaled and his team manoeuvred the Desert Wind off the dock wall and at three knots left the small harbour. With skill, he pointed the bow into the sea and in stages increased the power until they reached twenty-two knots. Abdullah set the autopilot. Both men stood, watched and checked the controls and instrumentation. The craft cruised at full power in a perfect straight line.

  Abdullah sat behind the wheel in the white leather helmsman’s seat staring ahead. Nothing appeared to bother him. He relied one hundred percent on the autopilot as they cruised at high speed away from the shore. Now and then, he punched a few buttons on the Global Positioning System to check their position.

  One hour later Desert Wind berthed alongside the jetty.

  Khaled strolled into Rono’s cabin where he found him flat out on the bed. “This boat is a dream. Everything works and you are still in the land of the living.”