by Ron Sewell
31
Eric checked the time. In less than two hours, his world had changed. With nothing happening, he telephoned George. She answered on the third ring. “I hear you’ve had trouble.”
“We fucked up big time, but survived. Can you arrange for an ambulance to collect one of our team when we arrive in Bastia?”
“What’s his problem?”
“First degree burns.”
“A private ambulance with a doctor will be on the jetty when you arrive. What’s your ETA?”
“One hour.”
George chuckled. “Is that a good guess?”
“No, we will be there in one hour.”
“I’ll text the details.”
“Thanks, George.”
“Eric, I'm reading a file with ‘Your Eyes Only,’ in big read letters on the front. Your team have the right to know. An armed force destroyed the American Queen.”
Eric allowed himself a chuckle before he became serious again. “What about survivors?”
“None found. I will arrange your flights home. In the meantime, relax for two or three days in a reasonable hotel.”
“Great idea. I could do with a proper bathroom that doesn’t bounce when I’m contemplating.”
“Too much information.” The line buzzed. ***
Linda peered across the bow of the boat as Cali came into view. Clouds concealed the morning sky while hungry gulls swooped and cried. In the safety of the harbour, boats of varying sizes bobbed and creaked as they tugged on their moorings.
The first officer pointed. “I suggest we tie up over there.”
She spotted the gap between two large motor launches. At a snail’s pace, she drifted towards the harbour wall. She glanced at the brass clock mounted next to the controls, eight forty-five. Already the ancient cobbled waterfront teemed with people shopping at the many stalls.
The second officer secured the bowline to the rungs of a barnacled metal ladder fixed in the old stonewall.
He held the boat tight to the ladder while Linda, and the others clambered to the top.
Aati Abad, the taller of the bombers, lunged and shoved the second officer. The other started the boat’s engine.
Blood oozed from his cut face as the second officer held onto the ladder.
From the jetty, Linda pulled the man clear as the skiboat powered astern. Seconds later the craft knifed through the flat water. She laughed as its sleek form raced towards the harbour exit. At high speed, its wash disturbed every other vessel.
“They won’t go far. The fuel gauge is bouncing on zero.”
The three men gathered their bags. “This is a great place. We will stay here for a week or two,” said the first officer.
“I’m off to catch a train and get a life,” said Linda. “Don’t suppose I’ll see you again. Goodbye.” She strolled away and melted into the hustle and bustle of the market. Fresh meat hung from hooks, its bloody stench combining with that of baked goods and cooking. Each stall overflowed with produce, vegetables spilled onto the cobbles. Stallholders hollered their special deals while customers and tourists haggled over prices.
Happy, Linda strolled towards the railway station. She smiled and tilted her face toward the shafts of sunlight breaking through the clouds. For the first time in her life she had someone waiting for her. She thought, Natalia, please be there.
***
In the cockpit of the ski-boat, Aati Abad braced himself as he steered. He set the power lever to maximum, and at high speed, the hull skimmed the sea.
Half a kilometre ahead, a waterlogged tree trunk floated beneath the surface.
At full power, the hull struck the log, soared into the air. Unbalanced the bow dipped and nosedived into the water. Gulls swooped screeching as one man bobbed to the surface.
Stunned, Aati Abad gathered his thoughts and swam towards the shore. He stopped and trod water as he checked the beach. It was empty. He continued swimming towards a section where the trees met the water’s edge. Once more, he stopped and checked the coastline for any movement. Exhausted, he crawled over the sand and for a minute or two let the pounding of his heart subside. Concealed by a mass of bushes he removed his clothes. These he draped over the foliage for the sun to dry. Hidden from view, he spent the next three hours sunbathing. When his clothes had dried, he dressed quickly. Ready to go, he moved through the trees and bushes until he found a road. He was lucky and managed to hitch a ride on the back of a lorry travelling south.
***
In the evening, Eric’s team sat on the hotel’s marble terrace warmed by gas heaters.
With a smile that covered his face, Eric sipped at a large brandy. “I’ve been talking to Fred. He thanks us for a clean operation with no foul-ups. Oh, he mentioned the American Queen sunk with no survivors.”
“Strange,” said Rono. “Nothing on the news.”
Eric repressed a chuckle. “Maybe I imagined the whole thing.”
Anna, dressed in new clothes and sporting an expensive shoulder bag, asked, “And Linda?”
He retorted. “As the man said, there were no survivors.”
Rono shook his head. “Our Linda aimed an RPG at us and missed. She’s not dead. It’s not her style. She’s a survivor.”
“If she’s still alive, we’ll not find out until she raises her head over the parapet.” Eric shrugged. “I’m hungry. I saw a trendy little bistro along the front. Any takers?”
“Are you paying?” asked Rono.
“These are on the firm.”
Anna stood. “Why are we still here?”
Round tables obscured the pavement outside the bistro. Inside was formal with white table clothes, and a crystal vase with fresh flowers on each table. The flagstone floors were spotless and added a certain charm to the room.
A young woman guided them to a table set for four. She beamed a welcoming smile as she handed out the menus. “May I take your drinks order while you decide what to eat?”
“Three bottles of Pietra, please,” said Eric.
“Is it any good?” asked Anna.
“Don’t know, but when in Rome.”
“Be back in a minute,” said Rono.
Anna turned to Eric. “Where do you think he’s going?”
“I would imagine he’s buying a packet of cigarettes.”
Anna grinned. “Have you ever seen him smoke?”
“It’s his way of not smoking but the packet’s his crutch.”
“I can live with that.”
Five minutes later Rono placed a packet of cigarettes with a new lighter on the table.
Eric and Anna glanced at each other, smiled but said nothing.
The waiter, a thin man with black curly hair stood behind Eric as he perused the menu. He turned his head and requested a fillet steak, well done with salad.
Anna ordered a tuna salad.
Rono asked for a large T-bone steak, burnt on the outside but blood-red in the centre. He requested a separate plate of French fries.
“That waiter acts like a penguin that's got a rotten pong under its nose,” said Anna as he left.
Eric grinned. “We didn’t dress for dinner.”
They sipped their beer, ordered three more and chatted until their food arrived.
“This is excellent,” said Eric.
“Anna nodded.
“At these prices I’m glad I’m not paying,” said Rono as he sliced a large chunk of meat from his steak.
As their plates emptied, the waiter approached. “When can I serve the coffee?”
Rono placed his steak knife and fork on the platter. He wiped his lips with the cotton napkin. “Another beer for me please.”
“Eric shook his head. I’m done, Anna?”
“One large brandy, please.” He sidled away.
Rono finished picking at his teeth. “I’m bored. Did Fred mention our next job?”
Eric stopped eating. “Not yet. Until he does, relax and enjoy life. I’m visiting Khaled tomorrow.”
“Wha
t time are you leaving?” asked Anna. “Tenish.”
“We’ll be coming with you,” said Rono.
***
Linda glanced up at a figure on a third floor balcony of the Hotel Des Governors, Bastia. Natalia was resting her arms on the concrete balustrade, staring out to sea. The breeze blew wisps of dark hair across her face. She wore a white shortsleeved blouse, which fluttered in the wind.
Linda stepped back a few metres and Natalia saw her. A large smile lit up her face. She waved and rushed into the room.
As Linda strolled into reception, Natalia, her eyes twinkling, was waiting. She flung her arms around her and cried. “When I read your letter I didn’t think you would come.”
“I asked you to be here, didn’t I?”
“Yes you did, but I had my doubts you’d survive.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
Linda placed her finger on Natalia’s lips. “How long do we have this room?”
“Two weeks and I paid in cash. Hand your passport to reception and tell them you’ll collect it later. I need you to myself.”
Hand in hand, they took the lift to the third floor. As the door to their room shut, Linda grabbed and kissed her full on the lips. “I’ve missed you but I stink and must have a shower. It’s been a long day.”
Natalia removed Linda’s clothes and caressed her body. “I’ll wash you from top to bottom.”
She scrubbed Linda’s back with a loofah sponge using it to tease and torment. After ten minutes, they lost interest in the shower and she dragged Linda back to the queen-sized bed.
“You’re my worst and best habit,” said Natalia.
“I can never explain why I’m attracted to one woman but not another. Life is for living and you do it for me. We have the bonus of having the rest of our lives to learn about each other.”
Natalia pressed her wet breasts against Linda, her hand stroking her face.
Entwined they fondled each other in every secret place. Time vanished as they sated their burning lust.
“Get dressed, I’ve found a great cafe. They have chocolate cakes to die for,” said Natalia.
Linda licked her lips. “I have a few great ideas on what to do with chocolate.”
Both women dressed in jeans and T-shirts. At reception, Linda collected her passport.
Holding hands, they wandered as lovers along the sea front.
32
A cool puff of air wafted through the doors leading to the balcony, lifting the net curtains. The design of the hotel took advantage of the gentle wind off the sea.
Naked, Linda and Natalia snuggled together on the huge bed.
Linda slipped off the bed and grasped the phone. “I’m ordering breakfast in our room. What do you fancy?”
“Sex but I’ll settle for six well-cooked sausages and half a dozen fresh brown rolls.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
Linda ordered her breakfast along with Natalia’s food and hung up the phone.
“I love you but know nothing about you,” said Natalia.
Linda stared at her and raised her voice, “I am what I am.”
Natalia slid off the bed and kissed her on the lips. “I told you I’ve had sex with men but I can’t say I enjoyed the experience. Sex with you is so much more. I become alive. Your love is something beautiful and meeting you has been like nothing I’ve ever known. I don't understand how you exist in this world yet you do.”
A knock on the door startled them. Linda grabbed a bathrobe. Natalia pulled the sheets over her naked body and feigned sleep.
The young girl blushed as she pushed a trolley laden with food, coffee and fresh orange juice into the room.
The girl recoiled when Linda stroked her face.
“I don’t bite.”
The girl held out her receipt pad. “Please sign, madam.”
Linda’s eyes twinkled but never left the girl’s face as she scrawled her signature on the pad.
The girl, her face red, fled the room.
“You frightened her,” said Natalia.
“One day she’ll alter her mind. I could see it in her eyes. Get out of bed; your sausages will be cold.”
“I love them cold.”
With full stomachs, they showered together. Five minutes elapsed before the pleasures of the flesh seized their minds.
This time Natalia took the lead. “On the floor.”
“I’ve never had sex on a bathroom floor.”
“Nor have I but there’s a first time for everything.”
Linda closed her eyes as Natalia tongue licked her hard nipples.
***
The refugee centre outside of Porto Vechia throbbed with new arrivals. At the far end, a group of young men sat in a circle inside an Oxfam supplied tent. Omar, a short stocky man with a handsome face turned to his audience. “The unbelievers call us terrorists. They are wrong, we are God's soldiers and with his help, we will win the fight. Today we will discuss the best methods to create mayhem in Europe.” His mobile rang. Annoyed at the interruption, he glanced at his expensive watch and sighed. “Who are you? Where did you get this number?”
“I am Aati Abad, but that is not important. My leader trusted an infidel woman. He paid her a large sum of money to steal a ship loaded with plutonium. She failed our God and aborted the mission but I escaped.”
“Where are you?”
“Outside the Porti tourist office.”
“Stay there and I will find you. Go buy a newspaper, fold it and clasp it in your left hand.”
“How long will you be?” “I will be there.”
***
Aati appeared calm and relaxed as he retrieved a newspaper from a bin. He found an empty bench and seated himself. His heart raced as he waited.
One-hour later three men, wearing black jeans, black T-shirts, and black jackets approached.
“You are Aati Abad?” asked one.
He nodded.
The man possessed dark grey eyes and a cutting stare. “I am Omar. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“I was on God’s mission but an infidel woman murdered our leader.”
“Come.”
In a back street Omar asked, “Who gave you instructions to contact me?”
“My leader in Iraq gave me the number. I was to call if there was a problem.”
“What is this problem?”
“Aati explained.”
“You should have stayed with the ship and become a martyr. To allow this infidel woman to control you and escape shames your family.”
“If I had gone against her, I’d be at the bottom of the sea. She is on this island and we have the time to kill her.”
“This woman, how can I find her?”
“I have her name and she’s in a hotel in Bastia with her whore.”
“Tell me the name.”
“Valerie Webster.”
“How do you know this?”
“I do not lie. I saw her passport.”
“We must find a safe place for you. Come.”
Aati followed Omar in silence. The other two men followed at a discreet distance.
Omar stopped and shoved open a large wooden gate. He waited until Aati and his men entered and pushed it shut.
“Where are we going?” asked Aati.
“Be patient, in time Allah will reveal his wisdom.” They entered a tunnel and after a few metres of feeling his way, Omar threw a switch. Floodlights lit the whole space. Scaffolding climbed the rough sandstone walls. The four men shielded their eyes from the glare.
“What is this place?” asked Aati.
Omar waved his hands in the air. “It’s the start of an underpass but the work stopped months ago. Follow me, there’s a workman’s hut you can sleep in until I can get you off the island.”
They entered a narrow passage. Omar stumbled and grabbed Aati for support. In his hand, he held a serrated, long-bladed knife.
Fear filled Aati’s
face.
Omar’s face grew solemn. “This saddens me to kill a son of our great God but it must be done. He angled and thrust the blade under Aati’s rib cage. The final thrust shoved it into the heart. The damaged muscles tried to beat one more time.
Aati stared at Omar as he spiralled to the ground. “Why?”
Omar withdrew the blade, lifted his victim’s head and slashed the throat. “Mohammed will now welcome you. God is with those who persevere.” He wiped the blade on Aati’s shirt and slid it into a leather sheath strapped to his right leg.
One of them gathered Aati’s bag and whistled. “Omar.”
“Keep moving, you fool.” He glanced in the bag. “I will take his money and use it to find this woman.” He turned off the lights as they left.
***
Back in the camp, the three men entered their tent. Omar clicked his fingers. A tall woman wearing a Burqa raised the tent flap. Omar lifted his head towards her. “Go find me a mobile.”
The woman reappeared a few minutes later with an Iphone. Omar took the phone and dismissed her with a wave of his right hand. From memory, he pressed the keys. He spoke for an age and after destroyed the phone. A smile formed on his lips. “I have the honour to kill this Valerie Webster. Yet, I must do this alone. While I am away, you will continue to recruit more soldiers to serve Allah. We need men of honour and women to service them. The people in this camp are sheep. I am their shepherd and will guide them to a great victory.”
***
The clock in the stone tower struck four in the morning when Omar rode his motorbike into Bastia. He parked in the town’s main car park. A bus shelter gave him a place to rest until daybreak.
As the sun lit the sky, he took his dummy TNT Express identity card and false passport from his rucksack. Five minutes later, he began his inquiry at the better hotels. For him the early morning was the best time as in most hotels the night porter still managed reception. At each hotel, he explained in English how he had a large package at the airport for a Valerie Webster. While in transit, rainwater had spoilt the address. Rather than tell his supervisor he had searched for the woman. When asked why, he said, “To keep my job,” and handed the night porter a hundred dollars.