Secret Cargo

by John Day

  How the hell was he going to save his company and all the souls who depended on him?

  The evil thought surfaced again and he fought it back.

  Was there a chance the U-159 could be raised?

  He reached for his phone and dialled Charles Henshaw. The man’s typist, who had been left to run the office on her own, answered.

  “Is Charles there, it’s Alan Patterson here. I want to persue the matter I was discussing with him just over two weeks ago.”

  “Oh, I remember you. He mentioned your interest, but he is at sea on a sonar survey at the moment, you can reach him by satellite phone if you wish. Do you want the number?”

  “Yes please. Do you know what region he is in?”

  “All I am at liberty to say is it’s in the Caribbean somewhere. Here is his number…” She read out the Iridium number and concluded the call.

  It was not often that Alan Patterson lost his temper, but he shook with rage. It was a full minute before he had calmed down enough to realise his flight was boarding and he needed to run to the departure lounge, smartish.

  As he jogged along he reasoned, Henshaw could quite easily have a contract in that area, nothing to do with U-159, but his gut told him differently. The unscrupulous man was probably going to raise her for himself. Then he had another thought, Benny! That little shit Benny was probably out there with him.

  Only one way to find out, phone him.

  By the time he got seated on the plane, it left little time before take-off for a conversation, but he called Benny anyway. The man had switched his phone off or was out of range. Of course, there might be a perfectly innocent reason for this, but for Alan, it confirmed his worst fears. Benny the rat was on-board with Charles Henshaw, trawling their sonar gear over the U-159’s resting place.

  Alan tried again several times during the flight, each time with the same result. The fury of betrayal raged within him as the thought hit home. His financial salvation was being stolen from him.

  Depressed to the point of using the revolver on himself again, he avoided his office and went straight to his plush apartment. He was in no mood to spend time with his latest lady friend, nor did he want to waste the money. After the wining and dining came the sex. In his state of mind, this expectation was little more than paying for sex. He looked for more in a woman, but so far, he had never found it.

  It was just past midnight when he jerked awake. His mobile was ringing a familiar tone, it was the two timing, double dealing Benny the rat Markowitz catching up.

  Trying to hide his disgust for the toad, Alan forced his friendly voice. “Hi Benny, what’s up?”

  The surprised, quavering whine of the man’s voice grazed Alan’s nerves. “Oh! So, you are awake, I thought you might be asleep.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, Benny. As it happens, I had to get up to answer the phone and find out who could be so unreasonable as to call this time of night.” The sarcastic rebuke was lost on the Russian.

  Unperturbed, Benny carried on with the purpose of his call. “I see you have been trying to call me many times today, what can you do for me?” The short, shrill nasally pant of a laugh revealed to Alan the man was nervous, and trying to hide it with his own brand of humour.

  “I was hoping we might carry out a sonar survey of the U-159 site, what do you think?”

  “I didn’t hear back from you, so I got another partner to finance the search.”

  Alan was gutted at the news, like a superseded lover after a one-night stand, but Benny was right, he had failed to keep in touch.

  “That is why I was calling you Benny, I have decided to take it to the next level. A lot has happened in my life since we last spoke in Berlin.”

  “I realise that Alan, and please accept my condolences for the loss of your parents. I understand you missed out on the inheritance as well. That might have eased some of your business concerns. Still, you saved your money, because the submarine is not there.”

  Alan was stunned at the information the researcher had on him, to the extent that not finding the sub hardly registered. “Why are you prying into my affairs?” Benny sensed Alan was quite annoyed.

  “To be a good researcher, all these bits of information are needed. I had to know what was going on in your life to gauge if you would go forward with the project. I concluded you wouldn’t and planned accordingly. I preferred to deal with you, but I have to eat, so I used someone else.”

  Alan calmed down. He was not fooled though. Benny would use the first client who was prepared to throw money at the project. “Well, thanks for letting me know. Do you have anything else for me?

  “I need some hefty finance to set me right for the end of the year.”

  Benny hesitated for a moment. He was quite happy to divulge confidences if Alan would find out anyway, but it might sour relations at the moment, if he were to reveal who he had just been working with.

  “If anything comes to mind Alan, I will call you.”

  Alan’s hopes were dashed, it was obvious that Benny didn’t want to look elsewhere for the wreck, with him.

  “I had best leave you to go back to your dreams Alan, sorry the hunt has come to nothing.” Benny ended the call.

  Inspiration.

  Wide awake now, Alan turned on the television for company. There was nothing more sleep inducing than the Clinton v Trump race for presidency on CNN.

  The big question on his mind was, if the sub is not where it should be, then where is it?

  He sat at the table with his Dell laptop, looking at a series of Wikipedia photos taken by the plane that claimed to have destroyed the U-159.

  The two homing torpedoes dropped from the plane, exploded near the conning tower, in a cloud of spray. Every torpedo strike he had ever seen, showed a huge wall of spray, a sheet of flame and flying metal.

  Admittedly the photo was low definition and black and white, but it was the most pathetic explosion he had ever seen. More like the spray from a depth charge that missed.

  “That’s it!” Exclaimed Alan. “The photo has been taken at face value. The torpedo was expected to explode as it drove through the steel hull.

  “What if it had exploded before hitting the sub?”

  Alan continued to analyse the events that might have happened. Obviously wild speculation, but he clung to this glimmer of hope like a drowning man to a straw.

  The sub would already have started to dive, the instant the plane was heard, several miles away.

  For some reason, it had been caught on the surface.

  Why would that be?

  It was fitted with a snorkel, so surfacing during daylight was not routine. Perhaps there had been a fire or mechanical failure that forced it up for repair.

  Whatever the reason, the deck guns would have been manned. They would have fired at the plane and perhaps, when the torpedoes dropped and could be seen racing just below the surface, they had fired at them.

  Alan researched all he could about the Mariner aircraft, its attack strategy and the torpedoes themselves. It seemed Mk 13 torpedoes were plagued with depth stability issues. Only 30% seemed to be stable. Many either plunged to 50 metres after dropping from the aircraft, and stayed there or like a porpoise, dived into and out of the sea or skimmed the surface. It is conceivable they got lucky and the torpedoes, fitted with Mk 8 contact exploders, detonated before hitting the hull.

  Alan put himself in the place of the gunners on U-159. They would see the straight white parallel traces of death heading directly towards them, right down their gun barrels. In fact, it would have been easier to hit the torpedoes than the plane flying over, at that moment.

  The gunners might have pumped their shells into the path of the torpedoes and they just ran into them. Bang! Up they went.

  The moment the torpedoes dropped, the plane would have circled back around to check the damage. During the slow turn, the aircraft crew would be cheering excitedly at the successful strike. In less than a minute, the sub would have slipped beneath
the waves leaving a huge round area of foaming white water.

  He could imagine the captain ordering a release of oil, and debris, out through the torpedo tubes for the pilot’s benefit. Just like they do in the movies.

  The plane would not have circle for long, it was quite badly damaged by gunfire, according to aircrew reports. Convinced they had sunk U-159, they would have flown off. After all, the photo was their proof.

  Alan researched further on Wikipedia. The black and white photos and sketches from the aircrew confirmed the course the sub had followed as the plane attacked, and the position of each photo. According to the aircrew, the sub turned hard to port and then starboard, as it continued to dive.

  Alan was jubilant as he exclaimed, “The bugger got away!”

  Alan felt very positive, he started to tremble with excitement at the new prospect and poured himself a drink. With glass in hand, he swirled the amber contents, thoughtfully listening to the clink of the ice against the glass, as it glistened in the subdued light of his room.

  The idea of the submarine limping on to Caracas or some deserted cove along the South American coast raised umpteen possibilities.

  In his distracted state, he nearly missed the practically pointless snippet of news from CNN as he knocked the stimulant back. It just caught his attention and he asked himself the question. Why would a South American native speak fluent German?

  It had to be a sign from God. Could the sub have reached the continent?

  Could the treasure have been unloaded and as the U-159 returned to battle, it sank?

  Why were no radio messages received by Germany after the attack? Possibly the transmitter was damaged or the antenna destroyed in the blast. Who knows?

  Trump or not, there was no way he could get back to sleep now, so he carefully laid his plans.

  ***

  At mid-day, allowing for their time difference, he phoned Sarah. She was delighted to hear Alan’s warm and excited voice.

  “Hi Sarah, I know this is absolutely crazy, but would you drop everything and come to Caracas with me?”

  “Why? What has happened? What do you need me for? Yes, of course I would. Anything to be with you. Ah! I mean, to get away from this mountain of paperwork.”

  Alan gabbled on. “Something exciting has come to my attention and I really need you with me.”

  She had commitments and the pressure was upon her to keep her father’s affairs in meticulous order, just as he always did.

  To hell with it. She could spare a week, now she had given up her job. Her father’s assistant had agreed to work full time for her, so he could manage well enough. To be anywhere with her stepbrother, was fine by her.

  “Yes, I would love it. Why are we going?” She didn’t care why, but it was natural to know the reason. Someone was bound to ask her.

  “I am trying to solve the mystery of a wrecked submarine. I know it sounds totally insane, but it’s going to be fun. I just know it. It means so much to me to have you along. Our lives seem to be drifting apart, and I miss you.”

  Tears of deep emotion welled in her eyes. Nothing on this earth would stop her going now.

  “Where should we meet?” She had visions of meeting him in Caracas.

  “I am coming straight back to London and we can sort out the arrangements from there. We’re going off on this adventure, together.”

  The conversation then digressed to updates on her situation and how she had made great progress since he left. She was not hinting that he had been a hindrance, more that she had knuckled down and now it was all falling into place.

  Outside in the New York street, just below Alan’s apartment, Walter Norris appeared to be servicing a junction box on the wall. Dressed as a phone company repairman, he had been eavesdropping on Alan’s conversations. He replaced the SD card in the recording device with a blank one, replaced the cover plate to the junction box and left to report to Ms Ellen Fox.

  Ellen sipped her black coffee, in the lounge of the Hilton, New York as Walter Norris reported Patterson’s intentions to take his stepsister with him to Caracas.

  She seethed inwardly, but smothered it with her air of cultured, genteel refinement. Right now, Ellen’s voice was not the soft purr she reserved to impress company, but sharp and rapid.

  “Alan Patterson is up to something, he has probably discovered some sort of clue to the resting place of the wreck. Of all the places to go in the world, he chooses a part of South America that is closest to the recorded sinking.

  “Perhaps Benny has fooled us and is still working with Patterson. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is keeping us on a string, in case he needs our money to recover the submarine.

  “We have to go to Caracas, Walter, and keep an eye on Patterson and his sister.”

  Walter nodded his agreement; as he saw it, it was a foregone conclusion.

  Like an angry mother chastising her child, Ellen added, “In the meantime, I am going to have a frank conversation with Benny.

  “I would raise the sub myself, if I could, but even if I managed that, I would need his contacts to fence the cargo.” Walter knew that too.

  She slipped out her phone and called Benny, making no attempt to hide her anger.

  “Benny, are you deliberately trying to upset Walter?

  “I understand that Alan Patterson and his sister are on route to Caracas. They plan to find the U-159 thereabouts.”

  There was a pause of genuine surprise from Benny as he considered the ramifications of what she said.

  “I can assure you that I was not aware of this. May I suggest we meet up in Caracas and see what is going on. I don’t like the idea of them going it alone. I have put a great deal of effort into this project and it isn’t going to slip through my fingers. Sorry Ellen, our fingers.”

  Ellen seemed satisfied with his response. Not so much what he said, but how it came out. “Walter will find out where the Pattersons are staying and I will get back to you with a place to meet up.”

  Benny was relieved she still held Walter’s leash. “I await your call Ellen, thank you for keeping me informed.”

  Benny propped his chin on clenched hands, he was mystified as to how Patterson managed to locate U-159 near Caracas. The only explanation he could come up with was the sub hadn’t been destroyed. It must have limped to the nearest mainland. However, it didn’t explain how Alan knew where it had ended up.

  The way Ellen pounced on him, she probably wanted an excuse for Walter to slap him again, just to keep him in line. However, he quickly rejected the idea, because they needed him to convert the valuables into something more transportable and anonymous, like diamonds.

  In frustration, Benny picked up his phone. “Hi Alan, where are you at the moment?”

  “Hi Benny, my sister and I decided to take a trip to Columbia and we have stopped off at Caracas. Why, do you have any news on the sub?”

  Benny was thrown by the reply. He didn’t expect Alan to reveal where he was, if he had planned to find the sub. Honesty was not something the Russian was familiar with.

  The reason for being there was also quite reasonable, why not go to Caracas for a holiday? No, Alan must have mentioned the sub to his stepsister, that is the only reason they would go there.

  How should he reply? “What an extraordinary coincidence. I’m meeting two friends there, actually. Perhaps we could all meet up?”

  “That would be wonderful Benny. Sarah and I would love that. Call me when you get there and we will try and get together.”

  None of this was making any sense to Benny’s devious mind. Patterson had the perfect opportunity to excuse himself from meeting up. Why would the businessman risk giving something away in social conversation, over drinks?

  Why would Patterson give Benny the opportunity to follow him to the wreck?

  “Goodbye Alan, I will be in touch.” Was all he could say.

  Cat & Mouse.

  It occurred to Alan that he would be heading into ‘Mr Mendez’ territory. He
was not concerned for himself, but Sarah might become a target for the evil man. Although it made no sense for Mendez to have had anything to do with their parents’ death, he hadn’t ruled it out. The police had made it clear, it was no normal traffic accident that killed the old couple. The detective working on the case still hadn’t any suspect in the frame for the attack and he suggested it might even be the result of a mistaken identity.

  To be on the safe side, Alan contacted BGS Agency, a company in Caracas who offered bodyguard services.

  “Hello Mr Armstrong, my name is Alan Patterson. My sister and I are visiting Caracas on holiday and have good reason to need your body guard services. Would you be interested?”

  “Thank you for enquiring Mr Patterson, you will be in safe hands with us. I am the head of the agency and personal protection is our line of business. I presume you realise the service is customised to our client’s particular needs, and that will affect the fees we charge. Perhaps you could tell me why you think you need our protection.”

  “You are probably familiar with a Venezuelan gangster known as Mr Mendez who masquerades as a wealthy business man.”

  “Ah!” Mr Armstrong sounded guarded and thoughtfully phrased his reply.” If you are on the wrong side of him, you will not be safe anywhere. If you can afford it, we can protect you. Have no concerns about that. We have thwarted his activities on many occasions.”

  “That sounds just the sort of protection my sister and I need. I will ask my Financial Director to contact you for the billing and will email you with my contact details. I expect you will have lots of questions and we can answer them that way.

  “Oh! I don’t want my sister to be aware of the need for protection, it will cause her great anxiety. We have suffered the recent loss of our parents, so emotions are rather fragile at the moment.

  “Here is my email address…”

  “Thank you, Mr Patterson. I will send you photos of my agents as well, so if you spot someone following you, you will be sure it is only them.

  “Rest assured, we have a different way of dealing with things in this country than other islands and continents.” Alan’s British accent tinged with American and a US mobile number on Armstrong’s phone display gave him useful clues about his new client.