Jaws of the Tiger

by Andre Baby

  “Unless of course he’s a shareholder of Mirolet.”

  Mills shot up from his seat. “I take offence to what you’re implying. The record shows that I haven’t spared any effort in trying to keep P & W afloat, notwithstanding these hard times. I helped secure the loan with Berkeley’s Trust. Mr. Hugh Walters will attest to that. I have always done my utmost to—”

  “Do you deny being a shareholder of Mirolet, directly or indirectly through corporations that you own or control?” asked Dulac.

  Toombs stepped up between Dulac and Mill’s desk. “You don’t have to answer that, Allister.”

  “I absolutely and unequivocally deny it,” said Mills. “I have nothing to hide.”

  “Good. Then you have nothing to worry about you, do you?” said Dulac. “Well, maybe there’s still that nasty bit about insider trading of course.” Dulac’s cell rang.

  “Dulac.”

  “I was expecting you back in Lyon.” Arlberg’s tone was adamant. “Where are you?”

  Dulac put a hand to the mouthpiece of the telephone. “Excuse me. Got to take this.” He rose and went to the doorway. “I’m at P & W’s offices with Toombs and Mills.”

  “Surely you haven’t mentioned what we discussed.”

  “No. Not specifically.”

  “Don’t. Dulac, this is way bigger than we thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m calling you from a public payphone. Gina has reason to believe our lines at HQ have been hacked. Her team is reconstructing firewalls as we speak. In the meantime MI-6 knows that we know about Hays’s phone. Is Wade with you?”

  “No. We agreed he would apply for wiretaps on P & W while I shake up Mills a little.”

  “From what I can see, you’ve done more than enough of that. By the way, do you trust Wade?”

  “Don’t know yet. So far, no reason not to.”

  “You’d best get back here. I’m worried you’ve worked yourself into a hornets’ nest.”

  “I can take care of myself. So what’s all the fuss about?”

  “I’ve had a call from Sir Terence Hays. He’s going to shut you down.”

  “Really? On what grounds?”

  “On the grounds that you’re going on a fishing expedition and interfering with the Yard’s investigation of Bolding’s murder. He instructed Wade to have nothing to do with you. You’re persona non-grata. He’s given Wade instructions to have you physically removed if you don’t leave England voluntarily by tomorrow morning.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “Listen, Dulac, I may not agree with him, but I have no say in the matter. After all, he is the Home Secretary.”

  “Bastard. So he’s feeling the heat. Just when I’ve gotten the ball rolling with Toombs and Mills.”

  “Dulac, we’re talking about the Home Secretary, the top justice officer in England. I can’t stop him on his own turf. He owns the damn turf. There’s nothing more we can do.”

  “For the moment.”

  Chapter 63

  Southampton, the Devonshire Hotel

  After leaving P & W’s offices and a quick meal of fish and chips at The Empress restaurant, Dulac returned to his hotel, phoned Karen and leveled his usual litany of complaints. “Bloody politics again. I attract them like scrap metal to a junkyard magnet.”

  “I can’t believe Arlberg is forcing you to back off just because Hays tells her to.”

  “To be fair, she’s caught between a rock and another rock. Without Hay’s approval, we have absolutely no jurisdiction in England.”

  “And Hays is protecting his own interests big time.”

  “All I need is that little bit of tangible evidence.”

  “Which you don’t have.”

  “I’m so close to it I can smell it, dammit.”

  “So close, yet so far.”

  “Don’t rub it in.”

  “So what now?”

  “I’ll take the morning train to London. I’ve booked the 11.30 Lufthansa to Lyon.”

  “So when will I see you?”

  “First I’ve got to have it out with Arlberg.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Dulac was jostling amongst the passengers on Platform 3 B and looking for the second class coaches of the London train when his cell rang.

  “Dulac.”

  “Wade here. Where are you?”

  “Listen, I got the message. I’m at the Southampton train station. I’m on my way to Heathrow and I’ll soon be out of your hair. Good enough for you?”

  “Glad I caught you. I think we should meet.”

  “What?”

  “I said I think we should meet.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Trust me. You will.”

  “All right. Where? At the Yard?”

  “Not at the Yard. I’ll meet you at your hotel. The Devonshire if I’m not mistaken. Or better still at the—”

  “But I’m about to board the train.”

  “Cancel it. I guarantee it’ll be worth your while. There’s a pub called The Lantern on Sedgwick Street about 10 minutes by cab from Southampton Central Station. Give us about an hour and a half, say.”

  “But—”

  The line went dead.

  Mystified, Dulac cancelled his flight, took a cab back to the hotel and went to the reservations clerk. “Do you have a room in case I have to book this evening?”

  “Yes, no problem sir. I can book it now and you can cancel later if you wish.”

  “Fine. Thierry Dulac. You have my information.”

  “Yes, Mr. Dulac.”

  Dulac went across the lobby and plopped himself in one of the leather chairs. He opened his laptop and checked his emails. Lescop had written him at 7.10 am. Tariq Assirgan died this morning from complications at the Santo Espirito Hospital.

  Damn. That route just evaporated.

  Dulac waited in the lobby for 20 minutes, then took a cab to The Lantern pub. As he entered the low-ceilinged room, wooden cross beams seemed to reach down, trying to connect with his head. The place reeked of musty, worn leather, sweat and stale beer. He went to the bar and ordered a coffee. Half an hour later, as promised, Wade walked in, accompanied by a policeman in uniform. Dulac didn’t attempt to hide his surprise and got up from his stool.

  “Inspector Dulac, meet Sergeant Cummings, from Homicide.”

  Dulac put up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t do it. I swear.”

  “Very funny,” said Wade. “You’re probably puzzled as to why I called you.”

  “To put it mildly.”

  “Singh has come in from the cold,” said Wade, watching Dulac carefully for his reaction.

  “Well, well.”

  “He’s agreed to testify in exchange for reduced charges.”

  “Great, but I’m still curious. Why call me? Hays wants me out of the country.”

  Wade reached into his breast pocket and took out an envelope. “You’ll understand when you read this.” He unfolded two sheets of paper and thrust them in front of Dulac on the bar.

  Dulac glanced at the photocopy of the typewritten script. He looked at the second sheet of paper, focusing on the bottom of the page. Below a scrawled signature and the date, the name “Tajar Singh” had been typed in. He returned to the first page and started to read:

  I ,Tajar Singh, the undersigned, residing at 47 Lumney Place, London, make the following statements of my own free will, without any coercion, menace, threat, or offer of any gain, advantage or profit whatsoever, but in the sole interest of furthering the cause of British justice:

  1) During my employ at P & W Cruise Lines, as VP Security, I came into contact with a certain Tariq Assirgan, through mutual friends in the Pakistani community. I met him socially a few times, but at one occasion, about three months ago, he asked me to meet him privately to discuss a certain business matter he was involved in. I agreed to meet him over supper at the Natraj Balti restaurant, and that is when he
told me he was from Baluchistan, as I was. He asked me to hire him and four friends of his as security officers aboard the Caravan Star. I told him that was impossible, as P & W was not hiring at the moment, and that in any case it took experience and references.

  2) That is when he said that he wasn’t asking, he was ordering. He said he was a member of the Baluchistan Tigers and that if I didn’t hire them and if I didn’t give him access to certain information concerning the Caravan Star, my family in Baluchistan, namely my sister Raja, my brother Humel and my mother Rania, would be executed. As proof of seriousness of his threat, he handed me a jeweled locket I had given my mother as a birthday present. I was shocked. I can only dread as to how he got it. He said if I cooperated, I would be rewarded appropriately. He added that if I went to the police, I would receive the severed head of my mother by DHL.

  3) Knowing the history and reputation of the Baluchistan Tigers, I knew I had no choice. I proceeded to the hiring over a period of two months, then gave Tariq information concerning the maintenance of the Caravan Star’s lifeboats, details of the ship’s internal deck layouts, fire drill instructions and other information he needed.

  4) About two weeks later, Allister Mills called me to his office and asked me why I had shifted certain security officers to other ships and added five security officers to the list of the Caravan Star’s already complete list of personnel. He also mentioned that he was aware of my taking copies of the company’s detailed layouts of the Caravan Star and asked me why. I broke down and told him the whole story. To my great surprise, Mills said he would take this matter under advisement and in the meantime instructed me to keep this matter confidential.

  5) A week later, Mills convened me to his office again and told me that P & W was in financial difficulty. He said that he had poured all of his life into the company and he was going to make sure that he would come out on top.

  6) On June 6th, I received a package containing incorporation documents of a Swiss numbered company, of which I was the sole shareholder. I also received stock certificates issued by a company called Mirolet SA, by which the numbered company was the owner of 10,000 class B shares in Mirolet. There was no accompanying letter.

  7) Later, Mills convened me again in his office, and said that I should take a leave of absence, as things might get sticky. As chief security officer, it would be best for me to lay low, he said. Although I was getting quite worried as to what Tariq and Mills might be up to, I had no idea the Caravan Star was going to be hijacked. I followed Mills’s advice and went to stay with my nephew, pretexting I’d had a fight with my wife and was under considerable stress.

  8) Upon learning of the hijack, I initially decided to turn myself in, but after consulting with a solicitor, and since I had not known about the hijacking, I decided to follow his advice and to wait. I saw my name all over the newspapers and that I was wanted for questioning by the police. I left my nephew’s house and went to a cheap hotel in the East end. After two weeks, unable to sleep, feeling constantly nauseous and getting palpitations, I went to see my doctor. He said I needed a less stressful environment and so I decided to visit my cousin Naguib in France. After the police stopped me at Dover and took me in for questioning at Scotland Yard, I learned about the murder of Sir Adrian Bolding and others mentioned by Inspector Dulac, so I decided to make the above statements to clear my name and to help justice take its course.

  Signed in London , this 6th day of November.

  Tajar Singh

  Dulac emitted a loud whistle. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “Indeed,” said Wade.

  “I like this bit where he affirms he had nothing to do with the hijack. It’s as if he wants to believe it even though no one else does.”

  “Typical self-affirmation of the unrepentant. We had to go along with Singh and promise him reduced charges and witness protection. He’s agreed to testify against Mills.”

  Dulac tried to get the bartender’s attention. “So when will you arrest Mills?”

  “According to Arlberg, we have a bigger problem,” said Wade.

  Dulac swallowed hard. By speaking to Wade first, Arlberg had deliberately blind-sided him, and there was no way of knowing what she’d told Wade.

  “Such as?”

  “So you haven’t spoken to her?”

  “Not since yesterday.”

  “I see.”

  There was a silence, as Wade looked away from Dulac’s hard stare.

  The silence grew more and more uncomfortable. Dulac turned on the barstool and looked at Cummins. “Sergeant, would you mind if Inspector Wade and I had a private chat?”

  “Not at all.”

  Dulac got up, spotted an empty table across the room. “After you.”He motioned Wade towards the table.

  They walked over and sat down. Dulac turned to Wade. “Since you’re not talking, I’ll start. Say you arrest Mills and this goes to trial. During the trial, the ownership of Mirolet is bound to surface. Let’s say for argument’s sake that your boss Hays, the Home Secretary and the head of Scotland Yard, holds shares in Mirolet. What then?”

  Wade’s face went red, but he remained silent. They both knew that if Wade arrested Mills, there was absolutely no way to evaluate, much less control, the inevitable collateral damage.

  “That’s why I asked you to come,” Wade finally admitted.

  “To give you moral support or to have a fall guy if all hell breaks loose and this investigation goes belly-up?”

  “Both.”

  “Thought so. My orders are to get back to Lyon.” Dulac smiled.

  “And mine are to have nothing to do with you.” Wade smiled back.

  “So let me ask. With the amount of evidence you now have against Mills, is there any legal reason why you, and by that I mean we, wouldn’t arrest him?”

  “None. That’s why we’re here.”

  Chapter 64

  P & W’s offices, 15 minutes later

  “What the hell is the meaning of this?” Mills bolted up from his desk as Wade, Cummins and Dulac burst into his office.

  “Mr. Mills, you might want to contact your solicitor,” said Wade.

  “Why? What’s this about?”

  Wade looked at Dulac quickly, then back at Mills. “It is my duty to arrest you and charge you with conspiracy to hijack the Caravan Star, charge you with manslaughter of twenty-seven passengers aboard, the names of whom are on this document. Wade handed him the list and continued. “As well as conspiracy to commit acts of terrorism aboard the Caravan Star, including the destruction of the ship and criminal negligence in the willful disregard of human life. You are also charged with conspiracy to murder Sir Adrian Bolding. Other charges will follow. You have the right to free legal advice should you so request. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

  The blood drained from Mills’s face. He sat down, his lips trembling. “This is a terrible mix-up. You have no proof. I did nothing wrong… I—”

  “That’s not what Tajar Singh is saying,” said Wade. “I must ask you to come with us. I suggest you call your solicitor. He can join us at the Yard.”

  His mouth slack, his eyes hollow, Mills looked as if he’d been told he had terminal cancer. He picked up the phone and dialed Toombs’s number. “It’s me, Allister. I’m being arrested. They’re taking me to London, to Scotland Yard.” He propped himself up from the chair with this left hand and put the phone down slowly with his right.

  * * *

  London, Scotland Yard, mid afternoon

  An hour and a half after leaving Southampton, the police car containing Wade, Mills, Cummins and Dulac reached the Yard’s headquarters on Broadway Street. Handcuffed, Mills was escorted by two constables to one of the detention cells on the third floor.

  Wade signaled Dulac to follow him to his office. They were about to enter when Wade’s secretary
intercepted them.

  “Excuse me sir, but you have four urgent messages from Sir Terence Hays. You’re to call him immediately.”

  Wade looked at Dulac. “The shit has hit the fan. I believe that’s the American expression.”

  “If Toombs called Hays, this is going to get way messier,” said Dulac.

  The secretary continued. “Also a Mr. Jennings has been waiting for the last half hour. He has something important to give you.”

  “Jennings the barrister?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Did he say what ?”

  “No. He says he had to see you in person. He’s over in the small conference room. Shall I get him?”

  “Send him in.” Wade and Dulac entered Wade’s office.

  “Well, the deed is done,” said Wade.

  “I have a feeling things are about to get worse,” said Dulac, as a tall man carrying a brown leather briefcase approached Wade’s office.

  The man opened his briefcase and took out a folded document. “Inspector Harry Wade?” He looked first at Dulac, then at Wade.

  “I’m Harry Wade. This is Inspector Thierry Dulac from Interpol.”

  “David Jennings, barrister acting for Mr. Allister Mills. Mr. Toombs sent me to serve you with this writ of Habeas Corpus for the release of our client. I’ve scheduled a bail hearing before Judge Pamela Ogilvy at 5.45 this afternoon at Old Bailey. See you there, gentlemen.” Jennings smiled, turned and walked out.

  “Great, just pissing great,” said Dulac.

  “To be expected,” said Wade, reading the document of Habeas Corpus.

  “Toombs didn’t waste any time.”

  “Neither did Jennings. I’ve seen him in action before. He’s one of London’s best. With an ego and a price tag to boot.”

  At that moment, Dulac’s cell rang. It was Arlberg. Dulac inhaled deeply.

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Sitting in Wade’s office.”