Chapter 79
Nikos was right about the ferry Captain.
When the Captain was certain that Ashby and the others were safely ashore, he went to his cabin. As he opened the door, he said “Con, you can come out.” Then he went to his bureau, took out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, filled them halfway and gave one to his guest who appeared from the adjoining wardroom.
“It’s just as well you decided to stay. If you’d left the ship, they would’ve got you. They were here asking me lots of questions but I got rid of them.”
“That barman from the taverna – I warned him what would happen. Tell me, what did they want to know ?” asked Christoforou who was vexed at hearing that the bloodhounds had traced him to the ferry.
“I had to give them the addresses you gave me when you first joined the ship. They insisted on seeing the register.”
“Why did you do that ? Now I can’t get anything from my lodging house in the town and I can’t go home to my family.”
“I wasn’t going to risk my own position – I couldn’t avoid telling them. They threatened to bring in the police. Listen, why don’t give yourself up ? They’ll get you sooner or later.”
“Give myself up ? When we’re only a few days away from getting our money out of these fools ? Are you mad ? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this ? And my family ? What about them ? Anyway, the insurers have nothing on me. As far as the world is concerned, I went down with my ship two years ago, so they can go on looking for me forever. In a few days time, you won’t need to worry any more. The money will have come through and I’ll quietly set myself up in Spain or Portugal with a new identity. Then, no-one will find me.”
Thinking that he had already compromised himself, the ferry Captain decided that Christoforou should stay on the Poseidon IV until it made the return voyage to Bari the following morning. With money supplied by him, Christoforou could keep himself out of the way, somewhere on the east coast of Italy until the claim was paid in London.
As for Ashby and the others, as soon as they had disembarked, a debate took place about whether Christoforou was still on the ferry.
Demos said that the officer he’d seen with his telescope, had matched the police photo. Stefanides thought it was more likely their target had jumped ship in Italy. Ashby said he agreed with Demos. But he also thought they might find something of interest at Christoforou’s lodgings. In the end, it was decided that Stefanides and Demos would go to the lodging house in Patra while Ashby and Nikos would keep watch on the ferry from Sporades’ hotel.
With the aid of Demos’ telescope, Nikos had a clear view of the ferry but only of the starboard side and the stern. In the meantime, Ashby wanted to ring London to hear what had been going on in his absence.
When he rang Simon Wells at home in Bromley, on the outskirts of the capital, Wells was about to leave on the weekly shopping excursion to the supermarket with his wife and sons. After that, he’d been hoping to sneak off to join his friends at the pub and after several pints, to a football match in the afternoon.
To the annoyance of Wells’ wife who was never understanding about pubs or football, Ashby said that he needed Wells to go into the office and do a few jobs for him. A crucial point had been reached in Patra when they had almost tracked Christoforou down.
“That’s just as well,” said Wells, “because the decision on the appeal is due out on Monday or Tuesday. If we can’t pull a rabbit out of the hat by then, we’ve had it.”
“We shall see,” said Ashby. “At any rate, before I left London, Riordan and Meredith said that even if we find Christoforou, it might not be enough to stop the court awarding the claim to the Greeks. We’ll need to prove what happened after the sinking. Today, we came across something here in Patra that was written by Christoforou himself. It’s possible that after the Stratos was scuttled, he somehow reached Lagos, on the Algarve, in southern Portugal. Hellas Global could have arranged for another ship to pick him up or to collect him somehow, maybe by helicopter. The nearest port would have been Lagos. So, I want you to do two things for me. Can you get someone reliable at Paxton – they’re the largest UK loss adjusters, aren’t they ? Can you get them to send someone trustworthy to the Algarve, to Lagos and get them to check whether a man answering Christoforou’s description stayed at any of the hotels or pensions there during the week after the Captain Stratos sank. That’s the first thing. I’ll fax a copy of his photograph to you which the Greek police took. The second thing I want you to check is the route of flights between Lagos, Lyons and Rome. I want to see what Christoforou did and how he got back from Portugal to Greece after the ship went down.”
This spelt an abrupt end to Wells’ Saturday afternoon escape. He’d been looking forward to a relaxing game at Stamford Bridge watching Chelsea battle it out with Crystal Palace. Instead, an afternoon of drudgery lay ahead of him. But then he considered how insufferable life would become if he was out of a job and having to endure his wife at home each day while looking for work. And immediately, his spirits recovered.
“When do you need all of this ?”
“As soon as you can. Ring me at Patra or at my hotel in Athens, day or night, anytime. When we find him – and we’re very close to doing that – I want to get a full confession out of him. Proof of his prior movements is the best thing to have. That way, he can’t deny what really happened.”
Feeling downcast, Wells drove his family to the high street then caught a fast train up to London and was in his office at what would have been kick-off time. Fenchurch Street was empty and as quiet as the grave. After finding Ashby’s note and Christoforou’s photograph sitting on the fax machine, an hour later he’d located a loss adjuster from Paxton on the Algarve to find the information Ashby wanted. Then he’d rung the adjuster, faxed off the photo and was busy ringing all of the airlines for the remainder of the afternoon. The Portuguese loss adjuster had told him it would be several hours work and by six o’clock, had rung him back with what he’d discovered.
None of the hotels, pensions or guesthouses in the western Algarve had any record of anyone like Christoforou staying with them within the entire three month period after the sinking.
Aside from that, Wells was told that there were no airlines servicing flights from the Algarve to Lyons or Rome.
“But are you sure you’ve got the right one ?” a clerk from one of the airlines had said. “There’s one airline which has a connecting route from Rome to Lyons then to Lagos. But the final destination isn’t Lagos on the Algarve – it’s Lagos, Nigeria. Have you got the right one ?”
Plantation A Legal Thriller Page 79