Plantation A Legal Thriller

by J M S Macfarlane

  Chapter 101

  After he finished speaking to Wells and Hardearn, Ashby rang Stefanides again. He may have been closer to uncovering the fraud but he still needed the proof.

  When Stefanides heard that the Aegean Star had turned up, he said “That’s great. Now you’ve solved everything, you can pay me.”

  He’d already spent part of the hundred thousand Ashby had promised ; others were demanding payment from him.

  “But I haven’t solved everything. Can you find out for me everything about Hermes Shipping ? I want to speak to Keo about Hermes after he regains consciousness.”

  When Stefanides heard that payment would be delayed, he suspected Ashby was stalling. And that made him irritable.

  “We’re wasting time. Hermes are a closed book. I’ve been to their office three times but I’ve learned nothing about them – nothing. There is only a guy there who keeps the books. None of the directors ever show. I can’t even find out who the directors are. There probably aren’t any – no-one has ever seen them. Half the time, the office is closed, there are no records about their ships and they look as though they don’t do any business. To me, the office looks like a front and – that’s it.”

  Ashby discerned from Stefanides’ tone, his shortness of temper. That was unfortunate : either Plantation would have the proof it needed or Stefanides would have a much smaller payment.

  “Aren’t there any records you could search at the Register of Companies ?”

  “I’ve done that. The directors listed for the company are all dead. The people who really control the company aren’t listed.”

  “What about the shareholders ?”

  “The shareholders are two companies – Marchands des Mers of Lyon and MedMarchant, also of Lyon. Co-incidentally at the same address. Both have a parent company, MerMarchant in Nassau, Bahamas. Sounds nice, doesn’t it ? But this you already know.”

  “But where does it all lead ?”

  “Right at this moment,” said Stefanides, “who knows ? Someone in Nassau checked it out for me. MerMarchant has only one shareholder, a Panamanian company whose owners hold ‘bearer’ shares. Whoever holds these bearer share certificates, owns the company. No actual names of the shareholders appear in the Panamanian Companies Register.”

  “So, we don’t know who controls Hermes or its parent company in the Bahamas.”

  “No. Holders of bearer shares can stay anonymous.”

  “Hm. The only way we’ll uncover their identity is through a criminal investigation and Interpol.”

  Later in the day, Ashby saw Meyer and related how they had proved the Marseillaise was really the Aegean Star.

  “Your report put us on the right track. If we hadn’t known the technical specifications, we might never have identified the original construction of the Marseillaise and matched it with the records in London.”

  “So, now you can go back to London and have the claim thrown out.”

  “Not yet. We still need to prove conspiracy between the shipowners and the master to scuttle the Captain Stratos. I can’t find out anything more about Hermes, so that’s a dead end. But I’ve given the matter a lot of thought and I keep asking myself what were they doing along the west African coast ? There has to be a link with the Greek shipping companies.”

  “Maybe. But the Marseillaise could have come from any of the countries on the entire west coast of the continent – from Algeria to Namibia. It could have been any one of them.”

  “I don’t think so. In fact, it has got to be Sierra Leone. Something happened there.”

  “What’s so special about Sierra Leone ? There’s nothing to suggest anything unusual about it. I think it was somewhere much further north.”

  “No, you’re wrong. It’s the way Sierra Leone keeps cropping up. Quite often, there are patterns in everything around us which we overlook. So what do we have ? We know the Marseillaise was re-fitted in Sierra Leone before she arrived in Cape Town. Why was she re-fitted there and not somewhere else ? The answer is there must be some sort of connection with Sierra Leone – some sort of support operation. Someone did the work there for the owners, Benin Maritime. They would probably have come into contact with Christoforou. It's likely he sailed her there from Cyprus. Why ? Because Keo’s passport showed that he’d been to Sierra Leone more than once. Freetown was the last port which the Marseillaise left so there should be records showing where she came from. The police said that all of her crew came from Freetown. Kikuna of Benin Maritime is known to the police in Freetown. When you put all of these things together, the link to the fraudsters is unbroken. Also, if you plot on a map, all of the places which have come up in my investigations and been mentioned in documents or by witnesses to us, then Freetown has a certain prominence. On the way back to Athens and London, I’d like to take a look around there, just out of interest. Also, Brandt happened to mention that he was going there and invited me to join him. If anything, it will break up the journey – I hate long-haul flights.”

  “I see. Well, I hate to say it but I still think you’re wrong. But, if you really want to go there, we have an office in Freetown. It's serviced by our Lagos representative who you already know. I’ll ask him to contact you on your arrival.”

  There was nothing to keep Ashby any longer in Cape Town. Although he wanted to speak to Keo, there was no indication whether the engineer would ever recover consciousness. Of greater importance, was the intelligence received by Brandt that arms smugglers used Sierra Leone as a staging post. If the source of the cargo vessels could be found, it might lead to the arms merchants themselves. Then the entire operation could be closed down : Ashby’s knowledge of ships was crucial to this.

  Direct flights to Freetown were not available. This led to their journey taking two days. From Cape Town, they flew to Accra in Ghana and from there took a connecting flight to Freetown. When their plane was over Guinea, a violent thunderstorm erupted in the sky. Stewardesses, trays of food and passengers were flying in all directions, as the pilots tried to veer around the storm. Instead, the plane was pushed downward and was buffeted by the strong winds and rain from side to side, up and down, as women across the aisle from Ashby, crossed themselves and prayed. Brandt got out his duty free whisky and yelled “I think I need a drink. Want some ?” When he poured it into a cup, the plane dropped like a stone and the whisky floated momentarily in mid-air, then splashed all over him. Fortunately, after another ten minutes, they passed through the turbulence and in another hour, landed safely at Freetown’s air terminal.

  Later that day, they were met by Jonathan Mzenga who had travelled from Lagos and was able to guide them around the city.

  “We must look at places along the coastline where there are ships or a dry dock, where repairs could be carried out. Maybe there are ships moored off the coast or there’s a graveyard for ships here where they’re broken up,” said Brandt.

  “A breaker’s yard – yes.....there is one here, I think,” said Mzenga. “I seem to remember.....they cut up old ships here somewhere. But it’s very likely to be a long way out of town, probably further up the coast – that sort of thing is an environmental hazard. Apart from that, I don’t know of any dry docks or places where ships are repaired. There’s the harbour but that’s mainly for boats and yachts. Then there’s the Queen Elizabeth Docks which are the other side of Destruction Bay – there are mostly container ships and foreign vessels there which bring cargo into the port.”

  They decided to be tourists for the morning and walked along the harbour foreshore. The only ships were far out on the horizon and shadowing the coastline on their way to other countries. Mzenga suggested they drive south to see if there were any shipping facilities down the coast. After two hours, they had seen nothing of interest.

  “We may find something at the docks,” said Ashby.

  “Good idea. Why don’t we go back there ? Maybe the crates of weapons were loaded on the docks,” said Brandt.

  When they reached the w
harves, there were only ships of more recent construction than the Marseillaise. All of them had been built in the 1970s, looked well maintained and in good repair. They were designed for containerized cargo, bulk cargo like coal or were oil tankers. None of them had any derricks or winches for loading crates. Most freighters which carried loose cargo usually had their own cranes and winch gear for lifting cargo out of the holds.

  “There isn’t anywhere here where they could have loaded the crates of weapons which we took off the Marseillaise,” said Brandt. “They would have needed several trucks to bring them in and unload them and there’s nowhere here where they could have done that – it's all for containers or bulk cargo. Let’s have a look further north. Didn’t you say there was a breaker’s yard up the coast ?”

  “I’m not certain there is. And the roads aren’t always in good condition, especially in the rainy season. We could go further up the coast for a few hours and see what we find.”

  “Then the sooner we get started, the better,” said Brandt.

  Fortunately, the adjuster had hired a four-wheel drive as they encountered frequent potholes, some the size of craters, along the red dirt roads which ran parallel to the coast. The trip was uneventful for almost two hours when they were ready to give up and go back to Freetown. Then, out of nowhere, the highway passed close to an inlet and a scene of complete carnage with the remains of abandoned ships and boats lying in the mudflats away from the black sandy beaches. One or two rusty, old vessels were moored close to the shore. Ashby could see welders on one of them, cutting into the superstructure, to be carted away as scrap. Away from the shoreline, further up the coast at regular intervals, they could see another twelve ships, waiting their turn for dismemberment.

  “What a mess,” observed Brandt. “Where ships go to die. Let’s have a wander around. There should be someone here who runs the place.”

  After they had parked further down the road, Brandt led the way. Hey,” he yelled to one of the labourers hacking through a section of steel hull with a grinder. Showers of red hot sparks flew into the ground and glistened in the dirt. “Where’s the boss ?” The man merely pointed in the direction of a wooden hut and resumed cutting. “Let’s see who we have here,” said Brandt as he knocked on the door of the cabin. No-one answered. “Well, let’s look around for ourselves. Come on,” and the three of them picked their way through the shattered remnants of what had once been working ships. The ground they walked on was soaked in thick fuel oil. Parts of boilers and engines, too polluted for re-cycling, were rusting away in the sun. Remnants of asbestos packing which had once lined the bulkheads and inner plating were lying everywhere.

  Ashby said “Watch your step. There’s asbestos all over the place. Let’s get away from the demolition area.”

  As they walked onward, along the dirt path which continued for half a mile, they could see two ships in the near distance, lying at anchor, close to the shore. One of them had a makeshift gangplank hooked to the hull for access from a crude landing. Work could be heard going on inside one of them.

  “Let’s have a closer look,” said Brandt. “This could be interesting. These two ships have winch gears which could be used for shore loading. And look at that – there are some crates next to one of them. This place would be ideal for putting in contraband. There’s no-one around. No police or port inspectors. No customs. No-one.”

  By this time, they’d reached the path running parallel to where the two ships were tied up. The first vessel had no name. Someone had painted over the markings with black paint so that it was impossible to read.

  The second ship had a thin coat of black paint on its rusty hull where brown stains were already showing through.

  On board, a lot of clattering and banging could be heard. A gang of labourers seemed to be working inside the ship rather than dismembering it.

  “I’m going up there,” said Brandt. “Not all of these hulks are being cut up. Maybe some of them are being re-fitted, like the Marseillaise was. Maybe that was done right here.”

  “Don’t go yet,” said Ashby. “Wait until nightfall when there’s no-one around. Then, I’ll go with you.”

  “So will I,” said Mzenga.

  “You could be right. It might be better to wait. But I’ll go alone. It will be easier and less risky that way.”