by Sewell, Ron
“My name is unimportant but you know why I am here. You cannot be trusted and my unique services are necessary. In this world, a man has friends or enemies. Please do not beg for your life, your fate is assured.”
Ibrahim’s jaw dropped. “Whatever they’re paying you I’ll double it.”
The intruder laughed. “That’s the difference between you and me. I can be trusted to complete my work. Two choices exist, one will be painful. What do you prefer?”
“I will pay you four times your contract.”
“Your imminent death has made you foolish. Show me the money.”
Ibrahim pulled a sheet of wood from against the wall before operating the button which disclosed his safe. With shaking hands he opened the steel reinforced door. He turned his head as a sense of self-preservation filled his mind. His right hand groped for and grasped the Glock. With a dive to the right his huge frame twisted as he fired three times into a void. The bullets thudded into the plaster, producing a fine cloud of dust.
A knife sliced the air and entered Ibrahim’s chest, then another from a different direction pierced his neck. “You made a decision to play the survival game. I enjoy my work so much more when I have an opponent.”
Another blade entered his right thigh as blood spewed from his mouth.
“I am bored. Put the Glock on the floor and we will talk.”
Ibrahim coughed and spluttered. “Fuck you.” As best he could, he emptied the pistol’s magazine firing in every direction.
The intruder waited until the weapon clicked empty. “What are you going to do now?”
Ibrahim responded with a gurgle. The intruder walked across, smiled as he bent over the bloody carcass. “They always believe I’ll be merciful and end their pain.” One by one, he removed the blades twisting them as he did. With a grunt, he grabbed Ibrahim’s feet and dragged him into the workshop where three coffins lay on trestles. A trail of blood stained the floor. With the aid of a chain hoist, he deposited Ibrahim into the nearest box.
Ibrahim, his breathing shallow and irregular, stared at the ceiling from one of his own coffins.
“It will be quicker this way,” said the man as he lifted each arm and sliced the wrist. “Those who know such things tell me it’s a painless way to die.” He slid the lid into its recess and screwed it in place. Removing his mobile, he made one call. “The package is ready.”
In the office, he shut and secured the safe, picked up the Glock and left but remained close enough to view the rear entrance.
Several minutes’ later two men in traditional Arab dress arrived with a donkey cart. In seconds, the blood-streaked coffin vanished amongst the maze of streets. The man in black lit a cigarette and disappeared in a labyrinth of narrow streets. Where they dumped his contract was of no concern.
Chapter Twenty - Five.
Hans knocked on Petros’ and Bear’s bedroom door at seven thirty prompt.
Bear shouted, “Come.”
“Please follow me,” said Hans. On descending the stairs, he led them to double mahogany doors and pushed them open. “Your places are marked. The ambassador and his wife will be with you in a few minutes.”
Petros and Bear, wearing their new clothes, strolled into a large airy room. The glistening mahogany table stretched from one end of the room to the other but today had a mere four place settings.
“We could have eaten in the kitchen,” said Bear.
A single door in the far wall opened and a middle-aged man and woman entered and strolled towards them. “Mr Kyriades and Mr Morris. Ralf Schwarz.” He shoved out his hand demanding it to be shaken. “My wife, Uta, decided that as you are our guests we should dine in here. Please take your seats and we can talk, drink, and eat. We both want to hear how you found those diamonds after so many years.”
An attractive dark-haired, young, slim woman entered pushing a hostess-trolley.
“Your salad, madam,” she said.
“The roast beef and vegetables for me, Elaine,” said the ambassador.
“Sir,” said Elaine.
“Roast beef,” said Petros, “and vegetables.”
“Plenty of beef and pile the vegetables high. Roast parsnips are my favourite,” said Bear.
“Ambassador, please forgive my partner but he lives to eat.”
“Not a problem. If there’s something you need please do not hesitate to ask. Elaine, you may leave. We will help ourselves to dessert. ”
Uta talked nineteen to the dozen in between nibbling at her raw vegetable salad.
When the main course finished the ambassador said, “My wife has hogged the conversation. The recovery of the diamonds. Please tell.”
Petros recalled the first time Eva contacted them and reiterated the main points, stressing the recent uprisings in many German cities but omitting the death of her and the others. “Research is the key and friends in the right places.”
“I agree. Your flight’s arranged. Breakfast, I’m afraid, at the crack of dawn but you should be back home by midday. On arrival, an embassy car will collect you. Tell the driver where you want to go.”
Petros glanced at Bear, “Ambassador, my apologies but the German government owe us a great deal of money.”
The ambassador gave a broad grin. “By the time you return to your room, you will find a banker’s draft for fifty million pounds sterling. I understand the diamonds may be worth more when cut and polished. If I were you, I’d accept and say thank you.”
Petros kicked Bear’s ankle. “Accepted with pleasure, sir.”
“Coffee or something stronger?” He pressed a button under the table and Elaine returned.
“A brandy please,” said Petros.
“Make that two,” said Bear.
The ambassador paused. “Elaine, the bottle of brandy reserved for special guests and three glasses. My wife will take coffee in our private quarters.”
Uta pushed back her chair. “I will say goodnight, gentlemen. It was interesting to meet you. Have a safe journey.” She bent and kissed her husband on the cheek. “I tire these days.”
Petros and Bear stood as Uta gave a big smile and left.
Elaine entered with three brandy glasses and a three quarters full bottle of brandy on a silver tray. “When you’re finished, leave the glasses on the tray. There’s a note for night security to return them to the kitchen.”
The ambassador poured three large measures and raised his glass. “Good health.”
Two hours later three men shook hands.
On entering their room, Petros picked up a manila envelope. Inside was, as promised, a banker’s draft for fifty million pounds. “Not a bad pay day.”
Bear tumbled onto his bed. “Don’t lose it.”
“Get undressed. You’ll have to wear that suit tomorrow.”
They managed to place their new suits on hangers before collapsing into their separate beds.
***
At four am, the telephone alongside Bear’s bed rang until he lifted the receiver. “Yes.”
“Good morning, sir. Have you any preference for breakfast?”
The mention of food activated his dull senses. “Bacon, scrambled eggs, tomatoes, beans, toast and coffee. How long?”
“Twenty minutes, sir. We will of course bring it to your room as you will be leaving us soon.”
“Magic,” said Bear as he shook Petros and headed for the bathroom.
Petros looked up as Bear returned.
“Ice cold shower always works wonders. By the way, breakfast will be here in ten minutes.”
“Thanks.”
Breakfast arrived on a trolley as Petros entered the room and finished dressing. “Leave a few scraps for me.”
“Don’t worry, I ordered for three.”
At six, a sharp knock on the door signalled the end of their stay in the embassy. Bear carried one holdall containing their possessions. Petros placed their passports and most important, the banker’s draft in his inside jacket pocket.
“Tickets
?” asked Bear.
“Not necessary,” said Hans, “you’re flying courtesy of the German air force. You’ve been cleared for London Stansted.”
“Way to go,” said Bear.
“Your car’s at the main door,” said Hans.
Petros gave the room one final check. Satisfied, he followed Bear and Hans outside to the standard black Mercedes. The driver was ready to leave.
Petros stopped and said to Hans, “Are you security?”
He smiled. “Goodbye. Have a safe flight.” He returned inside and closed the door.
Both men sat in the rear passenger seats and fastened their seatbelts. The car exited the embassy grounds.
The driver negotiated a parked bus and drove at speed towards the airport. A short time elapsed before the car signalled right and pulled into a private road. Two miles further on at an armed gate they stopped at an airport security check point. The driver presented his pass and drove towards a small, not quite windowless building.
The one steel-covered door opened. A tall man dressed in German air force uniform, with white hair and a magical smile on his face, walked towards the car. “My passengers?”
The driver nodded.
He opened the rear door. “Major Anton Schmitz, senior pilot. Please follow me.”
Both men alighted and joined Anton as he marched to the plane.
A short distance away, its twin engines turning, a C160 military transport waited.
“Old and reliable,” said Anton. “This one is configured for electronic surveillance. Air-conditioned with a small galley and bunks.”
“Home from home,” said Bear.
Anton smiled. “I’ve spent many hours in this machine and others like her. One more exercise and she’s being sold.”
“What’s replacing her?” said Petros.
“The Airbus A400M.”
“I remember the Hercules,” said Bear. “It’s reminiscent of me, a slow, lumbering beast but reliable as hell.”
They strolled up the ramp and entered a cargo space filled with electronics.
“You’re up front in the office,” said Anton. “Plenty of leg room and once we’re in the air you can use any of the three bunks to rest. Please fasten your belts.”
“Take off, how long?” asked Bear as the huge ramp closed.
Anton grinned. “Thirty seconds is my best guess. Must go and check on my two pilots; they’re undergoing their annual assessment.”
Petros and Bear settled into the comfortable seats. Moments later the twin engines roared to full power and the plane taxied into the queue.
Petros gripped the arm rests and closed his eyes until the plane raced into the air. Bear sat back, relaxed and said nothing.
“Fancy a coffee or sandwich?” said Anton. “No sexy cabin crew I’m afraid. It’s help yourselves. For your information, we’re flying at twenty-five thousand feet, speed three-hundred and fifty knots. There’s a great tail wind so we should arrive Stansted in less than four hours.”
“Is it possible to take a look up front?” asked Petros.
“When I have my coffee you can join me. I’ll sit in the right seat, you can use the left. My two captains can have a rest.”
Bear opened the fridge and removed a blood sausage, carved half a dozen slices and stuffed them between two pieces of bread. The sandwich eaten, he wiped his mouth with a towel and swung his frame into one of the bunks and closed his eyes. Within a few minutes he slept.
***
“Bear wake up and belt up,” said Petros.
“Why do you always wake me when my dreams get interesting?”
“Because we’re landing in five minutes.”
The plane touched the runway with a gentle thud and taxied to a lesser used part of the airfield. Anton appeared. “Ready?”
“How did the assessment go?” asked Petros.
“No problems. They’ll be training on the airbus simulator next week.”
“So why waste time with a review?” asked Petros.
Anton raised his eyebrows. “They must be in date with their current aircraft to progress. I agree it’s stupid but official procedure.”
The ramp lowered to the ground and another black car, this time a BMW six series, stopped a few metres away.
“Armour-plated and bullet-proof windows,” said Anton. “Who are you?”
“Men finishing a job,” said Petros.
“I don’t need to know but was your mission accomplished?”
Petros exhaled with a deep breath. “Yes, and thanks for the lift.”
“Always remember,” said Anton, “if your enemy has a good idea, steal it.”
“Works for us,” said Bear.
The driver’s window of the BMW opened and a balding, middle-aged man wearing thick framed glasses stuck his head out and in an east London accent shouted, “It’s Tower Bridge first and then Pangbourne.”
“Perfect,” said Bear as he looked at his watch. “Should soon be completing the headboard shuffle.”
“Is there anything else you think about?”
“Sometimes food. Anyway, it’s not me. I have to fight Jocelyn off.”
“You should be so lucky. I have to be a goody-two-shoes and read Alysa a story before she goes to sleep.”
“Such is life with ankle biters. Our driver awaits.”
The driver exited the airport, stopping for a moment to show his diplomatic pass. Once on the M11 motorway he accelerated to ninety miles an hour, ignoring the flashing speed cameras. The closer they drew to London the litter of suburbia became evident; discarded take-always from the night before with dozens of seagulls fighting for every scrap. The driver cursed, changed lanes, overtaking a slow van on the inside lane.
Forty-seven minutes later the car stopped outside the Tower Bridge Hotel next to St Katherine’s Docks.
The driver grinned. “Sorry as regards the rush but I have to be back at the embassy to take the Chancellor to Downing Street. If I hurry I can grab a bite to eat.”
“I’m not complaining. Thanks for the lift. A five minute stroll and I’m home. PK, give my love to Maria and Alysa.”
“Get that head wound seen to. You know the private clinic we use and send me the bill.”
“I’ll see to it tomorrow.” Bear grabbed his holdall, shut the door and walked at a brisk pace around the dock.
Once on the M4 the BMW cruised at one hundred miles an hour and made Pangbourne in record time.
“At the bottom of the hill,” said Petros, “you’ll see two white pillars on the right. That’s my drive.”
“No worries.”
With the skill of a racing driver the car slewed into the shingle-covered driveway Stones rattled the underside of the car as it stopped at the main door to Petros’ home.
He jumped out and waved at the car as it reversed, turned and roared back to the road. “The man’s a lunatic” muttered Petros.
The door opened and Charlie, followed by Alysa, ran to meet him. Petros picked up Alysa and kissed her.
She wiped the kiss from her lips. “You must say hallo to Yarlie.”
He bent and stroked the dog’s head. “Hi, Dog. Hope you’ve taken care of my family.”
Petros raised his head and smiled. Maria framed by the entrance, waited. She had been in his thoughts since the day he left. Carrying Alysa and with Charlie at his heels he strolled towards her.
She met him halfway and kissed him full on the lips. “Miss me?”
“What do you think?” The scent of her hair filled him with thoughts. “Course I did. Every moment.”
“I’m glad you’re back in one piece. How did it go?”
“Made a few pounds to keep you in dresses for the next year or two. Let’s get inside; I could murder a cup of your coffee.”
“Is that all you want?”
He grinned. “It’ll have to do for the moment.”
Maria frowned as she poured his coffee and placed the mug on the kitchen table. “Any problems?”
Petr
os smiled awkwardly. “A few difficulties driving across soft sand but nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“I love you but you’re a bad liar. What the hell’s been going on? I’ve been speaking to Jocelyn. She was home when Bear arrived. How did he get shot in the head?”
“He didn’t duck. Okay the locals wanted the diamonds more than we did but we beat the shit out of them and they ran. Bear was unlucky and it’s only a flesh wound.”
“A few centimetres in the wrong direction and he’d be dead.”
“But he isn’t.”
“That’s not the point. And the police want to talk to you.”
Petros grimaced. “I’ll tell you everything when Alysa’s in bed. I must ring Bear and let him know the law might be tapping on his front door before breakfast.”
He pressed a memory button on his mobile.
“Yes.”
“Can you speak?”
“Jocelyn’s in the bath.”
“Too much information. You’ll have visitors tomorrow concerning Libya. Tell them the truth. We went in, found the diamonds and handed them over to the German embassy in Malta.”
“Jocelyn’s not happy with my head wound. The moment I set foot in the house she screamed and dragged me to the clinic. Told me to tell you I’ve retired.”
“Maria hinted the same. Talk tomorrow after the men in blue have been.”
“No probs,” said Bear as he ended the call.
“I fancy a walk in the garden,” said Maria in a firm tone. “You can tell me what happened in Libya.”
Outside was chilly but refreshing. Not a word was spoken until they reached the river’s edge. Dream Chaser II rocked at her mooring.
Petros reiterated the collection, omitting most of the blood and gore but admitted to himself a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “That’s the truth. I’m looking forward to relaxing and doing nothing.”
Maria gave him an odd look and cleared her throat. “Have you forgotten Andreas’ wedding on Saturday week? Jocelyn, Phoebe and your mama have made the arrangements. Your duty is to escort the bride down the aisle.”