by Mark Arundel
Geoffrey didn’t comment. I supposed he had already worked that out; what with him being a genius. The lack of food was now making me bad-tempered as well as dim-witted.
I drove slowly and kept a look out for any potential trouble. The streets only got busy when we approached the marina. The side of the road had a line of parked cars and the bars and restaurants were lively. I thought it might prove difficult to find a parking place where I wanted.
I slowed the saloon to walking pace and waited for pedestrians to clear the way. They ambled with the relaxed gait of all holidaymakers strolling in the evening warmth. Young couples held hands and teenagers dragged behind their parents with independence-hormones in charge of their emotions.
The parking strip beside the water was full. I stopped the car at the end and waited. We were in luck. An elderly couple returned to their expensive coupe and slowly drove away leaving us with an ideal parking space in a full row of cars, not on a through road and dark enough to make it hard to identify from a distance. It was exactly what I wanted. My only concern was whether come dawn, ours would be the only vehicle left and might attract unwanted attention. I would worry about that at dawn.
I turned off the lights and killed the engine. ‘This is where we’ll spend the night.’
Geoffrey nodded and asked, ‘Can we eat now?’ He added, ‘And I need the toilet.’
I locked the car and we walked together closely back along the marina to the bars and restaurants. The boats swayed silently against their moorings and the dark water reflected the white hulls in the weak lamplight. We merged easily with the mingling holidaymakers along the narrow streets of the village. Geoffrey carried his bag, which never left his shoulder. He wore his hat on which I had insisted.
I chose the nearest bar and we went in through the open frontage, beyond the packed table and chairs to the rear where I found the toilet. We both went and then I followed Geoffrey to the double sink where we washed our hands and faces. We looked at each other in the mirror but didn’t speak.
We left the bar and walked the short distance away from the marina to the supermarket. Fluorescent strips brightly lit the shop. It was very nearly empty. A bored looking youth with a fashionable haircut and a chunky necklace was working the cash register. I grab a plastic basket and we wandered down the first aisle.
While I was carrying out this mundane but necessary task, my mind continued to work. I considered the information Charlotte had given me. I tried to decide if she had told me the truth. The idea of a double agent seemed farfetched but then most countries, I was certain, were very much involved in espionage. Knowing what others are doing has always been important when it comes to international affairs.
My mind returned to the shopping. Geoffrey was filling the basket with fruit. I moved on, beyond the greengrocer section, and found packets of salted peanuts and mixed nuts.
We ransacked the shop and arrived at the checkout with bottled water, fruit juice, chocolate biscuits and a ready-to-eat chicken as well as a stick of bread, Geoffrey’s fruit and my nuts. In addition, I bought some toiletries, more painkillers and two new t-shirts from the tourist souvenir section. One said I love Tenerife with the love written with a red heart and the other was a picture of El Tiede, the volcano in the middle of the island. I wanted us to be presentable in the morning. I also bought antiseptic ointment and dressing for my knife wound and a rucksack, so I could carry everything easily. I had lost my rucksack and my new hat earlier when we had to run from the Russians.
The trendy youth’s expression didn’t alter. He processed our purchases through the electronic checkout without looking at us, which was fine by me. I handed over the cash and received change and a receipt. He balanced one on top of the other. Without speaking, we picked up our bulging plastic bags and left the shop.
Outside, it was dark after the bright fluorescent strip lights. I stopped by a wall on the corner and waited for my eyes to adjust and then I scanned the vicinity. Holding a shopping bag in each hand was not a good time to have to take urgent action. Geoffrey waited silently next to me. He obviously understood what I was doing. He was in tune to our situation. This was a good thing. With no immediate way out and with determined and resourceful professional killers searching for us, a focused Geoffrey might just make the difference. I transferred everything into the rucksack, adjusted the straps and put it on my back. It made me feel even more like a soldier on a mission.
It was all clear with nothing out of the ordinary to trouble me. We kept to the narrow pavement and walked slowly. I stopped again at the corner of the marina fifty paces back from the car where I had a good panoramic view of the area. Geoffrey stood silently at my shoulder and patiently waited. Holidaymakers bustled along and the low noise from the restaurants and cafés carried on the air like an encoded murmur. I didn’t see anything of concern and proceeded slowly along the row of parked cars. Ten paces out and with the rucksack barely noticeable, I used the remote to unlock the saloon. It beeped at us and the indicators flashed once. The Russian’s hire car, of course, was a liability and a danger that could lead an enemy directly to us. It was a necessary risk, though, and would only be for one night. I waited and watched but it was safe. Finding us was unlikely given the period of time and the coal mine darkness that had fallen from the vast canvas sky of the Atlantic. Standing on the edge of the volcanic island, deep in the Atlantic Ocean, gave the night sky, stretching to the horizon, an enormity that was impossible to ignore. The immense ocean murmured in the darkness at once with both the attraction of a lover and the fear of a killer. I consoled myself with the knowledge that once the sun broke over the mountain in the morning both the lover and the killer vanished for another day.
Inside the car, I locked the doors. Geoffrey didn’t seem concerned and he had already started to eat. I ripped open a foil packet of nuts and took a handful. Geoffrey was glugging from a bottle of water and I followed him by glugging myself from a bottle. The vacuumed sealed plastic around the chicken was no match for the Ka-Bar. Although greasy, once sliced up, the bird fitted snugly between the torn stick of bread. We both ate the tasty roll in silence. Geoffrey licked his lips and unscrewed the top from a bottle of orange juice. I snapped a bar of chocolate in two and then drank more water.
Our impromptu buffet was proving successful, aided I was sure, by our good appetites. The thought of hunters close by was clearly no impediment for Geoffrey. I watched him take a juicy bite from a deep red apple and chew happily. With the food and drink entering our systems, we were both feeling happier and stronger. I crunched a large bite from an apple myself and said, ‘So, how does this theory of yours work then?’ He stopped chewing and dropped his head. He didn’t answer. He obviously didn’t want to tell me, which was fair enough. If I had come up with a brilliant new economic theory that had governments around the world jittery then I probably wouldn’t tell anyone about it either, even if that person was the one keeping me alive. I tried to get him started. I said, ‘Is it more like Keynes or Friedman?’
His face registered surprise that I would know either of those two names. He said, ‘Do you know about economics?’
‘I know enough,’ I said. ‘So, which is it?’
He hesitated and then replied, ‘It’s neither really. It doesn’t try to control demand or the money supply.’
‘So, what does it do?’
Geoffrey hesitated again and then said, ‘Potentially, it gives the country using it a huge competitive advantage over all its trading partners.’
I considered his words. That seemed a good enough reason, I realised, to get a lot of government treasuries excited and wake up plenty of intelligence agencies. It would be like hitting a hornets’ nest with a big stick. Other countries would either want it for themselves or stop others from having it. Either way, it was a whole heap of trouble for Geoffrey and now, thanks to Charlotte and her selection process, me, too.
I asked again, ‘How does it work?’
Geoffrey said, ‘It�
�s to do with the exchange rate mechanism and the method used by international financial markets to regulate debt.’
It was clear to me this theory had the potential to upset the cosy existence of many people. I tried to think of whom it would benefit. It ought to benefit the UK government. Maybe Charlotte was being truthful when she had told me she was up against an insider working for a foreign power. Treason was a nasty business but as old as Solomon. It was the stock-in-trade of all intelligence agencies. The easiest way to discover secrets is to ask those who know them, and to have them simply tell you. For those who do it, though, telling an important state secret is like betraying a lover. Once done, it is done forever. You can never go back.
‘Do you work for British Intelligence?’ It was Geoffrey’s turn to ask some questions.
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Don’t you work with Charlotte Miller? She must be British Intelligence, I think. Mr. Meriwether definitely is, I think. Aren’t they?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never met Meriwether and I only met Charlotte two days ago.’ Geoffrey expressed surprise and then stared at me. He wanted an explanation but he didn’t ask me for one. I wondered if he was working it out for himself. ‘Two days ago I was sitting on the settee in a friend’s flat wondering how I was going to find a job to keep off the streets. Charlotte called me on the telephone and said I had to attend a meeting in Whitehall. The next day I was flying to Tenerife with instructions to kill you.’ Geoffrey was still staring at me. He was thinking. His brow was creased and his half-eaten apple rested abandoned in his lap.
He said, ‘What did you do before you were unemployed?’ It was a sensible question.
I said, ‘I was a soldier in the British Army.’
He said, ‘Special Forces?’
I wasn’t sure what was so special about us. More like special needs. All that’s required is huge stamina and a level of intelligence higher than that of an average twelve-year-old.
He said, ‘That’s why you fight so well,’ and then he added, ‘and that’s why they chose you. But it’s not the only reason.’ No, I was beginning to think that, too. I made a mental note to ask Charlotte Miller about that when I got a chance. There was a long silence before Geoffrey asked, ‘How’s this going to end?’
I didn’t know, but I wouldn’t have put the odds of either of us still being alive in forty-eight hours’ time at more than fifty-fifty. I said, ‘Well,’ and then added, ‘don’t worry; we’re going to come through this.’ I tried to make myself believe it. I didn’t know how convinced Geoffrey was. It seemed to me the biggest problem we had, apart from staying alive, was finding out if anyone was trustworthy. I didn’t share my thoughts. Geoffrey was probably thinking the same thing, anyway.
He said, ‘Money.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘That’s why my theory has got everybody so upset,’ he explained. 'Economics is really about money; did you know that? All economists think it’s about demand and supply or the allocation of resources through free market trade. None of them seem to understand the important thing is money and how human nature and greed affect everything that happens.’
Before Professor Button could really get started with his economics lecture, I interrupted him and said, ‘I’m going to get some sleep, which means you’re taking the first watch.’ The marina and the bars and restaurants were still busy, which gave us plenty of available cover. I needed to recharge myself. I said, ‘Watch out for anything unusual, especially anyone who may be looking for us or looking for the car. If you see anything that looks out of the ordinary or suspicious wake me straight away. Stay awake as long as you can. When you feel yourself falling asleep and if you really cannot stay awake any longer then wake me and we’ll swap, okay? Don’t fall asleep without waking me first.’
Geoffrey nodded, ‘All right,’ he said. I could see that by his expression he was taking it seriously. I found the tilt adjustment on my seat and moved it as far back as it would go, and then pulled off my old army trick. I was asleep is less than a minute. I went quickly into a deep sleep. The car seat was remarkably comfortable and anyway, I can sleep anywhere, even standing up or aboard a flying Chinook, as I mentioned before.
I was dreaming about my mother. In my dream, she wasn’t dead. It was present time and she was still alive. We were talking. She was smiling at me and I was overcome with the emotion of seeing her and thinking she was alive. She told me she had something important to tell me. She wanted to warn me about something in my future. She told me to listen to her carefully. I was trying to listen but someone was persistently shaking my arm. I tried to ignore them but it was impossible. My mother faded away without telling me and I awoke.
‘Are you awake?’ Geoffrey repeated his question while vigorously shaking my arm. My eyes focused. The time was 01:20 hours. Geoffrey said, ‘There’s a policeman heading our way and he’s taking a great deal of interest in all the parked cars.’
I sat up and looked out. There were still some people about but not as many. I spotted the policeman. He was standing in the shadowy light from the streetlamps along the marina wall checking the parked cars. He was still around fifty paces away but heading in our direction. Geoffrey was right to wake me, even though he had interrupted my dream because it was quite possible the policeman was searching for the car we were sitting in. Perhaps the rental company had reported the theft of their vehicle. It was possible but unlikely, as we had only taken it a few hours earlier; and even if they had why would the police be searching for it at twenty past one in the morning? These considerations flew through my mind. The important thing was deciding what to do. Perhaps someone else, someone with political influence had persuaded the local cops to search for the car, someone who wanted urgently to find us.
Geoffrey broke my musing by asking, ‘What are we going to do?’
It was a good question. We had two options. We could abandon the car and either, slip away unnoticed, or attempt the riskier manoeuvre of driving away unseen. Unfortunately, it was impossible to leave the marina without driving past the policeman. Geoffrey was waiting for his answer. I said, ‘We’re going to drive away. I don’t want to lose the car just yet.’ I was prepared to gamble that the policeman didn’t have descriptions of us, just the car details.
Geoffrey looked surprised and said, ‘The policeman will see us.’
I smiled and said, ‘No, he won’t. I’ve got a plan.’
A minute later, after explaining and agreeing my shrewd plan with my doubting companion, I strode confidently up to the policeman with, what I hoped was the enquiring expression of a lost English tourist, and said, ‘Excuse me, officer, but I can’t seem to find my hotel.’
The police officer was young. The first thing I noticed was his holstered gun and tired eyes. His body language conveyed exasperation. It was obvious his English was extremely limited. He tentatively asked, ‘You speak Spanish, señor?’
I replied, ‘A little, un poco.’ I said, ‘Estoy perdido... ¿dónde está mi hotel?’ He understood me. He wanted to know the name of the hotel. He asked, ‘¿Qué hotel es él, señor?’ I smiled at him as if with relief and said, ‘Barracuda, hotel La Barracuda.’ The young policia smiled back politely and pointed up the road. He knew where it was, which wasn’t surprising as it was only a short walk away.
I said, ‘Direcciones, por favor,’ and led him by the arm towards where he had pointed. We walked together away from the marina and he said, ‘La vuelta de la esquina.’ As we reached the corner together and looked down the street, Geoffrey drove slowly by. I saw the silver saloon from the corner of my eye and kept a tight grasp on the policeman’s arm. He didn’t even realise a car had driven by. He pointed again and said, ‘Gire a la derecha.’ I nodded in understanding and headed off, leaving him with a grateful, ‘Gracias, gracias.’
After walking for less than a minute, I looked back. The policeman had returned to his duties at the marina and I hurried back, and then away up the hill to where Geoffrey was parked and waiting. It
had worked perfectly. It was a good plan.
‘Move over, I’ll drive.’ After the scrape with the green bus earlier, I wasn’t going to let Geoffrey drive any more than was necessary.
He said, ‘Did he see me?’
I shook my head and said, ‘He was just happy I spoke Spanish.’
‘Do you speak Spanish?’
‘...sí, señor.’
Geoffrey smiled and then said, ‘I’m tired.’
‘Go to sleep. It’s your turn and you’ve earned it.’
He tipped back his seat, rested his head comfortably and closed his eyes.
I drove away from the seafront, uphill beyond the complexes of holiday apartments, through the middle tier of the resort to the bypass road, which ran from the south, climbed inland, and wound its way through the mountainous terrain.
My thoughts returned to my sleep and I remembered my dream. I tried to recall it in as much detail as possible. The emotion was still very strong but as with all dreams, the detail was cloudy like looking at a half-finished jigsaw puzzle. I concentrated on the warning my mother had tried to tell me but nothing came to me that would help in knowing what it was. At least it was an improvement on the nightmare.
I put the dream out of my mind as I drove around a roundabout twice while deciding which way to go. I needed somewhere to hide for the rest of the night. The roads were quiet and I wanted to be safely out of the way without unnecessary delay. There was a narrow exit from the roundabout, partially obscured by a wall and identified by a discreet road sign. It read: San Diego Parque, Residents Only. I took the exit and drove slowly up the road. The barrier was up and the guard’s box was empty. It didn’t look as though it was in use anymore. Perhaps the residents of San Diego Parque had realised they didn’t need such elaborate protection and had decided to save their money. I continued up, turning along the winding road, beyond the dry-stone walls and the large, expensive villas that nestled behind them. It was a Tenerife holiday and retirement estate for the wealthy, and it was quiet and secluded, which was ideal. I turned right onto a road that ran parallel to the slope. It was a cul-de-sac with a turn at the end. I followed it round and then parked, facing back the way I had come, behind a large saloon in a row of parked cars along the roadside. I switched off the lights and killed the engine. I looked over at Geoffrey. He was asleep and breathing deeply. I wondered if he was dreaming: Darn that pesky wabbit.