by Mark Arundel
I heard the engine note change as the driver throttled back and threw up a sluice of water as they came to and bumped alongside. Putting on my rucksack, I felt the position of the Glock inside my waistband and waited. Geoffrey had moved over beside me with his satchel over his head. He stood as though he were waiting for the school bus. I briefly whispered my plan in his ear. He didn’t seem very impressed as though he had been hoping for something with a bit more imagination.
A deep Spanish voice sounded from the police boat. Alicia replied submissively. Her father then pulled himself up and his head appeared over the side. He looked like a cross between Don Juan and Picasso. The hair below his cap was thick and grey. His face was peasantry but tanned mocha and his large eyes were expressive and intelligent. If it had not been for my considerable age advantage, I might have been worried. As it was, I decided to stick to my plan. His gun was still in its holster. He spoke again in Spanish to Alicia and she averted her gaze downwards. Her father was decidedly unhappy. It was going to get worse for him.
A second police officer followed him aboard. It was the one from earlier in the car at the marina. His gun was also still in its holster. He stood by the rail while the chief approached me. Both men glared authoritatively at me. Spanish police, I remembered, expected obedience and they were used to getting respect. This attitude, I hoped, was going to help me as neither of them would be expecting me to do what I was about to do. The third policeman stayed with the boat. He stood by the wheelhouse watching. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I judged the distances between them and waited for my opportunity.
Together with Alicia, Jennifer also looked suitably contrite faced as she was with the long arm of the law. Xing watched from her shackled position on the blanket with an expectant shine to her face like a member of the audience at a popular Broadway musical. She was looking forward to the show.
The chief addressed me directly. He stopped a few paces away and said, ‘Señor, you will return with me to the land and we will go to the police house; we have questions for you.’ I remained silent and kept what I hoped was a friendly but respectful expression on my face. The police chief continued. ‘These other people will come, also.’ He glanced at Geoffrey who was beside me and then at Jennifer and finally at Xing. His expression altered and he frowned. He had noticed the handcuffs. He kept his eyes on her and took a step forward. This was my opportunity.
I gave no warning of my intention. I moved forward at speed, right up to him, placed my leg around and behind his like a footballer making a tackle or more accurately like a trained fighter in jujitsu, and pushed him back with the palm of my hand placed flat on his chest. His legs buckled, he flipped off balance and with the force of my hand accelerating through the push he went over backwards with his feet off the ground. The suddenness of the throw together with his body weight meant he had no time to move his arms in protection. He smacked the wooden deck with his back and I heard the unmistakable sound of his head smacking it, too. In an army combat situation, the next move would be to nullify the opponent. That’s a nice word for kill, but I didn’t want to kill him. I wanted to get to the next policeman in time.
I think the shock of what I’d done to the chief of police kept the second policeman frozen. He didn’t go for his gun, or speak or even move much. I was on him in a second. I shoulder barged him in the chest. He staggered backwards and I followed up with a forearm smash to his jaw. He stumbled and began to fall. I pushed him against the rail and with a combination of his own momentum and my charging force I tipped him over and he fell into the ocean.
It was now that I was at my most vulnerable. The third policeman, the one who had remained on the police boat, was a real threat. He had seen what I’d done to his two colleagues. His reaction would determine whether I would have to kill him. Quickly I looked across at him and prepared to pull my Glock. He was surprised, unsure and scared. He hadn’t gone for his gun. He was lucky. He was going to live.
I leapt over and across the white railing in a single bound and landed heavily on both feet. In the time it took to make the jump, the police officer recovered his certainty and went for his gun. Fortunately, for both of us, he was too late. I crashed into him before he had time to draw and knocked him against the wheelhouse. I sprung at him and slammed him using my shoulder and then charging into him and pushing him backwards like an American football linebacker sacking the quarterback. He tried desperately to get purchase with his feet and his hands, but he grasped unsuccessfully at my arms and his soles slid on the deck. Nothing was going to save him. He followed his partner over the side and into the drink.
I turned rapidly to assess my situation. As arranged, Geoffrey had followed me onto the police boat by climbing down carefully. He held out the knife for me and I took it from him.
‘Get in the wheelhouse and keep down.’ He did as I instructed.
Using the Ka-Bar I cut the rope that tied the police boat to the yacht, and at the same time checked on the three policemen. The police chief was still down. Both his daughter Alicia and Jennifer were crouched over him. Jennifer was obviously examining him. He may have sustained a mild concussion from hitting his head. Anyway, it didn’t look likely he would be bothering me anytime soon. As I looked, I saw Xing straining against the cuffs to get a better view. She was staring at me. I saw on her face an unusual look and in her eyes, I read the words: I will be seeing you again.
I scanned the sea around the yacht and spotted the third policeman who was treading water close to where I had thrown him in. The height was too great for him to get back on board by just reaching up.
I pushed the starter button and the engine burbled contentedly; it was still hot. My hand found the power lever. I heard something and spun round. The second policeman was climbing aboard. He’d swum around to the fixed metal ladder on the rear quarter and was pulling himself up. Blood ran from his mouth where I’d hit him with my forearm. He was breathing heavily and the seawater was running from his head and clothes. In his hand, he held a gun. The pistol was soaking wet but I didn’t want to find out whether it still fired. The police boat was swaying on the swell of the waves and the policeman was struggling to come aboard using only one hand. I had to react fast. I pushed the lever forward and yanked the wheel. The boat jolted, tipped and carved away from the yacht in a tight turn. The unexpected movement of the vessel forced the policeman to grip with both hands. I pulled the lever back, taking off the power and the boat slowed and bounced, yawing with the momentum and weight of the water against the hull. My speed across the deck was lightening. I balanced against the roll and landed a toe punt to his already bloodied face. The man’s head snapped up, his fingers lost their grip and he fell back into the sea. I returned immediately to the helm, reapplied the power, turned the wheel and sped off safely leaving the yacht behind.
I steered south with an angle to take us back inshore. Looking back at the yacht, I wondered if they would give chase. We were travelling at eighteen knots. By the time the two policemen got aboard and Alicia left her father’s side, weighed anchor and put the sails up we would have had a good head start. The yacht did have a radio and Alicia had a phone, so they could communicate with the mainland. My concern was a helicopter. I considered it unlikely they would have one locally, but further south where the resorts were much bigger they would definitely have one. I decided we needed to get ashore within ten minutes, which meant only a few miles along the coast at the most. I switched on my K106 and searched for a place to make land.
As we moved inshore, I noticed we were passing the beach, the one that the villa overlooked. The villa Charlotte had chosen for me. Things hadn’t turned out quite as I expected. The beach was busy with holidaymakers, colourful and alive. I sped past. We needed to find a more secure place to go ashore.
Geoffrey asked, ‘What are we going to do?’
I said, ‘Get ashore as quickly as possible.’
‘...yes, and what then?’
It was a good
question. I used my K106 to call Charlotte.
She answered with her usual enquiry about our wellbeing, which I ignored. ‘Have you arranged our new accommodation yet?’ I asked.
‘I’m waiting for final confirmation and then I’ll send you the address and directions to your K106.’
‘How’s the plan going? Did you trace that London number I gave you?’
She didn’t answer and instead asked, ‘Where are you? Are you on a boat?’
‘Yes. Where are you with the plan?’
‘I’m working on it,’ she said reassuringly.
‘Well, don’t take too long.’ I ended the call and went back to finding a place to get ashore.
Another boat coming in the other direction sailed past. It was a tourist excursion boat from the south. It looked like a pirate ship and I wondered if it would be flying the Jolly Roger. The passengers were all whale watching. They were taking photographs and some of them looked a little seasick and perhaps regretting their decision to become sailors for the day. None of them seemed even to notice us. I wondered if the ship’s crew had paid us any attention.
The coastline turned barren and even rockier if that were possible. I checked behind us but I couldn’t see Dancing Brave. The yacht was not following us. I looked into the sky and listened for a helicopter but fortune was with us and the vast sky was empty.
My K106 had found a possible landing place. Just over a mile away was a small town with a manmade harbour that gave protection to a tourist beach and mooring for fishing boats and small pleasure crafts. My plan was to get ashore unseen; when we reached the harbour I hoped it would have a concealed entrance created by a jetty or the harbour wall itself that provided safe mooring.
We reached the town in a matter of minutes and I throttled back. The harbour and beach were at the far end. We motored past a strip of cafes, shops, restaurants and old locals sitting on benches. Behind them, rising away to the skyline were blocks of apartments and small hotels.
A sharp rocky outcrop jutted across my route and I steered around it. Breaking into open water, I saw the harbour wall ahead. It was slate grey and made from large blocks that fitted neatly together. It was long and tall, which was perfect for concealing an approaching vessel from the shore. I slowed the boat and steered along the wall. At the end, two fishermen were sitting on collapsible stools with their fishing rods hanging over the edge. Neither of them took any notice. I came to a near stop and allowed the boat to drift through the entrance and into the calm water of the harbour. I could see the long, curving beach, dotted with three dozen or so holidaymakers and with another dozen or so in the water swimming. Some of them were children and I could hear their shrill, excited cries carrying on the gentle breeze.
Eight or so rows of moored boats, ranging from a dirty commercial trawler through a gleaming white motorboat to a pretty felucca, filled the harbour between the roped buoys. I powered slowly along, inside the harbour wall. Ahead of us appeared a flight of stone steps that led down the side and into the sea. I stopped the engine and used the boat hook against the wall to rest us alongside the steps.
‘We’re getting off,’ I said.
Geoffrey went first. Carrying his satchel, he stepped cautiously onto the first step above the water line but then lost his balance and had to step down and put his foot into the water. He used his hands to steady himself and then climbed the stone steps to the opening on the flat parapet.
I had considered scuttling the police boat as a way of hiding it. However, I realised that was likely to draw attention from the anglers among others and so I tied it off on the wall through a rusty iron hook.
With my rucksack on my back, I followed Geoffrey up the stone steps. From the vantage point on top of the harbour wall, I surveyed the area. A walkway went to the road that accessed the town. On the far side of the beach, the cliffs led to farmland and a collection of smallholdings with the obligatory fields of banana plants. Behind the beach was a promenade with a pretty café and a car park. The tables and chairs sheltered beneath striped umbrellas and tall palm trees.
As appealing as this small town was I knew we could not stay here for long. We had to keep moving if we were to keep ahead of the police. The difficulty was where to go and how to get there. On foot, someone was likely to spot us. We needed a car. I focused on the car park and said to Geoffrey, ‘Come on, let’s get a drink at the café.’ Geoffrey gave me a surprised stare but followed without complaint. He shook his one wet foot as we walked and muttered like an old-fashioned comedian.
Although the café was quiet and most of the tables were empty, I chose to sit at the end. It was the farthest table from the café door and we didn’t get a smile from the cute waitress after giving her such a long walk. She jotted down our order of drinks and cheese sandwiches and hurried off. Well, she had a long way to go. I had chosen that particular table because it was the closest to the beach entrance and the car park. I had a plan to get us a car.
Geoffrey asked, ‘How long you do you think it will be before a police car turns up here looking for us?’
‘A half an hour at the most,’ I said.
‘Then why have we stopped at this café? It’s very pleasant and all, but aren’t we wasting time?’
‘We need a car to get away properly. I’ve got a plan.’
Geoffrey puckered his lips and said, ‘Oh, right, I see.’ Then he added, ‘What’s the plan?’
I told him and he nodded. He said, ‘Shouldn’t we just get quickly away now and then find a car.’
‘No. We have to have a car and this is the best way of getting one.’
He nodded again. ‘All right,’ he said resignedly.
The cute waitress returned with our order but still no smile; she was probably tired.
I maintained my attention on the car park and the walkway across to the beach. I was hoping to see what I wanted and soon. I ate my sandwich quickly and gulped my cold drink.
Two young women in their early twenties, clicking on flip-flops, came out of the car park and headed for the beach. They were wearing bikinis, hats, sunglasses, silky wrap things and they both carried shoulder bags.
I nodded at Geoffrey and said, ‘They’ll do.’ He hadn’t finished his sandwich. ‘Bring it with you.’ I left the payment in cash on the table and we stood up and moved away. We walked casually out to the edge of the beach and looked around like tourists. I was watching where the two girls were going. They chose to position themselves centrally, about two-thirds of the way to the water’s edge and fifty paces or so from the sun loungers that were set out and available for hire. The man looking after the sun loungers had watched the two girls, as well. He was disappointed he hadn’t made a sale.
I strolled along the path and joined the promenade that edged the beach. Geoffrey followed, still eating his cheese sandwich. When we got level with the position of the two girls, I stepped over the low wall and jumped down onto the sand. Geoffrey followed. We slouched together towards the sea, kicking hot sand through our toes. Nobody took any notice of us. The sun was high and the air shimmered with a gentle whiteness like the vision through a veil. It made clear observation less than easy.
I stopped about ten paces directly behind the girls and Geoffrey and I both sat down on the sand. I watched the girls without making it too obvious, not that there was anything unusual about me glancing in their direction. They were chatting and rubbing sun cream on themselves and each other. After a few minutes, they laid down on their towels to sunbathe. One of them took out a book from her bag, turned over and began reading.
I was now concerned that this was going to take longer than I had hoped. We didn’t have much time to sit on the beach, even if the view was a good one. I was beginning to reconsider our options when luckily it happened. The non-reader sat up, gazed at the sea and then spoke to her friend. After a few seconds, the reader marked her book and they stood up together and headed off towards the water.
Geoffrey said, ‘They’re going together just
like you said.’
‘Yes, they are,’ I said. My plan was working. I gave them a minute or two to get into the water and start swimming. I checked around. Nobody was looking at us. I got up, walked directly to the girls spot and dropped down. After another quick check, I tipped out the contents of the first bag. There it was. I picked up the car key and concealed it in my hand. I stood up, slipped my hand into my pocket and was back with Geoffrey inside ten seconds.
‘Let’s go,’ I said.
Did you get it?’ he whispered. I nodded.
He stood up and we walked unhurriedly back to the pathway. I didn’t glance back at the sea or the girls. We walked straight to the car park. I was about to pull the car key from my pocket when I heard a familiar man’s voice behind me say, ‘Oh good, I was hoping I might find you here.’ I spun around. It was Mr. Stephen Bradshaw.