by Stuart Field
‘I’m off to bed, see you early tomorrow,’ Steel said.
‘Come on one, have one more, what are you…a lightweight?’ Stan laughed.
‘When I need to be,’ Steel shrugged. ‘Besides, someone needs to keep a clear head for tomorrow,’ Steel smiled.
He knew the state Stan was going to be in the next morning – unless of course, he ended up in the local police station first, which was in spitting distance of the restaurant.
‘Tomorrow…I will be – wait – what’s happening tomorrow?’ Stan said, then fell off his chair. The beer bottle hit the concrete but somehow did not smash.
Steel picked up Stan and slung the man over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Stan was surprisingly light, but he stank from lack of deodorant, too many cigarettes and too much booze.
Steel carried the drunken driver over to the hotel and made his way to the front desk, hoping that Stan had actually gotten the rooms before hitting the bar.
He had.
Rooms 21 and 23. Steel naturally had gotten the balcony suite, and Stan was across the hall. Steel checked himself in and got his key. Stan’s had fallen out of his pocket, relieving Steel of a body search he did not want to do. The fireman’s carry was bad enough.
Steel took the stairs to the first floor and located Stan’s rooms and opened the door. Stan was still singing – or what could be counted as singing. The room was small but comfortable. With a double bed, an ensuite bathroom, a desk and chair. A small flat-screen tv sat on the desk, along with some flyers about what to do on the island. It was quaint and more than enough for Stan.
Steel dumped Stan on his bed and toss the man’s room key beside him, then closed the door and headed back down to the lobby to arrange an early call for Stan at five in the morning.
They wouldn’t be leaving until around seven. Still, Steel needed him to have a clear-headed for the drive, and maybe there was a small element of payback for the meal he had witnessed Stan devour.
Steel made his way to his room. He checked the flat circular white plastic tag on the room key for the number, and then the small brass tag on the door.
Room 23 was a little to the right of Stan’s, and Steel just hoped it was far enough away not to hear his snoring.
The room was homely with what appeared to be antique furniture. Steel suspected they were well-made reproductions. Opposite the bed was a green cloth couch, and next to that was a desk with a 30-inch flatscreen. The floor was covered with white marble tiles, and the walls were coated with a cappuccino colour. There was a blue rug on either side of the bed with soft cotton sheets and a blue throw blanket at the foot.
Steel sat on the bed to test the mattress's firmness and found it comfortable, not the usual stiff bed that left him feeling he’d spent the entire night on the floor. Steel unpacked his small bag and placed his toiletries in the bathroom. It was spacious, grey tiles covered the floor and continued halfway up the wall, the other half was the white walls like the rest of the suite. It was clean and modern, and that shower looked very inviting.
Steel put his spare clothes away then headed to his window to check out what sort of view they had given him. The balcony was nothing more than a metal guard on the other side of the double doors. He smiled as he looked down at the street that lay between the parking lot and the restaurant. He was precisely where he’d asked to be when he pre-booked the room. Before they had left Malta, Steel had researched the hotels in Gozo, particularly those near the hotel and more importantly those that were out of the way but had direct access to the main road. The hotel he was in had ticked all the boxes. He had checked its location using a satellite view on a web page. He had noted the exits in and out of the square. Another reason he chose it was that they were utterly confined despite the road in and out.
If someone was to try something, the small road would have to be clear of traffic or parked cars. And with a police station nearby, such an ambush would be suicide for any would-be attackers.
Steel looked down at the plaza. Despite the only thing to see were the car park and the restaurant, it was a view and not the wall of someone’s house – which was precisely what Steel had made sure Stan had gotten.
Steel stared at the restaurant and then the road. The road went down between the buildings, then narrowed to one lane, and even then parked cars would make a concertina, Forcing cars to slow. But more importantly, it led straight to the main Triq L-lmgarr road and onto the north, to San Lorenz, and the Azure Window.
Samara had checked with the Grand Excelsior Hotel's front desk to see if Steel had made any reservations or asked about Gozo's hotels. She was about to either try and bribe the man behind the desk or tell him she was Steel’s fiancé. As it turned out, Steel had left a phoned through and left a message that if Samara asked, she should be given the details.
The tall, broad shoulder concierge smiled and passed over a card with the hotel's address in Victoria that Steel had booked.
Samara did not know whether to be impressed or annoyed at Steel. She took the card and made her way to the main entrance. Samara had only waited five minutes before one of her colleagues pulled up in a new black Mitsubishi Outlander.
‘Thank you, brother,’ Samara said, looking over to Kane.
‘What’s going on, did your boyfriend get kidnapped again?’ Kane asked with a broad grin.
‘I just need the car. I won’t ask you to come,’ Samara said. Kane returned her suggestion with a grievous look.
‘No, Samara, I’ll drive you, that way I can hopefully prevent either one of you getting into trouble. Besides, I’ve seen you drive,’ His playful mockery caused her to smile.
Samara did not smile, she just got into the passenger side and buckled up. Her thoughts were of Steel and the ex-fixer she had uncovered. The man who now called himself Calver was on the islands, and that meant trouble.
It also explained a lot.
It was why they were interested in her and not Steel. All they knew about Steel was his appearance of being some wealthy Lord playing detective.
Steel was here because of Lucy Foster’s death.
She, on the other hand, was seeking out a terror threat.
‘What’s this all about Samara?’ Kane asked. Samara showed him the photograph of Calver. ‘You got to be kidding me, wasn’t this one of bastards you said used to work for Mossad before they got canned for making money on the side? ‘ Samara nodded silently. ‘but Clive Denton, on Malta – now?’ A look of anger crossed his face; then it turned to determination. The engine roared, and the tires spat dust as the Kane floored the gas pedal.
The Mitsubishi Outlander headed out of Valletta and headed north towards the ferry port at Cirkewwa. The beams from the LED headlights cut through the blackness of the evening, giving him a clear view of the oncoming street.
Kane had driven in the Dakar, and other rallies, including the Isle of Man, so this was child’s play. Unfortunately, all his skills were no match for other drivers on single track roads and through towns who drove slowly and had no concept of hurry up.
They arrived in time to see the eight-fifteen evening ferry leave the port. Samara bared her teeth in anger. She knew Kane had gotten them there as fast as possible, but Fate was against them. Samara knew the next one would leave in forty-five minutes. Samara sighed her acceptance of the situation and turned to Kane.
‘Coffee?’ Samara said.
‘Ah – why not,’ Kane said. ‘There’s nothing we could do until the next ferry arrives,’ Kane said.‘Do they have cake?’ Kane asked, just as Samara was just getting out the passenger door.
Samara laughed and shook her head. Kane was the only man she knew who could eat like a trucker and still keep his figure.
‘So, what’s the story with you and Steel?’ he said as they walked over together.
‘Nothing. We’re just working the same case, that’s all,’ Samara said defensively.
‘Mmmh, yeah, right,’ Kane said with a teasing smile. Samara slapped her brothe
r on the arm playfully.
They killed time with lots of coffee, and Kane found his cake before the ferry returned. They boarded and in the large seating area by the time the motors kicked in, and they were away. The sun was just setting as they left the harbour. The sky was ablaze with deep orange and grey smudges of cloud against the ochre backdrop. The ocean had turned to gold as the sun melting into it.
Samara looked out of the window at the glistening lights from Malta behind them. It was a beautiful sight, for sure. It also meant they would be driving unfamiliar roads in the dark. Samara checked the navigation app on her phone to see if it was working. The red dot on the map moved slowly across the blue background.
Samara was glad Kane was driving, it would give her time to plan, something she could not do well if she had to concentrate on the roads. She was good at multi-tasking, but sometimes her mind drifted. Samara looked at the map and sighed with relief, there was only one road to Victoria and Steel was somewhere on that road. The question was? Who else knew she was coming and did they know Steel was already there?
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Across from John Steel’s hotel, people had started to gather by the restaurant. Greeting one another with ‘ Hey’s’ and ‘tajjeb li narak.’ The music's sound grew louder. It was apparent to Steel that the people here ate late, rather than the typical fed by six and in pyjamas by nine that he had been accustomed to as a child.
The night air was warm despite being almost nine o’clock, but the cool breeze took the edge off the heat. Steel stool quietly, holding a glass of local red wine he had gotten from the hotel bar. He listened to the city's sound – which was more of a gentle hum – instead of the vibrant sound of a city like New York or London. Those sounded busy, this was almost soothing. Steel had seen of Victoria. He figured most of the traffic was made up of people on foot, heading to local bars or the other restaurants nearby. Steel had a feeling of tranquillity as he enjoying the dry, fruity wine. A subtle hint of wood and berries filled his nostrils. Steel closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air. For a moment he was tempted to just stare out of the window and take in the moment.
But he had work to do.
Steel finished off the rest of the wine and walked over to the complimentary tea and coffee facilities. Taking one of the free bottles of water, he poured the liquid into the kettle and switched it on.
Steel had relaxed and recharged his batteries slightly, with a pleasant evening – despite Stan’s display of being a complete neanderthal. The food and wine had been excellent, as was the service.
But now, Steel had work to do before he could consider getting any sleep. He would need buckets of coffee and a clear head, knowing he would be sifting through his research and the new information from the medical examiner.
Steel had to be ready for the trip to Azure Window. He needed to know all the facts. Where they discovered Lucy’s body, and where they thought she had jumped. What else was nearby? And where was Lucy’s film shot?
Steel looked over to the small desk in the right-hand corner of the room. The top of the antique-looking was full with a crockery based lamp, a telephone, and an information folder provided by the hotel. Next to the desk was an ornately carved wooden chair. It was made from the same wood and had the same style as the desk, with maroon coloured padding on the seat and backrest, the wood was dark like rosewood and polished to a shine.
The chair was pulled out to accommodate Steel’s black canvas bag with outside pockets. Inside he had all the files on Lucy’s case on his tablet along with some paper files he had managed to made up or picked up on the way.
The central part of the bag held Steel’s laptop, the outer pockets had the loading cables, and charges for his equipment.
He picked up the bag and unpacked the items onto the polished wooden top of the desk.
Since he had arrived in Malta, he’d not had a chance to sit down to sit and think, put things into perspective. His simple case had turned into something far more sinister and intriguing.
Steel thought about Foster’s advice – which he had almost made an order.
‘Find who did this to my little girl, Steel. You make them pay… every last one of them,’ Foster had said. Something had puzzled him about that statement ‘…every last one of them.’
How many people did Foster think was involved? Foster had asked Steel to concentrate on Lucy’s death, and not to worry about the software, and that’s precisely what he planned to do. This software was housed in a secure facility, and from what Foster had explained it was better guarded than Fort Knox.
Steel was there for Lucy, and like Foster had said, if their interests crossed paths all the better. The kettle clicked off, Steel poured in the water into a cup and opened one of the all-in-one sachets. The power hit the water and turned it a caramel brown. He preferred black coffee, but beggars could not be choosers. It was coffee, and that’s all he needed.
Steel pulled out the chair and sat at the desk. The wood creaked. He picked up the porcelain coffee cup and took a sip from the boiling hot liquid.
After arranging the files in order, he pulled out a large notebook he’d bought at the ferry shop and got to work.
First, he wrote down the police report's details on when they had discovered Lucy’s body.
Body in Blue Hole.
Mr and Mrs Fabri while walking the dog.
6 am.
The body later identified as Lucy Foster.
Steel tapped the end of the ballpoint pen over his writing. Something was bothering him.
He re-read Burlo’s report.
It was the sergeant who had identified the body. Burlo had admitted to knowing Lucy and Marcus – how did he put it? An old friend of the family?
So it would explain how he had known it was her. Plus Lucy’s face hadn’t been damaged too much by the waves. Even Steel had recognised her from her photos he had found in her apartment.
The body of female found in Blue Hole.
Steel re-read what he had written. Again something felt off but did not know why. Steel opened up his computer and got a birds-eye view of the area. The Blue Hole was a body of water encased by a weathered rock enclosure used by drivers. Its sky-blue waters stood out from their limestone surrounds. Steel re-read the report; The victim may have fallen from Azure Window and body carried into the pool due to rough seas.
Steel looked closer at the image, but could not confirm from the small picture if it was possible. He looked at a photo of the sight on a beautiful clear day, not a stormy night.
He took another sip from the coffee and placed it back on the table. Steel drew a giant question mark next to the incident report.
Tomorrow he’d have a better idea.
For now – Steel needed to press on.
Medical examiner placed time of death between one and three in the morning. Water temperatures made an approximate TOD impossible to determine for now. Awaiting a more thorough report later.
The victim sustained internal haemorrhaging; left leg has compounded fractures.
Right arm dislocated at the socket.
There was server head trauma, which included massive damage to the frontal bone and zygomatic bone. The nasal region also suffered damage.
Several ribs had been broken and skin lacerations possibly due to impacts on hard surfaces.
Steel made a note of the injuries and the time.
The more Steel read, the angrier he became. He wanted to get up to Azure Window as soon as possible.
He took another sip from the cooling coffee. He wished it was dawn and they were heading away already. Steel looked at the satellite picture of the area again. Something was nagging at him, but he did not know what. All he had was an Ariel, so he had no propper image of the area. Steel knew he had to see the scene for himself to get the right perspective. To get the lay of the land.
To see what obstacles a person may face. To walk the walk, get an idea in his head of what may have happened that night.
&
nbsp; At twenty-past-nine Steel received a text from Samara. He was still going through the reports and satellite images of Gozo to plot routes from Azure Window to possible places where Lucy had taken the photographs. His bed was covered with files, maps he had bought at the airport and his tablet. Steel was on his third coffee, he’d had enough wine, he needed a clear head to think.
Which hotel are you in? The text message had read.
Steel smiled and replied. That’s when he stopped and looked at the cell phone he had just placed back on the desk.
Steel thought for a moment. He had left the address with concierge back at the Excelsior, just in case, she needed to get hold of him. But Steel knew then that she wasn’t randomly asking for the address – she was there – on Gozo.
What had changed? What new bit of information was so important she had come to the island to pass it on? He doubted that she missed him so much she could not keep away. He had expected her to be doing background checks on Foster’s team.
Perhaps that was it?
If she had found something, why didn’t she just call to let him know? Whatever it was, it must be bad news.
That excited him.
Because information like that could push this whole investigation forwards – possibly both of them, despite Foster’s assurance the business at the blockhouse was none of his affairs.
Steel tapped the desk with his fingers, making tiny drumming sounds of indecision.
If she had sent a message asking which hotel it was, that meant she was close.
Steel stood up and headed for the small mini bar, but found it to be an empty fridge. He closed his eyes as he felt the crisp air coming from the open door. Begrudgingly, he closed the door and grabbed his wallet and room key. He needed something to drink for when Samara got there. A couple of cans of something cold would be enough, possibly a bottle of wine.