“Has anyone called the Police?” I asked. “Yes they are on their way,” he replied, “but the police are no good Mr Jason, they can take some hours to come.
I want to see who is this man. I will take you to your hotel and I will come back.”
“There is no problem Hassan,” I said, “I'll come with you, we can go and see.” We both got out of the car and made our way across the road towards the group of men. Behind us the wailing and screaming continued. Hassan barked something in Swahili to the men and they responded by immediately assigning two of them to lead us through the bush to the site of the tragedy. It was clear to me by the men’s response to Hassan that he was a well-respected elder in the community.
We followed the two men silently through the scrub and thorny bush. We passed boulders and giant anthills that were baked hard and white from the sun. Eventually after walking for a good three hundred metres, we arrived at a dried up river bed and the two men in front of us stopped. They turned around, wide-eyed and nervous, spoke something in Swahili and pointed to the left. Thirty metres away, under a thorny bush that overhung the sand of the river bed was the figure of a man. The two men refused to go any further and left it to Hassan and myself to go on. We both clambered down the steep sandy bank and made our way towards the body. I had seen a lot of death in my time as a soldier in the bush war but nothing could have prepared me for the sight I witnessed as we arrived and squatted down to look at the body. It hit me like a wrecking ball and stunned me into silence. The man was sprawled out on his side, facing us. His left arm was outstretched towards us, fingers curled up in agony. His right arm was clearly broken and flopped out behind him. It was blocked from sight by his body. He was a young man, in his late twenties or early thirties. He wore only ripped black trousers and no shirt. His upper body, face and head, were covered with dried, congealed blood and sand. A long thin line of tiny black ants were making their way across the river bed and were busy climbing his exposed shoulders. Swarms of ugly green flies were buzzing around his swollen eyes, mouth and nose, and the air was thick with the distinct and pungent stench of human faeces. I moved around slowly to have a look at the man from behind. It was then that I saw that his right hand had been neatly hacked off at the wrist. The hand was nowhere in sight and only the white bones and tendons of the wrist were visible. Hassan looked at me wide-eyed.
“Are you alright Mr Jason?” He asked solemnly. “I’m fine Hassan. Do you know this man?” I asked
“I recognise him from the village but I do not know him.” He replied. I moved around and looked at the man’s face again. It was not the horrific sight of the dead body that had shocked me. It was the fact that, like Hassan, I too recognised him. The image of his terrified face had been burned into my mind not twenty four hours before. The dead man was the waiter who had been caught stealing from Carlos da Costa at the big house on the beach. The man I had witnessed getting a savage beating and pleading for forgiveness. Carlos and Tintin had finished the job We both backed off and stood up. Sweat ran down my temples and my brain felt like it was full of cotton wool. What the fuck are you going to do now, Green? You pretty much witnessed this man’s murder. But you were alone. Who would believe you? The chief of police was there at the party along with the mayor. This is turning into a fucking zoo! Best to walk away from it and keep quiet for now. Carry on with your plan for the mean time. I turned to Hassan. “Well I'm glad he is not a friend of yours Hassan. I think it’s a police matter.”
“Yes Mr Jason” he replied, “you are right. We should leave this place now.” We turned back and made our way up the river bank to the waiting men from the road. The four of us walked in silence through the bush and back to the crowd. When we arrived the distraught woman was still wailing in anguish nearby. Hassan said a few stern words to the waiting men and we made our way back to the car. Both of us sat in silence as we drove back to my hotel. “It is no good for a tourist to see that Mr Jason,” said Hassan, shaking his head as he parked outside the reception. “It's ok Hassan.” I replied, “don't worry, I have seen that sort of thing before.” I retrieved my bag from the boot and paid him for the trip. I watched him as he drove slowly out of the reed gates and back to the road. I slung the bag over my shoulder and started walking up the pathway towards my room. By then all of the euphoria I had felt when I had arrived was gone. The idyllic beauty of the island, the palm trees, the white sands, the blue of the sky and the ocean were all gone and replaced by a dark cloud of intense worry and fear for Richard. My instincts had been right. The men at the big house were stone cold killers. I needed a plan. I unlocked my door and stepped into the breeze of the fans. I felt grimy from the market and the sweaty trip in the car so I stripped off and stepped into a cold shower. As the cool water poured over my body I decided what I would do. I would take Richard up on his offer of a diving trip that afternoon and I would confront him about Angelique. I wouldn’t tell him who I was or who I was working for. There was no need to blow my cover. I would simply say that I had got a feeling at the party that there might be an attraction between the two of them and warn him that I thought there might be serious consequences should he be found out. Advise him to back off. Surely he’ll see sense in that? I thought, he looks up to you Green. He trusts you and he’ll listen to you. He thinks you saved his life for fuck’s sake!
I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off and dressed. The diving trip was booked for 2pm and I had a little time to kill before I made my way to the water-sports centre. I decided to check my emails and set about booting up the laptop. I felt a little happier that I had decided to confront Richard. I would still carry out the plans I had made for later that evening but at least I would have some time to talk to him and try make him see some sense. As I was receiving my mail I heard some female laughter coming from outside my room. I glanced out to see Helen, Ineke, and Richard making their way down the pathway. I closed my laptop and went to open the door. “Guess who I ran into, Jason?” said Richard with his usual smile. “The ladies are joining us on our diving trip. You are coming with us aren't you mate?”
“Sure I am, Rich,” I replied after greeting the girls. There was a sparkle in Helen’s eyes. “Well, shall we go then?” said Richard, “ok, I’ll just get some things together and I'll meet you at the restaurant,” I said. They agreed and I was left to gather my belongings for the afternoon.
I took my camera and binoculars and left the room. As I made my way up the pathway I realised that I would probably not have the opportunity to talk to Richard seeing as the Dutch girls were coming along. I would have to wait till afterwards and see if there was an opportune moment to do so. It was absolutely imperative that I did speak to him. The haunting sight of the dead man in the river bed weighed heavily on my mind as did the worry I was feeling for both Richard and Angelique. I arrived at the restaurant to find Richard and the girls waiting. The girls both wore their sarongs and straw hats.
“We’ll take a walk up the beach to the water-sports centre then,” said Richard.
“Great,” I said, “shall we go then?” The four of us made our way out across the beach and into the heat of the day. The sun was blistering hot on my skin and we made our way up the hard sand with Richard entertaining the girls with stories of our fishing trip the previous day. We arrived to find the same boat we had used waiting in the shallows. It had been kitted out for diving and had ten sets of scuba bottles and various equipment on board. “We have a new captain today, Jase,” said Richard as we climbed aboard. “Carlos’ wife, Angelique owns this business so she’ll be taking us out.”
“Oh right,” I said, “where is she then?”
“She should be arriving anytime now.” Richard replied looking at his watch. Jesus I thought, definitely no chance of having that word with Richard then Green. This just gets worse and worse! The two Dutch girls chatted away excitedly as they explored the boat. At that moment I saw a yellow Hummer coming down the sandy access road towards the water-sports centre. It p
arked near the thatch building and two figures got out. One of them was Angelique and the other was the unmistakeable huge frame of Tintin. He was obviously the driver for the day and he stood in the shade scowling at us as Angelique made her way across the sand towards us. “Hello!” she called with a cheery wave as she approached the boat. She was wearing a loose fitting yellow summer dress and had her hair in a pony tail. The Dutch girls were clearly taken aback by her beauty but we all exchanged greetings nonetheless. She climbed aboard nimbly, shook hands with the Dutch girls and in true French fashion, kissed both Richard and myself on each cheek once. I could smell Chanel No 5 on her skin. I glanced at Tintin. He sat on a white plastic chair in the shade, his legs crossed, chewing on a straw of thatching grass. Even through the dark glasses I felt his stare and his suspicions.
“Where are you taking us today Angelique?” asked Richard, looking pleased with himself.
“Today we will dive at Seven Mile Reef,” she replied. “the best scuba diving in Zanzibar. Is everyone ready?”
“I think we are,” said Richard. It was clear to me that my presence on the boat that day was a clever plan of Richard's to give the impression that we were on a completely innocent day trip. We were supposed to look like a group of friends simply getting together for an afternoon of diving. Nothing more. But the memory of the dead man in the river bed and the cold stare of Tintin watching us unnerved me and made me very uncomfortable. A group of workers made their way across the sand to push the boat out so we could get going. One of them jumped aboard as a deck hand and busied himself checking the dive equipment. The two Dutch girls spoke amongst themselves.
“We are afraid of sharks and we do not have a diving licence,” said Ineke with a worried look on her face.
“There is no problem,” said Angelique with a reassuring smile, “you can go snorkelling, and I don’t think we will see sharks.”
“Oh good, we are very afraid!” said Helen, with a nervous giggle.
“You’re in safe hands ladies,” said Richard, “Angelique is a true professional.” The boat was turned around and Angelique climbed the ladder to the wheel deck. Richard couldn't help himself and watched in awe as she climbed. She fired up the motor and revved it with confidence before turning around to speak. “Everyone ready?” she shouted above the motor. Richard gave her the thumbs up and we were off. She drove the shallows with more confidence than our driver from the previous day and before long we had cleared the reef and were speeding through the open sea. I took my binoculars out and took a brief look at the water-sports centre.
Tintin was still sitting staring at us as we went. “I think I'll go up to the top deck and talk to Angelique,” said Richard, “see you guys in a bit.” Of course you will Richard, I thought, just try to control yourself. I watched his tall skinny frame climb the ladder. Although I couldn't hear them over the noise of the engine, I could see that they were immediately in animated conversation with Angelique pointing her route out to Richard on the horizon. They both looked flushed and happy. If only you knew what I know, I thought, as I sat down to talk to the Dutch girls. The spray from the engine sparkled in the sun and the wind took some of the power from the relentless beating sun above. After a good fifteen minutes the sound of the engine subsided and I saw we were approaching an area of calm sea. The land was now far and low in the distance and the expanse of the ocean was all around us. The sun was like a grill above us in the cloudless sky. The two Dutch girls and I stood up and had a look around. It was the first time we had been able to stand since breaking the reef. Richard and Angelique were still on the top deck but were no longer talking. She was deep in concentration trying to guide the boat to the diving spot. She was using a GPS device that was mounted on the front near the wheel. I took a look over the side and saw that we were slowly cruising over a massive coral garden five metres below. The water was crystal clear and already there was a myriad of colours beneath us. Richard climbed down the chrome ladder to join us again.
“I think we’re almost at the dive site,” he said, “Jason do you have a dive licence?”
“I do Rich,” I replied. I had done a fair bit of diving before and during the war and had more recently dived whilst on holiday. Then I heard Angelique call the deck hand. He clambered up to the top deck quickly and listened intently as she gave instructions. The two Dutch girls were talking nervously amongst themselves with Helen occasionally giving me nervous looks.
Then the engines were cut, the deck hand climbed down the ladder and tossed an anchor over the side from the front of the boat. Then, as required in open water diving, a bright red buoy was tossed overboard as well. “Right my friends, are you ready to have some fun?” came a lilting voice from above with a French accent. It was Angelique. She was leaning on a rail looking down at us with a huge smile. She was a picture of radiant youth and beauty and I could tell she was happy to be away from the big house. Her mastery of the boat was impressive as was her nimble descent from above as she gracefully climbed down the ladder. Thankfully it turned out that the two Dutch girls had some experience snorkelling and were familiar with the equipment that was handed to them by the deck hand. There was no need for wetsuits in the warm water so Richard, Angelique and myself busied ourselves preparing our equipment. It was difficult not to notice when Angelique removed her yellow summer dress. Her body was slim, lithe, toned, and tanned. She wore a modest, sky blue bikini and her strength surprised me as she easily lifted a scuba bottle to prepare the regulator. Eventually we were all fitted with our equipment and the three of us who were going underwater sat on the left hand side of the boat ready to go over backwards. The two Dutch girls were still fully dressed and preparing their masks as Angelique, Richard and myself did a last minute check of our dive signals. “Ok,” said Angelique, “this place is like an aquarium. Helen, Ineke, enjoy yourselves and don't worry about sharks.”
“Thank you Angelique,” said Helen, “we will be right above you, enjoy.” With that, we fitted our masks and mouthpieces one final time, gave each other the ‘ok’ sign and tumbled over backwards into the sea. Instantly the weight of the cumbersome equipment was gone and we were plunged into another world. Gone was the burning of the sun and the glare of the surface. It was replaced by the warm embrace and silence of the sea. There was a visibility of at least fifty metres all around us and the only sound was that of my breathing and the dull thuds of the three who remained on the boat as they moved around. Five metres below, the coral garden spread out as far as the eye could see.
I looked around at my dive buddies and saw that Richard was having a few problems with water in his mask. He was obviously familiar with the method of clearing it whilst underwater and was busy attending to it. Angelique, however, was having no such worries, and I watched as she descended towards the reef below. She was as graceful underwater as she was on dry land and her long slender legs were perfectly straight as she slowly finned away. It was only when she had reached the coral below that she turned to check up on Richard and myself. By then he had sorted out his mask and gave me the ‘ok’ sign. I reciprocated and we began our descent.
As we neared the coral, I became aware of just how intricate and colourful it was. There were literally thousands of fish of all sizes and colours. Some darted away in fear as we approached while some faced upwards at us, their mouths gawping. There was a steady backward and forward movement to the sea. I noticed that Angelique did not fight the current but rather hovered a few feet above the coral bed and allowed the current to carry her forward a metre or so at a time. Richard however seemed to be constantly finning and looking around anxiously. Above us the surface of the sea was like a huge pulsating silver mirror while all around us was alive. I became aware of a scratching sound and saw a parrot fish crunching away at some dead coral with its tough, beak like mouth. All around were huge examples of plate coral that had taken thousands of years to form. It would only take one touch to break so I carefully avoided touching. Every now and then, there was a ga
p in the coral and I saw that it was at least a metre and a half from the top to the perfect white sand below. Huge red starfish hunkered down lazily in groups on the sand. As we passed one of these bare areas I noticed a huge moray eel poking its head out of its coral lair. Its razor sharp teeth exposed in a warning not to approach any more. The myriad colours were accentuated by the bright sun above us and gave the place a mystical, other worldly feel. It was without a doubt the most impressive dive site I had ever visited in my life. Angelique once again took the lead and Richard and I followed. Soon after I felt a tap on my right shoulder. It was Richard and he was signalling for me to look above us. I complied and saw the two Dutch girls four metres above us. They were both kitted out with their masks and snorkels and fins. As far as clothing they wore only their bikini bottoms and the whiteness of the their breasts was in stark contrast to the rest of their tanned bodies. They waved frantically at us and gave us the OK sign. Clearly they were enjoying the spectacle as much as I was. I glanced back at Richard. He was nodding approvingly and giving me the thumbs up sign. I reciprocated by doing the same. We carried on like that, hovering a few feet above the coral and slowly moving over its infinite shapes and hollows, its bridges and archways. There were lobsters and sea bass, octopuses and giant clams. Tiny, almost neon bright blue cyclids. Clumsy-looking slow-moving grouper. There were huge yellow and black angel fish. The sight of them made me think of the sight of Angelique walking across the beach with her yellow summer dress and her dark hair. She was an angel just like her name suggested. There was no doubt. She was a lot more than a pretty face as well. She handled the boat like a true professional and was quite adept at handling the heavy equipment as well.
I stopped my progress to closely inspect an interesting coral formation and allowed Richard to carry on ahead of me. When I looked up, I saw that Richard had caught up to Angelique.
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 25