The Jason Green series Box Set

by Gordon Wallis

  “I'm ok, Hassan,” I replied, “but I need your help...”

  Chapter Sixteen - Escape from Zanzibar

  The negotiations with Hassan took a full half hour. At first he was terrified and almost burst into tears, as I told him what I wanted him to do for me. It was only after I had pretty much told him my full story and promised him the sum of $10 000 in cash the very next day, that he reluctantly agreed. I assured him that in doing what I had asked he would be doing the world a favour and would probably be helping to save a great many lives. First we drove to my hotel where I checked out and retrieved my bags. After that, we drove quietly past the entrance to the Eden Beach Lodge. When we had cleared it by half a kilometre, we turned around again. Slowly, we drove back until we were about a hundred metres from the entrance. “Just park here and wait for me Hassan. Any problem, you just use the same story as before. When you hear me call you, open the boot for me ok?”

  “OK Mr Jason, but for sure, I am afraid.” I looked him in the eye. “If you do what I say, everything will be alright, I promise, and you will get your $10 000 in cash tomorrow. Just trust me Hassan.” I left him nodding and crossed the road. I pulled the goggles into position and made my way through the undergrowth towards where I knew the body of Tintin to be. A few minutes later, I arrived. There was the glow of the light coming from behind Richard's curtain. I removed the goggles and tapped on the window. The curtains opened after a few seconds to reveal the shocked pale face of Richard peering out. I could see that his bags were packed and that he was ready to go. At least he had listened to me and I felt that there might just be a chance of getting him safely off the island. I looked him in the eye and brought my forefinger up to my lips. “Shhhhhhhh,” I said and I pointed towards the bed, signalling him to sit tight. He nodded at me with wide eyes and closed the curtains. I turned to look at the body of Tintin and realised the gargantuan task ahead of me. 120 kgs of dead weight to move through the jungle and into the boot of the car was not going to be easy. I decided that a fireman's lift would be best. I leant over and grabbed the dead man’s left arm with mine. Just the effort of pulling him into a seated position was hard enough and his head sagged backwards to show a deep black line on his neck filled with congealing black liquid. It dribbled slowly down his back. Next, I knelt down and swung his arm over my shoulder. Tintin’s head thudded onto the top of my back as I attempted to lift his body from that position. Half way through the manoeuvre I was once again reminded of the back injury I had sustained during the mugging on the beach with Richard, and a bolt of red hot pain shot through my lower back. For a moment I wondered if it would be easier to simply drag him feet first through the jungle to the road. But that would have made a lot of noise and would have been difficult due to the ground vines and fallen trees.

  I persevered and after a few minutes, a lot of pain and grunting, I managed to get to my feet. It was a good thing I had kept up my gym membership as it felt like he weighed a tonne. It was not only the weight but it was the height of the man that caused me so many problems. With the goggles in position, I stumbled off into the darkness of the jungle. On more than one occasion I almost fell as I stepped on a rotten piece of wood or I had to duck slightly, but after what seemed an eternity I made it to the edge of the road and the waiting car. “Hassan,” I whispered, “open the boot.” Without a word he got out of the car, walked around and opened the boot. On my instructions he immediately got back into the driver’s seat and closed the door. I could tell that he was terrified but somehow I knew that I could trust him. Perhaps it was my gut feeling about him or perhaps it was the cash incentive, but I knew that he would try his best to go ahead with my plan. As I stumbled out of the undergrowth I almost fell again as my shoes slipped on the gravel at the side of the tarmac.

  I managed to stay upright, and made my way to the rear of the car and the open boot. I leaned forward and dropped the torso of the dead man as best as I could in the direction of the open boot. As he fell, his knee crashed into the back of my head which then knocked into the boot lock. I felt warm blood oozing down my temple, and for a moment everything went red again in my vision. You can fucking walk away from this now, Green, I thought. But it was too late. The body of Tintin was in the boot, but his legs and arms were poking from various sides. I wiped the blood from my head on my sleeve and started the difficult task of fitting the huge man in. With a bit of pushing and shoving, I managed and I staggered backwards in exhaustion as I slammed the boot closed. My bag? As I slumped into the passenger seat of the car, Hassan turned and saw the gash on my head. “Jesus, Mr Jason, this is a very bad situation.”

  “Bad, but getting better now Hassan. Do you have any water?” He produced a grimy plastic bottle of drinking water. I drank half of it and used the rest to clean the wound on my head. The cuts and scratches on my arms were wet with sweat but at least they were not bleeding. I was shattered, and all I wanted to do was sleep but there was no time. I knew that Richard might lose it at anytime. I had seen the look on his face and I knew that his shock could turn without warning. I pulled the mobile phone from my pocket and rang the number for the Eden Beach Lodge. It took almost a minute before a sleepy-sounding man answered.

  “Please put me through to room number eight,” I said. There were a series of clicking noises, and then Richard picked up the call. “Hello?” he said.

  “Get your bags and walk calmly to the reception. If they ask you why you are checking out so late, you tell them that you need to get to the south of the island and that a cab is waiting for you. I want you to act as normal as you can, Richard. Don't fuck this up! I will be waiting in a taxi in a dark area to the left of the car-park ok?”

  “Ok Jason,” he replied and hung up. I told Hassan to start the car and we headed off towards the gate. The guard was still sleeping when we arrived and he lifted the boom with one eye open to let us through. We parked where I had said and waited for Richard to emerge. I sat there nervously watching the arched entrance to the hotel until I saw the tall frame of Richard step out. He appeared confused and looked around for a few seconds before seeing the car. Then, dragging his bags behind him, he started walking towards us. I glanced back at the road praying that no car would approach. The prospect of meeting Carlos da Costa at that stage would have been too much for me. Thankfully, there were no cars and Richard arrived at my window with a vacant look on his face.

  “Put your bags in the back seat and get in!” I growled at him. Without a word, he did as I said. The air was electric with tension as we drove out of the gate of the hotel and turned right towards the main road to Stone Town. Richard sat quietly in the back as Hassan wiped the sweat from his forehead with his cloth. The night was still and humid and every inch of my body was wet and aching with exhaustion. “Open the window, Richard,” I said as I lit a cigarette. The old car moved off slowly into the night and I realised that the rear of the car was sitting low on the road. The weight of Tintin in the boot had compressed the old springs to near breaking point. “What about the police road block, Hassan?” I said as I took a draw from my cigarette.

  “Ah, they will be drunk at this time, Mr Jason. We will drive straight through I am sure.” Understandably he sounded nervous and unsure but I had no choice but to go along with him. Out of my peripheral vision I saw Richard leaning forward to speak to me. “Where are we going Jason?” he asked blankly.

  “Shut the fuck up, Richard,” I said raising my forefinger. He immediately sat back in his seat. I was angry for so many reasons. Angry with Richard. Angry with myself. I was angry with everything. But as we drove off into the darkness in silence, I felt a pang of guilt for shouting at him. After all, he had just been told that the woman he loved was dead and within the space of a few hours, his entire world had been turned upside down. Still, I wasn't ready to talk to him and we had a lot to do before I could relax.

  The 50 kilometre drive across the island went slowly but thankfully without a hitch. Hassan had been right and we drove through the r
oadblock without seeing a single policeman. We passed only three vehicles as we travelled that were driving in the opposite direction. I stopped Hassan five times during the journey when I had seen a suitable lump of coralline rock on the side of the road. These I picked up and dumped on top of the body of Tintin in the boot. The extra weight made the car sit even lower on the road but somehow the springs maintained and we managed to continue. The entire journey was spent in an anxious silence, and I smoked as I made my plans. We arrived at the road that led to the port. Thankfully the streets were deserted at that time. Hassan paused at the turning.

  “Right, what do I do Hassan?” I asked.

  “You drop me at the port, Mr Jason, then you turn right and drive down the ocean road for five kilometres. When you see a sign which says Baya Beach, you stop and park the car under a big banyan tree. The place is deserted. When you see the boat coming you flash your lights once and I will come.”

  “How long will you take Hassan?” I asked.

  “I will be there within one hour and then we go.”

  “Good,” I said, “trust me Hassan, everything will be alright. You will have your money tomorrow morning and your life will return to normal. Ok?”

  “Ok, Mr Jason, we go.” Hassan turned right and drove down the dimly lit street towards the port. At the intersection of the ocean road he jumped out of the car and I moved across to the driver’s seat. He turned to look at me and we gave each other the thumbs up sign before he crossed the street and was gone. I crunched the gears into first and made a right as instructed down the ocean road. After a while we had passed the populated area of Stone Town and the surroundings became dark and quiet. Eventually, as Hassan had promised, we arrived at a rusty sign that read Baya Beach. I turned left onto a sandy patch of ground and immediately I saw the huge banyan tree he had spoken of. It was gnarly and eerie-looking in the moonlight. I parked the car, turned off the lights and the engine, and sat as I lit a cigarette. Apart from the occasional shaky sigh, Richard sat in complete silence behind me and I never turned to look at him once. Hassan had been right. Not one vehicle passed. The place was indeed deserted. Fifteen minutes passed without movement. I decided it was time to let Richard know what my plan was.

  Before I spoke, I took a deep breath. “I am going to tell you what we are going to do, Richard. We are sailing to Dar Es Salaam by boat tonight. It would be too dangerous for you to leave the island by any other means. I'm sure you know, Carlos is too well connected and powerful here, you would be stopped for sure.”

  “Ok,” he said with a shaky voice.

  “When we get there, the three of us will go to a bank and you will withdraw some cash. I will pay Hassan for kindly helping us, and then I will put you on a plane to London. Before you get on that plane, I will take your SIM card from you and destroy it. When you get to London you will buy a new SIM card and you will call me on a number that I will give you.” I paused to let my instructions sink in.

  “Now listen to me, Richard,” I said turning to face him, speaking slowly so he would understand. “You do not go anywhere near your home. You do not go anywhere near your work. You do not contact your family or even your best friend. You do not even use a credit card. In fact I want you to stay away from London. You take a train to Brighton. I want you to go and book into a guest house and sit there until you get a call from me. It might be a few days, it might be a week, but I don't want you to contact anyone or do anything until you hear from me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Jason.” I looked him in the eye.

  “Now, Richard, if you slip up once, if you don't do exactly as I say, I will come back to England and drop you in so much shit, your feet won’t even touch the ground. I’m not talking about your family Richard, I'm talking about the law. And in your business, I'm sure you really don't want to be dealing with the law.”

  “I understand, Jason, I’ll do what you say, I promise.”

  “Good” I said and I turned back to look at the silver surface of the ocean in front of the car.

  “It’s not my job to look after poor little drug dealing cunts like you, Richard. I don't even know why I'm doing this.” But of course I did know why I was doing it. I liked him and I had no choice but to help him. Still, there was no way I would let him know that. We both sat in silence for half an hour until I heard the distant thudding of a diesel engine. I got out of the car and walked onto the beach to look. To my left in the distance I saw the shape of a boat approaching.

  “Hassan, you fucking beauty,” I said under my breath. I walked back to the car quickly and flashed the headlights once. I saw a light on the boat flash once in response and I knew my plan was working.

  “When the boat gets here Richard, I want you to take your bags and get in ok?”

  “Ok Jason,” he replied. We sat and waited. Ten minutes later, the shadow of the big dhow came into full view and Hassan cut the engine. It drifted until I heard the sand crunching beneath its wooden hull and it came to rest. “Right, go,” I said to Richard and he immediately did as I had said. Hassan jumped off the boat and walked up to the car, passing Richard as he came.

  “I must help you Mr Jason, you are very tired.”

  “Thank you, Hassan,” I said gratefully. We started by carrying the rocks I had collected from the road. Between the two of us this was easily done and we dumped them into the boat near where Richard sat in the moonlight. Hassan and I walked back to car and looked down at the curled up body of Tintin.

  “You do not have to help me with this, Hassan,” I said.

  “No Mr Jason, I will help you,” he replied soberly. I leant forward and grabbed the body from under the arms. It was starting to stiffen with rigor, but thankfully was still flexible enough for me to haul the upper part of his body out. Hassan took the legs under the knees. For a man of his age, and considering his skinny frame, I was impressed by his strength. Tintin’s head lolled to one side and once again I saw the deep line where the wire of the garrotte had been. The muscles in my back screamed, but slowly we made our way to the waiting boat. The body hit the deck like a sack of potatoes and Tintin’s face lay wide-eyed, his mouth still open in agony, facing Richard. “Oh Christ, oh Christ!” said Richard as he looked in horror at the spectacle. I leaned over the bow to get my point across to him.

  “Shut up!” I growled. He turned and vomited over the side of the boat. Hassan and I walked back towards the car. He locked it and tossed the keys into one of the hollows between the branches of the banyan tree. “I will tell my brother to collect the car tomorrow. I will phone him in the morning. It will be safe here.”

  “I need water Hassan,” I said, “I am very, very thirsty.”

  “Don't worry Mr Jason, I have plenty on the boat. We go now.”

  The dhow was a lot bigger than I had expected. It took Hassan and myself a while to get it off the sand and floating again but once done, we both jumped in and Hassan fired the old diesel engine. It made a slow thudding sound that was reassuring, as Hassan manned the rudder and turned the boat around to the left and out of the harbour. Richard sat just in front of me. He looked constantly out to the right in an effort to avoid seeing the grotesque sight of Tintin’s face staring at him in death. I noticed a dirty bit of tarpaulin lying beneath me and I picked it up and covered the upper half of the body with it. Richard saw what I had done and nodded at me briefly in acknowledgement. The boat chugged slowly across the harbour in the moonlight and we all sat in silence. Eventually we came towards the edge of the harbour, and the giant shape of the ghost ship I had seen with Hassan came into view. It had drifted, so its stern was facing the port and I could see its entire length as we passed it. Even in the dim light I could see the rust and decay on the hull. A faded name The Star of Guangzhou was painted on its side. A huge, lonely, deserted hunk of steel with peeling paint and rotting decks. The sight of it made me feel uncomfortable, but I stared at it constantly as we passed. The top deck towered ominously above us in total silence and solitude. In the
moonlight it was an eerie sight.

  Eventually we passed the huge ship, left the protection of the harbour and started out to sea. The stretch of water between Zanzibar and the mainland was protected by the island, so there were no heavy waves on the east coast. Hassan bound the keel with some old rope and got up to raise the sail. There was a good westerly breeze and I watched him as he skilfully raised and bound the triangular sail. Once done, he cut the motor and I was surprised to see that we were making good headway and appeared to be moving at a firm, fast pace. I got up, leaving Richard staring out to sea, and went to have a word with Hassan. “I'm looking for a deep channel, roughly halfway between here and the mainland. Do you know of any?”

  “Yes Mr Jason, there are many and I know them very well. Even at night, I can tell by the way the water looks.”

  “So you will let me know when we are at a suitable spot then?”

  “I will do that, Mr Jason.” His wise face looked even older in the moonlight and I could tell that although he had agreed to what we were doing, he was in no mood for conversation. I went back and sat down. The adrenaline and tension I had been feeling for so many hours, was starting to subside and was rapidly being replaced by an overwhelming feeling of physical and mental exhaustion.

  The gash on my head was drying in the cool breeze of the open sea, but I was sticky and grimy from the sweat of the night. I turned to look at the island of Zanzibar and the silhouette of the buildings of Stone Town. It was a great relief to see them gradually getting further and further away with every second. I knew that every metre we sailed was a little bit closer for the safety of Richard's life. We were half way there. Dar Es Salaam was a big enough city to disappear in, and I knew that Carlos would only start monitoring the port and the airport in the morning in an effort to find Richard. He would hopefully have no clue as to what had happened to Tintin. Hassan had told me it would take between three and four hours to reach the mainland if the wind held up. That would put us there at about 7 o’clock in the morning. It was a good time to arrive and we could hopefully go about our business without hassle. An hour passed and the three of us sat in complete silence. The only sounds were the water lapping at the bow of the boat and the occasional ruffling of the sail. The moon made the calm sea look as silver as liquid mercury, and the sky was full of stars. It was surreal to think that I was enveloped in such a tranquil and beautiful scene after what had been a night of such horrific violence and death. More time passed and I watched Richard constantly from behind. He seemed to be staring out at the ocean, deep in thought. Occasionally I saw his head drop and his shoulders jerk, as he sobbed quietly to himself. After this had happened three or four times, I started to feel sorry for him. Sorry for his loss. I decided to go and have a quiet word with him. I had been harsh up until then but that had been for his own safety, and mine. I had known that every second spent on that island was a second closer to his, and perhaps, my own death.