The Jason Green series Box Set

by Gordon Wallis

  I walked to a grassy area at the end of the drop off zone near a security fence. From there I could see the various planes parked and I had a view of the runway. I spent the next torturous hour walking up and down the drop off zone and glancing at my watch until the departure time. Thankfully the Boeing 737 Kenya Airways plane left on time, and I watched as it taxied down the runway in the shimmering heat. After what seemed an eternity, I heard the engines roar in the distance and I watched as the plane took off into the cloudless blue sky. The heat and smell of aviation fuel added to my dull thumping headache. “Thank fuck for that,” I said under my breath as I walked off towards the taxi rank. Richard was safe. He was out of the reach of Carlos da Costa. Not for long, but for now at least. I found a modern-looking taxi and got inside. “Have you got air conditioning?” I asked.

  “No sir, no air con sorry,” the driver replied. “Take me to the best hotel in Dar Es Salaam please,” I said, “and make it quick.” We drove out of the airport and back onto the busy highway that led to the city. The drive took half an hour and on more than one occasion I became semi delirious with fatigue. We arrived at the hotel. It seemed to be one of the tallest buildings in Dar Es Salaam. It was at least twenty floors high and looked very expensive indeed. The driver took us through the car park and up to the main entrance. There was a fat doorman dressed in a suit and cap to welcome me. On his jacket were hundreds of metal badges from hotels around the world. “Welcome to the Dar Es Salaam Sun Hotel, sir,” he said with a beaming smile. I stepped out of the cab slightly dishevelled and obviously wounded.

  “Thanks,” I said, “bags in the back.” I paid the driver and walked into a huge marble-covered reception area. I was in no mood for pleasantries as I approached the receptionist. “I'd like to check in please. One night for now, I will see you tomorrow if I need to stay longer.”

  “No problem at all sir,” said the receptionist, “I'll need you to fill in this form and see your identification or passport please.” I pulled a $100 note from my pocket and slid it across the cold stone surface.

  “I don't have any identification with me. My name is John Smith.” The man glanced around briefly before he carefully took the note from the counter and pocketed it.

  “Of course, Mr Smith, that’s no problem at all. We have a porter who will carry your bags up to your room. I have put you on the top floor where you will have a view of the city. Please enjoy your stay at the Dar Es Salaam Sun Hotel.”

  “Can you please have room service send up a full English breakfast as soon as possible?” It was more of an instruction than a question. “Certainly sir, I will do that immediately, have a good day.” I turned to see a young porter with a cap waiting with my bags. We walked to a set of elevators and took one up to the twentieth floor. From there it was a short walk to my room. The porter opened the room using a key card and escorted me inside. The room was fully carpeted and extremely plush. The porter politely showed me the bathroom and the controls for the air conditioning and the television. I paid him with a twenty dollar note and he left me alone. I was desperate to lie down on the sumptuous looking bed but instead I adjusted the air-con to a cool twenty two degrees and put the kettle on to make some coffee. I tried to gather my thoughts but my brain was swimming hopelessly. Instead I walked over to the huge tinted windows. The receptionist had been right. There was a spectacular view of the sprawling city beneath me and the sea beyond. I stared out to the east trying to see the island I had just come from. I couldn’t see it through the haze but I knew it was there. Zanzibar, I thought, Zanzibar. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I shouted for the person to come in and was pleased to see a trolley with a huge spread of toast, eggs, sausages, mushrooms, bacon, beans, etc. I sat at the table and ate, while drinking the coffee. I had no idea how hungry I was and I scoffed it down quickly. Afterwards I walked up to the window again and tried to see the island. The haze had blocked it out of sight. The air-con was working well and the room was cool. My skin felt sticky and grimy. Have a quick shower, Green I told myself.

  “Not a fuck,” I said as I flopped onto the soft duvet of the king-size bed. “Not a fuck,” I whispered to myself again, and within seconds, I fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen - Spring Thaw

  I awoke in darkness feeling confused and disoriented. Then it all came back to me; the appalling violence of the previous evening followed by the strange serenity of the dhow ride back to Dar Es Salaam in the night. I reached to my right and found a light switch. The room was still a cool 22 degrees and all was quiet. I got up and went straight to the bathroom for a hot shower. Afterwards, I walked out with a towel around my waist and stood by the huge windows to gather my thoughts. The lights of the city sprawled out into the distance in front of me. It was 1.30 in the morning and still there were cars moving silently on the streets below. My body ached all over from the exertion of the previous night and I ran through the events again and again in my mind. Richard would be aboard the Kenya Airways flight to London, but his future safety and that of his family was in serious jeopardy. My mind constantly went back to the brutal killing of Angelique, the way she had been punched so savagely by Carlos and the sight of her arms breaking behind her. The image had upset me deeply. It had made me physically sick at the time and even then I felt the bile rising in my throat at the thought of such a beautiful creature coming to such a terrible end. What sort of monster could do such a thing? It really was the stuff of movies and I found it difficult to believe. But it had happened. It was real, and I knew that I would have to return to Zanzibar to deal with Carlos da Costa. I knew that I would find it difficult to continue with my life knowing that Richard or his family could come to harm. Even if it was due to his own incredibly stupid actions, it would be a constant burden to me. I was furious. But I was not angry with myself or Richard any more. What was done was done and there was no turning back the clock. My anger was directed at one man and one man only. Carlos da Costa.

  In my mind, I saw him as a malignant growth. A cancer. A little toad of a man. Sweaty, volatile, powerful, and extremely dangerous. He was poison. His very business was poison and he sent that poison all over the world. I knew that I had to stop him. But I had to do more than stop him. I would kill him. But simply killing him would not be enough. It would be too easy and generous of me. It was at that moment as I stared out at the lights of the city below that I knew I had to punish him. And punish him I would. I walked over to the telephone and called room service. I ordered some food and coffee to be brought up to my room. I set up my laptop as I waited for the food to arrive and I surfed the web for a good two hours as I ate and drank the coffee. When I had finished, I had formulated a basic plan on how I would deal with Carlos. Feeling satisfied and tired I went back to the bed and lay down in darkness. I was asleep in five minutes.

  I woke up at 7am, still feeling sore but refreshed. I took another shower, packed my bags and headed down for breakfast. It was a standard buffet but the food was good, and afterwards I walked to the reception to settle my bill for the night. Whilst I was there, I made enquiries as to how to travel back to Zanzibar by private charter. It turned out that there were many deep sea fishing vessels that could be hired at anytime for an island transfer. They came at a price but I needed to get back to the island unseen and on the quiet. I felt sure that Carlos would have eyes and ears operating at both the harbour and the airport looking for Richard and perhaps even myself so there was no way I would risk being seen at either.

  After I had paid, I was given glossy brochures for five different companies that offered these services. I asked the receptionist to call me a taxi and, as I sat waiting in the foyer, I called to enquire if it was possible to transfer back to Zanzibar that afternoon. Three of them were busy but two told me they had boats available for me. I made a provisional booking with one of them to leave Dar Es Salaam at 4 o’clock that afternoon. The receptionist was slightly puzzled by my request for such a late departure time,
but agreed nonetheless. When the taxi finally arrived, I was pleased to see it was a modern car with air conditioning. In my pocket was a list of companies and addresses in and around the city that I needed to visit before leaving for the island. I had gotten them from the internet the previous night. I put my sunglasses on as we drove out of the hotel grounds and onto the bustling streets of Dar Es Salaam. My shopping list included a few items that I knew I would have some difficulty buying, but I knew that I was in Africa. With a few hundred dollars, anything was possible. The companies I was to visit were veterinary suppliers and pharmacies. Two hours later, I returned to the Dar Es Salaam Sun Hotel with everything on my shopping list having been ticked off successfully. The first part of my plan was coming together and I felt satisfied as I booked in to the same room for the rest of the day. I told the receptionist that I would be checking out at around 3pm and I paid in advance. As I was walking towards the lifts, my mobile phone rang, showing an unrecognised UK number. I answered it to hear the sullen voice of Richard Lewer-Allen on the other side. “Hello Jason, it’s Richard,” he said.

  “Where are you Richard?” I asked.

  “I'm in Brighton like you told me. I got the train down straight away.”

  “Good, have you got a place to stay yet?”

  “Yes I'm in a guest house.”

  “And you haven’t called or spoken to anyone?”

  “No I haven’t.”

  “Right, I want you to sit tight like I said and wait for my call. I will call you in the next few days, ok?”

  “I'll do that Jason but...” he paused.

  “But what?” I said quickly.

  “I'm scared Jason, I'm shitting myself!” His voice trembled.

  “You sit tight and don't worry Rich, I'll call you, I promise.

  “Ok, ok I'll do that,” he replied.

  “Right,” I said, “talk to you soon.” I hung up feeling sure that Richard's fear would keep him where he was for the foreseeable future. It was one less thing to worry about. I took the lift with the porter to the top floor and walked into my room. Once he had left, I opened my bag and spread out my purchases from the morning’s shopping on the desk near the window. On the left was a fifty millilitre bottle of liquid ketamine. A short acting but powerful animal tranquilliser sometimes used by junkies. It had been easier than I had thought it would be to buy the stuff. I had been refused by the first company on the grounds that I had failed to produce a valid veterinary licence. The salesman at the second and smaller company had been more accommodating and my story of having a wounded animal on a nearby game ranch, combined with a hundred dollar bill slipped under the table had worked a treat. On the right hand side was a transparent plastic box containing five large syringes with a smaller packet containing hypodermic needles. I stared at the items on the desk in front of me before lifting my eyes to look out towards Zanzibar. The air had cleared and in the distance and I could just make out the green mass of the island. I called the boat charter company and confirmed that I would be taking the 4pm trip across to the island. They told me to be at their launch at 3.30pm to make payment and complete the necessary formalities. After that I called reception to arrange for a taxi to collect me at 2.30pm sharp. I had learned my lesson about traffic on the chaotic streets of Dar Es Salaam so booked the car early so as not to be late.

  I packed my bags and made ready for the trip after which I lay on the bed and watched the news channel on the television. I tried not to think of what might happen back on the island. I only had half a plan. Still it was better than no plan at all. Three hours later and it was time to move. I gathered my bags and took the lift down to the reception to check out. I was pleased to find that the waiting taxi was from the same company I had used in the morning and was air conditioned. It made the hour long journey through the city and to the port area a lot more comfortable in the heat of the afternoon. The boat charter companies offices were in a private harbour not far from where Hassan, Richard and I had landed on the dhow the previous day.

  The receptionist gave me a puzzled look as I made the payment for the trip. I explained that I had been in meetings all day and I had an important dinner appointment in Stone Town. She accepted the explanation happily and escorted me down a concrete pier to a waiting fishing boat. The captain was a tall burly black man in a white uniform. He and the deck hand loaded my bags on board for me as I stood on the pier. I climbed aboard and made my way to the wheel deck as the deck hand untied the moorings.

  “How long does it take to get to Stone Town?” I asked the captain.

  “I can have you there in one hour sir,” he replied, “the boat is very fast.”

  “No,” I said, “I would like to take a slow trip please. Even if we get there just after dark, that will be fine for me.” The captain raised his eyebrows, “whatever you wish sir.” We cruised slowly out of the harbour with the giant inboard engine gurgling beneath us. Eventually we cleared the pier and the captain pushed the throttle forward until we reached a comfortable speed. I made my way down to the lower deck and smoked as I watched the skyline of the city behind us recede. I was feeling a mixture of emotions. There was anger, anticipation, and anxiety all rolled into one. I spent the next two hours in quiet contemplation and I watched as the sun set over the mainland like a giant fire ball growing larger and more intense in colour as it descended. As we neared the island I climbed up once again to the wheel deck. Up ahead in the fading light was the skyline of Stone Town in the distance. The grey silhouette of the House of Wonders was partially obscured by the ominous shape of the Star of Guangzhou at the mouth of the harbour. The captain reduced speed as we approached the rusting hulk of its hull and we gave it a wide berth to its port side. I stared silently at the huge ship as we passed and I noticed a brown steel gangway that had been lowered to just above the water level from the deck.

  It creaked on its chains and made a metallic scraping sound as it swung slowly from the side of the ship. It was then I noticed a few abandoned shipping containers scattered on the deck. Their doors were all open, their contents long since removed when the ship had been condemned and the crew had left. The sight of the abandoned containers gave me an idea and I decided that I would investigate some possibilities later that night.

  “Where would you like to go sir?” asked the captain.

  “If you can drop me anywhere near the Explorers’ Restaurant that will be fine.” I replied.

  “No problem” he mumbled in reply. We cruised slowly into the harbour until I saw the lights of our destination in front of us. The captain cut the motor and we drifted silently until we hit the sand of the beach. The deck hand set about removing my bags immediately. I pulled out a hundred dollar bill and handed it to the captain as a tip. His eyes lit up and he thanked me profusely.

  “Sorry for making you late, captain,” I said, “it's just I enjoy boat journeys. Thank you very much.” After saying my goodbyes, I jumped from the front of the boat and onto the sand of the beach. I grabbed my bags and walked towards the lights and music of the Explorers’ Bar and Restaurant. By the time I had reached the outdoor seating area and found a free table, the charter boat had gone. I glanced around at the various patrons at the other tables. They all appeared to be tourists and were all busy in their own private conversations and listening to music that was coming from the inside area. I ordered a Safari beer from a bored looking waiter and I stared out at the eerie shape of the abandoned ship in the distance as I waited. The beer was ice cold, crisp and bitter to taste. I pulled out my mobile phone and called the only person I trusted on the island. “Hello Mr Jason,” Hassan answered in a shaky and surprised voice. Mine was probably the last voice he had expected to hear. “Hello Hassan, is everything alright with you?” I asked. “Yes Mr Jason, everything seems to be fine. And with you?”

  “Everything is fine like I said it would be Hassan. I am in Stone Town again and I have another small job for you tonight if you like. As usual it will pay very well and it is not dange
rous at all.” There was a long pause on the other end and then he spoke.

  “Yes Mr Jason.”

  “I need a small motor boat, just for myself. I would like it to be waiting at Baya beach at 12 o’clock tonight, and I would like you to drive me there. I will travel on the boat alone and I will be gone for no more than one hour. Can you help me with this? I will pay you $1000 in cash.” Again there was a long pause and I sipped the beer as I waited. “I am sure I can arrange this Mr Jason I will take my small boat there tonight and I will ask my brother to collect me in my taxi when I arrive. Where would you like me to collect you Mr Jason?”

  “In the car park behind the Explorers’ Restaurant at 11.45pm tonight. And not a word to anyone.”

  “No problem Mr Jason, I will see you there.” We said our goodbyes and hung up. I made an enquiry from the waiter as to which was the best hotel in Stone Town. He recommended the Livingstone which was only a hundred metres down the beach form where I was sitting. I thanked him, paid the bill, and headed off down the beach towards the hotel. The night was humid and I was sweating by the time I had arrived at the reception. I checked in under a false name and booked a room with a full sea view. The waiter had been right. It was a plush five star establishment in true grand Zanzibari style. My spacious and elegant third floor room opened out onto a private balcony from which I ordered dinner. I sat there as I ate and stared out at the harbour and the distant black shape of the Star of Guangzhou in the moonlight. After dinner I stayed out on the balcony and drank a few cold beers from the mini bar. At 11.30pm I packed my bag of equipment and headed downstairs. I walked out the front of the hotel, past the swimming pool and onto the beach. Ten minutes later I arrived at the car park of the Explorers’ Bar to find Hassan waiting in his taxi as promised. There was a party with a live band in full swing in the pub with a couple of hundred tourists dancing and singing. “Hello Hassan” I said shaking his hand.