“You want to pick up rocks again, Mr Jason?” he asked.
“No Hassan, there will be no need for that tonight.” As we drove off into the night I used the tracksuit top and some of the water from one of the bottles I had bought to wash the polish from my face. I knew the authorities would recognise the abandoned car the next day and attempt to return it but by that time it would be too late. Carlos da Costa would have literally disappeared. The adrenaline started to fade and my body started to cool down as we took the left turn towards Stone Town. I was feeling exhilarated and calm knowing the cargo in the boot would be totally quiet and still should we get stopped at one of the two road blocks. As it turned out the police posts were deserted and Hassan and I drove quietly through the winding roads of the Jozani Forest all the way to the port road turn off.
“Are you sure the boat is at Baya Beach Hassan?” I asked.
“The boat is definitely there Mr Jason. I have filled the petrol tank for you.” I was sure that even with the huge payout Hassan was getting, he would be happy to finally see the back of me.
“When we get there Hassan, I will handle everything. You wait in the car, we drive back to town, you get paid, and then I promise, you will never see me again.”
“Ok, Mr Jason,” he said quietly. I moved to reassure him. “I want you to know that what you are doing now will help thousands of people around the world. This man is a killer and a criminal of the worst kind. Believe me.”
“I know he is a bad man, Mr Jason,” he replied, “and I trust you.”
I left it at that as we took the right turn at the port building and headed off towards Baya Beach.
Five minutes later we arrived and pulled up under the familiar banyan tree. “Ok Hassan,” I said, “I'll be back as soon as I can.” I collected my bag and the three water bottles from the rear of the car and walked across the sand in the moonlight to the waiting boat. The night was humid and the only sounds were that of the ever present cicadas and the water gently lapping on the metal hull of the small boat. “Open the boot please Hassan” I said as I walked back past the car. I heard the click and saw that Carlos da Costa lay exactly where I had dumped him. It was a difficult and painful job lifting his bulk back onto my shoulder but after a bit of manoeuvring I managed. I walked quietly from the car over the sand and to the boat. I didn't want to break his neck so I leaned over as far as I could and dropped him onto the floor of the small vessel. He landed with a thud like a sack of potatoes. I felt the urge to pause and look him in the eyes, to witness his terror, but time was short and there was still a great deal to be done. My back ached intensely as I heaved the boat off the sand and into the shallow water. Eventually it floated and I jumped in to pull start the motor. It fired after three attempts and I lifted the small tank to confirm there was sufficient fuel. True to his word, the faithful Hassan had filled it. I sat down, twisted the throttle and we sped off into the night. The speed of the boat combined with the light breeze was cooling me down and I closed my eyes briefly to savour the moment. You’re almost done, Green, you’re almost there. After a while the shadowy outline of the Star of Guangzhou became visible and I adjusted my course for where I knew the gangway to be.
Gradually the ominous bulk of the ship grew larger and larger until I dropped the revs and cruised alongside its rusted hull. I attached the small boat to the hanging gangway exactly the same way I had done the previous night. I opened my bag and retrieved my head torch which I strapped to my forehead. My next problem was how to get the dead weight of Carlos from the boat onto the gangway. It was something I hadn't thought through properly and I sat for a few minutes wondering how best to do it. Any mistake I made would see him drop him in the water and drown within minutes. That was something I could not allow to happen. It would be far too quick for a man like him. I wrapped the rope tighter around the metal ring on the side of the boat until it was only inches from the gangway. Next I pulled the lifeless lump that was Carlos to the front of the boat and dumped the upper half of his torso onto the gangway. Carefully I stepped over his body and onto the gangway before turning around and dragging him by the arms until his whole body lay on the metal mesh of the surface. One more lift Green, only one more and you’re done. Go on just get it over with. I saw his eyes once again in the light of my head torch as I propped him up against the railing to the side of the gangway. They stared at me with a mixture of confusion and fear. I reached for his left arm and bent down to lift him into a fireman's lift for the final time.
My lower back screamed at me as white hot pain shot down my spine. There was a precarious moment where I thought I might stumble forward and drop him over the side of the railing but I managed to stabilise my footing and get into the upright position. The paralysed man grunted and I thought I felt him dribble down my back as I started the steep climb to the deck. After a few minutes I arrived to find the deck in exactly the same mess it had been on my last visit. Carefully I stepped through and over the rusted junk and broken glass until I arrived at the door of the twenty foot shipping container I had identified. I swung the heavy metal doors open and saw that the interior was as I had left it. It was completely empty and the wooden flooring was clean save for a few bird droppings. The corrugated metal of the interior walls was uniform except for the dented area to the rear which bulged inwards. I stepped through the door and walked two metres into the container before turning to my left and dropping to my knees. Once again the heavy man on my shoulder grunted involuntarily as I landed. Carefully I lowered his body and left him in a sitting position leaning against the wall of the container. Again I felt the urge to look him in the eyes but instead I got to my feet and headed for the gangway. As I made my way down the steep incline towards the small boat I realised that it was almost over. When I got to the boat I slung my bag over my shoulder and grabbed the three bottles of mineral water. A few minutes later and panting heavily, I arrived at the door of the container. I stepped inside, placed my bag and the water bottles on the floor, and sat with my back leaning on the metal wall opposite the slumped man. In the bright light of my head torch I saw his large bald head was flopped to one side. The folds of flesh on his neck were perspiring heavily as was his bulbous hairy stomach. He looked a pathetic sight in his boxer shorts with his stubby legs spread out in front of him and his arms to his sides. But it was his eyes that intrigued me most. They stared at me constantly. I wondered if he was fully conscious, or if he was still hallucinating from the ketamine. The dark, almost black, area of skin under each eye shone with perspiration. I held my hand out and waved slowly from left to right. His eyes followed the movement of my hand and I knew then that he understood what was happening to him. “So, Carlos,” I said calmly, “here we are, just you and me, alone.” I paused to look for a reaction but there was nothing. “I've been watching you, and I know what you’ve been doing. I saw you beating that waiter to death, the night of your party. Excellent party by the way. Thank you. I do enjoy your singing voice. I know all about your business Carlos. That’s right. I have been to the factory where you load the surf boards with the cocaine. Oh, and I've been to the cave as well. Very impressive operation. I’m sure it’s been extremely lucrative over the years.” By that stage I was almost wishing he would show some kind of reaction to my words, but still it was only the eyes that watched me constantly.” I was there when you killed your wife, Carlos.
I watched you and Tintin from the top of the cave. If I had only had a gun, I would have put you both out of your misery there and then, but unfortunately I didn't. How could you have done that Carlos?” I could feel the rage rising in me and the periphery of my vision started to turn red. My voice grew louder.
“How could you have murdered such a beautiful creature in cold blood like that? Your wife? Sure, she was in love with Richard, but you could have just accepted that and moved on. A man of means like yourself could surely find someone else? Instead you beat her until her arms broke and then shot her in the chest! What kind of a fucking mons
ter are you?” I felt the tension and anger of the past days overwhelming me and I paused to look out the open door of the container to let it subside. After a while, I turned to face him again. The man I had imagined as a poisonous toad stared back at me blankly. He looked different by that stage. The sweat was running down his temples and onto his unshaven cheeks. The hairs of his shoulders, chest, and stomach were also matted with perspiration and I knew he was feeling the fear that Angelique had felt before she died. I made a conscious effort to lower my voice. “And what about the thousands of lives you have ruined around the world? Families ripped apart. Countless deaths from overdosing on your poison. Do you ever think about that Carlos? No, I guess you don't. Well, I have brought you here so you can have a long hard think about what you’ve done. Oh, and I've brought some of your products along as well. “I leant over and opened my bag to retrieve the packs of cocaine. I placed them on the wooden floor next to the three bottles of mineral water. “I know you were planning to kill Richard, and that's something I'm afraid I can't allow you to do. Now I’m sure you’re going to get very hungry and thirsty in here, so I'm leaving you fifteen litres of water and ten kilograms of your white poison. Don't use it all at once.”
I paused and looked at the evil little man slumped in front of me. The anger I had felt had turned to sadness and a feeling of acute nausea was building in my stomach. “So, this is it my friend,” I said as I grabbed my bag and stood up, “I'm leaving you now. Enjoy your stay and good luck.” I turned and walked out of the container while retrieving the heavy chain and padlock from my bag. I pulled the heavy door closed, leaving a gap of two inches to allow air to flow to the inside. Just as I was about to wrap the chain around the two thick steel bars that would secure the door, I paused. I dropped my head, closed my eyes, and thought about what I was about to do. In my mind I saw Angelique walking into the restaurant in Cape Town on the night I had first seen her. Her face radiant and lovely and full of happiness. I shook my head to get the vision from my mind, but it wouldn't go away. “No,” I said out loud, “it's not enough.” Red mist filled my vision as I swung the door open and stepped into the container again.
I knelt down beside the slumped man, grabbed his sweaty jowls with my left hand and looked him in the eyes. “It’s time to go to sleep, Carlos,” I growled through clenched teeth, “good night.” My right fist crashed into the centre of his face with such force that I felt my two middle fingers break on impact. His head shot backwards and clanged loudly on the metal wall behind it. The red mist cleared as I watched his eyes roll backwards. I was certain he would be unconscious for some time. It was as if the pain in my right hand had liberated me and a feeling of quiet calm came over me as I walked out of the container for the last time. Slowly and methodically I wrapped the chain around the steel bars of the door. Like before I left a gap to allow the air to flow inside and I clicked the heavy padlock closed.
The feeling of calm stayed with me as I walked across the deck and down the gangway to the waiting boat. I tossed the set of three keys overboard and watched as they sank to the depths of the ocean. Using the filthy ropes, I raised the gangway to ten feet above the water line. This would prevent anyone from boarding the ship. Using the panga, I cut both ropes as high as I could and dropped them into the sea. The engine started on the first pull and before long I was speeding away from the ship towards Baya Beach with the night skyline of Stone Town to my right. I arrived to find the ever faithful Hassan waiting for me in his car under the banyan tree. “It’s time to go Hassan,” I said as I climbed into the car.
“Hakuna matata Mr Jason,” he replied. We drove in silence down the sea front road, past the beautiful buildings of Stone Town, to the car park of the then quiet Explorers’ Restaurant. Hassan accepted the wad of cash with grace and humility. I turned in my seat to face him. His wise old face looked back at mine openly and I held out my hand to him. He took my hand and shook it.
“This time, I promise, you will never see me again. Thank you Hassan.” He smiled at me with his toothless grin. “Thank you Mr Jason and yes, I hope to never see you again.” Despite the pain in my hand, the feeling of calm and serenity stayed with me all the way up the beach until I reached my hotel. I took a long cold shower and washed the sweat, salt, and polish from my body. With a white towel around my waist I opened the mini bar and took out a bottle of Safari beer. I walked out onto the patio and felt a cool breeze coming in from the Indian Ocean. In the far distance I could just make out the dim outline of the Star of Guangzhou in the moonlight. The ice cold liquid stung my throat as I drew deep from the bottle. I leant on the ornate wooden railing and looked out at the outline of the ship in the distance. In my mind, I felt like toasting Carlos da Costa. Then I decided it was the wrong thing to do.
I held the bottle up in the direction of the ship and spoke with a whisper. “Here’s to you, Angelique.”
Chapter Eighteen - Meltdown, Day One
Carlos da Costa first stirred at around 4am. He was vaguely aware of having a blocked nose and he slowly shifted his position on the wooden floor of the container in an effort to clear it. He was having trouble with his thoughts which seemed random at the time. He was sure that he felt uncomfortable where he lay and was aware that the room he was in was stuffy and humid. The huge dose of ketamine was still coursing through his veins and it was only a few seconds before he sank back into a deep and troubled sleep. In his dreams he saw a malevolent dark figure crouching over him and looking him in the eyes. There were strange flashbacks and confusing memories in his mind. The smell of exhaust fumes and the sound of engines. Car engines, boat motors, and the sound of people talking quietly. Eventually the dreams faded away and he was once again surrounded by the dark and pleasant nothingness of sleep. He next stirred at 5.45am and rubbed the surface beneath the back of his right hand expecting to feel a satin sheet. Instead of the smooth sheet he felt something like tight-grained wood. Confused, he lay there with his eyes closed and tapped the strange surface with his knuckles while he tried to gather his thoughts. Slowly but surely he began to wake up. It felt right that the room he was sleeping in was dark, but he was slowly becoming aware that something was wrong. The room was warm and extremely uncomfortable. With great effort he opened his left eye and saw a thin sliver of vertical light. At that moment, he was overcome with what felt like the worst hangover ever. The seam of light wobbled from left to right and the headache that followed forced him to close his eye and lie still to wait for it to pass. He lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness for another half an hour before he dared to open his eyes again. The seam of light was brighter that time and he lay there looking at it for a few minutes. Slowly he raised his left hand and tried to bring it to his face in an effort to rub his eyes. His arm felt heavy and sluggish and when he eventually managed to raise his hand to his face he accidentally brushed it past his nose. A sharp pain shot into his brain and he immediately closed his eyes again to let it pass. The discomfort he was feeling was slowly waking him up and he began to realise that something was seriously wrong. He moved his feet up and down the surface of the container. There were no satin sheets, he was certain of that, and his limbs felt as heavy as lead. The next thing he became aware of was that his mouth was dry. So dry it was almost impossible to swallow. With a great effort he lifted his head from the floor of the container and opened his eyes again. This time everything was clearer. The sliver of light was brighter still and there was the sound of seagulls nearby. What the fuck? He thought. Where the fuck am I? There was no recollection of any drinking session or party and he was gradually becoming alarmed by the situation.
Slowly and with great effort he turned onto his back. His entire body ached as he moved and he was sure he felt corrugated metal behind his head. Fifteen minutes passed before he was finally able to prop himself up into a sitting position with his back leaning on the uncomfortable metal wall. He sat there with his eyes closed and his head resting on his chest. The throbbing in his head began to fade
and finally he felt strong enough to have a good look at the strange surroundings. “What the fuck?” He whispered to himself as he looked around. The sliver of light was bright by then and finally the penny dropped. All around he could see the brown walls of a shipping container. He had been in business long enough with the drugs and the surfboards to know what the inside of a shipping container looked like. Then he saw the three bottles of mineral water in front of him. He knew that before he could begin to properly assess the situation he would need a drink from one of them. His mouth was so dry by that time he felt his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. His wrists, elbows, and knees ached, and he groaned as he crawled slowly towards the water bottles. When he arrived he slumped down on his side and feebly opened one of the bottles with his left hand. The water was warm but it was a blessing and he drank a half litre, spilling some on his chest as he drank. He lay there with eyes closed once again and rubbed his chest where the water had spilled. What the fuck? Am I naked? What the fuck is going on? His hand travelled over his ample belly until he felt the boxer shorts. A few more minutes, I lie here a few more minutes then I see what the fuck is going on. It was as he lay there that the memories began to come back to him. His wife was dead. Tintin was missing and so was Richard. But then what? He remembered going to sleep in his bedroom and that was when things became blurry. Then he remembered the man who jumped on him while he slept. He had tried to fight him but there had been a sharp pain in his neck followed by a long period of darkness and light. Darkness and light and words. Angry words. The words had come from a voice he recognised but he could not put a face to the voice. It was all too confusing. Once again he gingerly touched his nose. The lightning bolt of pain he felt told him that it was broken and broken badly. He tried to inhale through his nose but found it impossible. Gently he inserted the index finger of his right hand into his right nostril. It was totally blocked with dried crusty blood, as was the left one. Already his mouth was dry again and he realised he would have to dig the dried blood from his nostrils before doing anything. He sat there with his eyes closed carefully removing the blood and mucous from his nose until the right nostril was clear enough to breathe through. He started to feel the strength returning to his mind and body and decided to try to stand up. Still his limbs felt heavy and sluggish but after a few attempts he managed to get onto his feet and stood there wobbling and looking at the slightly open door of the container. Using his right hand as support on the wall he waddled towards the opening.
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 38