The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6) (14 page)
Read The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6) Online
Authors: Ron Sewell
“That’s the way it is,” said Henry. “You have a job to do and I have mine. I can assure you she will not stand trial.”
“Judge you may be but I suggest you think twice before committing a crime. South African prisons, if you are white, are unpleasant and dangerous. It’s a well known fact, unless you can pay for certain privileges, you’ll end up as a bed mate for a gang leader. Fight and your life expectancy is counted in days.”
“I’ve no intention of ending up in jail. She might but I’ll be long gone.”
Stanley sat speechless for a moment. He placed his hands flat on the desk and leant forward. “Are you going to kill her?”
Henry tilted his head to one side. “If I was I’m not going to tell you how and when. Trust me she’s as good as dead meat on a butcher’s hook. What you do now with my information is up to you. As far as I’m concerned, what I’ve said to you never happened.” He stood, didn’t bother to hold out his hand. “I doubt if I’ll ever see you again. Goodbye.”
Worried, Stanley watched Henry leave. He waited a few minutes before locking his office door. As the key turned, pain spread from his chest across his shoulders and along his arms. His whole being shook and his knees gave way. He tried to focus but the room tilted. His back hit the door as he slid to the floor.
He came too on his office floor not knowing how long he had been unconscious. It took a while for his brain to deliver rational commands, so he remained where he was until his head cleared. With the aid of the door handle he dragged himself upright and took slow, deliberate steps towards his desk. His breathing remained steady as he sat in his chair. From his desk he removed a small bottle, unscrewed the cap and took out two small white pills. These he placed on his tongue and let them dissolve. With time wasted, he removed from the right-hand bottom drawer a pay-as-you-go mobile. He pressed one button. His fingers drummed on the desk top. “For God’s sake pick up.” It rang and rang until he ended the call. “Typical,” he muttered. “The shit hits the fan and she’s unobtainable.”
Chapter Eleven
The house was silent as Amadou checked the time and stared out of the window. The risk factor was high as he weighed the decision on his mind. They had to leave now. In the dark of Tripoli’s back streets it was hard to see anything. The noise of the military Humvee vibrated the air. “Let’s go.”
To conceal her fair skin Durrah dressed in a black hijab. Fear filled her eyes as she peered through a gorse-covered slit and opened the main door. She grabbed two suitcases and descended the steps.
A full moon lit their surroundings but not one house shone a light. The street remained empty.
Hassim, the driver of the beast, operated the rear door from the safety of his armour-plated cocoon.
Amadou placed another two cases on the steps before he re-entered his home for the final time. At the end of the hallway on an ornate marble-topped table the red lights on a metal box glowed. He punched in a number on the electronic keyboard, smiled as the lights changed to green and left, ensuring the main door locked. A sharp beep told him the alarm was set but this system did not fail safe. Any intruder would trip the multiple sensors and vanish amongst the debris of the building as it imploded. The military factions might, if he was fortunate, believe he and his wife were dead.
With his luggage he followed his wife into the rear of the Humvee.
“Is it done?” asked Durrah.
Amadou nodded. “Hassim, you can still change your mind.”
The rear door closed automatically sealing them inside. Hassim gunned the engine and headed out of the city. “My friend, it’s time to leave this hell-hole. If our luck holds we might evade the road blocks. I have no intention of stopping to be murdered by unrestrained thugs. If we don’t make the airport at Sawkanah we’ll be dead.”
“I’ll take her out of the city to my secret fuel dump. You might have noticed my alterations. This thing can carry forty extra fuel cans. With the main tank filled to the brim we’ll be okay.”
“ZZ will be waiting so you have until we arrive to change your mind.”
Twenty minutes later Hassim shouted, “Road block. Hold tight, I’m going through.” The note of the engine changed when he dropped a gear as if slowing to a stop. With twenty metres remaining his foot stamped on the accelerator. The tyres of the Humvee grabbed at the ground as it gathered speed. The beast struck and obliterated the temporary barrier. Armed men dived out of its path and opened fire, their weapons on automatic. The racket of multiple shots destroyed the peace of the night. At sixty-five miles per hour the vehicle slewed around a shallow bend and out of sight.
Amadou braced against the movement and peeked through an armour-plated slot. “We have a group following in a pick-up with something strapped to the back.”
“I’ll drive. You stop them.”
Durrah placed her hand on his. “Be careful.”
In the half light of the interior he grinned and kissed her hand. “We prepared for this.” He crouched, cocked the heavy calibre weapon.
“Slow down and drive in a straight line.”
With his free hand he opened the turret hatch, aimed and fired one long burst. The vehicle chasing them swerved one moment before one front wheel buckled and its nose ploughed into the road. A burst of gunfire rattled the armour plating of the Humvee. “You can hit the gas but I recommend we get off this road.”
“Doing it right now.” The engine revolutions increased as they charged along. With skill Hassim took a sharp right, his foot pressed hard on the accelerator. “Shit,” he shouted.
Amadou peered through the driver’s slit at a pile of wrecked cars which formed another barricade. He tapped Hassim on the shoulder. “Go through.”
“That’s crazy,” shouted Hassim. “Hold on to anything.” The vehicle struck at sixty miles per hour, shuddered for a moment as the shells of cars tumbled and crashed on top of them.
Hassim laughed as they broke through. “This bus goes anywhere.”
Half an hour later Hassim brought the Humvee to a standstill in the centre of a deserted warehouse and in front of his petrol dump.
He grinned at Amadou. “We top up the tanks and load what’s left into my storage racks.”
“I’ll help,” said Durrah.
“Stay inside.”
“I need the ladies’ room.”
Amadou chuckled. “Anywhere you like but when you’re finished you get back in the Humvee. You seem to be forgetting if any of those factions catch you, your death will not be pleasant. As an American you’re created from Satan’s womb.”
Durrah disappeared behind a mass of empty packing cases.
@@@
Police Lieutenant Johnston sat behind the drab grey desk in his office and doodled on the sheet of paper in front of him.
The office door opened. “Sir. Mr Kyriades. Which interview room?”
Johnston looked up. “In here, Sergeant, and two coffees please.” He stood. “Thank you for coming, Mr Kyriades. Please relax and make yourself comfortable.”
The sergeant frowned and gave him a strange look.”
“Am I under suspicion or arrest?”
“Neither, Mr Kyriades. You are in South Africa where we have fifty plus murders a day. Even this police station employs a private security firm. Do you know there are almost six million firearms in this country? What I don’t understand is why two men, now deceased, fired at you from a moving car. Paid assassins never miss; they deliver a kill-shot every time. Either they were stupid or you’ve annoyed someone. I tend to believe the latter. Contract killings are expensive and to have those morons liquidated because they failed means someone wants you out of the way. Tell me again, why are you in South Africa?”
The sergeant arrived with two polystyrene cups filled with black coffee.
The lieutenant nodded. “And close the door when you leave.”
Petros explained from the moment Charles Haskell hired them.
Johnston rested his elbows on his desk, churched his fingers and listened without interruption.
“Any closer to an answer?” asked Petros when he finished.
“Very simple, those two villains didn’t give a toss when they fired at you and a woman was hurt. You’re here giving advice on how to prevent pirates boarding a vessel. Somehow, whoever controls this band of brigands has discovered this and wants you stopped. I suggest you pack your bags and go home. They might not miss next time.”
Petros guessed Johnston was a shrewd man and was watching for some sort of reaction. “And if I don’t?”
“Your decision. I’m employed to pick up the pieces. May I suggest you leave your hotel and take up whatever accommodation the ship has to offer? No more running around our streets and as a favour, I’ll arrange a police car to take you to the airport.”
“I hear what you say but I’ll be finished soon. I will look into living on the ship”
“Good. Your belongings will be removed by my men from the hotel and delivered. If you have nothing further to say I’ll have a car take you back.”
Petros’ eyes narrowed. “Will you continue your search for those who killed your constable?”
Good judgment filled the lieutenant’s eyes as he stared at him. “The explosion destroyed any evidence which may have existed. In my professional opinion we’ll keep looking but I doubt if any arrests will be made.” He stood and held out his hand.
Petros shook it noting the firm grip.
“The car park is at the rear, please follow me.”
In a daze, Petros remained silent as the police car drove him back to the dry dock.
On alighting from the vehicle he strolled up the gangway and smiled to himself when he saw Bear talking to Andy.
“What did they want this time?” asked Bear.
Petros laughed. “They want us to leave.”
Bear’s smile expanded to a broad grin. “And of course you agreed.”
“It appears someone doesn’t like us. I’ll stay on and enjoy some sea air. Oh, by the way, the police recommend we live on board.”
“You can stay for as long as you want. When these three security guards are ready, I’m on the next flight out of here.”
“I’ll have a word with the steward and have two cabins made ready,” said Andy.
“We need to retrieve our clothes.”
“Not a problem,” said Petros. “The lieutenant has that in hand as we speak.”
Bear shook his head. “Why is it trouble follows us wherever we go?”
Petros shrugged. “Shall we go and see what the chef has for dinner.”
“Good God, the man does have a heart. Lead on, McDuff, I’m right behind you.”
@@@
Linda blinked her eyes open and stared at the sleeping Frankie beside her. She gave her a nudge.
Half asleep, Frankie dragged her into her arms. Their lips met in a frenzy of lust and passion.
Linda checked for email messages, there were three. Two from Malaysia and the other from Stanley. One hour later, dressed in a bright red suit, an open-necked white shirt, and long blonde wig, she strolled through the main gate and hailed a taxi.
“Cape Grace Hotel.”
On entering reception she nodded to the armed guard at security. He chuckled as she sauntered into the lift.
She gave him a cheeky wave as the doors began to close. “Fuck me,” she mouthed.
Drenched in sweat Stanley rushed to open the door. Linda gave him a sharp look. “What’s wrong with you? You look like death warmed up in a microwave. I need a drink.”
She strolled to the bar and poured a large brandy before positioning her rear on a bar stool. “Speak to me before you have a heart attack.”