The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6) (17 page)

BOOK: The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6)
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              “I need your help in apprehending the murderer of my father.”
              The major leant forward. “I assume you know this person?”
              Henry adopted a firm expression. “Yes and no. I’ve never met her but have the evidence. Please, I’m not attempting to tell you how to do your job. I understand she lives on an estate called the Golden Palms.”
              The officers looked at each other, leant back in their chairs and folded their arms.
              “You know it’s one of the most prestigious developments in Cape Town,” said the major.
              “Henry nodded. “I assume with the money she obtains she can afford to live in luxury.”
              “Mr Wood, every owner of a property on the Golden Palm estate is vetted by a committee of judges and lawyers and has to be approved by a ballot before being allowed to buy. Do you have any proof this woman lives there?”

             
“Yes, but maybe she’s not an owner. Look, I’m wasting my time and yours. We need to check every woman or female occupant of those properties, in order to find this woman.” He handed over copies of her photograph. “She has a red dragon’s head tattoo on the back of her right hand.”

              The major frowned. “If I understand, you want my officers to interview every female resident living on the Golden Palms estate. How do you know she’s still there? For all we know the taxi dropped her off and she went elsewhere.”

              Henry listened with a growing frustration. So far the meeting had lasted twenty minutes and he was no further forward. “I see you’re not interested.” He stood “Sorry to waste your time.”

              The major smiled. “We always love to hear a good yarn. The Lieutenant will see you out.” He muttered to himself as he left the room.

              The lieutenant remained in his chair. “One moment, Mr Wood. I need to ask you something.”

              “What’s the point? You’re not listening.”

              The lieutenant shook his head. “Do you believe in chance?”

              Henry looked bemused. “Why?”

              “Ninety-nine times out of a hundred police work is straightforward. The villain commits a crime and we find and arrest him, or her. This week I’ve found myself involved with piracy. You tell us this woman murdered your father on a ship named Goliath. A few days ago five men were shot at in broad daylight. Their job’s to protect a vessel named Leviathan which belongs to the same company as Goliath. You don’t like the major because he took no action. Let me tell you why. He’s protecting his pension. I suggest you visit the shipyard and talk to a Mr Petros Kyriades. He’s overseeing the security alterations.”

              Henry sat in silence for a moment. “Something’s wrong, the pieces don’t fit. I visited Stanley Ford of Ocean Shipping the other day and told him everything I said to you and the major. Why didn’t he contact you? Fact, he knows where Goliath was scrapped. Fact, he’s aware of the woman from the insurers’ report and my information. Fact, I told him she travelled from India to Dubai and onto Cape Town.”

              “Why would Ford suppress such information?”

              Henry shrugged. “I’d have thought he would have been over the moon but when I told him about Goliath he appeared in a state of shock ...”

              The lieutenant raised his hand. “Forgive me but you don’t know.”

              “What don’t I know?”

              “Ford died yesterday. A cleaner discovered his body in the company’s penthouse.”

              “How did he die?”

              “The office is running a sweepstake that he was humping a bit on the side. His body’s in the morgue waiting to be examined but we all reckon a heart attack.”

              Henry felt a chill run the length of his spine. “Closed circuit television, the building must have it. You should check the recordings and see if there’s a connection.”

              “Slow down. I’m the policeman and I will do my job. I suggest you go to the yard and talk to this Kyriades.”

              A knock on the door preceded a sergeant entering. “Excuse me, sir. There’s something you need to know. The coroner just phoned in the initial autopsy on Stanley Ford. It appears he had enough cocaine in his system to drop an elephant. The man was murdered.”

              “Thank you. You know where he was discovered. Go check it out and I want the recordings from every camera in that building on my desk like yesterday. And when you’ve finished, visit the airport and get me the passenger list for all flights arriving from Dubai on the fifth and sixth June.”

              “Sir, have you forgotten? I’ve a week off starting tonight. I promised my wife we would go away.”

              “No, I haven’t and your leave is cancelled.”

              “That’s not fair, sir.”

              “It’s a career decision, Sergeant. Your call.”

              Disgruntled, the sergeant departed, slamming the door.

              “You can’t get decent sergeants these days. Anyway, I’ll get our boffins to find this woman’s passport information. Guarantee it’s a forgery but you never know.  Ford was murdered. I wonder why?”

              “Maybe he became a liability.”

              “Are you suggesting he was involved with the hijacking of Goliath?”

              “Anything is possible but I’d need proof before I was sure.”

              “Go visit Kyriades. I’m going to feed the ducks.”

              “You’re going to feed ducks?”

              The lieutenant chuckled. “I do my best thinking when I feed and talk to ducks. They take everything I have to give but never interrupt. The fresh air invigorates my mind and I’m out of this office. The dockyard is on my way. I’ll give you a lift.”

@@@

Lieutenant Johnston dropped Henry at the dock gates and on the way to his favourite park he purchased a loaf of bread. As always, he wandered through the Japanese garden and stopped at the spot where he could feed the ducks.

              “You’re slow today,” he muttered as a few of his feathered friends approached. One of the geese came to the fence and peered at him. “If you’re hungry you’ll need to listen. I still have the murder of a policeman to solve and now a prominent businessman has been murdered. Self-inflicted or administered in a drink. You tell me?  He didn’t appear to be a user but then, these days, who knows? Pirates are now on the agenda and my sergeant hates me. What would you do?”

              Most of the ducks along with a few geese fought amongst themselves as he tossed more of the bread onto the water. “You fight for a scrap of bread with no thought for your associates. The survival of the fittest. No love, joy, surprise, sadness, but maybe anger and fear.”

              As the last sodden scrap vanished he was no closer to solving any of his problems, but he felt better and made a decision. Bank statements and accounts. Was Ford living beyond his means? The woman was another problem. He chuckled. Ford would not be the first or last man to succumb to a woman’s charms. He strolled back to his car with a spring in his step.

@@@.

Lieutenant Johnston spent the remainder of the afternoon gathering information. The female in the photographs used a genuine passport but the name belonged to a married woman who lived in Istanbul. He thumbed through Ford’s bank accounts and found nothing out of the ordinary but something was missing. A check on Ford’s movements for the last twelve months might reveal something. He lifted the telephone, pressed the buttons, and felt tiredness in his bones.

@@@

Henry walked at a brisk pace to the offices of Ocean Shipping. The receptionist pushed her hair from her eyes when she recognised him. “And what can I do for you today?”

              “Sorry to hear about Mr Stanley.”

              Her eyes dropped. “It was such a shock.”

              Henry grimaced. “I need to speak to a Mr Petros Kyriades. I understand he’s working on Leviathan.”

              She pointed. “That’s her in the dry dock. The gangway is on the other side. You start walking, and I’ll give them a ring to tell them you’re on your way.”

              “Thank you, you’re most kind.”

              Her face flushed as she smiled. “My pleasure.”

              He was halfway out of the door when he turned and wandered back. “One good turn deserves another. Would you care to join me this evening for dinner and you can choose the restaurant?”

             
Her eyes lit up. “Henry, I’m Annie, and I’d love to.  Where are you staying?
              “Villa Simona, do you know it?”
              “She smiled. “Of course. I’ll collect you at eight. Wear a tie.”
              “Look forward to it.” This time he strolled through the entrance and headed for Leviathan. He glanced across the gangway towards the ship. At the far end a blond-haired man waited. With long strides he walked onboard.
              “Henry Wood?” said Petros.
              “And you must be Petros Kyriades. We have something in common. Pirates.”
              Petros studied the man in front of him. “Would you like a coffee? My colleague and I live on board since someone decided they didn’t like us. We can compare notes.”
              Henry nodded. “Better than standing here.”
              In the officers’ mess they sat either side of a table and waited while the steward poured two cups of coffee.
              “What do you know?” asked Henry.
              They chatted for over two hours.
              “We need to speak to the captain,” said Henry. “He may be of the opinion that his crew remains unarmed. Many believe if they fire first the pirates will shoot back.”
              “I’m of the attitude attack and destroy. That way they can never come back. The bleeding heart brigade does more harm than good. The ship’s captain arrives tomorrow prior to undocking. We can have a word when he’s free. Whatever he decides determines our next move.”
              “Depends on who’s calling the shots. You have an indirect line to the top of the tree. A telephone call might not be out of order.”
              Petros checked the time on the mess clock. “No time like the present. He removed his mobile from his pocket and called Charles Haskell.
              Nessun dorma the final act of Giacomo filled the room as Charles’ mobile rang. “Good afternoon, Petros. How’s it going?”
              “I need a favour.”
              “Tell me what it is and I’ll give it due consideration.”
              “Can you have a chat with the boss of Ocean Shipping?”
              “I can, but why?”
              Petros explained the situation, ending with, “If these crews remain passive we’ve wasted our time and the company a ton of money.”
              “If the answer is to defend and fight it will need someone who knows tactics.  You’ll have to stay for one trip. Wipe out the enemy and you can come home.”
              “I’ll stay for the passage from Cape Town and back again. Whatever happens I’ll be flying home.”
              Charles chuckled. “Can’t argue with that. What about the big man?”
              “He makes his own mind up.”
              “Okay, I can contact the President of Ocean Shipping using Facetime. I’ll text you the answer when I have one.” The call terminated.
              “Now we wait and if it’s a go I’ll have to tell my wife I’m delayed. You might as well relax and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
              “Good idea. I have a date with the gorgeous receptionist.”
              Petros escorted him to the gangway. “We should be floating by ten and at our berth by eleven. Why not come and have lunch? The chef is brilliant.”
              Henry waved as he sauntered across the gangway. “Good idea. See you tomorrow.”
              Petros wandered forward to the security team’s quarters where he knew he would find Bear. When he entered the eight-berth mess he nodded to the others.
Bear gave him a cautious look. “What’s on your mind?”
              “If certain things come about I’ll be remaining on board for a few more weeks.”
              “The coffee pot’s full. Grab a seat and tell me a fairy story.”
              Petros found a clean mug, sat on the bench, filled it, and cleared his throat. “I reckon the pirates will attack when Leviathan’s tanks are full. Goliath made them millions with little work and no losses. I’ve just finished talking to Captain Wood’s son. He found what was left of her in an Indian scrap-yard. I’ve also contacted Charles and asked that he has a word with the president of Ocean Shipping. The plan is to eliminate the pirates or at worst, they leave this company alone.”
              Bear nodded, having understood the enormity of the situation. “And what decision would you like me to make?”

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