The Galician Parallax (53 page)

‘I don’t like it, brother.’

They pulled into a side-road cafe. The television was on and the whole scenario at the Vigo docks was being displayed, over and over again.

‘
Senhores
?’ asked the waitress.

‘Two mineral waters,’ said Badi, eyes glued to the television screen. Habib couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

‘What the…’

‘Shush,’ interrupted Badi. He looked at his watch. It was gone four.

‘We still have two hours.’

Two members of the Portuguese SWAT team stood by the counter fully armed. Inside the lounge, dozens of other police patrolled the whole area. The passengers, many of them British holidaymakers returning after their vacation, were lining up to board the plane. Sergio and Stan were not far away.

‘They killed my colonel, Sr Consul. I’ll not let them get away with it.’

Sergio moved closer to the line and began walking up and down it. Stan realised what Sergio was up to.
The bastards know who you are
, he thought,
you’re trying to draw them out
.

It was Badi, about thirty passengers away that noticed him. He nudged Habib who was ahead. Badi smiled.

‘The snake’s tail.’

They instantly drew their .38s and each grabbed hold of the nearest passenger.

‘Stand back everybody,’ Badi shouted.

Sergio saw them and reacted. He pulled his 9mm from his holster, raised it and aimed at the nearest. Stan instinctively stood back. Within seconds, the airport was under siege. Snipers poised along the top balconies overlooking all the counters saw the developments and immediately took aim at the armed men whilst over a dozen of the SWAT police, keeping their distance, surrounded them. Sergio began to walk towards the Arabs.

‘Cowar…’ the word was choking in his throat. He swallowed and again, this time almost shouting, ‘Cowards!’ The terrorists didn’t reply, guns tucked into their hostages’ throats. The airport was at a standstill. Some passengers a distance away were bolting for the exit doors. More police arrived whilst ambulance staff stood away on the ready. On the outside, a complete police cordon had been formed. Television crews began to broadcast live. Stan was standing behind Sergio, some feet away. Most passengers in the queue were sprawled out on the floor, motionless.

A million thoughts ran through the lieutenant’s mind: his childhood, the loss of his father, the exuberance when he graduated with honours into the elite core of the civil guards, his first assignment. Sergio began to mumble. ‘“Not bad,” you said Colonel after I presented my credentials. Remember? “Keep your nose clean, son, and you’ll make it to the top.” Keep my nose clean… old fart. Colonel, you’d be proud…’ He felt strange, started to shiver.
Colonel Lobeira blown to bits
, he thought. Suddenly his hatred began to surge. Sergio moved closer to the terrorists.

‘Go on you bastards from the depths of hell. I dare you… shoot at me. Look at me. It’s me, Lieutenant Sergio Quiroga, at your bloody service.’ The terrorists tightened their grip on their victims still held at gunpoint.

‘Let them go. They’re nobody, of no use…’ He didn’t know which one was the leader. It didn’t matter.
They are all the same
, he thought,
“scum”
.

Sergio began to smile as if not caring any more. He extended his arm as far as he could; aiming at Habib who was the closest within his reach. ‘Colonel, you’d be proud…’ still grinning, ‘your Filipino friends are dangling from their balls…’

Badi who was now to one side let go of the young Portuguese girl. Stan saw him take aim. He bolted forward and dived at Sergio. One shot was fired followed instantly by six others from the balcony.

Three people lay on the floor of the airport, each in their own pool of blood.

The Spanish and European television stations were soon broadcasting live images from the Vigo docks as well as the city and reporting on the foiled terrorist attempt of a British cruise ship. The Filipino terrorists were soon sent to A Lama Prison after declaring before the magistrate. Captain Rogers, his officers and several members of the crew went through a similar ordeal at the local police station.

‘The HBC and this civil guard departed once the terrorists had been arrested by our staff,’ Captain Rogers had stated, ‘I have no idea where they were heading.’

The press was ready to pick up the story. The authorities were still puzzled at the disappearance of Mr Stan Bullock, the honorary British consul and Lieutenant Sergio Quiroga, a member of the civil guards based in Corunna. Colonel Seone had given his own version of the affair to the central HQ in Madrid and was praised for his department’s actions. There was no word from his subordinate, Lieutenant Quiroga. Whilst the ordeal in the Oporto airport was taking place, the
Prince
was allowed to continue her journey. She was four hours behind schedule. Mr Fairchild’s body remained on board.

Likewise and according to the national media, statements from the Portuguese Government were full of praise for their security forces in foiling a similar attempt at the Oporto airport by al-Qaeda apparently out to murder innocent British tourists on a BA flight. Badi and Habib had been shot outright. There was no mention of the involvement of a member of the British diplomatic service, including the tip-off from the HBC in Oporto or the Spanish civil guard. An unidentified person was injured and rushed to hospital. There was no further information. The investigation was still underway. That was the official version.

The British Ambassador in Lisbon had sent a full report of the incident to the Foreign Office. It ended with a copy of the letter of gratitude to the Portuguese President and equal praise for his excellent police force. The Oporto HBC had been ignored.

At the Hospital Trinidade Stan Bullock was fighting for his life. A shot from one of the airport SWAT snipers had entered through his back, the bullet lodging in his right lung. Sergio was in the corridor waiting for the outcome of an emergency operation that was still underway. He had earlier presented his credentials to the Portuguese police with a proviso to give his account of the incident once he knew the outcome. They agreed. He neglected to call Gloria. Yolanda was even more in the dark.

Stan was out of danger. Sergio had spent all night alongside his bed in the intensive care unit. At eight-thirty in the morning, Portuguese time, he finally switched on his mobile. Ignoring the dozens of missed calls on his log he called Gloria. It was Saturday. She’d spent all day and night phoning all and sundry but to no avail. The events in the south of Galicia and north Portugal had all those involved too busy to answer Gloria’s plea for information. She was at home and nearly fainted at the sound of his voice. He told her about Stan and that he didn’t know whom to call. He’d been through too much.

‘He saved my life.’

Colonel Seone had been informed of Sergio’s involvement in Vigo by his own staff but was unaware of his whereabouts until Gloria called him. He was satisfied that he was not hurt and then realised that he’d caused an incident in another country. He tried to tear his hair out.

‘Not again.’

The chauffeur picked up Yolanda at her father’s villa the moment she knew what had happened and was on her way to Oporto.

The bodies of two Filipinos were found in a car in Porriño. An investigation was now underway.

Gloria, Yolanda, the two kids, Sergio and Fred Goodly, the HBC, were in Stan’s ward in the Oporto hospital staring motionless at Stan who was wide awake, but too fragile to talk or even gesture. Two Portuguese police were on guard in the corridor.

Danny Wilton was trying his hardest to pacify HMA as the FCO had blown a fuse at the misbehaviour of one of their HBCs.

The President of Portugal met with the HMA. They reviewed and praised each other for the successful outcome of defusing a dangerous terrorist attempt. Again, there was no mention of Sergio or Stan’s involvement although the HBC in Oporto had advised him of a “seriously injured Brit” during the shoot-out. Fred Goodly still hadn’t made up his mind to reveal Stan’s identity until the dust cleared and the whole situation was clarified.

Stan was released from the hospital and an ambulance transferred him back to Vigo. He had to rest for at least another month. Juan Jose came out of retirement to take care of the Mauro Shipping Agency whilst his son-in-law recovered. Yolanda alternated between looking after her husband and sending more tourists on their way to the Canary Islands.

Sergio was back at work reverting to his original task of pursuing the drug trafficking in Galicia. His involvement in the attack in Oporto was cleared at the highest level between the Portuguese and Spanish police authorities and kept as a total secret from the meddling media. As far as the cruise-ship plot was concerned, Colonel Seone received all the glory. His efforts were praised by the Spanish Government.

‘You were mentioned in dispatches,’ he told Sergio sarcastically once he reported for duty, ‘although I must admit, this office is proud of you, Lieutenant.’

Sir Adrian Billson and Ms Joan Flashman were basking on the beach enjoying their newly-acquired residence status. There was enough drug money in the bank accounts for the couple to retire from the activity for the rest of their lives. Sir Adrian had even transferred all of Maiden Voyages’ directors’ drug money into his own accounts. The Stantons, Jerry and Glen had no choice but to continue their normal business with
Serene Maiden
as their only left-over asset.

It didn’t take long for the civil guards to home in on Sr Perez’s outfit. The intermediary dealer was convicted and given a twenty-year jail sentence for peddling drugs. The informer that triggered off the raid on his warehouse was never discovered. However, a low-ranking police officer working in the Central Police HQ in Madrid mysteriously disappeared without trace. His superiors had never suspected his conversion to the Muslim faith after the US invasion of Iraq. Lieutenant Sergio Quiroga was unable to track him down as the original source of the al-Qaeda contact despite numerous attempts at his infallible computer program. He eventually gave up.

Teixugo was inspecting his grapes when he heard about Sr Perez’s arrest. ‘Should be a good harvest this year,’ he said to his manager.

Osama bin Laden was upset yet pleased. ‘Our mission in Al Andalus has temporarily ended but our “fight” continues,’ he said to his followers. ‘Badi and Habib will be welcomed as martyrs.’ He kneeled and prayed. ‘Praise be to Allah.’

On 7 July three suicide bomb attacks took place on the London Underground followed by another one on a double-decker bus. No Spanish al-Qaeda cell was involved.

James G. Skinner is a retired worldwide telecommunications executive and ex-honorary British consul in Spain. For the past twenty years he has lived in Vigo and has observed through the press the constant flow of drugs from Latin America into Europe via the coast of Galicia. Living in Spain has also given him an insight into the fight on terrorism, especially the Basque Separatist Movement, ETA. He has managed to combine his research of both criminal activities into a unique fictitious novel highlighting the dangers to today’s Western society of these two horrors.

His first novel, ‘The Goa File’, published in 2007 with a second edition in 2009 that dealt with the “Dirty War” conflict in the Southern cone of South America received several good reviews from his readers as follows:

“… excellent characterisation…”

Bill Bond, journalist, Madrid

“… high level of objectivity and transparency…”

Maria Cristina Azcona, author, Buenos Aires

“… a Ken Follet in our service…”

Sir Stephen Wright, British Ambassador, retired