Waves of Murder (27 page)

Palermo

“H
ow in the Lord’s name, did he manage to escape?” the Chief Inspector shouted.

“He went to relieve himself and when he returned the curtain was still drawn so he thought all was well,” Sgt Gambrelli replied.

“Okay,” the CI said, “check the airport and the harbour, I want him back here, SOON!” he screamed, his well-being depended on it. The ‘gentry’ had warned him that his safety was in question, not to mention a large cash inducement! He distributed photographs of Jon (Keiron) to every officer in the city and it was decided to put his picture on television news, but that was of no consequence in Trepani as it was a TV-free area.

Trepani

J
on still didn’t feel safe on Sicily, he would try to find a boat to take him to Tunis, the nearest point of the African coast, may be he would go down to the quay-side to see if any large trawlers were in. Walking down the hill he could see his inflatable boat bobbing about gently on a very slight swell. There weren’t any boats in the small harbour, but in the distance he could see a large boat, it was an ocean-going trawler. He waited, sitting on the wall, until the trawler came to the quay-side, it was big and to his surprise, had Arabic writing above the name ‘L’Ariana’. Satan was still helping. He waited until a crew mwmber had tied up at both ends and was leaning against the wall with a cigarette, “Buongiorno,” he said, “do you speak English?”

“Si, a little,” he said.

“Do you go to Tunis?” Jon asked.

“We are going tomorrow, it is our home country.”

Jon couldn’t believe his luck, “Could I pay you to take me with you?”

“I will ask my brother, he owns the boat.” He jumped aboard and went to the wheelhouse and spoke to a grey haired, brawny man who looked down at Jon and said something to the younger brother. His luck was in as the boy said, “Yes, it will cost 1,000 euros.”

Jon pretended to think hard about it, then said, “Yes, what time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Six o’clock,” the boy said.

“I’ll be here,” Jon said.

He went to see Naomi at the shop, she ran around the counter, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him saying ‘Would you like an arse show?’ and before he could say yes or no she’d run back and was climbing the step ladder, this time however, she wore no knickers! She looked back at him, smiling and said, “How’s that?”

“Very nice,” he said, “now come down, I have something to tell you.”

Her smile disappeared, “What is it?” she asked.

“I’m leaving in the morning,” he said.

Naomi’s face dropped, and her eyes moistened, “Where are you going?” she asked

“I’m going back to the mainland, probably Rome,” he lied.

She started crying but soon composed herself when a lady customer came into the shop. Jon took the opportunity, and left the shop quickly, and as far as Naomi was concerned, was gone forever.

Jon left Mrs Mantini’s very quietly, leaving a 100 euro note on his bed. he took the minimum amount of clothing in his back-pack including his money and the diamonds, arriving at the quay at 5.30am. There was a single light on in the wheelhouse, but there was movement and the boy came to the side of the boat and lit a cigarette. Seeing Jon, he beckoned him aboard. He climbed on to the flat deck and went to the wheelhouse, “Do you have the money?” the boy said. He gave the lad a 500 euro note. “My brother said 1,000 euros.”

“Yes, I know, 500 now and 500 when we get there, okay?” Jon said.

“I’ll see what my brother says,” and went below deck. Jon waited, he had taken a large stout kitchen knife from the signora’s kitchen and had it inside his shirt, wrapped in a tea towel so as not to cut himself.

The fishing boat left at 7am, being a powerful ocean-goer Jon was pleased with the rate of knots that it made out of the harbour and in to the open sea, beautiful blue and flat. He looked at the sun and calculated that they were heading SW, good he thought. He asked the young fisherman how long the trip would take, “Two days,” he replied, “and my brother now wants 1,200 euros for keeping him waiting for the rest of the money, and food,” he announced.

“Okay,” said Jon, “when we get there,” he added. I hope they live to collect it, he thought with an evil smile, as he patted the package inside his shirt.

They did some fishing and the catches looked very good, a load with each trawl, Jon even helped to bring up the nets as best he could, he was now a lot fitter and stronger. The fish were dropped into steel-lined bins, still writhing and flapping around, then something happened that Jon didn’t expect, two dark Arabic girls came up to the deck and started to gut the catch. They worked at a furious rate, throwing the entrails overboard. From out of a clear blue sky, a huge flock of seagulls fell upon the flotsam of fish remains. The girls didn’t seem to notice Jon, they probably just thought he was a hired hand for the trip.

Russia

B
oth in St Petersburg and Moscow, the dogs had been called off, with high rewards being offered for Jon’s capture, but they were concentrating on Europe, they hadn’t thought of anywhere further afield, but that was to come. Jon Weston would always be top of their ‘wanted’ list and they had very long arms and informants everywhere. In every Russian Embassy there was someone on their payroll, ready to tell them any news of a sighting. It was a long way off, but he would have his day of reckoning, but who would it be, the NYPD, the UK Police or the Russians?

Palermo

M
ary-Lou and Mel Novak were packing and almost ready to have their luggage collected and taken down to reception, “Well,” said Mary-Lou, “now the long haul home,” she said, sadly.

“Yep,” Mel agreed, “still it’s been wonderful hasn’t it, hon?” he said, pulling her close and kissing her head. Their flight would take them back to London to take a flight to New York.

“Yes,” Mary-Lou said, “and exciting.”

“Yeah,” said Mel looking down, “I wish I’d had the jurisdiction to nail that evil bastard, but he’s gonna get what’s coming to him one day, and I want a front row seat.”

He heard that Jon had escaped from the hospital after speaking to the Asst Chief Inspector, “He is very clever,” the ACI had said, “ he has the devil on his side.”

“Yes,” Mel had agreed, “in fact I think the devil is driving him.”

They arrived at the airport with time to spare, he had somehow become obsessed by every tall blond man, looking at their faces, he even ran over to the check-in desk and grabbed the arm of a man and spun him round to get a better look at his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, I thought you were a friend of mine.” The young fellow was Norwegian and didn’t understand a word of what Mel had said.

“Honey, will you stop it, you’re making a fool of yourself, if you don’t there’s gonna be trouble, big trouble,” Mary-Lou almost shouted.

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” he said.

Tunisia

M
idday on the second day, they sailed past a headland and into calmer waters and followed the coast line on the port side. Ice containers were brought up to the deck from the freezer below, and the freshly gutted fish were sorted and packed ready for the fish market. “How long before we reach land?” Jon asked the younger brother.

“Five or six hours,” he replied.

I couldn’t kill all four of them, Jon thought, I’ll have to pay up, after all I didn’t pay for the trip to Palermo. He smiled a wicked smile. He now had the task of selling the diamonds, were there any dealers in Tunis? May be there was a Jewish quarter, after all Arabs and Jews lived side by side in Israel, especially Jerusalem.

Being a fairly busy tourist destination the hotels were very modern and luxurious, three or four star would do if he could get into one. His first attempt drew a blank, fully booked the young man said, sniffing at Jon’s fishy smell. The same answer came from the next four tries, and then he saw a sign ‘Holiday Apartments’ flashing neon. He walked up the few steps through a glass door to a counter manned by a middle-aged woman. She looked Jon up and down and sniffed. “Do you speak English?” Jon asked.

“Yes, of course, this is an area of tourism, are you a fisherman?”

“No,” Jon said, “my boat sank and I was picked up by a fishing boat. I’m sorry if you can smell it, but I have plenty of money to pay for accomodation.” He pulled out a wad of US dollars. “How much for a week in a double apartment?”

“$500,” she replied, “in advance.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Passport please,” she said. She looked at it and gave it back to him, “thank you,” her attitude had changed when she saw his wedge of money. She also passed him a form to complete, it took 2-3 minutes to fill in, she then passed him an old fashioned key on a label, “apartment 110 on the first floor, front,” she said, smiling for the first time as she took the five $100 bills.

He climbed the stairs to the first floor and soon found the door to Appt 110, it faced south, it was well appointed and very clean and comfortable, and it had a TV. Good, he said to himself, and immediately switched it on. He watched as he looked around, opening doors and drawers. Looking in the wardrobe, he was reminded that he needed to buy some new clothes. He would first have to get clean and wash what he was wearing. He took everything into the bathroom and ran a bath, nice and hot, he said to himself. He left the clothes to soak after rubbing it all with toilet soap to get rid of the smell of fish. He laid naked on the bed, after taking a shower, watching TV, there was no news or image of him, good he thought, I’m not notorious in North Africa! From here he could travel freely, but he had to sell the jewellery first. His cash balance was still very healthy but he wanted to get rid of the diamonds and turn them in to cash, preferably dollars. He went for a walk, the reason mainly to buy some clothes. In the main tourist trap shopping area, there were some familiar names in fashion. He chose an Yves St Laurent outlet and spent $!,800 on smart casuals, including shoes. He tried to pay in euros but they wouldn’t accept them. Having changed in to one of his outfits in the store, he asked the assistant to get rid of his old stuff and gave him an extra $10, saying “Keep the change!” The young trendy man bowed and thanked him. Further down the street there was a taxi rank, now if anyone knows where I can sell jewellery, the cabbies will. “Do you speak English?” he asked the first driver.

“Yes, sir-r-r,” the portly man replied, “we have to learn for our licence, and for the tourists.”

“Good,” said Jon, “I want to find the area for buying and selling jewellery?”

“Oh, yes sir-r-r, the Jews in El-Macabi Street, I will take you,” he said, opening the door of his bright green and white Toyota estate car.

Jon knew he was being ripped off because the meter remained ‘off’ and they had passed the same buildings and statues, twice! But he smiled and thought he’d haggle for a bit of fun when they reached his destination. Turning down a narrow street, he recognised signs in Hebraic writing that he had seen in New York and Antwerp. The cab stopped and the cabbie said, loudly, “El-Macabi Street sir-r-r, $30 plizz.”

“No,” Jon said, “$20, you went past the large soldier statue twice and you didn’t use the meter, $20 or I report you to the police,” he added.

“Okay, okay,” came the reply.

Jon gave him $25 and said, “I suppose that’s what you call free enterprise!” and walked away laughing.

“Go home yank!” the driver shouted.

“I’m not a yank, I’m Irish,” Jon said, laughing loudly again. He looked carefully for CCTV cameras, there were none. Good, Tunis is lagging behind in catching felons, but woe betide them when they do, Arabic jails are very nasty, he thought. Walking down one side of the street and then up the other, pretending to be a window shopper, he was accosted by shop owners inviting him in to look at their goods. But he declined their offers with a smile and a ‘no, thank you’, until he was invited into a large well-appointed emporium by a young man wearing the traditional skull cap and prayer tassles hanging below his shirt. “Do you speak English?” he asked.

“Yes,” came the reply, “I went to school in Golders Green, in London.”

Two miles from where I lived, Jon thought, but pretended not to know it, “I’m fom Ireland, and I have some diamonds to sell, do you buy jewellery?”

“Yes, may I see them?” the young man said as he went behind a thick glass secure partition. Jon took out his red handkerchief to reveal Molly’s gems, the necklace, the bracelet, the three rings and the watch, and passed them through the slot. The dealer took at least 20 minutes to eyeglass them. “How much do you want for the lot?” he asked Jon.

“$200,000,” Jon answered.

“Mmm.” The man thought, “I’ll have to call in other dealers, I do not make such large purchases, but I have fellow dealers close by that will be very interested in buying part of the lot. It will take about an hour, is that all right?”

“Yes,” Jon said, and sat on a comfortable chair. Three older dealers entered the shop similarly dressed, with skull caps and prayer tassles. They all went in to a back room. The hour became an hour and a half during which Jon heard the Germanic language spoken fairly loudly.

“We will give you $180,000,” the younger dealer said.