The Turkish Trap: A tense and intriguing action thriller.

by Jack Dylan

  “Lavinia, this isn’t your fault. So don’t blame yourself. Alex, I think you are going to have to trust us, and explain how the whole thing started. If I can help you I will. But I need to be clear just what has been going on and how you got yourself into this mess.” William was emerging from the evening as the clear thinker, the one with a voice of surprising authority, and was effortlessly taking the lead. The others waited for his questions and for his direction. His experience at the hands of his crooked partner in Edinburgh had left him more realistic about the nasty side of apparently normal business life, and more able to think clearly about how to help the shattered Alex.

  .

  Chapter 34

  London: September 2006.

  Katharos briefs Alex

  “Mr Fox. We need to talk. I think that you are going to your boat again soon?”

  “Yes. I’m going in a couple of weeks – should be there most of October.”

  “I’ll see you next Monday night Mr Fox. You will join me for a little drink and some mezes. We have things to organise.”

  “What time do you want me?”

  “The usual of course Mr Fox. Come at eight o’clock. I will be waiting for you.”

  Alex hung up the telephone with a sick feeling in his stomach. The process was starting again. He had no choice but to go through with it, but he was cross with himself for seeming such a willing and compliant participant.

  Maggie looked across at him.

  “That was him, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes – his master’s voice. He speaks and I jump. I’m so sick of this. I really wish it was all over.”

  “He has promised that this is the last time hasn’t he?”

  “Again – yes. Although he has never given me any reason to believe it when he says it. But there maybe is some logic this time in wanting to quit while he’s ahead.”

  “What if you just sold the boat?”

  “I’ve thought of it so many times. It seems the obvious way out doesn’t it. But so far I’ve reacted against it because it would mean he was changing an important bit of my life. I don’t want to give him that much power, and I know, I know, he already has it. It just seems symbolically the ultimate concession if I let him force me to sell up.”

  “I suppose there isn’t really any benefit anyway. There would be nothing to stop him threatening you with exposure for everything you have done up to now, and forcing you to simply charter a yacht to do the same thing again.”

  “Exactly. He has me trapped whatever I do. The thing I really can’t understand is why I didn’t blow the whistle the very first time that he called. If I had gone to the police right at the start there must be a chance that they would have believed my story about being set up. But once I complied with his instructions wittingly, I was sunk. And he knows it.”

  “Easy to say that now, but you thought it was one trip and then you’d be clear. Besides, you were in the middle of all the mess of marriage break-up and you were really short of money. I don’t think you were analysing things too well at the time.”

  “Nice of you to take that sympathetic view. But I can’t imagine the police or customs being just as understanding.”

  “Too late to think that anyway. Let’s just get this last trip over and done with. If he makes any more demands then you should sell the boat, refuse to be blackmailed, and if necessary go to the police yourself.”

  “Yes, one last time. How many is that now?”

  “This time it really must be.”

  “OK. One last time and then we can stop worrying.”

  Alex was struggling to be positive, fighting the waves of despair that threatened to overwhelm him, and physically swallowing hard to avoid the sickness in his stomach getting out of control. He was more nervous than ever. His sleep was disturbed virtually every night. He knew he was drinking far too much in an attempt to blank out the nagging fear, and knew every morning when he woke hours before time to get up, that the drinking was making him feel worse rather than succeeding in its anaesthetic purpose. He woke each morning with a recurring feeling of panic. The dreams that he could remember seemed to have themes of chasing and desperate evasion. They always ended with him trapped, no more escape routes, the inevitability of capture about to overwhelm him. He always seemed to waken without the consequences of capture becoming clear. His dreams stopped short of his pursuers killing him, torturing him, or whatever it was they intended to do. The horrors were of the endless pursuit; the desperate running; the missing of trains or flights; and the sinking feeling of the impossibility of avoiding whatever it was that was about to engulf him. He woke momentarily relieved that it was only a dream. A split second later the reality of his worries swept away the relief, and he found himself drawing his knees up into a foetal position in a pathetic and unconscious reflex action.

  Alex had developed an ulcer. He started to feel pains in his stomach at night and at times during the day. Being generally healthy, it took him time to acknowledge that it was something other than indigestion. Maggie forced him to go to the doctor, and the diagnosis was straightforward. Pains that increased with time since his last meal; reaction to spicy foods; general state of anxiety; it looked classic to the GP. He was put on a regime of antacid and soothing tablets, and his diet was altered to avoid the greasy and spicy foods that exacerbated the problem. But the glasses of wine and the ‘nightcaps’ of whisky that he increasingly couldn’t avoid, negated the beneficial effects of the drugs and he was getting worse by the day.

  Alex drove gingerly to Hampstead on Monday evening. He was superficially calm, but his stomach was giving the lie to the appearance. He drove through the gates and the floodlights came on as usual, though the September evening was far from dark enough to justify them.

  The familiar routine followed, as Alex was led by old Katharos into the plush, over-upholstered room at the rear of the house.

  “Good efening Mr Fox. Good to see you. I can assure you that this is the last time that our activities will be necessary. So you will please not raise unnecessary difficulties in this last errand for me.”

  “You know how I feel about it. The sooner it is over the better.”

  “Exactly Mr Fox. Another couple of weeks and it is over.”

  Katharos busied himself with the glasses of Metaxa. The dishes of accompanying nibbles were already spread on the table. Again Alex wondered about the domestic arrangements in this strange, slightly alien house. Was there a wife quietly sipping gins in the kitchen after ensuring her husband had all he needed? Were there domestic staff hidden out of sight? He didn’t expect he would ever know, and didn’t really care. Despite himself he was eager to grab the fiery glass of Metaxa and to feel the numbing warmth that affected his stomach as well as his head. He accepted the glass from Katharos, and responded to the gesture to pick up the little plate and help himself to some food. He picked a stuffed vine leaf, some olives, and some feta cheese, avoiding the tempting little cheese and spinach pies with their fatty pastry and ulcer-teasing spiciness.

  They settled themselves in the plush red armchairs, each provided with a little table whose leather insert was protected by a neat lace doily. Again Alex wondered about the domestic touches and who was responsible for them. He sipped the brandy, and waited while it temporarily eased his stomach pain, before forking a portion of the stuffed vine leaf and chewing the lemony-bitter green-ness. Katharos as usual seemed to be in no hurry. While giving the impression of being unhurried, he actually wasted little time. His lumbering movements and ponderous delivery made for an atmosphere that had the pace firmly in Katharos’ control. But Alex knew from experience that the business was actually dealt with quite quickly, and his dismissal would follow without delay.

  “I need to tell you about some changes to the arrangement this time Mr Fox.” He paused to sip his brandy, and looked ruminatively at the plate of food that was now balanced on his knee, reserving the little table for his glass and for the enormous crystal ashtray where his part-
smoked cigar lay waiting.

  “My associates have become worried that the arrival in Gatwick is not as safe as it used to be. While we have never had any trouble in the past, we have decided that this time a different route will be used.”

  “But I already have my tickets booked to come back through Gatwick at the end of the month. It will look odd if I change my usual arrangements.”

  “This need not concern you Mr Fox. In fact your role is a simpler one this time. We do not want to disturb the existing arrangement where you pick up the package. That is well tested and we do not need to disturb those who are meeting with you there. You will go to Kapi Creek as usual and our friends there will tell you at what time to make the rendezvous.”

  “What night do I need to go there?”

  “Just the usual Mr Fox. Your habit is to arrive there on a Monday night I think, and only to return later in the week if our friends ask you to do so.”

  “OK. I can do that. We will have a party of four on the boat next week. I fly out with Maggie on Thursday, and the four arrive on Saturday. We can be in Kapi on the Monday and Friday if necessary.”

  “I think that is the best idea. You should plan for both. The delivery will be made on the Monday night as usual, but it will be important for you to be in the area at the end of the week also.”

  “What are these new arrangements?”

  “Those making the delivery to you will not need to know any of this. Their sole concern is to make sure that you receive the package safely on Monday night. So far as they are concerned their role ends there, and you will carry on as usual. However, later in the week, on leaving Kapi Creek on the Saturday morning, you will make a short stay in Tomb Bay, perhaps for a visit to the tombs, whatever you think. You will tie up next to a Greek registered yacht called the Rodos, and while you send your guests ashore, you will transfer the package when requested to the crew on the Rodos.”

  “What if it isn’t there? What do I do with the package?”

  “It will be there Mr Fox. There will not be any problem. You will need to be there early in the morning I think if you are going to return your guests to Gocek on Saturday?”

  “Yes, we like to be back in the marina late morning so they have time to pack and get sorted before leaving late afternoon. However as long as we are in the Marina by 3:00 pm there is still time to do everything. I can be in Tomb Bay by 11:00 am on Saturday. There won’t be many other yachts around – they generally arrive late afternoon and Saturdays are quiet anyway. I’ll take the group there for a look at the tombs and an early lunch before motoring back to Gocek.”

  “The Rodos will be waiting for you in Tomb Bay. If there is a change in plan someone will speak to you. Do not forget that we have many friends in the area. Your movements are well known to me and I can ask that someone contact you if necessary.”

  The threat as usual wasn’t really explicit, but Alex was clear that Katharos was warning him that any unusual activity on his part would be noticed. If Katharos was able to organise a violent lesson for him in a leafy London avenue, how much more easily could he organise a ‘message’ in the relatively unsupervised waters off the Turkish coast.

  “And that’s it? I don’t carry the package back to London this time?”

  “You will be relieved to know that your responsibilities end in Tomb Bay. You do not need to know anything further.”

  “But why are you changing the routine? Have you heard that I am being watched? Is there some danger that I need to know about?”

  The implications of the change of plan were worrying Alex. His agitation increased the more he thought that the Greek’s network of informers and ‘associates’ might have raised a worry about Alex’s trustworthiness. While logically he might have been relieved that he had to cross no borders with the illicit package, the deviation from the normal routine worried him and his grumbling stomach underlined the physical reality of the worry.

  “Calm yourself Mr Fox. It is simply a precaution in case we have become too lazy about the route to London. It need not concern you at all. I thought it would make you happy that your responsibility was so limited on this occasion.”

  “It does. It does, of course, but I do find the whole process a constant worry, and I’ll be glad to get this last trip completed. This is the absolute end. I can’t do it any more. My health is suffering from the stress of it, so I’m getting to the point where no matter what you threaten me with I just can’t do any more.”

  Alex hadn’t meant to say all of this. It just burst out of him with the emotion born of the tension and worry that had accumulated over the previous two years.

  “I think you are not yourself, Mr Fox. It is not my way to ‘threaten’ as you put it. We have had a mutually profitable association for the last two years, and it is drawing to a natural close. Let us not be uncivilised about this please.”

  The charade continued. Alex’s stomach was really paining him now. He wanted simply to get away and be done with the whole business. He promised himself that there would be a spell of total relaxation once this final delivery was complete. The complications of the handover to the Rodos needed a little thought, but that was for later.

  “I’m sorry. One last delivery as you say. I will expect the usual message in Kapi when we get there.”

  “Just so, Mr Fox. My friends will tell you the time. And you will be in Tomb Bay on Saturday morning?”

  “But why Kapi Creek the night before?”

  “It is just a precaution Mr Fox. The delivery to the Rodos must be on Saturday morning, so it gives us a second opportunity to deliver to you if for some reason Monday night is not good.”

  “You mean if the Coastguard are out and about,” Alex thought but didn’t speak. He was also aware that specifying where Alex should be increased the ease with which Katharos could monitor his movements. It didn’t matter particularly where he was on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday if he could have his watchers ready to report that Alex was safely in Kapi on Friday and therefore ready to make the rendezvous on Saturday morning. It was a simple but effective precaution, and once again Alex was forced to admit to himself that Katharos was a deft and clever planner. He managed to stay out of trouble by thinking ahead, and having plans that could cope with the setbacks that he could predict. He did not underestimate the man, and he stopped himself from thinking further about the unscrupulous remedies he might have planned should he suspect that Alex wasn’t playing absolutely straight with him. He did not doubt that they were in fact already in place, and that a signal from Katharos could precipitate a very nasty accident at sea, many miles from leafy Hampstead.

  “May I wish you safe chourney, Mr Fox.”

  The time for dismissal had arrived. Alex was left with an unexpected change of plan that he had to welcome, but didn’t understand.

  “How will I be sure that I am dealing with the right people on the Rodos?”

  “That will not be a problem Mr Fox. Leave the details to me. When the time comes you will be clear.”

  He was now walking down the hallway with the cigar-smoking Katharos half-a-pace behind him. Alex knew that if he slowed he would find the heavy arm on his shoulder conveying him towards the door and away from whatever secrets the other rooms in the house held. Just as he was reaching the front door and preparing to step to one side so that Katharos could deal with the security locks and release him, a figure stepped from the cloakroom on his left and reached out to unlock the door.

  “Goodnight Mr Fox. I will be seeing you soon I hope.” It was Iannis Junior waiting on guard at the door. He was conscious of an intake of breath from Katharos. As if he started to say something but decided against it. Iannis’ eyes flicked to his father and the incipient smile disappeared. The unpleasant almost-sneer returned to the lips, and the defensive hostility returned to the eyes of the junior Katharos.

  “What’s going on there?” thought Alex to himself as he gratefully slipped out of the door and into the glare of the now-necessary flo
odlights. He let himself into the Polo, and had plenty to think about as he drove slowly back to Clapham and to Maggie.

  He decided to continue to spare Maggie any of the details of the discussion. For some reason, perhaps based more on spy films he had absorbed than on any rational thought process, he still operated on the basis that the less Maggie knew the better. He knew that Maggie would put two and two together and make a large and worrying number if he told her about the change in plan. In fact it was just another detail that he was sparing Maggie. Compared with the total of the complexities that he was now hiding from her, this was an unimportant detail, but one that would disproportionately worry her. He resolved to continue to act as if this was an absolutely routine rendezvous and subsequent delivery.

  Chapter 35

  Gocek Coastguard base Turkey: 0200 hours 14th October 2006

  Alex’s guests en route to Gocek

  The white Coastguard launch motored gently into the broad anchorage in Gocek. Anchor lights were visible on most of the yachts in the bay, and some of the large motor-vessels were still lit up as if electricity was just one more commodity to be flaunted. The Coastguard picked its way slowly through the anchored yachts, like a vigilant sheepdog shadowing the captive yacht. The journey from Kapi Creek had been painfully slow for the crew left on board, as the boarding party that had commandeered Alex’s yacht motored back to the base in Gocek at 5 knots.

  Following the boarding of the yacht, Alex was transferred first into one of the black inflatables, and then onto the fast Coastguard launch. The leader of the boarding party had instructions to secure the yacht, prevent any dumping of items overboard, and bring the entire party to the base where the crew could be questioned and the yacht searched. He explained to the two couples in perfect English that they were to remain quietly in their separate cabins, and await further instructions in Gocek. He politely but insistently requested their mobile phones, which he examined briefly and then dropped into his overall pocket. His pre-operational briefing had been thorough, so he was able to identify Maggie. Unsure of the extent of her complicity in Alex’s activities, he apologetically, politely, but securely fastened her wrists with plastic cable-ties behind her back. She was seated uncomfortably in the main saloon, watched by a silent, dark-clad guard. Her arms behind her back, she couldn’t sit comfortably, and she glared at the guard, who impassively watched her squirming discomfort with the air of one who had seen it all before.