Missing Presumed Lost

by Fred Lockwood

  Dr Fred Lockwood is Emeritus Professor of Learning and Teaching, Manchester Metropolitan University, UK. He is also a PADI master scuba diver.

  His career in higher education involved consultancies within over one hundred universities in more than thirty countries. Fred has travelled extensively and dived in the waters of Central America and Africa, the Middle East and South East Asia, Australasia and the Pacific Islands.

  Once a keen runner and squash player, he is now an equally keen cyclist, walker, skier and diver. He lives in Northamptonshire with his wife, Beryl.

  For further information about the author, future books, diving trips and how you can be involved as a reader of manuscripts, please go to www.fredlockwood.co.uk

  Also by Fred Lockwood

  Total Loss (2016)

  Overdue (2017)

  Fred Lockwood

  Missing Presumed Lost

  Vanguard Press

  VANGUARD E-BOOK

  © Copyright 2018

  Fred Lockwood

  The right of Fred Lockwood to be identified as author of

  this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the

  Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All Rights Reserved

  No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication

  may be made without written permission.

  No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced,

  copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the publisher, or in accordance with the provisions

  of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended).

  Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to

  this publication may be liable to criminal

  prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is

  available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978 1 784653 09 5 (paperback)

  Vanguard Press is an imprint of

  Pegasus Elliot MacKenzie Publishers Ltd.

  www.pegasuspublishers.com

  First Published in 2018

  Vanguard Press

  Sheraton House Castle Park

  Cambridge England

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank Professor Don Hanna for his actions when our sailboat was dragging its anchor, at night, in a violent storm in the Adriatic Sea, Croatia. When the engine cable broke and we were in danger of being driven onto the rocks, his quick thinking and seamanship prevented a drama becoming a disaster. Thanks, Don, the first chapters of Missing Presumed Lost relive that experience.

  I would also like to thank Andy Hiller, PADI master instructor for his advice on diving with a rebreather and his perceptive comments on both the structure and sequencing of the story. I continue to be impressed by your knowledge and skill.

  Chapter 1

  An all-expenses paid trip

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a bonus, a reward for a job well done. A gift of an all-expenses paid trip, a few days’ gentle sailing around the Croatian Islands absorbing some sunshine, drinking some of the local wine and having some fun. Instead he was cold, soaking wet and scared as he clung onto a winch in the cockpit of the Hunter Legend sailboat. He tried to look for’ard through the narrow gap between the clear plastic spray hood and canvas bimini but he couldn’t see anything. Cold rain and spray was blasting through the narrow gap. It blinded him as the water stung his eyes. He wiped the salt water from his face with a free hand and gripped the winch even tighter with the other. The wind was screaming through the wire stays as the boat tossed and twisted; he had to hold on with all his strength. It was pitch black all around except for the flashes of lightning that suddenly illuminated the sky. As the lightning flashed he searched for the nearest shoreline and tried to estimate their distance from it. Was it fifty metres, closer or further away? The flashes of lightning were so brief he had only a split second to judge. He shouted the distance into the face of his colleague at the helm. He could feel the vibration of the engine as they tried to force their way forward, dragging the anchor behind them and away from the far rocks. He could feel the vibration of the engine, but barely hear it due to the noise of the storm.

  Jim Blake was a chemical and production engineer not a sailor. In an instant his fear was transformed into anger as he recalled what had brought him to this nightmare. A few days previously he had been sitting in the offices of Pharmaco, near the coast and just north of Split in Croatia. He had held a large, stainless steel magnifying glass in one hand as he examined the external surfaces of laminated boxes, containing tablets and capsules, in the other. In turn he had systematically inspected the sides and ends of the packaging of several samples of each box and constantly compared them to the originals directly in front of him. He had opened the end of a box of tablets and held it, open side downwards, before he gave it a sharp tap to release the plastic and tinfoil blister pack inside. He had then worked through a sample of sachets, from different boxes, as he compared them with the example in front of him. Finally he unfolded several guidance leaflets and with the magnifying glass examined the print, felt the paper and dropped them to the table top. Jim repeated this procedure with the other two cartons of tablets and capsules. It had taken him less than thirty minutes to examine samples of the product. He had turned to Mihovil, the Production Manager, who was sitting opposite him and said:

  ‘Congratulations, these are excellent. The look and feel of the outer packaging of the three tablet boxes is first class. You have reproduced the colours and the registration of the print is spot on. The blister packs fit snugly and you have managed to get the colour of the capsules, strength of foil and pliability of the plastic just right. The guidance leaflets are excellent. The only way you can tell your packs from mine is the lack of an embossed batch number. Even then you would need to rub a finger over the site to feel for the raised impression. The subtle shading you have achieved gives the impression the batch number is embossed.’

  A half-smile crossed Mihovil’s face before it returned to its normal dour expression. No one in the room would know how much time and effort he had put into the job.

  ‘Based on these samples,’ said Jim Blake addressing Petra Kovačić at the head of the table, ‘I would say the entire consignment is ready for dispatch.’

  With that he had looked to the person by his side. Lawrence Anderson was a few years older than Jim and more flamboyant in dress and manner. Jim recalled how Lawrence had come alive as he talked through the spread sheets projected onto the screen hanging from the ceiling. He had confirmed excellent sales of the previous consignments of “lotions and potions” – hand cream and shampoo, hair gel and deodorants. Indeed, a majority of the products had been sold out within months! Jim recalled that no one had been surprised. On a sale or return basis, and offered at a price that gave the seller a significant profit margin against competing products, it was a no brainer. The result was that the “lotions and potions” had generated very small, almost insignificant profit. However, it had been the sales of Pancrovita that had been stunning. The entire stock had been allocated in less than two months and the clinics were clamouring for more. The consignment generated a net profit of US$6.27 million.

  It had been the owner of Pharmaco, Petra Kovačić, who had asked Lawrence to comment on the Privileged Customer Status they offered. Lawrence had projected, in turn, the country data for the BRIC countries: Brazil, Russia, India and China, onto the screen. He referred to the death rates for pancreatic cancer, per one hundred thousand persons, in each of the countries and the number of potential clients if they accepted merely one percent of those diagnosed. He had told the meeting that he had personally briefed the count
ry sales teams and they had targeted only the listed clinics in cities with a high incidence of the disease in the elderly. Passport style photographs of his pharmaceutical reps were projected alongside their names and the clinics they serviced.

  It had been made clear to his sales team that officially Pancrovita was only available in the USA. He had told them that the batch they would be selling had been acquired from the US manufacturer DufourPetersBell. He had explained that because availability was restricted, treatment could only be offered to a small number of patients. It had been stressed that the medical directors of these private clinics and hospitals, for a generous fee, would be in a unique position to offer the drugs to “suitable recipients”, those who could afford it and prolong their life. They had indicated that perhaps in future supplies of the medication would be more accessible and cheaper. However, regrettably, at this time only a limited supply was possible at the price indicated.

  Lawrence had projected his final screen. It was the estimated gross and net profits in these countries over two more deliveries. As a caveat he had noted the ongoing costs in monitoring the health of the recipients and the impact of the drug regime. This would dictate their actions and future plans. At this point he had deferred to Jim to outline the plan for Livactomel.

  There was another lightning flash, almost overhead and the entire bay was illuminated for a split second. It looked as though they were maintaining their position; they were roughly in the middle of the bay. In his sweep of the shoreline it seemed to be about the same distance all around.

  Jim had circulated his report a week earlier. It outlined a schedule for retooling and resetting the production line to replace Pancrovita with Livactomel; a combination of drugs to treat liver cancer in the elderly. He had argued that preparing new masters for the in-house printers and automated cropping of laminated card into packaging could be completed in days. Creating the product and wrapping it in the appropriate packs could be achieved in a similar time scale. He estimated that in just over a week the current production line could be altered to serve the new product. When he had been asked what it would cost to undertake all this work he had directed the questioner to an appendix in his report.

  ‘The incidence of liver cancer in the BRIC countries, Brazil, Russia, India and China, is far higher than for pancreatic cancer. Assuming we target one percent of those diagnosed, our population for Livactomel would be four times greater than for Prancrovita. It could generate a net batch profit of about US$25 million.’

  He ended his presentation by saying:

  ‘It will take time and money to set up the new line as well as lost production on the old line. However, you may wish to think medium to longer term and consider what the new product will make rather than what the change-over will cost.’

  Lawrence Anderson, the Sales Coordinator, had immediately picked up on the costs. He strongly supported the plan. He had argued that the sales potential of the new line would be better than the one it would replace. With a network of salesmen and women at his command he was confident that the volume of product suggested could be sold. The clincher had been his confirmation of the estimated gross and net returns from the BRIC countries over three batches. Their target market was expanding rapidly in these countries. Furthermore, there was far less risk than operating in the US and Europe.

  Jim recalled how he and Lawrence had been asked to wait outside the meeting room whilst the owner of the business and her advisors considered the proposal. They were not kept waiting long. The smiles around the table told Jim and Lawrence the decision. They would continue with the production of Prancrovita, monitor its impact and be ready with the new product as and when necessary. However, it was left to the owner to actually tell them. She reminded both Jim and Lawrence of the need to coordinate their activities and to liaise with Mihovil. She then told them of their cash bonus in recognition of the work they had done. In addition to the US dollars they would be collecting she was giving them something extra. She was loaning them her sailboat. It was moored just kilometres up the Croatian coast from where they were sitting. The sailboat would be fully stocked and they could have it for a week. The owner ended the meeting by saying:

  ‘I know Lawrence is a keen sailor but hasn’t had much chance to sail in recent months. I know it’s been a busy time for you both. This is a small “thank you”. Everything is paid for… everything. Have some fun. You’ve earned it.’

  With that the meeting was over. The owner handed Lawrence a folder which he guessed contained information about the sailboat. He gave his own notes and leather portfolio to Jim who had simply slipped them into his well-worn, heavy duty aluminium briefcase. They had both repeated their thanks as they left the meeting.

  It had been a surprise. Jim knew that the owner was generous when things were going well. He was also aware of the consequences if things didn’t go well. However, he wasn’t a sailor and had no interest in sailing. Once he was sure he couldn’t be overheard he confided in Lawrence.

  ‘It’s a nice gesture and I appreciate it. But I’m no sailor. I’d much rather take the cash and go home. Trouble is, it would not be a good idea to decline the offer! Could we make it just a couple of days and then hand the boat back?’ he had asked.

  ‘No problem,’ Lawrence had replied. ‘I’ve got other things I need to do. Depending on how it is set up I can sail it on my own. With two of us it will be easy. In truth I’d rather be back home as well, but as you say “not a good idea to decline the offer”. Let’s wrap up things here and head off.’

  They had checked the folder the owner had given them and phoned ahead. The manager of the marina was expecting them and confirmed he would have the boat refuelled, water topped up as well as food and wine stowed by the time they arrived. Power was already connected to the boat and they could stay alongside the jetty that evening. They could head out the next day, the boat was theirs. When Lawrence said they were likely to use it for two or three days maximum the manager said it was fine. He confirmed that everything associated with the boat had been paid for.

  To Jim marinas were the same all over the world. Investments equivalent to hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not millions, into plastic, metal and canvas that was left bobbing up and down at a mooring. He had wondered how many days, on average, each one of the gleaming sailboats sailed in a year. He guessed that those that were part of a rental flotilla would get lots of use over holiday periods and peak season. However, out of season they would bob away with all the others. In contrast he guessed most of the private boats put up their sails just a few days a year, if that.

  The security guard on the marina gate had been expecting them. They were directed to a large concrete parking area that looked like part of a supermarket. The only difference was it was full of expensive cars, the odd trailer and small boats. They had little luggage and it was just a short walk to the marina offices. It was Lawrence who spotted the office reception. Just opposite the office were two large sailboats that had been lifted out of the water and slotted into cradles. It looked like repairs and maintenance were underway. Certainly, the pristine white plastic above the water line was in stark contrast to the grime and dried slime below it.

  They were in the office for all of two minutes. Even in that short space of time Jim managed to feel uncomfortable. The manager was grovelling to a level where it was embarrassing. He had repeated, several times, that everything was paid for, everything was onboard, the boat was ready to sail. He would give them an orientation to the boat, a Hunter Legend, and then they were clear. Jim guessed that the manager of the marina was aware of who owned the boat and was eager to please. He even waived the checklist of all the crockery and cutlery, bedding and fenders etc. that came with the boat. It wasn’t until they had walked a hundred metres or so along the jetty, to the rear of the boat, when Jim had realised why the manager was behaving so oddly.

  Pharmaco was moored against a pontoon that ran at a right angle to the main jetty. There were only three
sailboats moored to the pontoon but the Pharmaco stood out. The boat was completely white, looked compact and sleek with a streamlined superstructure above the hull. It wasn’t until they reached the boat that Jim realised there were people on board. Were marina staff still preparing it and stowing food? Was a previous user slow in vacating the boat? His confusion was heightened when he saw two scantily clad young women lounging in the cockpit. They were obviously relaxing with wine glasses in their hands. These didn’t look like marina staff. They didn’t look like sailors. He suddenly recalled the phrase from the owner. She had said, ‘Everything is paid for… everything. Have some fun. You’ve earned it.’ Jim turned to Lawrence and then to the manager. It was the manager who stammered and then clarified the situation. Jim could even remember what the man had said.

  ‘There is a large variety of frozen food in the freezer, all of it labelled. I’ve put a selection of Croatian beer and wine in the fridge. There’s everything you may need for a week cruising. Marija and Ivana will be your hostesses for the week. They will do anything you ask, anything,’ he repeated. ‘Everything is paid for.’

  With a sickly grin the manager gestured for Jim and Lawrence to step onboard. The manager had continued:

  ‘You’ll see that we’ve changed the hood into a separate spray hood and bimini. It means you can get air through the cockpit but have some shade. The boat comes with a self-furling main sail and fore sail. You could sail this single handed.’

  Almost reluctantly he introduced Lawrence and Jim to the two young women.