‘I’ll trace the insurers,’ said Charles. ‘I will concoct a story about being an intermediary for a company wishing to underwrite existing policies. I will explain that they need to know the nature of the cargo and insurance value before making an offer. I’m pretty sure I can get the information you need without them being suspicious.’
Even as he was talking Charles was typing commands into his computer to trace the ship and insurers.
‘It’s something I do from time to time and it’s not uncommon in the industry. I’ll let you know the information as soon as I can. Oh, by the way, there will be a small charge. Next time you’re in town you can treat me to a fancy meal.’
Without saying another word Charles rang off. The next call was to McKnight, Lewis & Watts, barristers-at-law in Manchester. When Jack and Sandro had first approached the law firm they were merely one of hundreds of clients and way down the priority list. However, the fluke location of the wreck of the container ship, Rockingham Castle, reflotation of the Patricio Giton and then the discovery of bullion on board the Contessa Esmeralda del Guadaira had propelled the Marine Salvage & Investigation Company into a select group of customers. The advantage was that one phone call to a “24/7” call centre would have a representative of McKnight, Lewis & Watts phoning them back within minutes, night or day. By chance it was Bill Watts who had been scheduled that day and it was he who responded to the call. It only took minutes to brief Bill on the situation and the steps he had already taken to obtain the ship’s manifest from the insurers. He wanted to initiate a claim for salvage but for it to be held until the authorities had a chance to act. Bill Watts had seen all of this before and agreed to get all the documentation ready for submission but not to submit it until asked to do so.
Once out of the firesuit tops Shaun and Patrick lost no time in knocking out an air vent that served the engine room. They coiled the big bore pipe of the Moffat water pump on the deck next to the engine room and coiled it ready for use. Kev merely stood by the Moffat engine waiting for the order to start pumping. It was even quicker to pull out a couple of fire hoses and connect them to a twin hydrant next to the engine room. They were set to go.
Back in their firesuits Shaun and Patrick lashed one of the fire hoses to a rail inside the engine room, set the nozzle to spray and simply opened the valve. Sea water cascaded around them but made no impression on the swathes of black greasy marks that seemed to cover every surface. Within moments cold water was running down the bulkheads and across the walkways before pouring into the space below. The other hose was left coiled just inside the doorway. Together Patrick and Shaun fed the big bore pipe through the vent, dragged it across the walkway and coiled it by the stairwell to the lower engine room. Shaun pushed the end of the nozzle a metre below the surface and lashed it in place. Patrick crouched, fire hose braced by his side, as he sprayed sea water up and down the hose. They wanted to avoid the heat from the floor melting the rubber sleeve around the pipe.
At Shaun’s instructions Kev threw the lever on the Moffat and started the pump. After all the effort it seemed a bit of an anticlimax; little appeared to be happening. There was a mild vibration through the pipe as water and oil were sucked up but even after a couple of minutes no apparent change in the water level. Shaun had set the Moffat at one quarter power and so it was moving just over one thousand gallons per minute; about a ton of water per minute. He walked out of the engine room and shouted to Kev to increase the pump to half. When he returned to the engine room Shaun could immediately see the pump was having an effect. A tread on the stairwell was slowly being uncovered. The surface glistened as changing colours from the fuel oil washed over it.
Shaun was now in a dilemma. Should he let the Moffat tick along at half pace and eventually clear the engine room or push it up to the maximum and let it do what it was designed to do? He was confident in the refurbishment and after a brief chat with Patrick called to Kev to push the lever to the stop. This time he could feel a distinct vibration in the pipe as twenty tons of water spewed out of the engine room each minute. As he and Patrick knelt on the walkway they could see the level going down. It wasn’t long before Shaun had to release the big bore pipe, push it further into the receding water and relash it in place. Over the next two hours the Moffat pumped out over two thousand tons of sea water and brought the ship back onto an even keel. As the water level went down the outline of a human body started to emerge on the lower walkway. It looked like one of the engine crew never made the lifeboat. There was nothing they could do for him. They would leave it to the authorities to retrieve the body and discover who he was.
The spray from the hose was cooling the engine room and there was merely a whisper of smoke remaining. Shaun and Patrick had lowered the big bore pipe as low as it would go. It was less than a metre below the level of the fuel oil and wouldn’t stretch any further. They decided to stop pumping and let the bilge pumps finish the job. Shaun signalled to Patrick that he was going to tell Kev to cut the Moffat pump and they both trudged out of the engine room and into the afternoon sunshine. On deck it was a relief to get out of the firesuits, to lean on the rail and relax for the first time in hours. Patrick gazed over the water and could see the multicoloured slick of oil that seemed to spread around the ship. He drew Shaun’s attention to it.
‘Shaun, I reckon it’s almost neat fuel oil we have been pumping out in the last few minutes. It’s too much just from the broken fuel pipes we have repaired. There must be a breach somewhere that is draining the fuel tank,’ he said.
‘Reckon you’re right. The sooner we check the fuel pipes the better,’ Shaun replied and started to don the firesuit again.
On the Sultano Jack and Sandro were shedding their diving gear and waving to them.
‘The patches are holding but I’d like us to shore up the breach from inside the hull as soon as possible,’ Jack shouted. ‘How’s the pumping going?’ he added.
‘All going well,’ Shaun replied. ‘We’ve stopped the Moffat and are letting the bilge pumps do the rest. But there’s too much diesel washing around, too much to be from the ruptured fuel pipes. We are going to check the lower fuel line in case it’s damaged.’
Shaun and Patrick climbed back into the firesuits. It wasn’t so much as protection from the heat but from the smell as they waded through fuel oil. With Patrick leading they scrambled around in the belly of the engine room. It was a maze of pipes and tubes, steel conduit and valves but it didn’t take long to locate the main lead from the fuel tank. It was then a case of tracing the main fuel pipe and checking for leaks. Above the surface of the oil it was relatively easy. The line had long runs with clearly defined joints. The last run was submerged below the walkway near the generator that had been displaced. As Patrick ran his hand along the fuel pipe, below the surface of the floating oil, he felt the rupture.
‘Got it,’ announced Patrick. ‘The main fuel line is hard up against some metal work but I can feel the joint is sprung. Unless there is another leak this is the one that has been pouring fuel into the bilges. We can isolate this stretch of pipe work, lever the pipe away and cut it off and then slip a coupling over both ends. Job done,’ he shouted through his hood.
Of course, it wasn’t “job done”. They took it in turns with one holding a crowbar to lever the pipe away from crushed metal whilst the other sawed through it with a hacksaw. Sawing through a thick steel pipe, under water and fuel oil, was exhausting. They changed places every few minutes and were sweating heavily in their firesuits. Eventually Patrick cut through the last few millimetres of pipe. With a wrench he could unscrew the right-angled joint and expose both ends of the pipe. Within minutes they were able to slide the flexible coupling in place and tighten it up. Now it was job done.
The Moffat pump had drained the engine room to a point below the collision and breach. Through Murat they organised a small group of young men to dismantle some of the bunks in hold no. 5 and to carry the timber and two mattresses to the engine room. The air
was much easier to breathe now but it was still warm with the stink of fuel oil permeating the whole space. It was dirty work but they quickly placed the mattresses over the breach and sprung plates. Shaun supervised the laying of the thick corner posts of the bunks, side by side, on top of them before nailing cross pieces in place. The two layers of timber created a large wooden platform about two hundred millimetres thick; it would be enough to apply an even pressure onto the breaches. Two large baulks of timber, held in place by Acro props, completed the job.
Even covered in fuel oil you could see the sense of accomplishment amongst the group of young men. They were helping to save the ship; they were helping to save themselves. Shaun paused for a moment and thought back to a few hours before when the same young men were frantically trying to scale the rope ladder. What would he have done?
It was late afternoon when the Italian coast guard arrived. The helmsman manoeuvred the patrol boat next to the Sultano whilst crewmen threw lines fore and aft to Jack and Sandro. It had been Sandro who had spoken to the patrol boat captain and who welcomed him onboard the Sultano. He stretched out a hand and with the characteristic smile said:
‘Benvenuto Capitano, welcome onboard the Sultano.’
Jack repeated the welcome and then both he and Sandro shook the hands of the other members of the boarding party.
‘I’ll take you to the Gronkowski 34 and let you and your men inspect the ship and speak to the refugees; their spokesman is a former professor from Syria. Do you want us to remain here or would you like us to accompany you?’ he asked.
Speaking slowly in Italian the captain replied:
‘Could you give me an update on the medical condition of the refugees, what you have done so far and your assessment of the sea-worthiness of the Gronkowski 34?’
Sandro explained, in Italian, how the bodies of five refugees had been recovered from the hold, that over a dozen appeared pretty ill but the rest, about one hundred and sixty, seemed to be fine. He went on to explain how the Marine Salvage & Investigation Company had boarded the abandoned freighter, initiated a claim for salvage rights, put out an engine room fire, repaired breaches to the hull and returned power to the ship. He went on to explain how the engine room had been pumped out, and that a tug was on the way from Syracuse to tow them to harbour. He also explained how, with the help of Murat, one of the refugees, they had organised food and water, showers and toilets for them.
‘Very good,’ he replied. ‘How would you assess the sea-worthiness of the ship?’ he asked.
‘The ArmourTech is holding and we have shored up the breach from inside. We have light, heating and power. The bilge pumps will soon have any seepage under control and the weather forecast is good for the next few days. If all goes well we could be anchored outside Syracuse in the next couple of days,’ summarized Sandro.
The coast guard captain paused and rubbed his hand over his face. For the first time Sandro looked closely at his face. He didn’t have that fresh, healthy skin tone of a young sailor. His face looked gaunt and sallow with dark patches around the eyes. He looked like an old man with fatigue evident in both his voice and movement.
‘Do you have enough food and water for all the refugees for the next few days?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ replied Sandro somewhat confused by the question.
‘I would like to suggest that we leave the five bodies on the freighter at this time. I know it is not ideal but my men will place them in body bags and store them in the ship cold room. My medic will assess those who are ill and transfer urgent cases to the patrol boat. We will arrange for their medical treatment. I would like to leave the rest of the refugees on board the Gronkowski 34 until they can be disembarked, perhaps at Syracuse. If there is shelter, food and water on board, and the ship is in no danger of sinking, then the Gronkowski 34 is a safe place to be. I can leave a crew member with you who can keep me up to date. Is this acceptable?’ he asked.
‘Of course, we are happy to help you in any way we can,’ Sandro replied.
‘OK, let’s have a look at the ship,’ said the captain with the first smile Sandro had seen since meeting him.
Just as Jack and Sandro turned to lead them to the rope ladder and onto the Gronkowski 34 Kev shouted to Jack:
‘Jack, Charles St John Stevens is on the satellite phone. He wants to speak to you.’
Jack excused himself, collected the phone from Kev and made his way to the lounge of the Sultano. He sat, pencil at the ready, as he spoke to his friend.
‘Jack, I will be brief. One: the claim for salvage can be suspended for the reasons you outlined. I can document and verify this action and so no fears on that score. Two: I have emailed the manifest and insurance statements to you and can confirm that there is nothing flammable or potentially toxic in the cargo. The insured value of the cargo is just less than US$1.4 million. Three: the insured value of the hull is US$ 250,000. However, the loss adjuster will try to negotiate a much lower settlement. It will depend upon damage to the cargo and where it may be offloaded. Four: as soon as I have anything further to report I will be in touch. Is there anything you need to know at this point?’ asked Charles.
‘No, you are extremely efficient, as usual,’ said Jack as he smiled into the phone. ‘Just for information, the Italian coast guard have arrived. It’s possible that they will leave the refugees on board and disembark them in Syracuse. If there are any developments at this end I will give you a ring,’ Jack said as he ended the call.
Jack was now confident they would be able to keep the ship afloat. He would leave it to Bill Watts and his team to negotiate a settlement. Whilst he waited for Sandro and the coast guard captain to return he flicked open his laptop and started to open his email. The most recent email was the one from Charles and he opened the attachment and hit print. Whilst he waited for the sheets to be printed he called to Kev and asked if he wanted a drink. Jack had seen lots of manifests and insurance certificates and settled down to crosscheck the cargo against the insured value. The manifest revealed that on the pallets there were over four hundred thousand kilograms of cattle food pellets and nearly seven hundred thousand kilos of chicken manure en route to Valencia, Spain. There were two, twenty-foot containers of Croatian beer, wine and spirits destined for Bremerhaven in Germany and two more short containers of Egyptian cotton table linen, bed linen and towels to be offloaded in Brest, France. As his eyes flicked down the page to the last of the containers he sat bolt upright! The next line on the sheet indicated there were two short containers, destined for St Petersburg, Russia, that contained a detailed list of health and beauty products from a Croatian company called Pharmaco! Jack immediately recalled the day on the life raft, when he and Sandro had worked through the documents from the briefcase, the briefcase that was stolen from the hapless Boarder Force officer in Split. Could this be a consignment of the drugs described?
Chapter 39
The plot thickens
As soon as Penny answered the phone Jack spoke urgently:
‘Penny, it’s Jack. I’ve got some information for you. You may want to record this call or make notes.’
‘It’s OK, go ahead,’ she replied.
‘We were en route to Liverpool when we came across an abandoned Russian freighter. It’s called the Gronkowski 34 and is registered in St Petersburg. An engine room fire was burning, she was holed below the waterline and listing badly. We believe she was in collision with another ship sometime in the last few days. It may be worth trying to discover if any ships in the area south of Sicily reported a collision and when.
It looks like the crew abandoned ship. Anyway, we have put out the fire, patched the breach and have the engine running. Everything is OK. However, two things: we discovered nearly two hundred refugees, men, women and children, locked in a hold. It’s pretty clear that the crew tried to scuttle the ship and almost succeeded. The Italian coast guard is on to it but you may want to get involved because the ship docked in Split.’
Penny butted
in:
‘How come the coast guard are on to it? You didn’t contact them, did you?’
‘Of course I did. There are several dead refugees on board and over a dozen really ill…’ replied Jack.
Before Jack could finish Penny butted in again. Jack could tell by her tone that she wasn’t happy:
‘Did it occur to you that the owners of the vessel may be involved in trafficking? If they are, you’ve just given them advance notice of an investigation and they will be long gone! What if it’s an insurance fraud with goods on the manifest that aren’t on board? You’ve now told them to cover their tracks. Jack, you shouldn’t be let out on your own!’ she chided him.
‘I’m ahead of you,’ replied Jack. ‘I contacted the Italian coast guard on the satellite phone. They are making urgent enquiries and keeping the incident out of the news. I have yet to register a claim for salvage; it’s being held until the authorities have a chance to investigate. “Sinjun”, at Lloyd’s, located the insurers and finessed information about the cargo. They do not know the boat has been salvaged. They probably think it is en route back to St Petersburg!’
‘Welcome to the world of skulduggery,’ Penny said with a hint of admiration.
‘Well, “Sinjun” has just sent me the manifest and insurance certificates and guess what? Pharmaco have two, twenty foot containers en route to Russia! The manifest says “health and beauty products” and lists everything from hand cream to hair shampoo, liquid soap to shaving cream, but no mention of Pancrovita or Livactomel.
We have arranged for the ship to be towed to Syracuse and we may be able to unload the cargo there, but it will be down to negotiation with the insurance companies. Again, you may want to liaise with the Italian coast guard over an inspection of the containers.’
‘Forget what I just said,’ Penny replied with real excitement in her voice. ‘Thanks for the “heads up”. I’ll phone you back as soon as I’ve got anything to tell you… look after yourself and give my love to Sandro and Kev, Shaun and Patrick. I’ve got to go.’ With no further comment she rang off.
Missing Presumed Lost Page 23
