“I will introduce you to my wife in a moment,” said Van der Rykes, as he gathered up the cushion and the underwear in one smooth movement and took them inside the house. “Have a seat,” he called back over his shoulder.
Van der Rykes and Blessings returned together, Blessings carrying a tray with wine glasses and a bowl of cheese pastry twists.
“Blessings, meet Anna-Maria Ronaldo who has come all the way from Brazil to see us.” Then turning to Anna-Maria he said, “This is my wife, Blessings.”
“I am very pleased to meet you,” Blessings said, in a voice more English than African, offering a slender well-manicured hand, which, Anna-Maria noted, had perfectly varnished nails.
***
While Anna-Maria had been hiding in the home of Nandini, Vaughan had sailed “La Mouette sur le Vent” round to the Repmaritima Boatyard; fortunately the yard was ready for him and the lift-out was performed with the minimum of fuss. On learning that he could not sleep on board the yacht, he packed some overnight things and walked up to the airport and got a taxi back into Funchal. The summer season being well underway meant hotel rooms for single occupancy were hard to find, but finally he found a room at the Albagaria Dias Hotel, the back entrance to which was on the Rua de Santa Maria. Checking in, Vaughan went straight to his room, showered, changed and then went down to the bar. The other guests appeared to be mainly from Holland and generally a very jovial group of people. Finishing his beer, he decided on a stroll and dinner at the Casa Portuguesa, a short walk away; the area in which the hotel was situated was close to the Monte cable car, the Fortaleza do Sāo Tiago and numerous bars and restaurants. Leaving by the back entrance, Vaughan stepped out onto the cobbled Rua de Santa Maria and strolled down to the steps that led to the cluster of restaurants and Annabel’s, the nightclub where he had sat observing Kazakov and the assassin weeks before.
The scene before him in the warm early evening was one of bustling waiters and brightly dressed tourists all accompanied by a hubbub of conversation and laughter, so the sight of a smart grey suit stood out a mile. “What the hell are you still doing here, Staunton? I thought you were supposed to be on the mainland tidying up the loose ends from a previous operation.”
Senior Agent Leonard Staunton had been Vaughan’s “Controller” during the mission that had first brought him to Madeira. The relationship between the two men had not gone well with Staunton being unfairly critical of Vaughan’s handling of the mission, despite the fact that it was considered by many in London to have been a huge success.
Vaughan stepped back into a shadowy corner from where he could watch Staunton who was talking earnestly to a giant of a man seated opposite him. The shadows cast over the bar where the two men sat hid the face of Staunton’s companion throughout the conversation but when the man stood to leave, Vaughan instantly recognised him as being the minder who had worked for the murdered Russian arms dealer, Sarkis Kazakov. Vaughan had no knowledge of Staunton’s previous missions so was now very curious as to the connection between the two men. The way in which the minder turned to leave suggested that the meeting wasn’t exactly over, there was no handshake or salutation suggesting a parting of the ways so Vaughan decided to stay watching Staunton for a while to see what developed.
The big Russian crossed the square and with surprising agility for a man of his size ran up the steps a few metres away from him and walked briskly uphill towards the house on the cliff edge where Kazakov had lived. Staunton, meanwhile, poured himself another glass of wine and sat looking very pleased with himself as he eyed passing young women.
Twenty minutes or so later the sound of a vehicle approaching from the opposite direction to the one the minder had gone hardly attracted any attention from Vaughan until the black Range Rover drew up at the top of the steps and sounded its horn. Immediately, Staunton drained his glass, got up from the table and walked briskly towards the steps. Vaughan, not wishing to be seen, particularly by Staunton, turned and walked down the hill away from the Range Rover, glancing back once and catching sight of Staunton getting into the vehicle.
“What would Staunton be doing in the company of someone who once worked for an arms dealer? Or is that part of your loose ends work, Staunton? If so it gets you pretty close to the attempted assassination of Walid al Djebbar, and the shooting of Kazakov for that matter.” As the vehicle roared away up the hill, Vaughan continued down the road taking a turning on the right to the Casa Portuguesa and the evening meal he had promised himself.
Over the course of an excellent dinner he pondered on what he had just witnessed. “Kazakov was not involved with the coup plot as far as I know and Staunton was not impressed by my involvement in exposing the coup. Could that be it, was Staunton playing support for the coup, and if so was it sanctioned?” Vaughan considered for some time what advantage there could be in the British Government’s support of a coup in Portugal. “Had it been successful it could probably have precipitated the collapse of the European Union and there were many in Britain who would like to see that happen. All of the information coming out of Government however suggested quite the opposite. Was that why Staunton was given the job of being my Controller so that he could keep me fixed only on the North African Conference and Al Djebbar while he did what he could to further the coup leaders’ ambitions? Or was I given the job as a new boy in the hope that I would stand back and let the assassins succeed in taking out Al Djebbar, which would mean that the British Government wanted the North African crisis to continue; no that can’t be right. Theory one is the most likely I think, but does it mean that Staunton’s work was sanctioned?”
That still did not explain why Staunton was meeting with Kazakov’s ex-minder. “Had he made contact with Reshetnikov who apparently had some connection with the coup it would be understandable. What is the link between Kazakov and the coup? None, as far as I can see, and for that matter I find it difficult to see why Kazakov would have involved himself in North African politics, other than for the supply of weapons to whichever faction had the money.” The question that really bothered him was how far to go with these thoughts and whether he should raise the question regarding a possible British involvement in the coup with the Commodore. He decided to let the dice roll a bit longer. In any event a call to Commodore Campbell was required if only to be told to butt out of Staunton’s activities. On leaving the restaurant he went straight back to his hotel room and phoned Campbell.
It rang only twice, “Yes, Vaughan, what is it?”
“Sorry to trouble you, Sir, but I have just seen Senior Agent Staunton here in Funchal meeting with a man I recognise as having been the minder to Sarkis Kazakov.”
“Go on.”
“They were meeting at a bar in the old part of the town, then the minder went and got Kazakov’s Range Rover and Staunton hopped aboard and off they went. Sadly I couldn’t follow them.”
“Interesting, Vaughan, very interesting. I don’t want you to waste too much of your time trying to find out what Staunton is up to, nowadays he receives his orders from Sir Andrew Averrille.” There was a moment’s pause, then, “When will you be ready to leave?”
“The work on the boat will take two days, Sir, then I will be all set.”
“That’s good, Vaughan, a situation is rapidly developing that may well require your talents as a yachtsman, we may well need you to pick up a friend of ours whose situation is becoming, shall we say, difficult.”
The Commodore, having received Anna-Maria’s response to his coded warning message, had been working hard to notify all of his West African contacts. The resources available were, however, very limited, a rescue mission would take too long to reach her and would have a very high risk of failure now she was on her own; the best Campbell could do would be to get Vaughan in a position to help if the young woman managed get to a British contact on the African coast.
“Where from, Sir?”
“That needs to be confirmed, I am still awaiting final news about your potential passenger
and will let you know as soon as I can,” said Campbell. “Oh, try not to bump into Staunton if you can, I would rather nobody knew your whereabouts at the moment.”
“Right, Sir, I will do my best to avoid him.”
When the call ended, Vaughan tossed his mobile onto the bed and looked out of the window, down towards the hotel pool. Some guests were sitting around chatting and enjoying drinks and he idly wondered whether he would ever again be able to relax like them with friends and family. His mind drifted back to the days when he had worked for a civil engineering company and the team he had worked with during the early years of his marriage to Sarah. “What are they up to now I wonder, how many of them stand divorced and alone in a foreign land and facing uncertain survival. Oh snap out of it, Vaughan, you joined, they didn’t force you into this.” Reaching for his jacket he left the room and made his way down to reception, then left the hotel by the front entrance and walked up the hill and took the first turning on the right. At the end of the street there was a small grass area from where one could look down over the main harbour. It also looked onto the rear of the Kazakov property where a few room lights shone through the shutters. Turning downhill again towards the harbour, Vaughan reached the wrought iron gates that gave access to the front garden of the house and, stopping to look in, saw a young girl sitting on the elaborate stone steps leading down from the verandah. At first she didn’t seem to notice him looking at her but then she turned her head slightly and looked straight at him. Vaughan smiled and waved and the girl smiled and waved back, before standing and wearily turning, climbed up the steps to the verandah and disappeared inside the house. It was a curious moment in which Vaughan felt an affinity with the young girl who seemed to radiate a sad loneliness similar to his own. Turning away he continued downhill to the Bar Barreirinha where he ordered a beer and found a seat from where he could keep watch on the house. An hour must have passed before he noticed an upstairs light coming on, spilling a glow over the front garden briefly before the occupant closed the shutters. There had been no sign of the Range Rover returning, or of Staunton, so paying the bill, Vaughan returned to his hotel.
***
The following morning he was back at the boatyard, lifting the yacht’s floors and cleaning out the bilges and giving the engine a rapid service. By late afternoon he was exhausted but there were still things that had to be attended to, and leaving the yard that evening, Vaughan trudged up the hill to the airport building to get a taxi back into town and the home of the Honorary British Consul.
Her husband answered the door, “Good heavens it’s you, Mr Vaughan, come in, how are you?”
“Fine thanks, I can’t stop if you don’t mind, I have rather a lot to do, I was just calling to see if your wife has received a package for me?”
“I’ll go and check, won’t be a moment,” Henry Bevington replied.
He returned holding a sealed pouch, “Susanne is in the shower but told me to hand you this and get you to check the contents and sign for it.”
Breaking the seal, Vaughan put his hand in and pulled out two boxes of 9mm ammunition and a further box containing the pistol, spare magazines and shoulder holster. “Looks like it’s all here,” he said, then looked up to see the shocked expression on Henry Bevington’s face. “Sorry to have this delivered via you but this type of thing causes problems at airports and London don’t want the local authorities to know who I actually work for.”
“Oh, quite.”
“The pouch will go back to London but I should appreciate a carrier bag if you have one.”
“Of course, you can’t walk through the streets here carrying those items for all to see.”
While Bevington went to find a bag, Vaughan signed the receipt slips and put them back into the pouch.
It was Mrs Bevington who returned with the bag. “Is this suitable?” she said, handing Vaughan a bag from the market place in Praco do Columbo
“Yes, that will be fine, thank you, Mrs Bevington. These bags seem to be very popular, a neat way of recycling restaurant coffee bean bags, the young lady that makes them is very talented.”
“Yes, she is, no need to return it to us I have several more.”
Vaughan turned to leave.
“I had hoped that after being shot you would give up this SIS business and find some nice young lady to marry and settle down with.”
“I suppose you have someone nice in mind?”
“Well, I know Amelia de Lima is very keen on you.”
Vaughan shook his head and sighed. “I have a job to do, Mrs Bevington, and I have the feeling that it is quite an important one, which brings me to ask whether you have ever spoken to the authorities about the attempted assassination of Walid al Djebbar by the man who killed Sarkis Kazakov?”
“Yes, actually I have, they didn’t appear to know much. The identity of Kazakov’s assassin remains a mystery, but as he was also killed nobody seems of a mind to find out anything about him. Why?”
“It’s just that I saw Kazakov’s minder yesterday swanning around in the black Range Rover, then last night saw a young girl sitting on the front steps of Kazakov’s old house.”
“Ah, that would be his daughter I believe. She was left an orphan and I am led to believe that the minder and his wife are acting as her guardians. I feel very sorry for her as I understand that she cannot speak.”
“You mean a mute.”
“Yes.”
“No wonder she looked so sad and alone when I saw her,” said Vaughan gently, his eyes staring into the distance.
Suzanne Bevington smiled, “Seeing that softer side of you is why I think you should find a wife and settle down before the sewer you agents operate in saps the nice guy out of you.”
Shortly afterwards they said their goodbyes and Vaughan walked back to the hotel arriving rather later than he had hoped. It was too late to eat a meal, so he turned in for the night.
***
On arrival at the DELCO offices the morning after Anna-Maria’s arrival in Nouakchott, Campbell had asked Lieutenant Heathcote to join him, “Penny, I’ve heard from Van der Rykes, Mrs Patterson has made it as far as his house, but Vermeulen has men watching the port and airport and of course we have got the problem of that damn website.”
“There is no chance of the RAF flying in to pick her up then?”
“No, not all the while she has that spy tag attached to her, and the Navy hasn’t got anything close from which we could launch a Royal Marine operation to get her off from a beach.”
“Is Van der Rykes very resourceful, Sir?”
“I really don’t know, Penny, he has been on our lists for a long time, but has been little used other than to gather the political dirty washing. I just pray that he has got talent.”
“It is too far away for Vaughan I would think, unless of course Van der Rykes can hide her for a week or so.”
“He didn’t seem too keen on that idea, Penny. His wife has several friends that call at the house and that would create too much of a risk he thinks, and the last thing I want to do is put them in danger as well as Mrs Patterson.”
“I hate to say this, Sir, but is Mrs Patterson that important, I know she has been good with the stuff on Vermeulen, but he’s now a wanted man and there is a good chance that he will be picked up.”
“You’re forgetting Vermeulen’s notebook that she mentioned, if he is as big as I am beginning to think he is that book could uncover a lot more about the goings on in African arms trading than we could learn in five years.”
“Ah, I see it is not just about David then.”
Campbell gave Heathcote a sharp glare, “No, it is not and never was, my concern is about the future of Africa and its people. All the while the Vermeulens’ of this world are allowed to trade death, many innocent people suffer. I am also aware that had we picked up the name of A. Patterson on the passenger list from the Luanda to Lagos flight sooner, we may have got a warning to her at Dakar or St Louis.”
“I’m sorr
y, Sir, I was wrong to mention David Patterson, and I am also to blame for missing Anna-Maria’s name on the flight lists, it was just that she had never travelled with Vermeulen before and frankly I cannot understand why she did this time.”
“Yes, yes, Penny. Look, I should have explained this to you before. My gathering information as it seeps out regarding the death of David Patterson is because I do not believe that he had turned arms trader.”
“But what about the Staunton report, Sir, and the initial report from the Angolan government enquiry, they had him down as an arms trader and promptly stopped any Brit from taking up advisory rolls there.”
“I think the Angolan government were led by the nose, and as far as Staunton’s report goes that was more suitable for The Man Booker Prize than a report we should take seriously.”
“Sir Andrew praised it to the skies, Sir.”
“Yes,” replied Campbell sourly.
CHAPTER 3
Blessings woke Anna-Maria shortly before dawn. “Lars wants to take you to the port later, he knows a fisherman who may be able to take you across to the Cape Verde Islands, he has gone there now to talk to the man.”
Blessings went across to the window and drew back the curtains letting in the thin pre-dawn light. “Come through when you are dressed, I have made some food for you.” She then left, leaving Anna-Maria with her stomach churning, wondering how safe this next step of her journey would be; she could not bring herself to believe that the fisherman would be as kind and respectful as Lamin had been.
The last time she had looked at her watch it was three o’clock now it was showing five o’clock , she had only had two hours sleep. In the shower she turned the control to the coldest setting in an effort to wake herself up; she was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, feeling permanently close to tears at the loss of her mother whose image in death continuously flashed across her mind. Dressed, she dragged herself downstairs to the dining room.
In Treacherous Waters Page 6
