“Reshetnikov will happily trade information to secure his freedom. Think about it.”
Boris had already thought about it and knew that Reshetnikov would reveal the existence of the weapons under questioning. Was there an alternative to doing a deal with the man in front of him who he really did not like. They haggled for two hours but finally Boris was forced to agree to the original price and later with Staunton’s help, moved the cache to a new location.
Staunton knew that the final shipment of arms to Cabinda Province could wait until things had quietened down and new Cabinda separatist leaders identified. It was therefore a very happy and relaxed Staunton who stood at the hotel reception checking out, in readiness to board his flight to Lisbon.
As Staunton walked out to the waiting taxi his mobile rang. “Hello.”
“Leonard?”
“Yes, Jan. Did you get the job done?”
“Yes, it’s all okay now. We sank it and dealt with the flotsam.”
“Good. Was Maurice able to help you?”
“Yes, he did very well. There will be a bonus waiting for you at Rolf Meijer’s.”
“That sounds interesting. Is there anything else? I’m just about to leave for the airport.”
“No, I will contact you when I get to London and by then you should have been able to plan the shipping.”
“Usual bar?” asked Staunton.
“Of course.”
Sat in the back of the taxi Staunton looked out of the window but noticed very little of the passing scenery. Kazakov’s cache of arms was an amazing bonus on top of closing the loopholes left after the Cabinda mess. Even Patterson’s wife was out of the way, not that he thought her to be much of a threat, and with her went Vermeulen’s black book, that was if it was she who had picked up the book in Rosso.
“You enjoy your stay on Madeira, Senhor?”
“Yeh, thank you, it was okay.”
“You come back someday?”
“Oh yeh, I will come back.”
Dropped off at the airport Staunton went straight to the service desk and hired a small locker paying for four weeks rental. Locating the locker he positioned himself such that he blocked the view from the CCTV camera and placed the box containing his pistol in the locker.
***
Over the first two days of the voyage to Gibraltar, Vaughan learnt the details of Anna-Maria’s escape and the reasons why she had cause to fear for her life. As he learnt more about Vermeulen and his illegal arms business Vaughan began to realise why Campbell was being as cautious as he was in getting the young woman to a place of safety. “This guy Vermeulen being tipped off in time to make an escape is no surprise, the chances of him having insiders in the Angolan government offices were a sure bet. The knowledge of the rendezvous however makes it certain that it was leaked from inside SIS. Campbell had communications tight so how come they got hold of the information, is there a mole inside DELCO? There was definitely something not right about the atmosphere. I have to believe that Campbell is on the side of the angels or else I am taking this women into a very nasty trap.”
The distance by the rhumb line on the chart was around six hundred and fifty miles, but most of the way would be with “La Mouette sur le Vent” hard on the wind on a port tack pushing against a Gulf Stream current of around one knot. The result reduced the yacht’s speed over the ground to just over five knots despite the clean hull. For the most part the winds were fair and throughout the passage there were only two squalls, both of which were accompanied by heavy rain. The other thing that impeded progress was the need to stay out of sight of land until they reached the Straits, which meant turning onto starboard tack that reduced the rhumb line distance gain to only two nautical miles per hour for something like twelve hours.
As the days passed by, the look of fear on Anna-Maria’s face every time she came up into the cockpit gradually declined until her hurried anxious scanning of the horizon in search of danger gave way to a casual check on the weather and sea state. The nightmares, however, continued to have her screaming and waking in floods of tears, that and her complete inability to grasp the basics of life aboard a thirty-six-foot yacht at sea soon placed some strain on Vaughan working his lone sailor routine.
When her being awake in the daytime matched his free work periods they spoke, she of her childhood and life after moving to South Africa, and he of his life as an engineer before joining the SIS. In looks she reminded him of Amelia de Lima in Madeira, both olive skinned and beautiful but that was where the comparison ended, for Anna-Maria, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, showed none of the energy that appeared to radiate from Amelia. She was, however, very intelligent and though languid in her movements had an athletic grace that showed a potential for swift action. She could also cook, provided that the yacht was not heeling more than ten degrees.
For Anna-Maria the voyage was in one way calming but in another stressful. Calming in that with each passing day she felt safer and less at risk of being found by her stepfather, but stressful in that she felt to be always in the way, and the harder she tried the less she succeeded in avoiding obstructing him at what appeared to be critical moments.
At just over six foot tall and ruggedly handsome he was obviously at one with the sea and the yacht and she would watch with fascination as his lithe muscular frame calmly moved about the boat with the confidence of an expert. Vaughan, she thought, was a much tougher man than David had been but kind, very kind, but there was a sadness about him that she could not quite understand.
They had been sailing for four days when suddenly she asked, “Did you ever meet my husband David?”
“No, I only joined a few months ago and frankly have been busy abroad ever since.”
“Oh, I think you would have got on with David very well.”
“What was he like?”
“He wasn’t handsome, no male model, but he was just an adorable person, warm, friendly and very brainy. He was a geologist and when I met him worked for the Angolan Government and was supposed to be assessing the county’s natural resources. I had no idea what he was really doing. They wouldn’t let me see his body before his cremation, they said it would be too awful for me. Then I saw a report when I was being questioned about him being an arms trader, it was so terrible to read, and the man so cruel when he pointed to it saying that was what he deserved.”
Hurriedly she raised her hand to wipe away tears. “We were so happy together then it all went terribly wrong and I felt so alone I went back to live with my mother and that horrible man she had married.”
“Did you know before that Vermeulen was an illegal arms trader?”
“No! I had no idea, but I suspected that he had something to hide regarding his business so when Mr Campbell made contact and told me what Jan Vermeulen really was, I was more angry than surprised.”
“So you have met Commodore Campbell have you? What do you think?”
“I only met him twice and each meeting was quite short, but he struck me as being a good honest man and… You now sometimes when you meet somebody you instantly trust them,” Vaughan nodded. “Well, Mr Campbell was one of those.”
“You don’t meet many like that in this life,” said Vaughan, mainly to himself.
There was something in the way that she had spoken of her husband and his death that convinced Vaughan of her complete honesty, whether it was her naivety or the tenderness in the way she had described her husband, he didn’t know but it was obvious that she was previously unaware of his true occupation or that of her stepfather’s.
They were nearing the end of the voyage when, after sitting on the windward side deck for most of the morning, she came into the cockpit as Vaughan was trimming the sails.
“I keep thinking of Cecil and the fishermen, I can’t seem to get them out of my head. I think about that night and wonder if they… no, if I had been ready and got into the dinghy earlier, would they still be alive?”
Vaughan thought for a moment or two, he h
ad considered the same scenario, “No I don’t think so. I have a feeling that they knew you were on that boat, so if you had left earlier and they successfully stopped the boat and searched it they would still have sunk it then come looking for you. In their position that is what I would have done. Now they think that as the fishing boat refused to stop and be searched you must still have been on board and by sinking it they have dealt with you as well as any witnesses.”
“Would you have thought that way as well?”
“Probably not. I would have wanted to make sure you had been dealt with and not assumed that by sinking the boat I had solved the problem.”
Vaughan’s cold logic response had the effect of chilling the relationship which, due to her relatively long term presence on board, was becoming very tiresome to him as it was. Apart from Vaughan saying, “Excuse me please” and she replying, “Oh sorry, am I in the way again”. There was also her perfume, Vaughan had no objection to a conservative use of perfumes, in fact he had quite liked his ex wife’s use of it and indeed Amelia de Lima’s choice, but Anna-Maria’s excessive use of Givenchy Ysatis was almost asphyxiating when he went below. At some point every day Vaughan had to remind himself that she was a passenger not a companion or crew member, but that did not stop those little irritations from irking him.
CHAPTER 5
In the early hours of day six from leaving the Selvagens, Vaughan closed to within mobile range of the north-western coast of Morocco, with about one hundred miles to sail before arriving at Gibraltar. His text message “Landed large tuna fish today” had Campbell and his small trusted team leaping into action. A request for the RAF to make available an A330 transport aircraft for a return flight to Gibraltar was granted and Lieutenant Penny Heathcote ordered to report to RAF Brize Norton the following morning at 0700 hours for the flight and to act as an escort to return flight passenger Anna-Maria Ronaldo. Confirmation sent back from Brize Norton was, however, intercepted and within minutes Vermeulen was contacted.
“Jan, it is Leonard, I have just heard that your little stepdaughter is alive.”
“Don’t joke, Leonard, she could not have survived, we were very thorough.”
“I’m not joking, Jan, she is being met in Gibraltar tomorrow and flown back here.”
“Christ, what can you do? Anything?”
“I’ll try and organise an interception, but it will be expensive.”
“Do it, if she has my notebook we will all be in the shit.”
“I won’t be, Jan.”
“Oh yes you will, so believe me, it is more than my skin at stake here.”
“You bastard, what have you done?”
“Just made a record of our business dealings and your valuable assistance with some necessary disposals.”
“I should have known that you would try and stitch me up.”
“When you play in the dirt, Leonard, you get dirty. That notebook has a lot of insurance policies in it and I am now making a claim on the one I have with you.”
It took Leonard Staunton a full five minutes to calm down and make a plan, the first move of which was to contact Christiano Graciano who was at the time listening to a restaurant owner’s excuse for delayed payment of protection money.
***
Throughout the day and night Vaughan had been busy on watch steering to avoid the busy shipping approaching the Straits of Gibraltar and shortly after Heathcote’s flight landed had put in the final tack directing the yacht’s bow towards the Rock and what he hoped would be the end of his mission.
Three hours later Vaughan had only just completed tying up alongside the pontoon in HM Naval Dockyard, Gibraltar, astern of HMS Sabre, when he saw Lieutenant Penny Heathcote walking towards him along the pontoon in the company of a Commander.
“This is Ian Vaughan, Sir.”
“Ah, Mr Vaughan, I am Commander Daniel Frazer. May I see your I.D.?”
Vaughan pulled the badge folder from his hip pocket and flicked it open. “Anything wrong?” he asked.
“No, just form that’s all.”
“Commander, Lieutenant, this is Anna-Maria Ronaldo, my, er, passenger for the last few days.”
Heathcote stepped forward smiling, “I’m Penny Heathcote. Your husband is dead I hear. I am so sorry to hear that,” her sympathetic comment taking the edge off the brutality of the coded identification. “I have been requested by Commodore Campbell to meet you. As soon as you are ready I have a plane waiting at the airport to take you to England.”
“I’ll get transport lined up for you, Lieutenant, it will be waiting for you at the gate,” said Frazer.
“Thank you, Sir,” replied Heathcote, saluting.
As the Commander walked away Vaughan suggested that they went below whilst Anna-Maria gathered her things together. Once on board, Anna-Maria hurried to the forward cabin whilst Heathcote looked around the main cabin and chart table with interest. Vaughan studied her with mild amusement.
“Is she shipshape enough for you Lieutenant?”
Heathcote nodded. “Um, not bad, does she sail well?”
“Very well, though happier in deep water than creeks and marinas.”
Quietly Heathcote asked, “How was your passenger?”
“Obviously not a yachtswomen so was always being tripped over, and if I never smell Givenchy Ysatis again it will be too soon. Other than that she was pleasant and attractive company.”
Heathcote nose wrinkled as she sampled the air and smiled, “I see what you mean.”
Anna-Maria did not take long to pack, returning from the forward cabin with the small holdall which she placed on the chart table.
“Mr Vaughan,” said Heathcote, “I have been asked to instruct you to sail back to Dartmouth and report immediately to DELCO.”
Vaughan snapped to attention and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
Lieutenant Heathcote gave him her best withering look and, picking up Anna-Maria’s holdall said, “Are you ready, Ms Ronaldo?”
“No, I wish to say goodbye to Ian.”
“I’ll walk with you to the harbour wall,” said Vaughan.
As they started to walk along the pontoon towards the ramp leading up to the quayside Anna-Maria said, “Ian, thank you for saving my life out there. I’m sorry that I was so helpless on the boat and so much in your way, how you had the patience not to throw me over the side I do not know. So thank you again.”
Turning to Lieutenant Heathcote she said, “I have so many people to thank for my being here, my prayers each night are very long for Cecil Boyd and those kind brave men who died on the fishing boat, my prayers are very sad indeed.”
“You ran into trouble then,” said Heathcote, looking round Anna-Maria towards Vaughan.
“Yes they did,” replied Vaughan, “It’s all covered in the report I’m about to e-mail to the Commodore.”
“Oh, I see. You can’t give me details?”
“It would take too long and you have a plane to catch,” Vaughan replied.
They had reached the head of the ramp now and Vaughan stopped and turned to Anna-Maria. “Safe journey, Anna-Maria, the Lieutenant will look after you well, I am sure.”
“Goodbye, Ian, and thank you again for everything.” With that she turned away but after two steps turned back, and rushing at Vaughan, flung her arms around him and kissed him. “Goodbye,” she said, giving Vaughan such a sad look as she broke away to fall in step with Heathcote.
Then they were gone, walking towards the navy blue Land Rover Defender, parked just inside the archway leading out of the naval complex. Vaughan turned towards the Gibraltar Squadron office and within ten minutes was sat e-mailing his report to the Commodore.
***
On leaving Vaughan, Anna-Maria caught up with Lieutenant Heathcote, falling in step with her as they made their way across to the waiting Land Rover.
“How did you get on with Ian Vaughan?” Heathcote asked.
“Oh, all right I think. He tried to teach me how to sail but I’m not very
good at that type of thing so for most of the time I felt in the way, but he was very nice about it. I wish I had not been so stupid and useless.”
Heathcote opened the door to the Land Rover’s rear seat and directed Anna-Maria to get in. “Slide over, I’ll sit alongside you.”
“To the airport, ma’am?” said the Marine driver.
“Yes please.”
The traffic was not particularly heavy and Heathcote looked down at her watch then tried to work out how long it would take them to get back to RAF Brize Norton and London. “You are booked in at our special hotel in London where you will be safe until we have dealt with Vermeulen.”
“You have no idea how comforting that is for me to hear. Since leaving Luanda I have been in fear of my life and then poor Cecil, Ben Tamek and the others all dead, just to get me out of Africa,” blurted out Anna-Maria her eyes filling with tears of both sorrow and relief. “Even after Ian rescued me from the sea I felt that at any moment my stepfather or his thugs would appear and kill us.”
“How did you end up in the sea?”
“The fishing boat taking us to the rendezvous was attacked by men on board a large powerboat. They were ordering us to stop and be boarded but Cecil ordered Ben Tamek to keep going…”
Distracted by Anna-Maria, Heathcote did not see the black Mercedes as it overtook them, then cut in front dangerously close and braking hard.
“What’s this stupid bastard up to,” shouted the Marine driver as he slammed on the brakes. “Oh shit, hold tight ladies we’ve got problems.”
Fighting the gearbox the Marine tried to find reverse then saw the second Mercedes tight behind them. “Bugger, we’re sandwiched. I’ll try and push this bastard forward.”
As he spoke, Heathcote saw two men leap from each of the Mercedes and race towards them.
The Land Rover jerked then stalled and as it did so the driver’s window shattered and the Marine driver fell forward onto the steering wheel, dead.
Whether it was the shock or the speed that surprised Heathcote she did not know but she then found the door was open and a tall man in a dark suit was grabbing her arm and pulling her from the vehicle, whilst Anna-Maria was being similarly manhandled from the other side.
In Treacherous Waters Page 12
