In Treacherous Waters

by Richard V Frankland

  Struggling, Heathcote tried to break free before being spun round and pushed face first against the Land Rover with her left arm painfully pinned behind her back.

  “Let go of me!” she shouted, before a rough hand grabbed her neck from behind.

  “Shut up or I will shoot you dead just like that soldier there.”

  Heathcote was pushed, kneed and punched as they herded her towards the leading Mercedes and roughly shoved onto the back seat beside Anna-Maria with a man either side of them. Groping hands searched both girls for weapons, leaving them both feeling violated and terrified. Then from a seat behind them a man leant forward and slapped a strip of duct tape over their mouths then put thick cloth bags over their heads as the vehicle accelerated away turning left at the next roundabout. Though moving fast at first the driver soon slowed down, obviously trying to avoid attention. It did not appear that they had been driving for long when the vehicle turned sharply to the right and both the women’s heads were pushed down between their knees as the vehicle stopped, waiting for something, then moving forward to park.

  Dragged from the vehicle they were closely surrounded by the now rowdy escorts all the way into what they soon learnt was an apartment building. Penny Heathcote felt sure that such commotion could not be achieved without someone taking notice and reporting it, but she was wrong. The road outside of the Cormorant development had few pedestrians walking along it and drivers were more focused on the road than on a group of people entering a block of luxury apartments. Now pushed, dragged and kicked they were finally ordered to stand still while their hands and feet were tied and each then forced to lie down on the twin beds in the room. Only then was the bag blindfold removed allowing them to survey their surroundings and get a better look at their captors. There were seven of them, but where they were from Heathcote had no idea, except that they were not French, German, Italian or English speaking. Glancing at Anna-Maria, Heathcote saw the signs of understanding in the young woman’s eyes and concluded that maybe the men were Spanish or Portuguese.

  Making as much noise as the duct tape would allow Heathcote succeeded in gaining the attention of one of the gang who, stepping across to her bent low, his face inches away from her, said in Portuguese.

  “You, shut up, you understand, I do not want to hear a sound from you.”

  She could not understand what he had said but it was the sneering way in which he said it that produced a reaction from a very annoyed Lieutenant Heathcote. The convulsive movement of her head caught the man completely by surprise as did the eye watering pain as her forehead made hard contact with his nose. The rest of the gang laughed but the injured man took his revenge by delivering two vicious full swing slaps across her face and had he not been restrained by the others he undoubtedly would have continued the attack.

  As the rest of the gang herded him from the bedroom he called back in Portuguese, “It is not over you bitch, I will hurt you again, be sure of that.”

  ***

  The Glasgow kiss dished out to her abductor by Lieutenant Heathcote coincided precisely with the opening of the Naval Base general office door. Vaughan looked up to see Commander Frazer hurrying towards him with a troubled expression on his face and guessed that something serious had happened.

  “Mr Vaughan…”

  “Yes, Commander, what is it?”

  “Did you know the officer who came to collect your passenger?”

  “Yes, I know her. What’s the problem?”

  “The Royal Gibraltar Police have informed me that they have just found the Base Land Rover with a dead Marine driver inside. It appears that your Lieutenant Heathcote has snatched your passenger.”

  “No definitely not, that officer is one of the most trusted within SIS, there is no way she is responsible for this incident,” Vaughan responded instantly, “Where was the vehicle found?”

  “Near the junction of Queensway Road and Waterport Road, in fact right beneath the lettering Montagu Counterguard,” replied Frazer. “Are you sure about this Lieutenant?”

  “Absolutely sure,” said Vaughan firmly, “My passenger was on the run from a very dangerous man who I suspect has excellent contacts here, or just across the border.” Vaughan thought for a moment or two, then said, “I doubt if they would try and fly them out from here or for that matter try a ferry across to Tangier, so my guess is that they have either crossed the border into Spain or have a boat waiting to get them across the Straits.”

  “I’ll get the RGP to check all vehicles going through,” said the Commander, “Hopefully we will be in time but it’s not very likely as our Spanish friends seemed to be working normally today and not causing long delays.”

  While the Commander got onto the RGP, Vaughan phoned Commodore Campbell.

  “It’s Vaughan, Sir, bad news I’m afraid. The vehicle taking the Lieutenant and Ms Ronaldo to the airport was intercepted, the driver killed, and both women are missing.”

  “Damn, this place has turned into a blasted sieve, how the hell did they know about that leg of her journey,” replied Campbell. “See what you can do on the Rock, they are maybe being held there.”

  “Right, Sir, I’ll do what I can.”

  “Vaughan, be very careful, both of those ladies are becoming more important by the minute. There is a very bad smell developing in the air around here and I suspect their safe return could dispel it. As soon as you can, buy a pay-as-you-go mobile and text me the number.”

  Vaughan sat for several minutes after the conversation taking in the Commodore’s warning and considering what was likely to be the abductor’s plan other than straight assassination.

  “We need to find out if there were any witnesses,” said Vaughan, as Commander Frazer put his phone down from a second call made.

  “Yes, use my car.” Then turning to an able seaman said, “Seaman Robson, here are the keys to my car, take Mr Vaughan and a Marine driver to where the Land Rover was stopped; when you get there see if the police will release the vehicle and tell the Marine to get it back here.”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the seaman, saluting smartly.

  “You obviously are to wait with Mr Vaughan until he is ready to return.”

  The journey took them less than five minutes and on arrival they found two police cars and half a dozen police officers on the scene.

  Inspector Lopez was in charge of the case and after checking Vaughan’s I.D. he took him over to the vehicle where the dead Marine Sergeant was still slumped over the steering wheel.

  “We have two witnesses who say that two other vehicles were involved, the first stopping in front of this one and the other pulling up right behind to stop this one from reversing. They say two men from each vehicle got out and took two ladies to the front vehicle and then both cars drove away. Only then they saw this man laid like this.”

  “Did they get a good look at the two vehicles?”

  “They tell me that both were Spanish registered, black four-by-four Mercedes.”

  “When the two Mercs boxed the Land Rover was there any impact?”

  “Wait please, I will ask.”

  Vaughan following close behind as the Inspector walked across to two men and a woman who were standing a few metres away from the Land Rover. “Was there any type of collision between the Land Rover there and the other two vehicles?”

  “Yes, the Land Rover driver tried to ram the car in front out of the way.”

  “Was that before or after the men from the cars approached the Land Rover?”

  The man thought for a few moments, his eyes closed trying to recall the sequence. “It was after the men got out of the cars,” the man replied, “Yes, I am certain that as the men from the car in front jumped out and started to run towards the Land Rover that is when the Land Rover driver tried to push the car forward.”

  The other male witness then stepped forward saying, “That is correct but he only gave the car a bump, not so very hard.”

  Vaughan sauntered over to the Land Rover and p
eered in the passenger side, then climbed into the rear seat and avoiding gripping the gear stick knob checked its position. Returning to the group he said, “When he went to ram the car in front, the Land Rover was in third gear and probably stalled, that was why the effect was just a bump and not much more damaging.”

  The Inspector gave Vaughan a surprised look. “Thank you, that would explain it.”

  “What about the car behind?” asked Vaughan, “Any damage done to that?”

  “No, it got very close but I do not think it hit the Land Rover.”

  “Thank you, if you could wait a few minutes longer, I may have more questions for you,” said Lopez.

  Moving away from the witnesses he said to Vaughan, “I have asked the border officials if they have seen two such vehicles travelling together, they checked their CCTV records but found nothing,” said Lopez

  “Damn,” replied Vaughan, “It looks like they have either gone to Tangier by ferry or transferred the two women to a fast boat and crossed that way.”

  Turning to Able Seaman Robson, Vaughan asked, “Can you get me round to the Tangier Ferry Terminal?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Don’t leave any rubber on the road, just let’s cruise around, eh,” said Vaughan, seeing the glint of action in the young seaman’s eyes. “I don’t want attention put on us unnecessarily, surprise is the key.”

  “Oh, right, cruise it is, Sir.”

  They wove their way through the apparent maze of parking bays associated with the flats overlooking the Marina Bay complex then further along North Mole Road all to no avail.

  “We could try Queensway Quay, Sir,” suggested Robson.

  The Queensway Quay development was behind security gates and Vaughan had to flash his SIS I.D. in order to gain entry.

  “Often wondered what it was like in here now it’s all finished,” said Robson.

  “Well, now your curiosity is satisfied, Robson, maybe we can move on?”

  “Well er, yes, Sir,” replied the seaman, showing some embarrassment. “It wasn’t just my curiosity, Sir. I just thought it might be a possibility.”

  When they turned into the Cormorant Wharf car park Vaughan left the uniformed seaman in the car and strolled around looking at the vehicles parked in the area. Making his way casually along Queensway Vaughan looked over the low wall into the Cormorant Quay development at the vehicles parked there. He was near to the far end when he saw what he was looking for, a black Mercedes four-by-four with Spanish plates and a damaged rear bumper, parked facing the apartment block.

  Back at the car, he phoned Frazer. “I think we may have found one of the vehicles involved in the incident, Commander.”

  “Where are you, Vaughan?”

  “Cormorant Quay, the vehicle in question is parked up inside the development near the north end.”

  “I’ll get the police onto it straight away, Vaughan.”

  “No, Commander, I suggest we wait and keep watch on the vehicle. A police search of the apartments may well endanger both women’s lives,” replied Vaughan, hurriedly.

  “Do you think so? Well they are your people not ours.”

  “Can I get Robson into civvies and hang onto him for maybe a day or two?”

  “What does he say?”

  “He is sat alongside me nodding his acceptance, Commander,” replied Vaughan, “I’ll send him back with your car shortly, this job ideally needs a white van and overalls.”

  “Leave that to us, Vaughan, I’ll get my people working on it straight away.”

  Hanging up, Vaughan turned to Robson, “I need a mobile phone shop, do you know the nearest one?”

  “Yeh, there is a couple up the hill in Main Street.”

  “Get me there quickly.”

  With two phones purchased Vaughan got Robson to drop him back at the Cormorant Quay then sent the seaman back to the base whilst he texted the new phone number through to the Commodore.

  During the wait for Robson’s return, Vaughan got close enough to the damaged vehicle to confirm that dark blue paint was embedded on the damaged rear panel of the Mercedes.

  Three hours had passed before he and Robson were sitting in a white Renault van parked on the Waterfront restaurant side of Cormorant Wharf car park from where they could keep watch on the apartment complex’s vehicle entrance.

  “We stay hidden in the back, the one on watch can see the gate to the development by looking through that cut out in the bulkhead behind the central passenger seat.”

  “Right, Sir. Oh, Commander Frazer told me to tell you that he is in touch with Gibraltar VTS so if we want any small craft monitored by radar, just give him a call.”

  “We may well need that, Robson.”

  “You think they are still on the Rock, don’t you, Sir,” his voice edged with excitement.

  “Yes, I do. My guess is that it was not until Lieutenant Heathcote was despatched here that people guessed that my passenger was still alive. The man that desperately wants to talk to her would not be able to safely land at Gibraltar without risk of being identified and arrested, so he will need to talk to my passenger somewhere else, like Tangier.”

  “Yeh, but there are lots of small boats that shoot over there, they could have gone anytime during the day,” replied Robson.

  “True, but as he had to use Spanish people to do the abduction I’m guessing that he doesn’t have a boat immediately available and would probably prefer to use one from the Moroccan side to avoid too close a scrutiny on return.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right, Sir.”

  “How about we ease up on the formalities. My name is Ian and you are?”

  “Me mates call me ‘Puncher’, I do a bit in the ring see.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t have to use those skills on this little stunt, Puncher.”

  They had been sat in comfortable silence for a while when Puncher, pointing to the yachts’ masts in the marina behind the Cormorant Quay development asked, “Why do you think they will leave by car and not just walk round the back to the marina there?”

  “Because that marina is for the exclusive use of residents and I am gambling on Gibraltar being a surprise location for Vermeulen requiring him to accept what he is given and work from there. Assuming that he has not struck gold with a boat from here, my guess is that he will have the women taken off from Marina Bay where at night there will be less likelihood of attracting attention.”

  ***

  The three-metre-high wall surrounding the half acre of immaculate garden also contained a much renovated and extended head gardener’s cottage. This idyllic hideaway on the edge of the New Forest was once the kitchen garden to a large house, demolished forty years earlier after a fire. The current owner of the cottage and the person who had supervised all of the renovation and extension work was ex-SAS soldier Barry Jacobs who, on the morning of Anna-Maria and Heathcote’s snatch, was stretched out on a sun lounger drinking coffee.

  When his mobile rang he looked at the screen then quickly put the phone to his ear, “Yes, Sir, what can I do for you?”

  “Are you busy for the next week?”

  “Nothing I can’t alter, what’s on?”

  “Get yourself on the Portsmouth to Santander ferry leaving at 1700 with that removal lorry of yours. You will be met at the other end by the Sousa brothers who will travel with you to Burgau.”

  “What happens then?”

  “You will be asked to collect two high value women and hold them at Burgau until I give you further instructions.”

  “Right, understood. Will hear from you later then, normal rates?”

  “Yes, normal rates plus your expenses of course.”

  At three o’clock that afternoon Izzard and Sampson International Removal Agent’s removal lorry driven by a Barry Jacobs was parked outside the ticket office at Portsmouth’s Continental Ferry Port.

  “Oh ’allo, you again, Mr Jacobs, you’re becoming quite a regular.”

  “Well, it’s all these people wa
ntin’ to get back after the Brexit vote, they’re scared their pensions won’t reach em after the break away.”

  “It’s good for your business though innit?”

  “Yeh it is, Debs, it’ll keep me going for a fair while. See yer,” Jacobs replied picking up his paperwork and walking back to the lorry.

  An hour later he was jumping down from the lorry again to make his way up to the bar on board the Santander ferry. It was by now a routine, he would drive from Santander down to either the Algarve coast or Galicia and sometimes Murcia with a load of household furniture, pick up whoever had paid for the ride, then drive back to a pre-arranged marina in northern France where his associates with powerboats would take the human cargo or drugs across the English Channel. His share of the money he had invested eventually on the London Stock Exchange after he had deducted enough to live on. Occasionally he would dispose of the furniture once he had delivered the human cargo and go round the French furniture auctions buying up pieces either for himself or items he knew he could sell on at a good profit. In his years in the army he had learnt a lot from the officer classes and antique furniture was just one of those valuable lessons. What he had learnt from Major Leonard Staunton was that there were less taxable ways of making money than doing a nine to five job when he got back to civi street.

  It was unusual for him to be met at Santander; normally he would be sent details of the pickup location and find his own way there. He was however used to taking orders from senior ranks so Jacobs accepted without question the arrangement and soon he was enjoying a good evening meal with a bottle of wine and looking forward to finishing “The Peninsular War: A Battlefield Guide” by Andrew Rawson, in his cabin afterwards. Jacob’s family had provided infantry men for the British Army for generations and it was more than likely that at least one of his ancestors had fought under Wellington in the second phase of the Peninsular War.