“You had better take us back to where you found us,” said Ascensao to the pilot, who shrugged his shoulders and made a small adjustment to the aircraft’s course that brought them back just north of Burgau.
Vaughan, sat on the right-hand side of the helicopter, had not taken his eyes off the scenery below for more than a second throughout the flight and was now finding concentration hard. As the little town of Burgau came into view he looked down at the farm land and a few isolated buildings at the end of rutted tracks.
“Wow, hold it, what is that over there, to our right, alongside the big house in that hollow in the land.”
Altering course they flew almost over the property gaining a really good view of a lorry.
“Do you want another look?” asked the pilot.
“No, it’s okay,” said Vaughan, trying to sound disappointed, “Just drop us back, please.”
Ascensao gave Vaughan a curious look but said nothing. On landing, having thanked the aircrew for their efforts, Vaughan and Ascensao followed the winch man clear of the helicopter, both squinting as they cleared the dust storm generated by the rotors.
“What was that about back there? That was the vehicle, Izzard and Sampson International Removal Agents, in huge gold letters on the side?” said Ascensao, with a flabbergasted expression on his face.
“Yes, let’s get going before they have time to pack up and do a runner,” replied Vaughan as he watched the helicopter take off to fly north back to its base. “I did not want to share information unnecessarily. We need to get back there as soon as possible and follow their every move so that we can call in sufficient back-up.”
“You drive, I will call the boss and bring him up to date,” said Ascensao throwing the car keys to Vaughan.
If Ascensao’s driving had been fast, when getting them from Lagos to the crash site, Vaughan’s was so much faster, stretching the SEAT Leon FR to the limit of its two litre engine. Ascensao had only just got off the phone when they passed the track leading to the property.
“I’ll pull over, just up here a bit,” said Vaughan, looking for a suitable track way or break in the bank to their right. “This looks good,” he continued swinging the car off the road and stopping it behind some low scrub.
“If we cross the road and make our way up that hill, we should have a good view of the property.”
“De Lacerda was in an interview room when I called. He was being harassed by Leonardo de Oliveira and an army of his lawyers, needless to say he was glad to hear what we found at the apartment and that we have located the removal lorry,” informed Ascensao as they hurried across the road and made their way up the hill through the scrub vegetation and stunted trees.
“Is he sending in the cavalry?”
“I told him to wait until we confirm the lorry is still at the house.”
The heat of the day and the steepness of the climb had Ascensao gasping for breath way before they had reached the top.
“You follow on, if the lorry has gone I’ll come back straight away,” said Vaughan, wanting to confirm whether Lieutenant Heathcote and Ms Ronaldo were still at the house.
As the chimneys of the property came into view Vaughan crouched then switched to a crawl until he could get behind a bush through which he could see the whole layout of the property. After a few minutes Vaughan heard Ascensao trudging up behind him and turning said in a hoarse whisper,
“Get down low,” signalling with his hands.
When Ascensao crawled alongside him Vaughan explained what he could see.
“If you peer through the branches here you will see that the house has a clear view of everything around for about one hundred metres. Whoever chose this location did a good job, our only real chance will be under cover of darkness.”
“If we surround it with men what could they do?”
“Threaten to execute one of the hostages, and I can assure you that both of those women are very valuable to my boss.”
“Ah, but would they?” replied Ascensao, “Often they make threat but with some negotiation all is resolved without loss of life.”
“Out in the Atlantic they sank the fishing boat on which Ms Ronaldo was making her escape costing the lives of four men in an effort to stop her talking to us,” said Vaughan, “Frankly I’m surprised that she has survived this far.”
CHAPTER 8
The amazement of her survival was a feeling shared earlier by Anna-Maria Ronaldo herself who could not understand why she had not been shot on sight when she and Penny Heathcote had been snatched from the Land Rover. The room in which she was now a prisoner was unfurnished and she sat back against a wall, her bottom hurting from hours on the hard wooden floorboards. In the corner was a bucket with a toilet roll alongside it. Her hands and legs were shackled but she had sufficient movement to eat food and attend to the basic toilet requirements. Movement around the room was limited to a painful shuffle as the ankle straps had soon produced painful sores. Since the snatch she had been almost permanently in fear of her life, hungry, thirsty and after meeting Jacobs, in fear of being brutally raped. The rough sea voyage, to where she recognised as being Lagos, had been followed by a night in an apartment there, where she had lain awake terrified and confused, cursing herself for ever thinking of leaving Luanda. The stress of everything from the day she had left with her mother had confused her to a point where she could hardly remember what month it was let alone what day. Then Jacobs had arrived, this really terrifying man, who had ordered them into the back of a removal truck for the short painful journey to this new prison where another night had passed but one in which she had had little sleep.
Early the following morning her jailer Jacobs was sat at the dusty kitchen table eating the last of the pasta salad that the farmer’s wife had provided. He was idly wondering what plans Leonard Staunton had for the two women when his phone rang.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Have you got them?”
“Yeh, they are here all tucked up and tidy in separate bedrooms. What do want done with them?”
“I’m making arrangements to have them transported to Turkey to take on new careers.”
“Oh, right, how far do you need me to take them?” Jacobs asked with a big grin on his face.
“Montpellier, just over the Pyrenees in France, I’ll let you know the exact exchange point.”
“Who are you gonna use?”
“Probably Andre Ameaux, he has the right connections for the Greek and Turkish borders.”
“Yeh, it’s an area I’m not too keen to visit again. Is the ladies’ new career the one I think it is?”
“Yes,” Staunton replied, “I’m sure they will be a great success. Now if I say be at the changeover in three days’ time is that going to be enough do you think?”
“Yeh, I need to get fuel and food sorted as we can’t take them out to restaurants en route can we,” replied Jacobs already making plans for Anna-Maria.
“Okay, you get that sorted I’ll contact you in a couple of days.”
Jacobs finished his meal and left the house to find the brothers who were now close to completing the task he had set them, “Oi, Bento, take a break and go to the town and bring some food back here, pizza or lasagne and some fruit, enough for five people. Your Leonardo wants you and Carlinhos to keep watch here overnight then tomorrow morning we move out, okay?”
“Si, Senhor Jacobs, you wish when I get back I help Carlinhos again?”
“No, don’t seem much point now that we are due to leave soon.” Then as the man walked away he called after him, “Don’t be long getting that stuff mind.”
“Carlinhos, you’re with me, we need to sort out a watch duty roster for tonight, I don’t want to spend all night awake like last night.”
***
In Anna-Maria’s room she was woken from a troubled sleep by footsteps along the landing outside; a key rattled in the lock and as the door opened, assuming the visitor to be Jacobs, a rush of fear swept over her. When the rather n
ervous Portuguese man who Anna-Maria remembered was called Carlinhos entered, carrying a plate of food and a mug of water, the relief almost made her cry. Putting the plate and mug alongside of her Carlinhos carefully removed the tape from her mouth.
“Thank you,” she said squinting her eyes at the light pouring in through the open door.
The previous visit to the room had been made by her thug of a jailer bringing a clean bucket and another toilet roll. He had put them against the opposite wall then just stood looking down at her his eyes slowly wandering over her body whilst on his face was that lecherous smile of his that struck so much fear into her.
“What is the date today?” she asked Carlinhos.
“September seventeenth.”
“Thank you. Er, can you tell me what is going to happen to me?”
Carlinhos shook his head. “I do not know, Leonardo will decide, Jacobs says we leave here tomorrow.”
“Who is Leonardo?”
“Galician Mafia, Senhora, he a dangerous man, I am sorry I cannot tell you anymore.”
“Do we leave with you?”
Carlinhos shrugged, he had heard the stairs creak and guessed that Jacobs was coming so did not want to pursue the conversation. Hurriedly leaving the room he made his way along the landing to where Heathcote was being held. Anna-Maria could remember from her teenage years references to the Galician Mafia and the terrible crimes it was accused of, the mention of it now did not surprise her, nothing would when linked with Jan Vermeulen. A movement in the doorway made her look up to see Jacobs’ leering face staring at her.
“Here, Mrs Patterson, as soon as you’ve finished that, get down to the bathroom and have a bath, you stink.”
“Why should that worry you?” Anna-Maria answered, surprising herself by her response.
“Because I don’t like to have women that smell, right.”
The word “have” made her shudder and she felt a different kind of fear welling up inside her, the kind one experiences looking down the wrong end of a gun barrel, “I don’t think I want a bath.”
“The decision ain’t yours to make, darlin’. You either go by yourself or I drag you by your hair and bath you myself, what is it to be?”
Anna-Maria looked down at the floor.
“Well?”
Putting down the plate she struggled to her feet and shuffled across to the door. Slowly he stepped back out of her way.
“That’s better, now get on wiv it,” said Jacobs. As she left the room she heard him say to Carlinhos.
“You and your brother stay downstairs until I call yer, understand. Keep a lookout, anyone approaching I want to know about, got it?”
Carlinhos nodded then glanced along the landing at Anna-Maria then back at Jacobs.
“Just do as you are told, chum, and don’t ever question me, right!” said Jacobs grabbing Carlinhos by the throat and pinning him against the wall.
Wide-eyed, Carlinhos made a limited nodding motion and as Jacobs released his hold said, “Sim, Senhor, we stay downstairs until you say.”
Jacobs watched as Carlinhos made his way downstairs then walked towards the bathroom slipping his shoulder holster off as he went, at the bathroom he pushed the door open and saw Anna-Maria, bending over to turn on the taps. Leaning against the door frame he watched as she tested the water temperature. When she straightened up he walked silently across the room and put a hand on her shoulder making her jump then freeze.
“Of course you can’t unzip the dress with your wrists tethered,” he said taking the zip tag and pulling it slowly downwards to her waist. “There, now for the bra strap, is that better now things are not so restricted.”
He took a step back, “Turn round. I said turn round!” Grabbing her shoulders Jacobs spun her round to face him. “You will find that it is a lot less painful if you do as you are told straight away.”
Anna-Maria felt that she was going to be sick, the menace in his voice was terrifying and frantically she swallowed and swallowed until the nausea subsided.
“Don’t move from that spot or else,” he said backing away towards the door. “I will be back in a moment.” As soon as he had undone the zip Jacobs had realised that the dress would not fall to the ground unless the wrist bonds were cut. In his haste for gratification he had failed to plan and was furious with himself for spoiling something that he had dreamed of since the first moment he had seen her terrified face in the bedroom at Lagos.
As he left the room Anna-Maria stepped across to the washstand and took her nail scissors from her toilet bag hiding them in her clenched fist. She had just regained her position as Jacobs came back into the bathroom holding the vicious looking double-edged knife.
Turning the bath taps off he said, “Hold out your hands.”
The knife sliced through the bonds as if it was a length of cheap cotton thread. Reaching out Jacobs slipped the dress from her shoulders followed by her bra, watching appreciatively as they dropped to the floor.
“Oh nice, very nice. Let’s look on this as your apprenticeship for your next career,” he said going down on one knee to cut the ankle ties. “There, now it is just the knickers to take down.”
Tears were now streaming down her face as she felt the garment being pulled down to the floor. The point of her nail scissors pricked her thumb reminding her of what she must do, but when?
Jacobs was starting to stand, rising so close to her that she could feel his hot breath on her skin as she stood trembling, listening to the raggedness of his breathing until his head reached the top of her thighs and she realised that this was her moment.
Jacobs thought the movement was going to be just a slap, something he had actually looked forward to, too late he felt the sharpness of the scissors as the point pierced the skin of his throat and through to rip a hole in his jugular.
He was dying even as he reached for her hand, falling backwards as his life drained away.
For a moment or two she froze, staring in horror as Jacobs gave a throaty rattle, twitched and then lay still, his lifeless eyes staring blindly at the washstand as a pool of blood spread across the linoleum floor covering.
She heard footsteps on the ground floor and realised that the sound of Jacobs’ fall had attracted the attention of the brothers. Stomping her foot on the floor she cried out, “No, no, please, no you are hurting me.” Then putting her hand over her mouth continued to make muffled protest as she picked up his knife and ran from the bathroom to where Jacobs had left his holster and gun. She reached it just as Carlinhos had reached the top of the stairs and, pulling the gun from the holster, pointed it at him.
“Senhora, please you put the gun down before you hurt yourself. We come up here to help you.”
Carlinhos stepped onto the landing, his hand out wanting her to give up the weapon. Bento then appeared but hung back behind his brother.
“Of the many lessons I learnt when living in South Africa one was how to shoot a pistol. I am a very good shot,” Anna-Maria said in her native tongue to avoid any misunderstanding, feeling now more confident recalling that neither of the men in front of her had appeared to carry any weapon.
“Please, Senhora, please you had better give me the gun for all our safety,” pleaded Carlinhos who then made the mistake of taking another pace towards her. The bullet went through his left calf and with a look of absolute shock Carlinhos hopped backwards once then with a pained yell fell backward onto the floor where he lay groaning.
“Don’t move,” shouted Anna-Maria, as Bento went to rush at her, “Or I will kill you!”
Bento stopped, now frightened, staring at the unwavering barrel of the pistol pointing at his head.
“Lay face down on the floor, now.”
Bento did as he was told.
“Where are the room keys?”
Carlinhos reached into his pocket and held up a bunch of keys.
The direction of the gun barrel switched from Bento to Carlinhos, “Toss them over here.”
With a cl
atter the keys dropped at her feet and crouching she picked them up with her left hand and, retreating to the bedroom where Heathcote was held, blindly tried the keys one by one, in the lock until she found the one that turned. As the lock worked so the door was flung open and Heathcote appeared staring wide-eyed.
“You bloody hero, Christ you’ve got no clothes on.”
Ignoring Heathcote, Anna-Maria motioned with the gun saying, “Bring your brother in here and no tricks or believe me you will die.”
Supported by his brother Carlinhos made it into the bedroom leaving a trail of blood behind him.
“What happened?” said Heathcote, locking the door behind the two men.
“That evil bastard Jacobs started to rape me.”
“Where is he now?”
“In the bathroom,” Anna-Maria replied. “My clothes are in there, but I can’t go in there, not now, not after what happened.”
Heathcote helped her sit with her back to the wall, “You wait there, Anna-Maria, I’ll go and get them.”
Anna-Maria hardly noticed the roughness of the wooden flooring on her bare behind, she just felt an overwhelming sense of relief and yes, pride. She had faced up to a dangerous thug and then naked, faced up to two other bad men, and she knew in her heart at that moment that her David would have been so proud of her.
At the bathroom door Heathcote gasped in horror at the scene, “Oh my God, oh my God, Anna-Maria did you do this?” Looking round Heathcote saw Anna-Maria nod. “I don’t know how you did it, but that bastard deserved it. Hold on, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Giving the body of Jacobs a wide berth Heathcote found it hard to take her eyes off the nail scissors protruding from the man’s throat. Groping blindly she picked up Anna-Maria’s clothes then, backing away to the door, took them back to her, “Where did you get the nail scissors from?”
“My toilet bag, somehow they had got through the tear I’d made in the lining and when they searched it in Gibraltar they missed them.”
In Treacherous Waters Page 20
