“How’s the foot, Lenny dear? It is slowing you down a lot, Lenny, either that or you are out of shape, and you don’t have your gang of executioners on the island to help you do your dirty work this time.”
Vaughan moved quickly to the next rock large enough to hide behind, watching as he did for the telltale muzzle flash of Staunton’s gun. “There you are, you bastard, just to the right of that dark blob and down a bit. He’s used three of his second clip, seven more and I hope he will be out of ammunition.” He squeezed the trigger twice then moved at a low run to the next bend diving flat as Staunton’s return fire hit a straggly tree just behind him. “Two shots left on that clip, Staunton, and I am sure you have been counting.” Scuffling noises indicated that Staunton was on the move again, firing twice as he did so. Vaughan moved again only to feel the left side of his light wind-cheater plucked as a bullet skimmed through it. He dived for cover feeling a burning sensation on his ribcage and a warm trickle across his chest.
“Missed again, Lenny dear, you really are an awful shot. Had you still been clean I would have recommended you went back to ‘The Manor’ for some training.” Three shots snatched at the undergrowth around him. “Not even close, Lenny dear, you really are a bloody failure you know.” The wound was stinging like mad but Vaughan’s concentration was still focused on what Staunton was doing. “That wasn’t a Glock he was firing, the bastard’s got hold of something else, which means the count can go as high as twenty on just one clip.” Something was digging into Vaughan’s right leg and as he pulled it to get it out of the way he found it to be a long slender branch. Pulling it clear of the undergrowth he stretched out along the path and using the branch started to move a bush. Almost instantly Staunton fired a rapid six shots, sending leaves and twigs in all directions. Vaughan elbow crawled to the bush and used the branch again hoping that Staunton had run out of ammunition. When there was no response he made a crouching run to the next corner without drawing fire. “No, Lenny dear, I wasn’t born yesterday.” The corner was close to the gulley wall and there was an outcrop of rock that offered good cover.
“Campbell’s got the top spot now, Lenny, I bet you are delighted to hear that, in fact it was Campbell who sent me to bring you in, Lenny, think of it, we would be sat next to each other on the flight to London, you in handcuffs of course, the full set naturally, you know, ankles and wrists with a short chain between the two. Fancy having to bend double to wipe your nose.” Vaughan finished with a laugh, and using his foot waggled the stem of a branch sticking out from the outcrop whilst peering through the long grass on the top.
The next four rounds were fired individually from a position much further to the right than Vaughan had expected and from a point much closer to the top of the gully. Catching just a glimpse of muzzle flash, Vaughan guessed at Staunton’s next move and fired off two shots, hearing clearly a muffled cry.
“Ooops, you moved the wrong way, Lenny dear, even without night goggles I hit you.”
As Staunton moved again it was obvious that he was stumbling. “Stay alive, Lenny dear, and give it up, in your current state you won’t make it to the top, you see, you are finished, Lenny, no Alice, no job, and your arms cache in the hands of the Portuguese Police Force. Oh yes and we also have Vermeulen’s precious black notebook, so you can’t even use that. Failed again, Lenny, just like the coup you were backing. Why is it you are always such a failure, Lenny dear?” Vaughan was about to shout further comments when four shots hit the rock he was hiding behind.
Moving as fast as he could up the track to the next corner Vaughan had been expecting Staunton to fire at any moment, but nothing happened. Instead, when he stopped now, only one dogleg away, he could hear Staunton’s laboured steps and the rattle of loose stones. He had to catch up with him now and hope that the man had run out of bullets.
As Vaughan reached the top of the gulley he was aware of an increase in vision and glanced at his wristwatch. “Quarter to four, it won’t be full daylight until about seven.” He took a look around, and seeing Staunton’s head silhouetted against the lighter sky, moved off in pursuit. The gradient was less arduous now but after the steep climb from the gulley floor, Vaughan’s legs were not up to sprinting, anyway, he was catching Staunton and wasn’t going to rush it and risk being shot. The path they were following appeared to run along the rim of the gulley and though neither man was aware of it they were both making straight towards the first batch of soldiers detailed to form a cordon.
The distance between the two men was closing rapidly and Vaughan hoped that he could catch Staunton before the man reached a low building that was being revealed as they neared the brow. His foot kicked something heavy in the grass that made a metallic chink as it landed amongst some stones and reaching down he picked up the Grach 443 and automatically freed the magazine clip. “Empty, got you, Staunton, but who is going to want a slice of you first, Portugal, Angola or Britain.”
Vaughan was only five or six metres from Staunton now, the path had led them back towards the sea and the top of the impressive cliff that went almost sheer to the beach two hundred metres below. He was about to order him to put his hands in the air when Staunton turned, waving a knife in his left hand.
“You come any nearer, Vaughan, and I will slice you like a salami sausage. You will never take me in; you don’t have the skill to deal with me.”
“What did you use on David Patterson, Lenny, a machete?” A wild guess by Vaughan. “He was your colleague, someone who you were duty-bound to support and protect.”
Staunton nodded and Vaughan could just make out a twisted smile, “Yeh, you should have seen the look of shocked surprise on his face when I chopped his right hand off.”
Vaughan slid his pistol back into the trouser pocket holster, “And now you think a lame one-armed sick head case like you, creepy Lenny, with just a knife is a match for me, you really must be mad.”
Vaughan was close now, close enough to see Staunton’s eyelid movement that split second before making a lunge with the knife. The sidestep, trip and wrist grab were standard moves that normally Staunton would have avoided but faint from the pain of his right foot and wounded right arm meant that he went to the ground easily uttering a frustrated yell. Taking the left arm up high and twisting it behind Staunton’s back made it easier to force the knife from his grasp. As Vaughan threw the knife clear three men stood from crouching positions at the side of the path and Vaughan sensed movements behind him. He had been concentrating so hard on Staunton he had not seen the soldiers laying in wait.
“Stop, Senhors, hands above your heads, now!”
Vaughan pulled Staunton by the collar onto his feet using the move to steal the man’s wallet from his hip pocket before pushing him away towards the soldiers.
Staunton slowly raised his left arm, his right arm hanging limply at his side. “Arrest this man behind me, he is guilty of arms smuggling and is wanted by the British Government. I am a British Intelligence Agent sent here to arrest him,” shouted Staunton, groping for his hip pocket.
A soldier stepped forward and shone a torch in Vaughan’s face.
“Ah, Senhor Vaughan, Senhor Vaughan, how are you? You are wounded.” The man speaking stepped between Vaughan and the soldier with the torch. “I Sergeant Gomes, I guard apartment you wounded at, remember!”
“Of course, Sergeant Gomes, good to see you again. That is the man you should be arresting.”
The Sergeant turned to his men and ordered them to arrest Staunton who, with all eyes focused on Vaughan, had staggered several paces away hoping to find concealment in the darkness.
“Oh, give it up, Staunton, I told you, you can’t escape.”
As the powerful torchlight illuminated him Staunton turned to face Vaughan, then, overbalancing slightly, took two awkward paces backwards and caught the heel of his strapped boot on a tuft of grass and toppled back, arms flailing, over the cliff edge. As he started the long fall he cried out, “You baastaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrd,” a c
ry that stopped abruptly only when his body struck the cliff face for the third time before crashing into the scrub on the sloping cliff shelf halfway between the summit and the sea far below.
The sky was a little lighter now and as Vaughan turned back to look at Sergeant Gomes he thought, “I warned you, Staunton, I told you that if you didn’t give up you would be dead by dawn.”
***
Sergeant Gomes elbow crawled his way to the cliff edge and looked down, “I can no see him he fall a long way, we will need much rope to reach him.”
The sound of a car arriving heralded the appearance of Castelo-Lopez and Brian Conway, and both men were soon hurried down to the scene. Fortunately, the Colonel was distracted by the excited Sergeant Gomes, anxious to explain what had happened, allowing Conway to get to Vaughan first.
“The Colonel wants to know how it is you are carrying a gun,” said Conway quietly.
Vaughan slipped him his Glock, “Look after this one for me, I have another to show the Colonel.”
“Oh, okay, if you’re sure about this.”
“When they recover the body they will find that he has a wounded right arm.” Vaughan then slipped Staunton’s wallet into Conway’s jacket. “You also better hang onto that until you get back to London, SIS will be delighted that it was returned unseen by the Portuguese.”
“What is it?”
“Staunton’s wallet and it has his SIS identity badge in it.”
“Senhor Vaughan, you were wounded I hear.” Castelo-Lopez strode across from his men to where Conway and Vaughan were standing.
“It is just a graze, Colonel, nothing very serious.”
“I had hoped that you would leave the hunt for this man to my soldiers, who as you see were in the right place to capture him.”
Aware that no soldiers had followed him up the track Vaughan said, “A couple of times I waited to see if any support was following me and had to assume that I was on my own in the chase.”
“Huh, I sent some men to search for you but they obviously failed to search far enough.” The Colonel replied somewhat stiffly. “We heard much shooting, Senhor Vaughan, I was not aware you carry a gun,” the Colonel’s voice carried a large hint of accusation and annoyance.
“The man had an injured foot and stumbled early in his scramble up the gulley back there, and dropped this,” Vaughan handed the Colonel Staunton’s Grach, “There were still several rounds in the clip, so as he was firing at me I returned the favour and wounded him in his right arm.”
“He was carrying two pistols?”
“Bearing in mind what he was shipping out of here, I would not have been surprised had he been carrying an AK47!”
“You have a good point there, Senhor Vaughan.” The Colonel glanced over Vaughan’s shoulder. “Ah here is the medic, he will take a look at your wound.”
Vaughan slipped off his wind-cheater and undid his shirt. Turning Vaughan round so that the torchlight illuminated the wound, the medic went down on one knee and looked at it. “Please stop still, eh.”
Three hours later the Colonel, Conway and Vaughan were finishing breakfast at the Hotel Jardin Atlantico up above where Staunton and Vaughan had met. Vaughan, wearing a tee shirt and shorts purchased from the hotel shop, felt particularly conspicuous as the group were attracting a huge amount of attention from the other diners. Some of the guests had been disturbed earlier by the sound of gunfire and obviously did not fully believe the announcement that the army had been holding an exercise in the area.
A sergeant, marching smartly across the dining room, stood to attention alongside the Colonel and announced that the recovery team were ready.
“Thank God for that,” Vaughan said, standing as the Colonel signed the bill. “I now know how animals must feel in a zoo.”
“Even in that fashion statement you look smarter than when you arrived here.”
“Gee thanks, Brian,” said Vaughan, giving the detective a very sour look. “Let’s get out of here shall we, I want to be absolutely sure that bastard Staunton is dead.”
Back at the cliff top they found that a metal winch stand and lifting jib had been assembled and a man and stretcher were already on the way down the cliff face.
A police sergeant approached Vaughan.
“We hear that the man who attacked Senhora De Lima had accident here and that you also are here, Senhor Vaughan.” The Detective Sergeant moved close to Vaughan, “Maybe you helped his accident?”
“No, not me. Go and ask Sergeant Gomes over there what happened, he’ll give you the details I’m sure.”
“I may wish to question you later, Senhor Vaughan, so please, you no leave.”
“That is someone else who doesn’t want me to leave the island; I never thought I would be this popular.”
“Who were the others?” asked Conway.
“I think Staunton actually wanted me to be buried here, or rather cremated, I don’t think they have burials on Madeira.”
“And?”
“To my surprise, Amelia de Lima.”
The radio held by the Colonel’s lieutenant squawked into life and he ordered for the slack to be taken up on the winch cable. “Ah, here we go, just pray that the bullet that wounded him went straight through and out the other side, otherwise someone will work out that it didn’t come from that Grach I handed over.”
“Will they check?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeh, you’re right, we would.”
The team on the winch showed little enthusiasm for the work, but eventually the head of the stretcher bearer came into view, followed by the stretcher containing the battered remains of Leonard Staunton. When the stretcher was swung in and carried a safe distance from the cliff edge, Vaughan and Conway joined the Colonel to inspect the body.
“Jesus what a mess, can you recognise him, Ian, because I’m buggered if I could.”
Vaughan reached down and turned the head round to see the other side of the face, “Yes that’s Staunton all right. This side isn’t as smashed up and you can see the wound in the right arm. That Grach packs a punch, look, it’s gone right through.”
A young soldier, tempted to take a look, retched and turned away hurriedly.
Detective Sergeant Brian Conway showed remarkable professionalism in producing a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and started a search of Staunton’s pockets, “Ah, that’s good, his mobile phone is still in one piece, let me see what calls he has made recently.” Flicking the touch screen a few times brought up the call list. “There we are, he made an Inmarsat call last night. In fact it was the last call he made.”
The Colonel looked at the phone list and nodded, “That should make the arrest of the captain of that ship much easier. What else is in his pockets?”
Conway searched but revealed nothing of importance other than Staunton’s Glock pistol and indicated that the body should be covered up. “He won’t be travelling back with me after all,” he said, straightening up and stretching and yawning. “I had better inform the Honorary Consul and start arrangements for repatriating the body.” Conway turned to the Colonel, “You have no interest in holding onto this corpse for any reason I suppose?”
The Colonel crouched down again and lifted up Staunton’s right arm to inspect the wound then put it back down again. “No, Detective Conway, it will not serve any purpose here. I will have it delivered to the city morgue and inform them that your Consul will be in touch.”
“Did you bring the car up, Brian? I really fancy getting back to the hotel and changing out of this kit.”
“Yeh, you all right to drive, Ian?”
“I’ll be okay driving, it’ll take my mind off the events of last night. There were moments when I thought I was coming to the end of my shift in this world.”
Conway handed Vaughan the car keys, “I’ll hitch a lift with the local police, if Livramento wants to talk to you any more he knows where to find you.”
The Colonel had started giving orders for his men t
o dismantle the winch gear and return to barracks, leaving Conway and Vaughan alone.
“I’ll see you at the hotel later on, Brian.”
“You know, many of your guys are married and do a similar job to you, don’t you. You didn’t need to get this involved, the Colonel was right, he had set an ambush for Staunton, they would have got him, maybe alive.”
“That, Brian, may have been a problem.”
Conway looked puzzled for a moment or two, “Ah, I see what you mean.”
After making his farewells Vaughan picked up the carrier bag containing his bloodstained clothes and made his way up to where his hire car was parked. It took him a few minutes to collect his thoughts and compile the sequence of actions he must now follow. Starting the car he drove a short distance away from the scene towards the hotel before pulling over, and taking his mobile from his jacket, phoned Campbell’s direct contact number.
“Campbell.”
“It’s Vaughan, Sir. Staunton has had a rather nasty accident just as he was about to leave Madeira aboard a small cargo vessel.”
“Is he in hospital?”
“No, Sir. The morgue.”
“I see, use the Consul’s services to send me a full report as soon as you can, then get back here. I have a job for you.”
Later, as Vaughan walked up the driveway to Amelia’s house the front door opened and he could see her standing in the shade waiting for him. He had changed at the hotel and carefully checked the wound dressing not wanting her to see that he had been hurt. It was the time for real honesty to himself, was he really in love with her and just as importantly, was she really in love with him.
“Are you all right, Ian? You are not hurt?” she asked, anxiously noting the darkness under his eyes.
“No, I’m fine, just very tired, I haven’t had any sleep and have done a lot of walking, uphill mainly.”
“Did you catch him?”
“Almost, then he fell over a cliff edge.”
“Did you push him?” she asked cautiously.
Her question shocked him a little, then he realised that she needed to know that he was not an assassin. “No, no I didn’t push him, he tripped.”
In Treacherous Waters Page 37
