The Abacus Equation

by Peter Stremus

  Chapter 19

  The rain continued to bucket down as Abdul Massina was pulling expectantly his nets into his old fishing boat. The catch of last night was poor, but he should have known that. It was an old fishing lore that during rainfall the fish kept quiet at the bottom of the sea and did not plan to be caught. Moreover, he was not even allowed to fish in the protective waters. But how else did he have to feed his children? It was easy for the authorities with their big bellies to talk about marine reserves, but they did not care about a poor fisherman's struggle to survive.

  A roaring thunder rolled over the water. Curiously he looked up as the thunder increased in power. For a moment he thought that a patrol boat of the coast guard had spotted him. But he knew that in this weather they rather stayed in their dry shed. His curiosity changed into amazement when he saw the water plane coming straight into his direction. It could not have been flying higher than a few meters above the surface so Abdul decided not to take any chances. He jumped overboard and dived as deep as possible.

  When he reappeared he knew he had reacted correctly. His boat was capsized and a large flame flashed out of the small wheel house. He looked into the direction of the plane and saw and heard it landing on the water. He cursed loudly and shook his fist. Not only did he see his meagre catch regaining their freedom into the deep, but he also saw his only possession sinking rapidly. This would mean an hour's swim to the harbour. Finding a good lawyer and if that did not work, finding a new job.

  Pieter had tried to pull up the moment he got sight of the small boat in the middle of his approach. But the unwieldy plane had hardly reacted and they hit groaningly the mast and pilothouse of the barge with their fuselage. He had to apply all of this experience to keep the plane straight and land on the rough sea, more or less in a controlled manner.

  Jane had turned deadly pale. But Pieter could not be sure whether the hint of green was caused by the near crash or by the hours of flying through the heavy weather.

  The plane advanced till the coast where Pieter made it strand on the beach. A bit further they could distinguish strings of lights indicating that they were close to one of the many resorts one could find in this area.

  “I am happy to announce that we have safely arrived on one of the most southern atolls of the Maldives. It was not planned but I ran out of fuel. That nose wind blew my calculations,” explained Pieter. I know here a few people who will be able to help us. And between all of the tourists we will not stand out.”

  Jane looked critically at Pieter. ”In that case you should get a thorough shave,” she said. His black-rimmed eyes and his beard would make every immigration officer decide to keep him in custody for possible drug abuse. Also her sister did not look exactly fresh. She refused to think how she herself would look like. But if the sight would be as bad as the smell, dramatic actions had to be taken.

  They abandoned the plane and stepped through the shifting sand, each with some luggage over their shoulder. They climbed over a low fence and made their way stealthily between the villas of the resort. Pieter seemed to know the way and stopped at a small gate. The decorated door creaked open and they entered a small walled garden, dominated by a private pool and lush vegetation. He followed the subtly lit path to the main building and knocked discretely on the glass door.

  Discretion did not yield any result. Pieter did not hesitate and bounced hard, shouting: “hi Alex, this is Pieter. Open up the door!”

  Vague noises came from the other side and then the door was answered. A compact burly man tried to stick his balding round head through the door but was roughly pushed back in the room. That room was a complete chaos. Empty bottles rolled over the floor, rattan food baskets covered the table, their content dripping on the ground. Clothes were randomly thrown over seats and chairs. The stale stench of alcohol and cigars made Pieter gasp for breath. This place had hosted one heck of a party last night.

  Alex scratched this crotch.

  “Are you nuts man? Disturbing me at this hour and on my only day off?” he protested against the invasion. Pieter switched on the light which brought a painful grimace on Alex' face: “switch that off, man. I have a terrible headache. And a hang-over.”

  “Alex, I am not joking. I need your computer. This is an emergency. And for heaven's sake, put on some clothes. This is not a pretty sight.”

  Alex shrugged his shoulders and pointed at the bed where female contours could be distinguished in the semidarkness. “She did not have an issue with that. Furthermore you don't have anything that I haven't. But all right. The computer is upstairs. I need to go to the bathroom. I have to vomit.”

  He turned around and got sight of Jane and Jackie. “Well well, Pieter is not alone. Thank God for that. Welcome fair ladies.”

  Jane and Jackie tried to look past the naked man who obviously was not hampered by any sense of timidity.

  He smiled warmly and invited them to come in. His years of flirtatious experience with single female tourists on the exotic island made old-fashioned charming his second nature. His hangover had disappeared immediately.

  “Oh dear, oh dear. And I thought that I looked like a wreck. I'd better not inquire what you all have been doing.” He pointed at Pieter: “did that bad man not behave well?”

  He disappeared in the bathroom and returned dressed in shorts and a tight T-shirt reading This is Not a Beer Belly. This is the Fuel Tank of a Love Machine.

  He jolted the woman in the bed awake, grinned to Jane and Jackie and followed Pieter who had already powered the computer and connected Votilio's iPod. Halfway the wooden stairs Alex shouted: “nothing that beats a plunge in the swimming pool to recover. And now Pieter, what have you been up to this time?”

  Pieter studied attentively the documents on the iPod while Alex was looking over his shoulder. Pieter briefed Alex as concisely as possible. He only answered with a whistle escaping from the gap between his two front teeth.

  “For the moment you are safe here. As long as they are foolish enough to believe that you are on your way to Mauritius. However, at dawn the tourist traffic will start and in Diego they will soon figure it out where you really are. Your plane cannot disappear like that and people will talk about it. At least I will alert my friends in the control tower that they have to act stupid when there are questions from Freeman. A stroke of luck that the air traffic controller and Freeman are not the best of friends. Me know nothing master John.”

  Indeed Pieter recalled an incident a couple of months ago when John Freeman had diverted cum manu militari all traffic to the island because one of the landing strips had been damaged after a crash landing of a bomber. All civilian traffic was put on hold for the few military jets. And that had not gone down very well with the local managers of the hotels and airport.

  “So, my friend, what are you going to do next?” Alex asked.

  “Making sure this is breaking news on all international and national channels.”

  He logged into his webmail account, grumbled at Alex that the internet connection was so slow and scrolled through his contact database, clicking names. Most of his contacts worked as freelancers since the economic circumstances had made them redundant. But some of them were still working with the big news agencies such as Associated Press, Reuters, Xinhua, Kyodo or Trust of India. When he had collected a list of about twenty-five names he started to attach a selection of the files from the iPod.

  When he finished, it slowly started to dawn and the resort came to life. The outdoor reception checked out a couple of early leavers while one of the butlers pulled the luggage on shrieking wheels over the winding garden path. The first room maids entered, in colourful attire, balancing a basket with fresh linens on the head. The gardeners opened the sprinklers to ensure that the guests would enjoy the scent of fresh plants and flowers during their breakfast or their jog through the lush gardens towards the beach.

  Pieter and Alex looked up as they heard laughing squawks and splashing beneath them. Alex was the firs
t to hastily reach the balcony to see how Jane and Jackie had dived into the pool, together with his nightly guest.

  Alex pulled Pieter a bit closer and sighed conspiratorially: “that's a piece of work, hey, that Brigitte?”

  Pieter looked at the blonde busty woman in a far too tiny bikini so that little was left to the imagination.

  Without expecting a reply, Alex shouted: “wait, I am coming. Don't go anywhere!” Whereupon he descended the stairs, taking off his T-shirt. A big plunge and consequent screams of the girls indicated that he had succeeded in his plan.

  Pieter sat back behind the computer and tried to compose a punchy summary that would grab his overworked former colleagues' attention. In telegram style he outlined the content of the selected attachments.

  Attached you will find a number of secret documents that elaborate on planned attacks from India and China on their neighbouring countries. The authenticity of these documents (pictures, maps, movement of troops, plans of attack) has been verified and were obtained directly from the naval base Diego Garcia. Someone who tried to smuggle out these files has already been assassinated. This must be made public as soon as possible to avoid a worldwide catastrophe. India must be stopped and the international community needs to react with sanctions. If you still lived under the impression that a new world war could not happen, than we were all wrong. It is up to you to stop this plan. Bring it in the news!

  “Probably not the highest form of florid prose, but they will have to do with it.” Pieter pushed the send button and stared at the screen. The small hourglass turned teasingly a couple of times before the text Message Sent set him free.

  Jonathan Stratford noticed the mail appearing in his mail reader.

  “Well done, Pieter. You do not disappoint me.”

  And he picked up the phone.

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