The Dead Sea

by Andrew Jackson

  At the sound of screeching tyres outside, Dan rushed to the window. He looked out to see a car pull up across the street. Four men got out and headed towards them.

  "It's too late. They're here."

  # # #

  From the top of the staircase, Dan watched four men enter the building. They spoke in hushed tones as each one drew a firearm from beneath their clothing and the first of them cautiously lead the way up the steps. Dan nipped back into the office and closed the door.

  The room in which they were trapped was small, with only one entrance and exit. There was no way of escape and not a single place to hide.

  Dan looked over at Isaac, whose face had turned ashen.

  "Have you a gun?"

  "I am a businessman. Of course I don't have a gun!"

  Heather was busy rummaging through a pile of scuba diving equipment stored in the corner, when she pulled a long slim length of metal from behind a bag. It had a pistol grip at one end and a long length of rubber tubing at the other.

  "Spear gun?"

  With only seconds to spare, Dan ordered Isaac to find a spear and load the gun before he positioned himself behind the door. Isaac fumbled with a spear he retrieved from deeper within the pile, frantically pulling at the rubber tubing and dropping the spear several times in the process, when there was a light knock on the door.

  With no further time to ready themselves, Dan pointed at the desk and nodded for Heather to hide behind it. She snatched the spear gun from Isaac, who had only just managed to load it, and took up position behind the desk and out of sight. Dan signalled for Isaac to open the door.

  He placed a finger to his lips and whispered into his ear.

  "Try to get rid of them."

  With a shaking hand, Isaac slowly opened the door, just a fraction.

  "They've gone. I couldn't stall them any longer. They..."

  A tattooed hand reached in and pushed Isaac backwards. Dan tensed and pressed himself tighter against the wall. Through a small gap between the hinges, he could see the others, guns held loosely by their sides, gangster style. He hoped that might be their undoing.

  The door swung open further and the first of the men entered. He held a revolver in his hand, pointing it at an angle towards Isaac, who cowered away with his hands held high.

  "Miguel! Please!"

  Dan slammed the door shut and turned the key to lock it, then threw himself at Miguel. He caught him off-guard and from behind and the two of them barrelled forwards to fall on top of Isaac. The revolver skidded across the floor amongst the tangle of limbs, and shouting from outside was soon followed by heavy thumping on the door as the others tried to force their way in.

  Miguel was thin and wiry, but deceptively strong. Dan was just about able to wrestle his way on top of him and reign down several hard punches before he heard the splintering of wood behind him as the door gave way.

  He rolled away from Miguel towards the revolver and snatched it up from the floor, turning in time to see the door crash open.

  As he brought the revolver up to take aim, Dan watched the first of them stop dead in his tracks, as a spear buried itself deep inside his chest. He stood there in shock, blocking the entrance, with his eyes and mouth wide, hands feebly clutching at the shaft, before toppling forwards and sending the remainder of the spear through his chest with a wet crunch as it hit the floor.

  Dan took the opportunity to train his sights on the next in line and fired two shots. The first hit him square in the chest, and the second glanced off the side of his head, carving a path of blood and gore along his face. The powerful revolver's rounds sent the man sprawling backwards, hampering the last of them as he tried his best to return fire, but instead he only managed to shoot his own friend in the back.

  On the floor next to Dan, Miguel had recovered. He was slowly climbing to his feet and pulling a knife from a pocket in his jacket. Dan fired one round into the back of his head, exploding his skull and felling him in a hefty splattering of brain matter.

  Dan smoothly climbed to his feet and advanced forward to finish off the last of the four. He placed two shots into the hapless gangster's chest, as he struggled at the top of the staircase to push the body of his friend away from him.

  Satisfied they were safe, Dan moved back inside and found Heather slumped behind the desk with the spear gun resting across her lap. She was in shock. Blankly staring between Dan and the gun with uncomprehending eyes and a slack, quivering jaw.

  He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder and moved the spear gun away. Then he helped her up to sit on the chair. She had no visible injuries and he left her there to check on Isaac, who was also in a bit of a state. He was wedged into the corner of the room, staring at the lifeless and bloody body of Miguel, who lay face down on the floor in a pool of blood, with the back of his skull opened up enough to see brain matter spilling out from within.

  "We need to go. The two of you need to pull yourselves together and move."

  Dan looked out onto the street below. At the moment, all was clear. The car the gangsters had arrived in was still parked across the street, and the occasional pedestrian moved about their business as normal.

  Dan began searching the bodies of the gangsters as he waited for Heather and Isaac to respond. He gathered up a significant arsenal of guns and knives, along with the keys to the vehicle, before turning his attention back to Heather.

  She was still slumped in the chair where he had left her, her skin pale and clammy. He slapped her across the face, hoping to jolt her into action.

  "Heather! Snap out of it! It was us or them. You did the right thing."

  "I...I...I killed him!"

  "You did. Just before he would have killed you."

  He could see the colour slowly begin to return to her face as they talked, and comprehension dawned on her.

  "It might be no big thing to you, Dan, but I am not a killer! Did you see the way he looked at me? What have I done?"

  Heather began to sob uncontrollably. Great lungfuls of breath, followed by floods of tears. Over the sounds of her crying the faint echo of sirens could be heard.

  Dan left her for a moment and turned his attention to Isaac, who was standing now, wiping off speckles of Miguel's blood that had sprayed over him.

  "Isaac! Heather was not here for this. Do you understand? It was me who killed these men. Only me."

  Isaac just nodded his head and stared at the blood on his sleeve that he'd wiped from his face.

  The sirens grew louder and Dan threw an arm around Heather, hauling her from the chair and out into the street.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On a map mounted to the wall of his office, which bulged with multi-coloured pins holding grainy photos and hastily scribbled notes, Andrei Sousa attached a photo onto the small blue area of marine reserve next to Fortaleza.

  He stood back for a while and examined his work. In his head he knew every connection or furtive link between the markers - the map only serving as a reminder. For a court of law, in any country, he'd need a damn sight more.

  Operation Dorsal had been dumped on him from the upper echelons of Interpol, and was looked upon and laughed at as a poisoned chalice by his peers. Dutifully and without complaint, he'd worked on it in the background for years. He'd never truly written it off, and constantly added to the worldwide picture developing before him. Andrei considered each piece of the jigsaw carefully before he added it to the map.

  Now, with the final piece in position, Andrei could make a move on the ship, La Mujer Codiciosa. With luck, he could now seize her, arrest the captain, her crew and her unofficial owner - the Tercerio Commando godfather and jewel in the crown, Antonio Correia. Like a house of cards, a fishing operation spanning five years, that he knew of, would come crashing down. Charges of fraud, corruption and bribery could be laid at the feet of those responsible. Unfortunately, these crimes would not include the damage and devastation the ship had caused to the sea, the creatures living in it and the local comm
unities of fishermen who relied upon it.

  Andrei suspected La Mujer Codiciosa to be fishing illegally, under various names and flags of registration, throughout southern hemisphere waters for more than a decade. His aim, now he had her located, was to capture her at sea with all those on board. Simultaneously, Antonio Correia would be arrested and his headquarters searched, likely exposing multiple other unrelated crimes ranging from theft to murder. It was a bold and reckless plan, but one that could easily be accomplished with quality intelligence and a little bit of luck.

  Returning to his computer, Andrei scrolled once more through the images sent to him by the South Atlantic Sea Life Cooperative. Their scant report on the activities of unlicensed Belizean fishing vessels entering the small protected reserve off the coast of Fortaleza, was in itself unworkable. But, combined with the information he had already gathered, it could be enough to tip the scales in his favour and at the very least he could confiscate La Mujer Codiciosa until the end of legal proceedings, whether successful or not, which could be many years down the line.

  He'd been office bound now for over a year and he yearned to get back out into the field. Rio, for all its beauty, was not where Andrei Sousa wanted to be. He was a field agent and revelled in the thrill of the chase. Typing on a keyboard in a high rise office block in downtown Rio was not his dream assignment. Now he had something to go on, he'd get to stretch his legs and visit the city of Fortaleza, on the wild Ceara coast.

  Although much work was still required to coordinate such a mission as he dared to propose, the bare bones of it now formed enough suspicion to take an official look. With the Tercerio Commandos involved he must of course tread carefully. Coordinating resources between Interpol, local Brazilian police and the coastguard could prove difficult. Preventing a leak of his plans to the men he wished to capture would be paramount to the operation. So his presence on the ground would be essential.

  That's what would be going into the report he would submit to seek authority for the venture, and so he typed it up with haste after booking a flight onto the next plane for Fortaleza.

  # # #

  "Stop bloody fussing, Dan. Nobody knows that I live here."

  Dan moved away from the window and resumed his pacing across the room. The action was clearly infuriating Heather and she was quick to let him know.

  "Will you stop that, please?! Look, we need to do something other than sit in this apartment. I'm going stir crazy cooped up in here."

  She stomped into the kitchen of the small one bed apartment, in which Dan had been sleeping on the floor, and rustled around in the cupboards before returning with a bottle of water and settling back down behind her laptop.

  He too was frustrated. For two days now they had locked themselves away, out of sight and out of mind. The apartment was plain and functional. It must have at one time been the upstairs section of a house, which was now divided into two apartments, the bottom section facing the street being another set of two. It was on the far side of town from the harbour, close to the airport and a short walk from a large mall. Dan had only ventured out once for various essentials and to properly dispose of the gangster's car they'd used. He'd driven it to the outskirts of the city, to an old disused industrial site and set fire to it. Then he'd picked up what he needed and returned as soon as he could.

  The weapons he'd acquired from the gangsters were hidden both inside and outside the apartment, in strategically chosen positions to aid in escape or be easily at hand if he needed them. Dan didn't expect the infamous Tercerio Commandos to forget about the four of their number that lay dead in the office of Isaac Garcia. And with Heather set on remaining in Fortaleza to see her mission through, he needed to be prepared for the inevitable violent backlash if they were found.

  Heather tapped heavily on the keyboard, checking her emails for the hundredth time, before slamming the top down and pushing herself back into the seat to sip on the water.

  "Still nothing. I thought I would have heard something by now."

  "These things take time, Heather. You know that. If you were still in the Wildlife Investigation Agency and you received intelligence like that, what would you do?"

  She let out a long weary sigh.

  "I know, I know. I would want to know all about the source of the intelligence. The who, what, where, when and how of it. Then there would be endless meeting after meeting with management, liaising with outside agencies, blah, blah, blah. Thank God I'm not tied down like that anymore."

  Dan caught the beginnings of a smile in the corners of her mouth as she thought of something. He was glad to see it. Heather had been in a bad place since their fight with the gangsters. The gruesome image of a spear, shot by her, protruding from one of their chests was something she talked about often, and only now was she beginning to come out of her shell again.

  "What are you grinning at?"

  "The man is an unknown quantity."

  "What?"

  "That's what I was told when I brought the photos from your email, to my boss in the WIA. Your first email. Do you remember? That shipment of tiger bone and ivory?"

  She sat up and pulled a face, then repeated the words in a funny voice, in an effort to mimic her old boss, Peter Blackthorn.

  "The man is an unknown quantity, Heather."

  "He never liked me."

  Her expression changed, and she cocked her head to the side, looking at him strangely.

  "Not many do, Dan. Trouble, and death, seem to follow you around."

  "A bit harsh! I went for years without getting into trouble or killing anyone actually. Desperately tried to drink myself to death if you must know. I can't help who I am, or what I've become. You only have to ask and I'll leave, if that's what you want."

  "I didn't mean it like that."

  She lay back on the chair and curled her legs up to her chest, hugging them tight to her chin.

  "You've really made the difference, Dan. When you sent those photos of the illegal animal products the triads were smuggling, I could have fainted. For all the money the government and charities threw at the WIA, we could never have got the evidence you did. Everything you've done since has been...invaluable. Without you I couldn't have stopped that triad smuggling operation, and neither could I have stopped the poaching of ivory in the Hwange National Park. All those things happened because of...what you did."

  "No, you did all the hard work, Heather. I just dealt with the messy parts that the law can't seem to do for itself. I don't suppose our current predicament is much different."

  "Agreed. The pirates won't stop until there's nothing left in the marine reserve here and by then it will be too late. As always, the government is slow to react. We need to push on and gather more evidence to force their hand, or try to join the dots of what we've already got so the police or someone in authority makes a move."

  She reached forward and cleared the small table of cups and plates, making a space to lay out a sheet of paper on which she began to scribble. Dan pulled up a chair and sat opposite, trying to keep up with her racing mind as she continued.

  "OK, so Isaac notices the drop in whale numbers and calls the SASC, my current employer. I arrive and dig around. Local fishermen will talk to me, in private only, about over-sized illegal fishing ships plundering through their waters and especially inside the reserve. I get close and they panic. We find the crew of La Mujer Codiciosa, one of the ships involved, in the fish market the next morning."

  Heather made a circle with a question mark inside it and drew a line to that point in her notes.

  "It turns out, Isaac has hopped into bed with a major Brazilian crime gang, the Tercerio Commandos. They are making enough money from illegal fishing to justify attempting to intimidate and, when that didn't work, murder us."

  "Sounds about right."

  She drew a line underneath her summary and continued.

  "So what are our options now? Return to the market and find out what the crew were doing there? Selling their il
legal catch we suspect. But to who?"

  She made another circle with a question mark and linked it to that note.

  "Can we go direct to the police ourselves with what we have? Do you think they would make some enquiries into the market or go searching for the ships? What about the coastguard?"

  "We know from past experience that local police can sometimes be...sketchy?"

  "Riddled with informants and corrupt you mean? Yes, sometimes, but there are more good people than bad, Dan, I truly believe that. We're talking about fraud worth millions here and attempted murder. Not something easily swept under the carpet."

  "We've already discussed this, Heather. You were never there. I killed those men, and Isaac witnessed it happen. I won't be presenting myself to the police any time soon complaining about our attempted murder, considering I'm still alive and four others are dead."

  Isaac had called Heather once since the incident, to tell her he was leaving and that the police didn't seem overly concerned about the murder scene they'd left behind in his office. He said he told them he'd befriended a loner that day - Dan - who'd happened to be there to defend him when the gangsters came calling for money. He said they'd notched it up as yet another gangland killing and got the feeling that they wouldn't be spending a whole lot of time chasing someone who'd disposed of four of Fortaleza's most dangerous criminals for them. In fact, they seemed positively cheery about the fact, laughing and joking around the bodies with a macabre humour that was the final straw for Isaac in his decision to pack up and leave.

  "They were gangsters, Dan, and you were defending me and yourself. I can't imagine the police will try to pin a murder charge on you for that. Especially with Isaac backing you up."

  "I'd rather not put that to the test, Heather. I'm already wanted for scarily similar incidents in Laos and China. Even back in Northern Ireland there's a warrant for my arrest. All justified actions, as far as I'm concerned, but still probably enough to have me locked up forever."