Dirty Business (The First Acer Sansom Novel)

by Oliver Tidy

  Tallis reasoned that while there was a chance, no matter how slight, that Botha’s men would turn up at one of the meeting places to check it out, then they should do their best keep themselves informed. He also argued that if no one fitting the description of Botha’s men showed for inspection visits, this would tell them just as much.

  Although Sansom struggled to see how no one showing for an inspection could help them, he kept quiet. In any case, they had nothing else to occupy them. Again, Sansom seemed to have submitted completely to the policeman’s will. After finding somewhere to refuel the car, he allowed the navigation system to guide them back to Bodrum and the addresses that Eda had suggested.

  Two of the restaurants were on the same exclusive and expensive stretch of beachfront, within a hundred yards of each other. The third was some minutes’ drive out into the country.

  The men, reluctant to split up for logistical reasons, agreed that with just the two of them they would take a position midway between the two seaside restaurants and do their waiting there. Sansom once again expressed his feelings of negativity regarding the chances of Tallis’s policeman’s hunch bearing any fruit. But with little else to do in the waiting game that they were involved in, he played along.

  They found a sheltered side street to suit their task. A corridor of closely-planted palms provided them with a shaded and shadowy avenue from where they could keep a watch on both establishments with the binoculars.

  With the Audi parked, Tallis, as the unknown, went for a look around the places and to get them some food and drinks to sustain them throughout their waiting. Sansom, binoculars on his lap, settled back in the leather seat, adjusted the air conditioning and began to wonder what he should be looking for in any visitors that arrived at the places to mark them out as Botha’s representatives.

  Sansom had been sitting for about thirty minutes compiling his mental list of criteria that could possibly mark out visitors to either venue as someone reconnoitring a place for a future meeting when they arrived, ticking all of his boxes.

  The big black Audi, a twin of the one he was sitting in, swept around the far curve in the road, made its way slowly to the nearest restaurant and pulled into the otherwise-deserted front parking area.

  Two men stepped out of the vehicle and from behind dark glasses spent a long minute casually surveying the surrounding area. They were dressed in identical suits, the same suits as those worn by the men who had come to Eda’s apartment.

  Sansom shrank back into his seat as he berated himself for not taking Tallis more seriously. It was a mistake he promised himself not to make again. He was grateful that Tallis had insisted that he park in such a position that a car in front of him blocked the casual view of a passer-by. If the men who were now looking in his direction were to recognise the Audi, make out the number plates, he would certainly be compromised.

  He watched as the pair walked into the place closest to him. His heart was thumping, not just with the proximity of enemies but also the realisation that he had people in front of him who may have taken Eda, who might know where she was.

  Once more the anger welled up inside him, threatening to push him into a situation that could both ruin his chances of recovering Eda and keeping his liberty, perhaps even his life. He forced himself to adopt Tallis’s tactics, even though a primitive voice from deep within him was denigrating him for a coward, urging him to have at them and fuck the consequences.

  He held on, knowing that he was doing the right thing. He eased his breathing, rummaged under the seat for the comforting feel of the pistol he had hidden there and bored his gaze into the scene ahead of him, wondering where the hell Tallis was.

  Two minutes later, that felt like ten, the pair emerged and got back into the vehicle. He watched as they pulled out of the forecourt and accelerated hard, back the way they had come. He was about to believe that was that when they veered off the road to pull into the forecourt of the second restaurant. Now there could be no doubt that they were preparing for a meeting.

  He watched as they went inside, waited as they did their inspection, and watched again as they came out into the glaring sunlight, re-entered the vehicle and left.

  Sansom relaxed his rigid frame. Within a minute, the ambling figure of Tallis came into view and headed along the far pavement towards him. He was clutching a supermarket carrier bag to his middle as one would if the handles had failed. Sansom mused that he had been right again and that one certainly should not judge a book by its cover.

  ‘You missed them,’ he said, as Tallis collapsed into the front seat.

  The policeman turned to Sansom and the look he gave conveyed to Sansom that he hadn’t. It also held an element of ‘I told you so’ about it, although the DI didn’t actually form those words. Sansom’s respect for the man was growing by the hour.

  ‘So, we know that they are still interested in a meeting with us,’ said Tallis, busy unscrewing the cap from a bottle of water. He gulped at the contents, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I’m not so sure it was them that snatched Eda,’ he said. ‘I agree with what you said earlier, if they do have Eda then they have no need to go through all this rigmarole. They simply dictate their terms to you over the phone.’ He drummed his fingers on his knee and stared thoughtfully through the windscreen.

  ‘Then it must have been the police,’ said Sansom. He felt a relief seeping through him at the prospect. While the police were clearly going to mean trouble enough for Eda in view of what she had done, it was a far better prospect than being taken by Botha’s lawless men. ‘She is well connected,’ he said, ‘has good legal representation. They might be able to arrest her and detain her, but they can’t physically harm her.’

  Tallis could see that Sansom wanted desperately to believe what he was saying and was not about to disabuse him of the possibility or dent his new mood by raising doubts or further concerns. He decided to keep his own concerns to himself until he could think things through. He needed Sansom positive and focussed.

  With time on their hands now before the hour at which Sansom was to call back to Botha, they agreed to forgo the delights that Tallis had purchased for them from the supermarket in favour of something more appetising and substantial. With notably improved spirits, Sansom suggested that they find somewhere they could both eat and rest well. After the night they had both had and the possible night to come, Tallis was happy to concur.

  They agreed that they must continue to exercise caution. While the newspapers almost certainly no longer carried the artist’s impression of the wanted man, and his recent drastic haircut would make him far less recognisable than he had been, it wasn’t worth being careless.

  They found a quiet eatery off the main tourist beat and ate well. Seemingly convinced that Eda was now not in any physical danger, Sansom’s appetite returned with a vengeance, while Tallis rarely passed up an opportunity to eat.

  They drove back to the underground garage that Sansom had patronised when he first arrived in Bodrum. After parking the Audi, they found a large and busy hotel close by. Tallis took a room with twin beds while Sansom waited for him in the bar. It was a simple task for Tallis to let Sansom know his floor and room and, after a suitable interval had elapsed, the younger man slipped past the reception desk and took the stairs to join him.

  Less than three hours after they had seen Botha’s men on the Bodrum seafront both men were asleep in the coolness of the air-conditioned hotel room.

  *

  A sense of déjà vu floated into Tallis’s waking consciousness as he became aware of the monotonous ringing of a telephone bringing him out of his slumber. Scrabbling it up, he was informed by the too-cheery young lady on the reception desk that the time he had requested for his wake-up call had arrived. It was five-thirty. Thanking her as sincerely as he could manage, he hung up and sat up, not trusting himself to close his eyes again. He was aware of Sansom’s similar movement behind him.

  ‘Five-thirty,’ said Tallis. ‘We’d
better wake ourselves up.’

  They filled the next twenty-five minutes by freshening up, making coffee and discussing the phone call to come. The all-too-familiar feelings of anxiety and apprehension were reawakened in both men. As before, Tallis outwardly managed his emotions better than Sansom, who needed to pace and fidget to release the tension in him.

  The thirty minutes passed quickly and at the appointed hour Sansom dialled. The call was answered promptly.

  ‘Mr Sansom, I presume,’ said the gravelly tones that Sansom recognised as Botha’s.

  Sansom shot a look at Tallis before acknowledging the man on the end of the line.

  ‘I’ll be at the Flamingo between nine and ten this evening. It’ll be your one opportunity to talk to me.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ said Sansom. The line went dead. He laid the phone gently on to the counter, his mind racing.

  ‘What is it?’ said Tallis, recognising that Sansom was looking a lot less happy than he should have been.

  ‘He knows my name,’ said the soldier. ‘They’ve got Eda.’

  ***

  22

  The men sat in another oppressive silence. Though he racked his brain desperately for an explanation, no matter how tenuous, Tallis was unable to think of another credible reason for Botha having Sansom’s name. He checked the time. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘we’re leaving.’

  Sansom looked up at him, still numbed from his realisation. ‘Where to?’

  ‘We’ve got three hours before he’s expecting us. I want to try to find that yacht.’

  ‘What? What’s the point of that? We drove all over the coast just this morning if you remember and it wasn’t anywhere.’ He stood – rattled and angry.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Tallis. ‘I don’t think that we need to go that far?’

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘The direction they came from this morning to the restaurants, the road that they came in on, it wasn’t from Akyarlar way. It was the road from Bodrum town. My money is on them being moored in the marina.’

  ‘And if you’re wrong?’ said Sansom.

  ‘When have you ever known me be wrong?’ replied the policeman, with a wry smile.

  ‘And if we find it?’ said Sansom.

  ‘When we find it,’ said Tallis, picking up the binoculars, ‘you will make sure that I get to the restaurant on time to meet Botha, as planned, then you’ll go back to that yacht and find Eda.’

  Now Sansom was grinning back. At last, the prospect of some action to engage himself in. He’d tired of sitting around, scurrying about, the interminable waiting. Finally, he could look forward to doing something. And if one or two of them got in his way, so much the better. He was in the mood for it.

  They left the hotel separately, with Sansom, at Tallis’s insistence, wearing the floppy hat that would plunge most of his face into shadow. Dusk was imminent, which could only benefit them as they walked the few streets from the hotel to the Bodrum marina.

  The marina was busy with tourists and local foot traffic; the promise of another balmy evening tempting the people out to eat, drink and be merry, soaking up the holiday atmosphere.

  As a pair looking rather like a father and son out for a stroll, they began a slow tour around the marina, using the floating walkways that Sansom had trod just a couple of days before. Pennants fluttered among the forest of masts in the gentle warm breeze. A myriad of craft, sailing and motor-powered, nestled cheek by jowl, squeezed in like sardines, their rigging gently pinging against the metal work – millions upon millions of pounds worth of ocean-going hardware.

  There was nothing resembling the craft they were looking for. And then Sansom remembered the area of the marina below the ancient city walls where he had seen the twin of The Rendezvous and other larger craft. He told Tallis of his previous experience there and suggested they should investigate.

  Tallis was willing to see the craft, seemingly oblivious to Sansom’s feelings for such a memory. But it was not to be. It was not at the mooring that Sansom remembered. In its place, a modern high-powered sleek craft gently rocked. Sansom felt spared and grateful. However, there was no sign of Botha’s yacht either. They came to the outer edges of the gently-bobbing flotilla, where the sea stretched uninterrupted away to the Greek island of Kos. Tallis followed Sansom up narrow steep stone steps to a surviving part of the original historic quay fortifications. Both were, once again, in dampened spirits.

  A step from the top, Sansom hesitated, putting out his hand behind him as a warning gesture. As Tallis followed him up and over the rampart, he saw what had taken Sansom’s attention. A large dark Audi, exactly like the one Botha’s men had used that morning, was parked in the security-monitored and obviously exclusive marina car park. A large man in a suit leaned idly against it, smoking. He didn’t appear to pay them any attention.

  They walked calmly away until they were a good distance from, and out of view of, the car park.

  Tallis was frowning. ‘It might not be Botha’s.’

  ‘We’ll soon find out,’ said Sansom. He gestured for the binoculars. The evening had progressed enough to make the boats anchored in the bay difficult to identify. It was impossible in the lack of light to read any of their names. Sansom took his time studying them one by one. He lingered particularly over something a few hundred yards out. Finally, he said, ‘It’s there.’ He pointed out the craft and handed the glasses to Tallis. He looked, but could not be anything like certain that it was Botha’s yacht from the image that Eda had provided.

  ‘How can you be sure?’ he said. ‘I can barely make it out.’

  ‘I’m not one-hundred-percent. But the lines of the bow and the stern are very similar to the yacht I saw in Istanbul moored at his estate and the photograph Eda provided. In answer to Tallis’s dubious look, he said. ‘I know boats.’

  ‘All right,’ said the policeman, ‘let’s say that it is. It’s no good to us moored out there.’

  ‘It’s anchored,’ said Sansom. ‘Craft are moored when they are fixed to something permanent. And it’s not a problem being where it is. Maybe it’s even to our advantage. If they were actually moored in the marina they would probably be far more vigilant on board. Out there they must feel safer, isolated, think that they can see any approach much easier.’

  ‘Well that makes sense because they can,’ said Tallis.

  ‘Not if the approach is made by a swimmer who knows how to get in close without being seen.’ Sansom smiled for the second time in an hour, something of a rarity, thought Tallis. However, this time there was a barely-concealed malevolence behind its thinness.

  He tapped his fingers on the railing for a few seconds, thinking. ‘OK. Let’s assume that it’s Botha’s yacht, but I don’t like not being sure.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said the soldier.

  ‘Do you have both phones on you?’ said Tallis. Sansom retrieved them from his pockets. ‘Let me have one. I can get a taxi to the Flamingo. It’ll be safer not to have you anywhere near the place. You stay here, keep an eye on things. If it is Botha’s yacht and if it is his car waiting there, then you’ll see him – although that’s still two too many ifs for my liking.’

  ‘I have no doubts,’ said Sansom. He handed over the phone he had taken from the dead man in Eda’s flat. They stored the number of his other phone in it.

  It was still two hours before the earliest time that Botha would arrive at the restaurant and so the men went to a nearby cafe to go over every eventuality that their separate evenings could throw up.

  Sansom appeared confident that he would have no problem getting out to the yacht undetected. Getting away from it could be more problematic, depending on what he encountered aboard.

  He had identified a small transport boat, probably used to ferry people to and from the vessel, tied up against the hull of it, which he could use. They could know nothing of what awaited Sansom on the yacht should he be able to get on board undetected; what he would come up against; what he would have to do between boa
rding and leaving it, and Tallis could only try to impress upon the soldier the need for caution and restraint. He didn’t want to be part of any bloodbath and the prospect of violence was anathema to him.

  After they had talked around it for some minutes, Sansom said, ‘Of course, you know that as soon as they realise they have a problem on board, they’re going to call Botha. That could put you in a very awkward position.’

  The look that Tallis adopted let Sansom know that this was not something that hadn’t already occurred to him. ‘Firstly, for Eda’s sake, we don’t have much choice, do we?’ he said. ‘Secondly, like you, I want to talk to Botha face to face. I want to hear what he has to say if I can get him to talk. Thirdly, you’ll just have to try to buy me as much time as you can. We’re meeting in a very public place. That will be to my advantage as well as his. I’ll take full responsibility for what happens to me.’

  Their meeting adopted a certain gravity when both men appeared to comprehend what lay ahead for themselves and each other. Both were about to put themselves in great potential danger, both were going out to find answers that couldn’t have been more important to either.

  With an hour to go and nothing new to say to each other, they agreed to part company, give themselves a chance to focus completely on what each had to do in the remainder of the night.

  As they stood outside the cafe they seemed to register each other in a new way, with a new respect for each other’s courage, but it was based on more than that: they had come to like each other over the few long days they had spent together. Tallis wanted to tell Sansom to take care; to make sure above all else that he came back safely and to bring Eda with him. Sansom felt an urge to say something personal to the older man, to thank him for what he’d done to help so far, but it didn’t happen. Such platitudes would have lent the parting an air of finality for their relationship that neither would want to admit was a possibility.