by Dawn Tamayo
“Let the party begin.” She said as she crawled on top of Oliver like a panther about to devour its prey.
“Sounds like my kind of party.” Oliver said as he welcomed her.
***
Helen lay looking at the ceiling as Oliver rolled off her. She could hear him chuckling to himself as he tried to regain his breath. She reached across him to the champagne bottle next to the bed and was surprised to find it was empty. Had she really drunk most of the bottle herself during their mini-sex marathon in bed? She looked across at the time, it had flown by, but right now time was irrelevant - she had no place to go and nothing to do. The ceiling gently swayed before her eyes but the numbness was beginning to give way to a familiar feeling which she didn’t want to feel. Getting up she reached for a throw from the bottom of the bed and pulled it around her.
“Where are you going?” She heard Oliver ask lazily from the bed next to her.
“We’re out of champagne, I’ll get some more.” She made her way unsteadily towards the bedroom door.
“It looks like you’ve had enough.” He laughed.
“Oh my darling Oliver, the party has only just begun.” She slurred slightly as she made her way out of the door and down the stairs.
Helen paused at the bottom of the stairs knowing full well that Mrs Becks would be somewhere nearby, then headed off in the direction of the aroma of food. She rounded the kitchen door and spotted Mrs Becks cooking something which smelt delicious. The old woman looked up at Helen as she came in. Helen laughed as she saw her looking her up and down, taking in her dishevelled appearance in nothing more than the throw from the bottom of the bed. “Would you bring our dinner up on a tray to the bedroom when it’s done please.” Helen said as she reached into the fridge and pulled out an ice cold bottle of coke and two glasses. She tucked the bottle under her arm as she walked out the kitchen and made a detour to Oliver’s office where she helped herself to a bottle of Jack Daniels from his drinks cupboard.
Helen made her way back upstairs feeling a little bad for being so curt to the old woman, but then she decided that she really didn’t care. In fact, right now she didn’t care much for anything or anyone, and she quite liked that feeling, it certainly beat the alternative!
Walking back into the bedroom Helen heard Oliver’s voice. She put the Jack Daniels and coke bottles down next to the bed along with the two glasses as he ended his call on his mobile phone.
“Who was that?” Helen asked not really interested but thinking she should try and make an effort.
“Just work, I’ve cancelled my appointments for the rest of the day.” Oliver ran his hand along Helen’s bare arm.
“And your appointment tonight?” She asked knowing he had an important meeting later that night.
“Don’t worry it’s all taken care of, I won’t be needed.”
“Good.” Helen said as she poured a generous helping of Jack Daniels into both glasses and then splashed in a little coke. She handed Oliver a glass as she clinked hers to his, and downed it in one. She didn’t like the feeling of clarity which was beginning to come through, she wanted to go back to the woozy wild abandonment. She watched as Oliver sipped his drink and poured herself another.
“Since when did you become such a party girl?” Oliver asked suspiciously - Helen had never behaved like this, downing drinks like they were water.
“Since I decided that being a good little girl got me nowhere.” She said downing the drink in her hand, it was a going to be a long night and she wanted to be drunk.
***
In the living room of the remote villa up in the hills of Marbella, Romero sat next to Maria with Carlos and Miguel on his other side. Captain Manesco and Detective Spencer were standing at the front pointing out various people on the laptop and locations on a map spread out on the table. Uniformed officers from ADOCU sat on the other seats and leaning up against the walls, all eyes were focused on the laptop screen. Each man and woman memorised the faces they were being shown again - even though they had seen them countless times before, there could never be too much preparation, not with something like this. They were all clear on their end objective: to capture the three men involved in the importation, smuggling and distribution of narcotics into Spanish water, through Spain and into the United Kingdom. But first they were going to need to let a dummy run go through without arresting the suspects so they could ascertain if anyone else was involved who they didn’t already know about. Only after the dummy run went through would they know for sure the way the smugglers worked and how they would be able to interrupt and take out their operation. They were sure this particular group were responsible for an estimated street value of twenty million Euros of cocaine passing through Spain and into the United Kingdom within the last six months, and they wanted to catch every single one of them.
It made Romero sick to his stomach at the thought of having to sit back and watch the drugs go freely between the importer and the distributor. But he knew this was a necessary evil to enable them to complete the operation with any measure of success. He looked across at Captain Manesco’s second in command at ADOCU, he hadn’t worked with him personally before, but he had heard of him by reputation and he was as hard as they came. Romero was pleased, because if it came to it then he would need him and the eight armed-response men he commanded to back them up.
Captain Manesco called the meeting to a close, confirming their rendezvous to be at twenty-three hundred hours in a back road not far from Puerto Banus’s Marina. The officers started to file out of the room and Romero moved to leave too, but Captain Manesco stopped him before he could get out of the door. Romero looked from the Captain to Detective Spencer who was standing next to him, and he knew what the conversation was going to be about. He walked back into the room and waited until everyone else had gone.
Captain Manesco started, speaking in English for Detective Spencer’s benefit, “You have something you want to tell us Romero?”
“No. But I think you have something you want to ask me.” Romero didn’t see why he had to bring Helen into this, it was private.
“Who was the woman?” Detective Spencer asked offering Romero a seat again.
Romero shook his head, he preferred to stand. “You know who she is, I suppose either Carlos or Miguel were in the surveillance van with you. They would have told you.”
“Her name is Helen Jones and she was a missing person who you recently got close to.” The detective said.
“Yes. That is correct.”
“It looked more than that. Just how close?”
“That’s none of your business, that’s private.” Romero said angrily, he didn’t take kindly to his business being poked into, and certainly nothing about him and Helen.
“It is our business if she can jeopardise the operation.” Captain Manesco said trying to defuse what he could see as a possibly explosive situation, he knew Romero well enough to know when he was angry.
“She won’t. It’s not like that.” Romero took a deep breath knowing he would have to divulge more than he would have liked thanks to a few whispered rumours. They were right the operation was too important not to. “You know how I found her and who she is, you must have checked her records on file by now.”
The two men nodded, of course they had called up her file as soon they realised someone had recognised him – Romero wasn’t supposed to have connections with anyone in Puerto Banus or Marbella, and their whole operation would be blown if it he was exposed.
“The Consulate put her in a horrible little bedsit and it wasn’t safe to leave her there, she was still suffering from a head injury. I let her stay with me while she we tried to find out who she was. That’s it. End of.”
Captain Manesco raised his eyebrow at Romero thinking there was probably more to the story than that.
“We became friends, she’s a nice girl. She stayed in my spare room, and that is all there is to it.” Romero lied, he hated lying to his old Captain but he knew he had to -
he had come too far with the operation to get kicked off it now.
“Will she tell anyone she saw you and who you are?” Detective Spencer had seen the look on Miguel’s face when he recognised Helen on the cctv screen in the surveillance van. When he questioned Miguel about it he knew there had to be more to it than just friends. Miguel had tried to cover it up but it was obvious, and he wasn’t falling for Romero’s line either. But he wasn’t going to push it, Captain Manesco had personally guaranteed Romero’s professionalism and competence, and he needed Romero right now.
“No, I’m sure of that.” Romero said painfully remembering the look in Helen’s eyes, he didn’t think she would ever spare him another thought again.
“Okay. But next time tell me first if something happens, don’t make me ask.” Captain Manesco said.
“There had better not be a next time.” Detective Spencer cut in, dismissing him.
Romero nodded and walked out the door.
Romero wanted some peace and quiet before the dummy operation later that night. He and Maria had stayed on surveillance all day right up until the briefing and he hadn’t had time to think clearly about his encounter with Helen earlier. Romero hadn’t expected to see Helen today, and even more than that he hadn’t expected to see the deep hurt in her eyes. How could she feel like that? What right did she have to feel like that when she was the one who had left him to return to her fiancé? She was in love with her fiancé, so she had no right to make him feel guilty for letting her think he was in love with someone else. He wasn’t her business now, she had thrown away that right when she put her engagement ring back on her finger and walked out his front door. Romero yanked his car door open, got in and turned the key. Right now he needed to run off his frustration and clear his mind - his trainers and the Marbella promenade were what he needed.
***
Romero, dressed in black with a bullet proof jacket, sat in one of the small speed boats with Detective Spencer, Miguel, and two men from the armed response units all wearing the same black protective clothing. Through his binoculars he had a good view of the El Paradiso and could clearly see Marcus Martinez on board sitting on the middle deck. In another small speed boat further out to sea not far from the invisible Moroccan Spanish water division line sat Maria and Carlos, they were waiting for the Moroccan smuggler to appear at their end. Back in the surveillance van was Captain Manesco and two other members of the operations team recording everything both boats saw. An armed response unit sat waiting in a separate van just in case anything went wrong. The Informant had said Marcus Martinez would be on board his boat the El Paradiso, and then he would be leaving Puerto Banus Marina and sailing out to sea where he would meet up with Omar Mustafa who would have sailed across from Morocco with the cocaine shipment. The transaction would then take place out at sea. After that he had no more information. Detective Spencer suspected the third man, the Englishman, was involved in bringing the drugs into mainland Spain and then through to England somehow, but only by following this dummy run would he be able to find out exactly how. He hoped the man would make an appearance tonight, but so far they had not seen him.
Captain Manesco radioed through checking they were in position. They were. Now they just had to sit and wait.
The radio crackled and Maria’s voice came through clearly, the little Moroccan boat had just entered Spanish waters. She gave its description and confirmed the sole occupant was Omar Mustafa, identifying him from his photographs. She confirmed she had not been spotted, and for them to proceed at Romero’s end. Romero knew the El Paradiso would be on the move soon, he readied himself to start up the boat and follow at a safe distance - they wouldn’t be spotted being far enough away to blend in with the numerous boats around the area at that time of night. Romero didn’t have to wait long, he watched as Marcus Martinez himself took to the wheel of El Paradiso and the boat glided out of the harbour. Much to Romero’s surprise it didn’t head straight out into deep sea, it manoeuvred out just enough to stay in deep water but turned off west heading further up the shoreline. Romero and Miguel looked at each other, this wasn’t what they had been expecting. Miguel radioed into Captain Manesco that they were on the move, but not as expected. He gave their current location and their westerly heading. Captain Manesco gave the order to the armed response unit to ready a boat which they had moored a little further up the coast and follow Romero - no one had expected the boat to sail westerly instead of straight out to sea, and he wasn’t taking any chances. The men moved quickly in response.
Romero followed the El Pariaso at a safe distance and slowed down to watch as the El Paradiso manoeuvred smoothly into the little Marina at Estepona. It was late, Romero looked at his watch - it was just after one a.m. and there were only a few bars still open by the looks of the subdued lighting. He moved his boat into a spot just outside the marina where he could get a better view of what was going on, and he wondered what was going to happen next - he knew the Moroccan shipment was on its way in, Maria had told them that, but no way was the little Moroccan boat going to sail right into the small marina and do the business deal there and then. The El Paradiso and Marcus Martinez had to be here for something else. Romero shut off his engine and waited. Miguel stood by his side as Detective Spencer sat at the back of the boat inputting information on his ipad.
“There’s movement.” Romero said as he motioned for Detective Spencer to join them upfront, he pointed across to where he was already looking through his binoculars.
They watched as Marcus Martinez stepped off his luxury yacht and casually walked up the Marina past several smaller yachts until he reached a man standing alone. He shook the man’s outstretched hand. Romero silently urged the new man to turn around, he couldn’t see who he was from behind, he could only see he was big built, not necessarily tall, just big. As if Romero’s silent plea was answered the man turned around and Detective Spencer let out a slow quiet whistle. Finally they had their first real sighting of the elusive third man; the Englishman, Frank. Detective Spencer gave verbal confirmation of identification over the radio to the other officers and Captain Manesco that this was the Englishman in the photographs. Romero looked at the man closely remembering Helen telling him she had seen him twice, but both times they were further up the coast in Benidorm. So why was he here in Estepona? Romero’s mind was ticking over; their source had said he was involved with the Moroccan and the Spaniard, so no surprise there, but none of them had been expecting to be sitting in the Estepona Marina tonight. Was it just a co-incidence he had been in Benidorm just before Helen was reported missing, and now here he was in Estepona? Of course he could have been on holiday up in Benidorm, but something didn’t sit right with Romero. Helen had said she didn’t know who the man was, and he believed her, otherwise why would she have pointed him out at Romero’s house earlier in the week? Romero opened his mouth to say something to Detective Spencer, then he stopped. He knew he should be telling the detective about the Englishman being in Benidorm and Helen, since she had come into discussion earlier in the day, but he decided against it. At the moment Detective Spencer wasn’t happy about Helen’s appearance at Puerto Banus as it was, equally he doubted he would be happy to know she had an encounter with the Englishman in Benidorm.
“What?” Detective Spencer said not missing a thing.
“I was wondering if you had any more news on this man?” Romero quickly recovered the situation.
The Detective shook his head. Romero was beginning to get a bad feeling, he couldn’t put his finger on what it was but he always trusted his gut and it was starting to give him warning signs.
They watched as Marcus Martinez and the Englishman walked towards a large coffee and cream coloured yacht similar to Marcus Martinez’s with its three decks and winding staircase, moored at the Marina. Both men walked up the gangplank pulling it up behind them, and set sail. Romero zoomed his binoculars in on the name of the boat but he couldn’t see it, it had been covered up with some form of black coverin
g. He grunted with frustration but kept his binoculars homed in on it just in case he could spot something which would give him a clue to the boat’s identity. Miguel took over at the wheel and started the boat engine, pulling it out to sea following the large yacht from a distance as Romero moved himself into a better position not to lose sight of the boat, and Detective Spencer radioed into Captain Manesco on their positioning.
Romero heard Maria’s voice come through the radio from her boat, she could see the large coffee and cream yacht dropping anchor ahead of her. Miguel pulled back and Romero watched from the distance as the small Moroccan boat pulled up at the stern of the large yacht. The Englishman appeared at the stern and shook hands with Omar Mustafa before the man passed several black holdalls up to him from his tiny boat. The transaction was completed within minutes and finally a package was handed back to Omar, and then the little Moroccan boat sped off into the distance. Maria radioed through that she would follow him back to the Moroccan border just to make sure that nothing else happened, and then rendezvous at the surveillance van.
Romero’s boat stayed put until he saw the big yacht moving away in the water. Taking over the wheel from Miguel he started his little boat up again and followed it back to Estepona where it moored inside the marina again. They watched as Marcus Martinez exited the yacht just as a catering van pulled up alongside it. ‘Very clever’ Romero thought – no one would suspect anything with caterers loading or unloading at that time of the morning. Romero checked his watch again, it was just past three am. Marcus watched as silver catering trolleys were brought out from the catering van and taken on board the boat. A few minutes later the same trolleys were rolled back down the gangplank and the ‘caterer’ nodded to Marcus as he closed the van doors. Marcus watched the van drive off as he walked back to the yacht.
