Crash Course

by Derek Fee

  The tide of people took them away in different directions and he didn’t rightly hear her reply. It sounded like “I love you.” He hoped he heard right.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Sheikh Safardi’s normally tanned features were white and tense as he strode through the white antiseptic smelling corridors of the Hôpital St-Roch in the rue Pierre Dévoluy in Nice. He had driven to the hospital as soon as he heard that Barrett had been taken there and had spent the relatively short journey from Cannes on the mobile phone. His shipment was right on time and the man he had employed to pick it up was lying somewhere within the walls of the hospital through which he was now striding. This wasn’t simply another business complication. The shipment of cocaine which Safardi was expecting in three days was the biggest he had ever made. It was typical of Barrett to almost get himself killed when he was needed the most.

  “Monsieur Barrett,” Safardi said to the nurse at the station on the fourth floor.

  The nurse looked up slowly. “Quatrième chambre à gauche,” she said before returning to her filing.

  Safardi walked briskly along the corridor and entered the fourth room on the left without knocking. Barrett was lying on his bed facing the ceiling. Safardi could see that his eyes were open and his left arm was encased in a white plaster cast from fingers to elbow. Otherwise, he appeared unhurt. He turned slowly and looked at Safardi.

  “Come to visit the patient, have we?” he said, licking his dry lips. “How very touching.”

  “I see that your brush with death hasn’t tempered your tongue.” Safardi watched as Barrett laboriously leaned to the side and sipped water through a plastic tube emanating from a glass on the table beside him. “One that lucky might be excused for immediately becoming a religious fanatic. Nobody who saw the accident can believe that you’re still alive. Of course, Milan wasn’t quite so lucky.”

  “That bastard Kane,” Barrett croaked.

  “Not this time, Graham. You did this one all on your own and you are one of the luckiest men on the planet tonight.” Safardi pulled a chair close to Barrett’s bed and sat down. “I spoke to your doctor on my way here. Quite frankly the man is incredulous that your injuries are of such a limited nature. However, he did confirm that it will be several months before you take your place behind the wheel of a powerboat again.”

  “Rubbish,” Barrett said pushing himself up in the bed with difficulty. “I’ll be out of here in the next few days.”

  Safardi stood up quickly and pulled back the sheet. Barrett was wearing a short white hospital gown. Safardi lifted the gown. Barrett’s body was covered with dark blue patches.

  “A broken arm and a couple of bruises,” Barrett said. “It’s nothing.”

  Safardi pulled the bedclothes up again and retook his seat. “And our shipment this week? I suppose you’ll be in top form to collect my ten million dollars of cocaine.”

  “Always business,” Barrett said, settling himself in the bed. “I’ll do the job you paid me for.”

  “My dear Graham. I have my largest shipment of cocaine arriving from Colombia in three days and there is absolutely no way that you’ll be able to fulfil your contract with me to collect it. You wouldn’t last ten minutes behind the wheel of a powerboat in your present condition. That leaves me in a certain amount of difficulty.”

  Barrett bit his tongue. “What will you do?” he asked.

  “I have been giving that question a considerable amount of thought over the past couple of hours. I must find myself another driver.”

  “I suppose so,” Barrett said resignedly. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “This will tickle you, Graham. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Kane. I think I might ask him to replace you.”

  “No fucking way!” Barrett pushed himself forward before collapsing back onto the bed. “If you do, you’ll be making the biggest mistake of your life.”

  “Maybe I already did that by employing you,” Safardi said. “Your little fling with Morweena Penhalion last year seems to have unhinged you. This year you’ve been nothing but a bellyful of trouble. Now you have this obsession with Kane which might have killed you and has placed me in a difficult and potentially embarrassing position. I had intended making a subtle approach to Kane but your little folly today has forced me to accelerate the process. I don’t like being placed in this position.”

  Barrett didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking. He had been associated with Safardi for long enough to know how the Arab’s mind worked. The smooth exterior hid one of the cruellest and most sadistic streaks in Europe. If Safardi didn’t need him anymore, he was in even more danger than he had been when the prow of his boat had begun to disappear over his head earlier that afternoon.

  “How do you know that you can trust Kane?” he asked, wetting his lips with his spittle.

  “I don’t,” Safardi replied. “All I know is that Kane seems to thrive on danger and he appears to have a moral sense which is no higher than yours. He’s a former soldier down on his luck and looking for the main chance. I assume that he is driving the Penhalion boat simply for the money or possibly for both it and the chance to bed Morweena Penhalion. All of which seems to indicate that he is an ideal candidate to work for me.”

  “That’s only the surface picture.” Barrett shifted uneasily in the bed.

  “Come now, Graham.” Safardi smiled displaying twin rows of sharp white teeth. “Your jealousy is beginning to show. Granted Kane is untried, but I have no doubt that he is one of us. Your stupidity has only speeded up the process.”

  “And what happens to me?” Barrett asked.

  “You concentrate on getting yourself out of here and back on the payroll. I don’t like to mention that you now owe me the advance I paid for completing the delivery.”

  A pretty nurse in a white uniform entered the room and was surprised when she saw the visitor. “Excusez-moi, Monsieur,” she said. “Je dois faire des vérifications.”

  “Je comprends,” Safardi replied in perfect French. “I’m finished here. Don’t forget, Graham, get in touch as soon as you feel up to it.” Safardi rose from the chair and moved slowly to the door.

  Barrett followed his every movement. Fucking bastard Kane, he thought as he watched the nurse lay out the tray at the foot of his bed. You’ve stolen everything from me and I’ll get you for it. He saw the nurse approach shaking a thermometer. Watch my words.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The sun was already high in the sky and light streamed in through the windows of Kane’s bedroom at the Majestic Hotel when he finally opened his eyes. Minute particles of dust floated like specks of gold in the yellow beams which slowly illuminated his world. He shifted his weight slightly in the bed and reached out to touch Morweena. The warm comforting feel of flesh eluded his fingers but a sharp ache served to inform him that his body was potentially wracked by pain from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. The secret to combating the pain associated with a hangover was immobility, he turned on his back and observed the white ceiling above his head.

  There had certainly been a party but Kane was unsure of either its location or its duration. He was also totally oblivious about the quantity of alcohol he had consumed. However, the sharp pain which shot intermittently through his head told him that he had consumed a lot. An awful, awful lot.

  Slowly memories filtered through his addled brain. He remembered David celebrating in true Cornish fashion by trying to spend the $200,000 second place prize money cheque in one evening. He lay staring open eyed at the ceiling and praying that he hadn’t succeeded.

  He found himself amazed at his level of concern about the future of the Penhalion team. It had been quite a long time since anything in his life had been important. The race had finished twenty hours before, but he still felt a thrill at being on the podium again. Karakatis, Tadeka, Jackson and the rest of the offshore racing fraternity now represented the challenge in his life. He suddenly wanted very badly to be the best.
He wanted to win all the races. Who was he kidding? He found the idea amusing and a little bit strange. He didn’t belong with the likes of Jackson, Hakonen and Tadeka. He was a London copper. That was the reality. In a couple of hours, he would be on the phone telling Davenport that the operation was in the toilet and Doc and he should be recalled. It was time to get back to the real world. Being a member of David’s team had rekindled something in him that he had long believed dead. He thought of Morweena. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he remembered leading her to his bedroom and her absence from his bed was a mystery. His mind reeled as he remembered their feverish lovemaking. His head wouldn’t lay off. Maybe he’d dreamed it. The operation was over and Morweena and David wouldn’t give him the time of day when they heard how he had deceived them. He thought of phoning her but any kind of movement seemed beyond him He wanted her badly but the drummers inside his head were pounding away.

  Kane closed his eyes. Did he really need to call Davenport? In one week he would be racing over the blue waters off Barcelona. He couldn’t wait. A placing in Spain would ensure the Penhalion team of one of the three coveted slots at Key West and a chance at the big money. He lay back fighting his hangover with thoughts of world championships and trophies stuffed with dollar bills. His thoughts turned to Barrett as he wondered what injuries the bastard had sustained and where their rivalry might lead.

  The loud ringing of the telephone cut into his mind with all the force of a jackhammer digging up a road. He prayed that the noise would stop but when it didn’t, he knew that it would continue until he picked it up. He sat up and winced as he stuck his hand out and knocked the receiver off the cradle. The jackhammer noise stopped immediately.

  “Mr Kane?”

  The noise was tinny and came from the loudspeaker in the receiver. He looked at the dangling instrument and then stuck his hand out and grabbed it.

  “Mr Kane.” The voice was more insistent.

  He put the receiver to his ear.

  “Yes,” he said. “For God’s sake, there’s no need to shout.”

  “Good morning, Mr Kane. It’s Mustapha Safardi. We met in Sorrento at the Palace Hotel.” Kane tried to clear his brain. Safardi was one of the investors in Barrett’s boat. Christ but he wished he’d taken a shower and had a million cups of coffee. His tongue felt like it was covered in fur. “Sheikh Safardi.” He summoned the maximum control into his voice.

  “Please call me Mustapha.” The voice exuded warmth. “Please excuse me for waking you so soon but I would like to talk with you if that would be possible.”

  “Fire away.” Kane heard his voice as though it were coming through a fog. Wake up you dumb bastard, he screamed in his mind. This was important. Safardi was connected with Barrett and he was Kane’s prime suspect. It was time for him to get with the programme.

  “Not on the phone.” Safardi’s voice oozed honey. “I have taken the liberty of having breakfast for two delivered to my suite and I was hoping that you would agree to join me.”

  “I’d love to, Mustapha.” Kane forced himself into full wakefulness. “But I think that I celebrated a little too much last night. I’m not feeling completely human this morning.”

  “I think it is quite important for both of us that we speak. Do you think that you could join me, room seven zero one?”

  “Keep the coffee warm. I’ll shower and be with you in ten minutes.”

  “Thank you.” The line went dead in Kane’s hand.

  Safardi’s suite at the Majestic was the kind of palace that Kane thought only existed in movies. The breakfast was laid out on a table in the living room. The service was silver or if it wasn’t it was close enough to silver that he wouldn’t know the difference. Safardi indicated a seat at the table and Kane sat. The cold shower had brought him fully awake and if he wasn’t exactly at the top of his powers, he was at least aware enough to know that something was going down and that he should keep whatever wits he had about him.

  “Breakfast.” Safardi lifted the lid of the plate in front of Kane.

  “No thanks.” Kane took a swift glance at the scrambled egg and bacon; his stomach churned. “Coffee will be fine.”

  Safardi played waiter and poured a cup of coffee. “I’m glad you agreed to join me.”

  “My pleasure.” Kane drained the coffee cup in one swallow and proffered it for a second fill.

  “I have been most impressed with your driving, both in Sorrento last week and here yesterday.” Safardi filled the second cup of coffee. “You have a wonderful future in the sport.”

  Kane sipped on the second cup wondering whether he had read the situation wrongly. Maybe Safardi was simply trying to recruit him for a future season of offshore racing.

  Safardi picked up a pitcher of orange juice and poured himself a glass. He offered it to Kane. “It’s freshly squeezed.”

  Kane shook his head.

  “You seem to thrive on the danger in the sport,” Safardi continued, sipping his juice. “That is an important element in success.”

  “I get off on it.”

  “I thought as much. I have a proposition that might interest you.”

  “Great, I love being propositioned.”

  “You are a very interesting man, Mr Kane.”

  “You can call me Mark. I find you interesting too, Mustapha, but I’m not that way inclined.”

  “Neither am I, Mark. The proposition I have in mind for you is a financial one.”

  “Those are the best kind.” He sipped at his coffee. “I love financial propositions where the finance is heading in my direction. What do you have in mind, Mustapha?”

  “I want you to do what you’re best at, Mark. I want you to drive a powerboat for me.”

  “No joy, Mustapha. I’m contracted to Penhalion until the end of the season. You’re a little bit behind the times.”

  Safardi lifted the lid off the plate in front of him and forked some scrambled egg into his mouth. “You don’t seem to understand, Mark. I have no desire to poach you from Penhalion. I want you to drive for me on special occasions. Outside of race times, I mean.”

  Kane’s pulse suddenly took on a life of its own and began to race. The cobwebs which surrounded his brain began to drop away and he realised what was being discussed. Barrett was out of action and the gang needed a replacement. Safardi was the boss man. Tom’s fool plan was working but only because Barrett was a stupid bloody idiot. “Okay, no problem. I race for Penhalion. What I do on my own time is my business.”

  “Right, and I intend to pay you a substantial sum of money for doing this favour for me.”

  “Now you’re talking.” Kane leaned forward. “What kind of money are we talking about?”

  “This one time. Fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Phewee. Fifty thousand dollars. I’d do anything for that. And all I have to do is drive a powerboat?”

  “That’s right.”

  “In a race?” Come on, you bastard, he thought. Hang yourself.

  “Not quite. But sort of. You’re interested in principle.”

  “I’m interested all right. Let’s have the details.”

  “That comes later,” Safardi said standing up. “I need you from today until Wednesday. Is that possible?”

  “For fifty thousand dollars anything is possible. What do I have to do?”

  “Be ready to leave the hotel in one hour. I will be in the lobby in exactly sixty minutes.”

  Kane stood and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Mustapha. A real pleasure.”

  “I hope so,” Safardi said, leading him to the door. “One hour. In the lobby.”

  “Check,” Kane said and left the room.

  Safardi closed the door and smiled. It had been infinitely less painless than he had anticipated. Kane was not the most intelligent creature he had ever encountered but he was not looking for a brain surgeon. He was looking for a man with nerves of steel who wanted money and wasn’t squeamish about how he came by it. And Ka
ne fitted the bill perfectly.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Kane returned to his room, picked up the phone, and dialled Tom.

  “It’s Mark. My room, ten minutes.”

  “What?!”

  “No questions. My room, ten minutes.”

  He phoned Doc and gave him the same message.

  Kane was packing his bag when the two men entered his room. While he continued stuffing clothes into his bag, he told them the content of his conversation with Safardi.

  “I forbid you to go,” Tom said when Kane had finished.

  “It was your plan. And against all the odds it worked. So far, we have nothing. Safardi has been clever enough not to tell me the exact nature of the favour he wants me to do. In other words, we have no evidence. Maybe he simply wants me to test drive his new boat. But I doubt it. Unless I go with him, we’ll never really know.”

  “It’s too bloody reckless,” Doc said. “We need to clear this with Davenport. There are protocols.”

  “To hell with the protocols. We’ve no time to go through channels.”

  “I agree with Doc,” Tom said. “You’ve gone far enough. I never wanted to put you in danger.”

  “We’re wasting time on a fruitless discussion,” Kane said. “I’ve got to meet him downstairs in twenty minutes. I’m going and that’s that. In the meantime, I want you to get de Vries to go over Safardi and Barrett with a fine-tooth comb. Understand.”

  Tom nodded his head.

  “What about Davenport?” Doc asked.

  “I’ll leave that to you. Only don’t call him until I’m gone.”

  “Thanks, he’ll rip me a new arsehole for not stopping you.”

  Kane felt comfortable with being in command. It would go down his way no matter what Doc and Tom thought. “Doc, you got to get inside Barrett’s room somehow. There must be something there to incriminate him.” He turned to Tom. “Any news on Barrett?”

  “Broken arm, bruising. He’ll be out in a couple of days.”