by Derek Fee
“You seem to have done well out of it.” Kane looked around the living room.
“Yes, but at what price. I live a very enclosed life. I do deals with people who would cut my throat as easily as they would shake my hand. I’m not in business for the money. Oh dear no.” He sipped his whisky and soda. “That’s why you interest me. Last week in Sorrento when I saw you racing Barrett for the last buoy, I knew that you were a kindred spirit. In those few minutes as you and Barrett toyed with death, don’t tell me that you were thinking of the prize money. I know that you were thinking solely of winning. The game is everything. Money is only numbers.”
“But it comes in useful if you don’t have any.”
Safardi removed a small plastic sachet from the folds of his dishdasha and tossed it on the coffee table in front of Kane. “Do you know what that is?”
Kane picked up the sachet of white powder and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “Dope?”
“You are looking at pure cocaine, the world’s greatest trading commodity,” Safardi said, a gleam in his eye. “The only commodity that rivals it on the world market is enriched plutonium. Tiny quantities are worth huge sums. The profits to be derived from the trade boggle the mind. It is the ultimate game. To supply the market against all the might and power of the world’s governments. That is the greatest thrill. You have a problem with running cocaine?”
“Not in the least.” Kane tossed the cellophane packet back to Safardi. “There was a time when I was in the market for such a commodity myself. I’m not enough of a hypocrite as to refuse to run what I once used.”
“Excellent,” Safardi said. “I think that you will prove to be a very useful addition to our operation.”
It was over, Kane thought. They had found who was responsible for Monica Bell’s death. “And if you’re caught?” he asked.
“Ah, therein lies the real beauty of the game.” Safardi’s face broke into a wide grin. “In Hawat, I am a prince. My brother rules over the peasants, the camels and the sand dunes. But we are a sovereign nation. And as such my brother in his wisdom has granted me diplomatic status. The Spanish authorities can take my house and raid my bank accounts but they cannot incarcerate me. I am like the Hydra. You may cut off my head here in Spain but I will grow another in Portugal or Morocco. Is it not a beautiful game?”
While you’re in the win-win situation, Kane thought. “You’re a very lucky man.”
“I am an extremely careful and diligent man.” Safardi finished his drink. “We should go in for dinner. Hassan is waiting to serve us.”
They sat at a long oak table on which two places had been set. Hassan deposited a plate of grilled king prawns before each man and retired.
“And where do I fit into your game?” Kane asked after Safardi had filled his wine glass with Rioja.
“Yes.” Safardi peeled the shell off one of his prawns and sliced into it. “It is time.” He forked half the prawn into his mouth and chewed. “Tomorrow night I have a rather large shipment of cocaine arriving off the north coast of Spain. The merchant ship which is carrying this precious cargo will anchor offshore and the cargo will be transferred to a specially constructed speedboat. The authorities have been getting too close of late. They follow the freighters from South America by satellite. They will not be far away when the cargo is transferred to my boat. As he approaches the Spanish coast, the captain of the freighter will make a series of course changes which will confuse the Spanish Navy. They will not be able to plot an intercept. That will be your edge. There is no doubt that the Spanish will have a vessel in the area and that that vessel will give chase. You will drive that speedboat and you will drive as though your very life depends on it. Because it probably does. If you are taken by the Spaniards, you will probably spend the rest of your life in prison. If you lose me my cargo, I will have you killed. It will be so much more thrilling than either Sorrento or Cannes.”
“Sounds like fun.” Kane bit into one of his prawns.
“I knew you’d see it that way.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Tomorrow morning, Jaime and two of my men will drive you north to Galicia. You will arrive at night. The boat is already waiting in a village we use for this purpose. Jaime will accompany you to the freighter and will unload the cargo. You will then bring it ashore, collect your money and rejoin your team for the next race.”
“Sounds like a piece of cake,” Kane said, finishing his prawns.
“It will be.” Safardi clapped his hands and Hassan reappeared. The dishes were removed and the main course of braised lamb was served.
“Now,” Safardi said. “When I was a young boy at Eton, I did so love the Boys Own tales of British bravery in establishing the empire. You really must tell me all about how you won the Distinguished Conduct Medal in Afghanistan.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Davenport looked at the two men cowering before him. “What in the name of the good God were you two thinking?” Red streaks of anger spread from his neck to his face.
Watson had informed London of Kane’s departure and Davenport had arrived in Cannes on the next available flight. “You’re supposed to be the adults in the room.” He turned to Watson. “You know the rules. We don’t allow an undercover operative to wander off without establishing a means of communication.”
“Mark had his mobile,’ Doc said.
“Which is now dead!” Davenport paced the floor in Bell’s room at the Carlton. “And the battery has been removed so we have no idea where he is at the moment.”
“We know he’s with Safardi,’ Bell said.
“Safardi has five properties that we know of and God only knows how many that we don’t know about. Kane could be anywhere.”
“At least we’ve established that Barrett and Safardi are up to no good,” Watson said. “And Mark was sure that they’re the ones involved in smuggling the drugs.”
“Great,” Davenport snarled. “I’m sure the judge will be delighted to take Kane’s word for it. There was a plan which involved establishing who was involved and then mounting a proper police operation to bring the miscreants down. That plan is now in the toilet because Kane has gone rogue and you two simply let him.”
“He’s a hard man to stop when the bit is between his teeth,’ Bell said. “You know him better than all of us. The question is where do we go from here.”
“Ideally we need to establish communication,” Davenport said. “But the situation with the mobile means that Safardi will try to make sure that we won’t succeed. I’m afraid we’re between a rock and a hard place. Kane is out there alone, with no weapon and planning on the hoof. De Vries has put the word out to all the national police agencies to be on the lookout for Safardi. He could be anywhere. It’s one of the disadvantages of a Europe without borders.”
“What if Mark and Safardi are no longer together?’ Watson asked.
“That is a possibility,” Davenport said. “Has Kane mentioned anything about his recent missions?”
Bell and Watson shook their heads.
“He helped to take down an especially vicious Jamaican drug gang led by a man named Veeral Hackett. Our great judicial system let Hackett out on bail and he fled. We’ve got intelligence that he holds a grudge against Kane and has offered a bounty to anyone who gives him information on where he can be found. We’re scouring Britain for Hackett but he might already have left the country.” Davenport stopped pacing and slumped into a chair. “I’ve been at this game for twenty years and I’ve never lost a man yet.”
“Unfortunately, there’s a first time for everything,” Bell said.
“I have an SO10 team ready in London and the RAF have a plane on standby. It all means nothing if we can’t locate Kane.”
“What do we do?” Watson asked.
“Praying might be useful,” Davenport replied.
Chapter Forty-Three
It was five o’clock in the morning and a pall of darkness hung over the gilded shore that
lay directly outside Kane’s bedroom window. He stared into the blackness waiting for the first rays of light to break from the east. The smell of eucalyptus was heavy in the early morning air and the gardens of the villa echoed to the noise of the crickets. He’d slept fitfully. The old dreams had returned, perhaps fed by the made-up stories he had told to regale Safardi. The sheikh was an attentive listener. He had the voyeur’s interest in death and destruction. It was better to hear about it first-hand than to take part in it. Davenport had foreseen the possibility that Kane would have to recount his war stories and had provided him with a file of genuine escapades but the thoughts that kept him from sleep had nothing to do with the war in Afghanistan. He wondered if Morweena and David would forgive him when they learned the truth. His feelings for Morweena were responsible for a sea change in his view of the future over the past three weeks. Perhaps he wasn’t doomed to carry the cross of his police service on his back for the rest of his life after all. Now all he needed was the chance but before he would get that he would have to hand Safardi and his cohorts to Davenport on a silver platter. After what he’d seen around him at the villa that would not be an easy task. Safardi would have only to wave his diplomatic passport at the Spanish authorities and they would have to back off. But that wasn’t his concern. He had been charged with finding the culprits and providing some evidence against them. Davenport would have already been informed that he’d gone rogue. He was an experienced undercover operative and he’d ditched a plan that had been developed by his superior. That would gain him lots of demerits. One man without ordinance against a gang armed with Uzis. He must have been mad.
The light came first in tiny finger beams which cast a faint orange-yellow glow over the bare hills to the east of the villa. Kane watched as the fingers slowly elongated and spread themselves between the crags of the hills and the gaps between the villas. The sea came into view as the golden beams struck the water and were reflected towards the land. Kane watched the dawn with wonder. It wasn’t the first such scene that he had witnessed but he felt that there was a sense of portent in it. The first rays hit his face, the early morning sun emitting surprising warmth at this time of year. He stood watching as the light flooded the compound of the villa directly below him. The spreading rays picked out the four guards who sat positioned around the edges of the compound walls. Each man had his Uzi machine gun slung over his shoulder. Kane was suddenly aware of the very precarious position in which he had placed himself. He was alone and dealing with menacing and ruthless people. Maybe his luck had run out.
Chapter Forty-Four
Kane sat quietly thinking until seven o’clock and then showered and dressed. He was not surprised to find that the door to his room had been locked from the outside. He hammered on the stout oak panelling and the key instantly turned in the lock. When the door opened, he was confronted by Jaime’s dark Indian eyes which didn’t show any emotion. He wondered whether he had spent the night at his door or whether he had shared the task with Pedro. The Colombian motioned him out of the room. Kane was more aware than ever that while he had penetrated Safardi’s operation he was not yet trusted. He had no ‘pedigree’. That would mean that he would be closely watched but that wouldn’t necessarily be a problem. Kane had no intention of fleeing his prison until he had enough evidence in hand against Safardi.
Jaime led him to a terrace overlooking the villa’s swimming pool. A wicker table had been set for breakfast.
“El Jefe is coming.”
Kane was taken aback by the soft voice which came from the big Colombian. The accent was American.
“You speak English,” Kane said.
“Some,” Jaime said. “I learn in Los Estados Unidos. I watch television. I learn many words. Sit.”
Kane sat. From the look on his guard’s face, he could see that the conversation, such as it was, had ended. The smell of the coffee was more than he could stand and without waiting for his host he poured himself a cup. I could get used to this life, he thought, looking out over the swimming pool where a jean-clad retainer was running a cleaning machine over the base.
“Good morning.” Safardi joined him at the table. He had dispensed with his dishdasha and was dressed in a light tan shirt and trousers. “You’re up and about early. Excellent. Let’s have some breakfast.”
“I’ve already begun,” Kane held up his coffee cup.
“What can Hassan get you?” Safardi’s mood was light and his face wore a permanent smile. “He’s a marvel with eggs. Makes a wonderful peasant’s omelette.”
“No thanks, I was never big on breakfast. No insult to Hassan but I’ll stick with coffee and a piece of fruit.”
“Likewise,” Safardi said, waving his hand and dismissing both Jaime and Hassan. “I should fill you in on the plan for today.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “We have a little excursion to make. Then as soon as we return, Jaime and some of my men will accompany you north. Our freighter is right on time. By tomorrow we will, I hope, all be significantly better off financially.”
“And the purpose of today’s excursion?” He peeled an orange.
“It’s by way of getting to know each other better.” Safardi flashed his smile again. “Now that you have agreed to work with us, I think you should get to know who we are. Please indulge me. I assure you that it won’t take long. But enough of business. How did you sleep last night?”
“Like a log,” he lied.
After breakfast, Kane went to his room accompanied by Jaime and did what amounted to his ablutions. When he was ushered through the front door of the villa, Safardi was waiting beside two light-green Range Rovers which were pulled up in the driveway, the second of which was already loaded with men while Pedro sat in the rear seat of the first vehicle.
“You will travel with me, Mark.” Safardi opened the passenger door while Jaime took his place beside his friend.
“Thanks,” Kane said as he took his place in the passenger seat. As soon as he was settled, he looked over his shoulder and found himself looking directly into Pedro’s dead black eyes. He felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine. The sooner that Safardi was out of business and Jaime, Pedro and the rest of the gang were in prison, the safer he would sleep at night. Being the individual who would rat on these people wouldn’t be the healthiest occupation in town.
“Have you ever visited the south of Spain?” Safardi said, starting up the engine.
“I’ve never visited any part of Spain,” Kane replied.
“It is quite a beautiful country.” Safardi let out the clutch and the car rolled smoothly along the drive and onto the small road leading to Marbella. “My people, the Arabs, dominated this part of Spain for over two centuries,” Safardi said as they passed through the centre of Marbella.
Tourists sat in cafés or wandered aimlessly past souvenir shops totally unaware of the little cavalcade.
“Most of the cities in the south were founded by the Muslims,” he continued. “The classical Arab features can still be seen in many of the Andalusians. What a pity that my forebears had given up title to this land before the British and German tourists had arrived to buy it up. The poor tribesmen of Morocco had been sitting on a fortune in real estate but hadn’t realised it. Maybe if they’d known what was in the future, they might have fought harder to hold on to it. We’ll be travelling around the coast, past Gibraltar and then along the Costa de la Luz towards Cadiz. Our destination lies beyond Cadiz and I assure you it will be well worth the visit.”
Kane glanced into the rear of the car and noticed a faint flicker of life in Pedro’s eyes.
Safardi eased the car onto the busy highway which ran parallel to the coast of the Costa del Sol following the signs for Estepona.
“Sit back and enjoy the trip. The scenery is wonderful.”
Kane observed that the coastline to the west of Marbella was noticeably less developed than that which they had travelled through on the way from Malaga airport. The apartments, hotels, and villas fizzled out b
eyond the town of Estepona to be replaced by nature in the raw. Brown sun-parched hills descended towards the rocky coastline which in its turn overhung long sandy beaches. As soon as they passed Algeciras, the apartments became non-existent and the distance between cantina type establishments offering tourist accommodation became greater. Beyond Tarifa, traffic fell off dramatically and the road suddenly cut inland skipping between sets of low hills. When the sea was visible, Kane could see the brightly coloured sails of yachts and windsurfers in the distance. Looking out over the scene of holidaymakers and sun-drenched beaches it might be easy to forget that he was travelling in a Range Rover with three ruthless men, one of whom was a self-confessed drug baron. But he wasn’t worried so much by Safardi. Jaime and Pedro and the men that he had seen piled into the second Range Rover were a totally different matter. Kane was in the hands of some of the most violent men on earth. No matter how lulling the scene of tranquillity outside the windows might have been, he realised that he could not afford to either antagonise these men or indeed drop his guard for even one second.
The two cars travelled west in tandem at a sedate pace along the Costa de la Luz towards the town of Cadiz. They skirted Cadiz to the north taking the Autopista del Sur in the direction of Seville. Kane sat back as the two vehicles joined the stream of traffic heading towards the capital of Andalucía. He knew better than to ask where they were going and why. He closed his eyes and thought about Morweena, wondering what she was doing at that precise moment. Probably trying to torture his whereabouts out of poor Tom or Doc. He pitied them having to deal with her in that kind of mood. They travelled along the eastern side of the Guadalquivir valley through flat lands scorched by the summer sun. Twenty kilometres from Seville, Safardi turned off the highway at a sign indicating ‘Los Palacios y Villafranca’. After travelling a further two kilometres on a spur road, they turned off onto a barely discernible track.
