Zara's Game

by Jo Black

  As the time approached, Alex and Nish both relieved themselves of the vast quantity of hydration they had consumed, paid the bill in old local currency notes and departed. They stopped for gas, which consumed another 45 minutes as the attendant manually pumped the petrol from its tanker before filling the extended long-range tanks of the Land Rover by buckets. They paid for the fuel and then made their way on the main road south-west towards the Nigeria border where they knew the H.G.V convoy would be caught for several hours while the slow and bureaucratic African customs officers processed the endless stream of traders crossing. They caught up with the trucks three hours later on the long road in the middle of the night. As Alex had suspected, any opportunity to inspect the trucks’ cargo wasn’t presented — the P.M.C and suit-in-charge kept a close eye on their shipment as it crawled slowly through the line at the border, and each of the trucks had a full compliment of replacement drivers so they didn’t stop to rest. Experienced as they were, both Nish and Alex were highly skilled in using the cover of other traffic to maintain a watchful eye without the P.M.C’s becoming aware of being trailed.

  As they reached the outskirts of Lagos, the first element of their intelligence gathering was complete. Whatever was on the trucks was what had left Niger, and hadn’t been exchanged en-route.

  The trucks pulled into Lagos docks, Nish parked up near the perimeter fence and they watched as the convoy made its way to be offloaded in the customs clearance area. Nish had already taken note of the international standard identification numbers on each of the containers so they could be tracked once they were loaded onto one of the several large container ships now waiting in port. Nish spotted a small hotel with a direct view over the port’s cargo area. He left Alex briefly to maintain the observation whilst he went to the hotel, returning some thirty minutes later. They pulled the Land Rover into the hotel’s side car park under the shade of a carport, unloaded their bags, and made their way inside.

  Nish collected the room keys, they headed up a set of old wooden stairs to the uppermost of the four floors, unlocked the door and went in, dumping their kit on the bed. Nish pulled open the curtains shading the room from the afternoon sun, and stared across the commanding view the window gave over the entire of the wharf apron. Alex unpacked their camera with a telephoto lens and tripod then handed it to Nish to set up as he pulled a pair of chairs close to the window. Nish trained the lens down on the port then rigged up the output A.V line from the camera and plugged it into the video AUX-IN socket on the T.V. Alex turned the T.V on and switched it over to the channel to get the output signal from the camera.

  ‘You’re good,’ Alex said as the view of the port came up on screen. Alex took a portable video recorder, plugged it in the T.V’s AUX-OUT socket and set it to record. ‘You want to take first watch?’

  ‘Yeah I’m good,’ Nish replied. Alex took out some bottles of water from the minibar fridge and set them up for Nish before walked over to the bed, taking his boots off, and settling in to get some sleep.

  It was past one in the morning when, under the dock’s floodlights, the containers were finally unloaded from the trucks onto waiting collection stands. Nish was suddenly jolted into activity as he focused the camera on the suit-in-charge and the P.M.C’s boarding the middle of the three waiting cargo ships.

  ‘Alex, I think we’ve got something.’

  Alex got up and walked over to the window. He picked up a set of binoculars, focused it on the ship and watched as the P.M.C’s plus suit-in-charge made their way down the boat’s cargo deck.

  ‘Where are the containers?’

  ‘On the wait stand. You think that’s our boat?’ Nish asked.

  ‘Could be. They could just be getting a ride home. We won’t know for sure until they’re lifted. I’ll keep eyes on it, you go and ask around. Find out what you can about where they are going, and when they’re due to leave. We need to find out how long we have to act once we confirm. If they’re last on then we might not get on board in time.’

  ‘On it. You want me to pick up some food?’

  ‘Yeah, try and get something hot. And get some more salted pistachios.’ Nish grabbed his jacket and left leaving Alex to watch the boat.

  Nish returned some four hours later.

  ‘You took your time.’

  ‘Those port workers took a lot of liquid lubrication.’

  ‘You get anything?’ Alex asked as Nish unpacked the takeaway cartons onto the table. He pulled out a notepad from his pocket and tossed it to Alex.

  ‘Middle boat is headed for Mombasa, rear is going to Seoul. The lead boat is off to Buenos Aires.’

  ‘Mombasa?’

  ‘It’d be my guess. Could be trans-shipping on to The Gulf.’

  ‘When’s it leaving?’

  ‘We’re good. The chief mechanic is laying waste to the local women of the night. They’re waiting on a new fuel filter to arrive and fit it before they go. I’ve got us an in. They were short-crewed. One of the guys I lubricated with refreshments cousins has gone aboard as a deckhand. He’ll get us on the boat. Mechanic says security is tight. He thinks it’s because they’re running pirate alley, but I think it’s more down to those containers. They’re expecting to leave port around 2 a.m. tomorrow. We should get a look just after midnight when they switch to off-watch.’

  ‘What about the containers?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Not getting loaded until tomorrow after they do the first customs clearance inspection around 10 a.m.’

  ‘Good work.’ Alex unpacked his dinner and settled down to eat.

  They continued the observation throughout the following day as the Nigerian customs officer made a cursory inspection of the containers before they were sealed with tags and the port crew set to work loading them via the overhead cranes onto the boat. Alex and Nish watched intently as they traced them to their final position on the vast cargo ship loaded with containers stacked several high. Nish made a diagram of the deck layout and marked the row and positions of the four containers of interest to them.

  75

  Alex and Nish prepped their equipment and headed downstairs to their Land Rover, got in, drove out of the port and up the coast before parking on a small beach.

  They went round and got changed into their wetsuits and scuba gear. Nish removed a small inflatable dinghy and attached the air compressor from the Land Rover. Alex started the car’s engine and set the throttle to a fixed 2.5K R.P.M accessory position as the air compressor noisily filled with air and began to inflate the dinghy. Once it was assembled, Nish dragged the inflated dinghy down towards the shore whilst Alex brought the small short-range silent running electric powered outboard motor and attached it to the rear bulkhead. They locked the Land Rover, and then paddled the boat out before jumping in.

  Nish turned the outboard on whilst Alex pulled the dinghy’s nose up with a cord to clear the swell from the large Atlantic breakers until they reached calmer open water. Nish made the turn south once they were out of the light washing from the shore, and continued to trace a path round until they reached a large oil tanker sat anchored off an offshore pipeline loading point, some distance out from the shoreline.

  Nish killed the outboard power and let the dinghy drift in towards a buoy where Alex lashed it to an anchor point. They put their flippers on, checked their scuba gear and re-breathers before silently dropping backwards into the water.

  Alex looked at his wrist-mounted compass and got a bearing then turned on his soft cyalume marker that radiated a faint blue glow in the inky darkness of the water as they descended so Nish could keep track of his position. The pair began to swim silently underwater towards the port.

  The deckhand was busy mopping the rear deck behind the bridge superstructure as one of the routine security patrols made his way lazily round the deck. The deckhand nodded politely at him as he went past. He waited until he was out of view before walking over to the fire fighting and emergency cupboard and removing a black nylon rope ladder. He checked
he wasn’t being observed before connecting it to a pair of mounts on the side of the deck bulwark then gently lowered it over the side down to the waterline. He checked in both directions before throwing an orange overboard — the signal all was clear. From the inky black water, Alex and Nish emerged, spotted the orange bobbing on the surface and found their way to the rope ladder. Nish removed his expandable backpack and tied it securely to the base of the ladder. Alex and Nish removed their flippers and stowed them in the stash bag before climbing up the ladder against the side of the ship. They climbed over the weather rail and onto the deck and dropped to a crouch in the shadows.

  ‘You have twenty-five minutes before he will complete his patrol and pass again. You can store your things in here.’ The deckhand opened a metal bulkhead door to a cleaning cupboard. Alex and Nish removed their scuba tanks and gear then stowed them. The deckhand closed the door. ‘You must be quick.’

  Alex and Nish threaded their way along the deck through the shadows cast by the containers from the floodlights, using the gaps between to make their way down the long deck out of sight of the view from the overhead bridge. Nish got his bearings, and using the map he’d created, found the target containers. Alex went to the end of the row and kept watch of the guard making his way slowly down the long deck. Nish carefully removed the metal customs seal and eased the container locking pins open before slowly opening the door. Alex gave him the thumbs up then returned and they squeezed in through the container’s open door. Nish removed a waterproof torch to reveal the container was stacked full of metal silo drums. They worked quickly to pull one down. Marked with the fertiliser supplier company’s logo and details, plus a spray painted U.N reference compliance number. Alex opened the drum with a metal pry to reveal the contents — a brownish-tinged rough aggregate powder that looked like gravel. Nish took out a large metal flask and dug it into the powder to fill it before resealing it and securing it in his webbing. Alex quickly replaced the drum lid and they put the drum back where they found it. They exited the container and closed it. Nish replaced the metal customs seal with one he had procured from his contact in the bar. They made their way back down the lines of containers to the end of the ship to where the deckhand was continuing to mop the deck clean. He nodded at them all was clear, and opened the storage room door for them. They quickly got their scuba gear on and made their way to the ladder.

  ‘Good lad. I’ll get your reward to your cousin as promised before we leave,’ Nish said patting the deckhand on the shoulder.

  Nish and Alex made their way down the ladder silently slipping into the water. They replaced their flippers; Nish removed the bag from the ladder and gave the ladder a gentle tug. The deckhand quickly hauled the ladder back up, untied and re-stowed it with the fire and safety equipment. He was about to pick up his mop when the security guard made his way round the corner.

  ‘Hey no slacking off boy! You are here to work not fuck about. Get this finished quick!’

  ‘Yes boss.’ The deckhand returned to his mopping. The security guard put his head over the side of the ship and peered into the inky black waters. He frowned at the orange then thought nothing of it and continued on his way.

  Nish hauled the boat back onto the beach, relieved to find their Land Rover hadn’t been stolen by some enterprising nocturnal car thief, but figured they were all probably too busy writing out 419 scam emails — which seemed to be the new thing in Nigerian criminal circles as the Internet gained popularity. They packed the kit up and made their way back to the hotel.

  The following morning they watched as the cargo ship pulled out of the port shortly before 2 a.m. ‘By the time we get back we’ll be at least three days sailing behind her.’

  ‘I paid off the chief engineer. He’s told the captain they need to run in the new filters for several-hundred miles so he’s got limited revs. He should be capped to about twelve knots, we should be good to catch up,’ Nish replied.

  ‘In any case I want someone to fly on to Mombasa and keep an eye on its arrival.’

  ‘I’ll get on it.’

  ‘We’ll leave after breakfast.’

  76

  So is this stuff going to turn my balls green?’ Nish asked, looking at the stainless steel container. Alex smiled as he drove their Land Rover back out of Lagos on the route north back through Niger to Libya.

  ‘No, it’s pretty inert until you enrich it. Needs to go through a gas centrifuge. Things don’t get exciting until you’ve got 90 percent enriched U235. That’s weapons grade. Assuming you’ve got a physicist who can make the numbers work as they should. Miscalculate, and as Oppenheimer found out, all you get is an expensive damp squib firework and not the sort of bang that shakes the foundations of the earth.’

  ‘So isn’t it kind of risky letting Saddam know all this stuff is being buried in his backyard?’

  ‘It wouldn’t do him any good. Getting the components isn’t that hard. It’s the knowledge needed to make it all work that is tricky. The real security is round the handful of people with the brainpower and expertise to successfully build and detonate a nuke. The theory is all over the Internet these days. Pretty much any teenager with a copy of The Anarchist’s Cookbook has the recipe to make a bomb, but the timing to make it actually work is the tricky part. You need a room full of Einstein’s for that. Watch the guys that can make the thing, and you control who can realistically build the bomb.’

  ‘So how is this plot credible?’

  ‘Because people just imagine you chuck the whole lot in the microwave for three minutes and bake your proverbial nuclear cake. They don’t need to prove Saddam is credibly capable of building it; just that he’s bought all the bits and wants to. That’s enough to scare the voters.’

  ‘You know if they go through with this, business is going to be hard to come by. All the American shops are going to get the spoils of war in that theatre.’

  ‘I know. Back to doing shitty jobs, in shitty places, for shitty people, for shitty money. Not the sort of work that inspires the brightest and best to join our firm is it?’

  ‘You thinking about calling it a day?’

  ‘If we can’t sort this mess out, I don’t think we have much choice, do you?’

  ‘We always have a choice. It’s just a question if the choice you have is the choice you want.’

  ‘I’ve got enough to settle. You?’

  Nish smiled. ‘I’ve got the Latvians, plus a few quid in the retirement pot I saved for a rainy day.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘What am I going to do? Play bloody golf for forty years? What you going to do?’

  ‘I’ve spent my all my time so far ending lives. I’d quite like to know what it feels like to create one or two.’

  ‘You think Zara is the maternal type? I don’t see it myself.’

  Alex shrugged. ‘Time will tell. Trouble is Nish; I don’t think this business we’re in ever lets you out, not really. It lets you have a bit of downtime, but sooner or later it just sucks you right back in so it can spit you out again.’

  ‘Do you regret it?’

  ‘No. If I hadn’t have got in that car with you, hadn’t become Alex Green, I’d maybe have never crossed paths with Zara. She’s the one decision I’ve never regretted. If the price of our meeting was the world we inhabit, and can’t escape from, then I’ll bear that cost. Besides I don’t much like golf.’

  Alex paced nervously whilst Mister Patel prepared the solution from the sample they had taken for analysis. He put it in a centrifuge to mix it before removing the test tube and smearing it across a glass slide then placing it in the spectral analyser. The program worked for a few minutes before the printer spat out the results. He handed the printout to Alex.

  ‘This certain?’ Alex asked.

  ‘I’ve used three separate test samples. All came up with the same result.’

  Alex took a deep breath and sighed slowly handing the paper to Nish. ‘Get the last of the kit on the boat Sooty. Tell the captain to make
best speed for Mombasa.’ Sooty departed to finish packing the equipment. Alex and Nish walked back to Alex’s car.

  ‘So what now?’ Nish asked.

  ‘We still have to prove it’s going to Iraq, we still have to prove it’s being used for a bomb. If we don’t have that, we can’t convince Saddam the plot is credible. He’s not going to pay us to act on a plot that isn’t credible. You need to get to Mombasa. I’ll see if Zara’s dug anything else up.’

  ‘What are we looking for?’

  ‘Gas centrifuges, other weapon components, triggers, casings. She should have a list by now. I need to get us an expert. We need someone who can basically look at all this shit and provide witness testimony that they have the full package. When you get to Mombasa keep a low profile.’

  ‘Assuming we’re on?’

  ‘We try and cut a deal with Saddam. Worst-case scenario we do this job and split the bounty then go to ground. We’ll figure it out Nish. We always do.’

  ‘Where you going?’

  ‘I need to go to Moscow.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s wise?’

  ‘I made a deal with Grigor to buy us time. I have to honour it. I’d have liked to have more to act on than we have, but we’re out of time.’

  ‘You don’t want me to come with you?’

  ‘No, this is out of our hands now. I need you to keep on that shipment. That’s our only lead right now.’

  ‘You going to take her?’

  ‘I think it’s time. Whatever happens we’ll face it together. She seems to be resolved to that now. We’ll know the fate of the Russia House soon enough. If it falls then the situation in Iraq becomes academic. We’ve already lost. If you don’t hear from me within seven days assume the charter is gone, divide the assets and scatter on the wind.’