The well-lit parking area, where Demetrius and Nikos had left their Aston, was intended for those with boats moored out in the bay. From the shadows, Cameron watched the two men walk the length of a long concrete dock past a series of tethered dinghies. Nikos climbed into one of the dinghies near the end of the long dock, followed by his father. Demetrius untied the line and then pushed the boat away from the dock. Cameron watched Nikos tug a few times on the four stroke motor cable. With a purr, the dinghy veered out of the pool of light cast from the dock and into the bay.
A short way out, a number of masts sprouted from the surface of Talamanca Bay. Mooring lines, strung with lamps, appeared to rest on the reflecting amber sheets that shot across the still water from the shoreline hotels.
“Which one?” asked Pepe. His elbow supported him on the center console as he watched the two Greek men motor away.
“Excuse me?” asked Annalisa.
“Which sailboat? They are heading out to one of those boats,” said Pepe. “I am guessing one of those three larger yachts.”
“The smaller one on the side,” said Annalisa.
“I would have guessed one of the larger ones,” said Pepe.
“If you think thirty-eight meters is small. Anyway, the size is not what makes the yacht special. The Azulejo is over one hundred years old. Mister Stratos took great pride in restoring and racing the luxury yacht. His son shares the…” Annalisa hesitated, “affection.”
Cameron smirked, “Another one of a kind.”
“Hmm,” said Annalisa.
“Well,” said Pepe. “Demetrius and his family did not get to where they are without flaunting a little.”
“I told you,” said Annalisa. “The Stratos men have the means to obtain what they want, by purchase, or other… Well, they have the means.”
“To take what they want,” said Cameron
“I am sure they do,” said Pepe. “Rather Machiavellian.”
“To take what you want?” asked Annalisa.
“Not that,” said Pepe. “I am referring to the power a one of a kind item brings to those like Stratos that wish to attain and maintain power.”
“How so?”
“There is more to the acquisition of particular items. A key to creating and maintaining power is to create compelling spectacles, full of symbols that heighten presence. Machiavelli said people are always impressed by the superficial appearance of things.”
“I may disagree that a century old luxury yacht is superficial.”
“Does owning the boat make a difference in the man?”
“Fascinating, Mister Laroque,” said Annalisa.
“Yes, fascinating,” said Pepe. “There is another fascinating key to maintaining position and power that you appear to know so well.”
“What is that?”
“Pose as a friend, work as spy.”
“I’m sorry?”
Cameron smiled, “I do believe Stratos is genius for sending you in. You are top notch, short of weapons training. Where did you study?”
“Cambridge, then Harvard Law.”
“Huh,” Cameron glanced over at Annalisa, her naked flesh beneath the sheer blouse glistening bright in the dim interior of the car. “Brains and beauty,” he said. “A slam dunk really.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” said Annalisa.
“Sure you do,” said Cameron.
Annalisa hung her head down for a moment and then, in a soft tone said, “Foreknowledge cannot be elicited from ghosts and spirits, it cannot be inferred from comparison of previous events, or from the calculations of the heavens, but must be obtained from people who have knowledge of the enemy’s situation.”
“Sun-tzu,” said Cameron. “He was right, tough to shoot ducks blindfolded.”
Pepe held his hand out between them. “The earpiece please.”
* * * * *
Chapter 69
Talamanca Bay, Ibiza
Even without the motor, the dinghy swiftly glided across the smooth surface of Talamanca Bay. From the dock, the bay had appeared mostly brilliant with the reflection from the lights of the beach hotels and mired with shadow where the light was absent. Out in the midst of the harbor, the above light of hillside Ibiza Town, and the myriad of stars that peppered the sky, made the interior of the small craft as well lit as the shore.
The Azulejo, like the other yachts near her, was lit by the strings of lamps along her moorings and up her masts. Cameron and Pepe saw two other dinghies tied to her stern. One of the dinghies had been brought out to the luxury sailing yacht by Demetrius and Nikos ahead of Cameron and Pepe, the other they surmised may belong to Azulejo. Perhaps Nikos had assigned someone with the task of caring for his captive. The task of feeding and securing Christine, ensuring she not leave the yacht, taking measures she remained below.
Men bickering, peaked with a few hollers, carried across the surface of the water.
Cameron’s mind wandered to what he and Pepe would find inside the cabin. His stomach tightened.
The end of the dinghy’s towline was looped and ready. Pepe snagged a cleat at the stern. Cameron palmed some resistance to the warm hull as Pepe softly pulled the small craft tight to the yacht. No one was on deck. Light escaped from the open cabin.
The occupants of the yacht no longer quarreled loudly. The discussion ensued, muffled below within the hull.
Weapons drawn, Pepe and Cameron eased themselves onto the deck of the Azulejo.
Hunched over and incredibly nimble for the added girth of his age, Pepe scurried toward the foredeck hatch, the most likely place to find his sister. Cameron remained aft and waited until his partner was in position. From around the mast he could see Pepe lift the forward hatch.
His head focused below deck, Pepe threw Cameron a hand signal to signify he thought the forward cabin was clear. That was good and bad. The signal also meant Pepe did not see Christine. Then Pepe slipped into the yacht.
Huddling next to the main cabin door, Cameron began a slow count to five to allow Pepe to work his way aft. Though the forward cabin may be empty, Cameron was certain that at least Demetrius and Nikos were beyond the open hatch in front of him. There was also someone else with them. Cameron was close enough to make out the discussion. Someone was speaking with a British accent.
An accent Cameron immediately recognized. He knew the owner of the third dinghy well.
On the count of five, Ruger in hand, Cameron swung around and into the main cabin. Pepe pushed open the opposite door. Between Cameron and Pepe was Demetrius and Nikos. Signaled by the earpiece Demetrius took their entry in stride, while Nikos, having seen the two men kill firsthand, twitched his head uncomfortably side to side. On the side berth, in front of the Greeks, half awake, drugged, Pepe’s sister Christine. Sitting on the berth next to Christine, one leg casually crossed over the other, his arm protectively wrapped around her, and his Walther PPK pointed at the father and son, was the yellow haired Alastair Main.
* * * * *
Chapter 70
Talamanca Bay, Ibiza
That Pepe had not shot every breathing being upon entering the cabin, besides Cameron and Christine, was a marvel. Cameron had his Ruger drawn in the general direction of father and son. Pepe had his Beretta raised to Nikos’ head. Key to the two of them was that Alastair had his PPK pointed at the mogul and his scion, though neither Cameron or Pepe wanted to decipher Alastair’s reason or intent. Unwanted doubt eased its way into their heads, memories of a past life flooding them with confusion. Not merely any other man, Alastair Main was brother-in-arms to Cameron and Pepe, more than that, a real brother, as tight as blood. The man was a Green Dragon of the highest honor. For an unfathomable number of missions Alastair, an unquestionable shot with camera or rifle, had been the unseen back up, hidden in a van or high on a perch. Alastair had saved Cameron’s life on countless missions.
Neither Demetrius nor Nikos immediately spoke. Neither appeared dumbfounded, though Cameron calculated a safe bet would be that
the two were not accustomed to having guns pointed at them, let alone three.
Cameron opted to size up what he and Pepe had walked into. They were leaving with Christine in a matter of minutes regardless, and if Pepe lost patience and began to drop wealthy Greeks, well, that would have to happen. Cameron smirked in the most devious fashion. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said. “Sorry we were late. Did we miss anything?”
Pepe pressed his Beretta to Nikos temple. “We must be missing something.”
“I had planned on having this wrapped up before you arrived,” said Alastair. “Then again, I expected you a bit sooner, so I suppose the delay is mine.”
A proper response from Alastair, a good sign.
Pepe grunted, “Cameron has spent too much time with Americans, always late.”
Cameron whimsically raised a brow. “We were detained.”
Apparently made confident by the banter, Demetrius spoke up, “And where is my lovely assistant?”
Pepe chuckled, “Miss Droukos is in the trunk of the Aston Martin.”
“She’s safe,” said Cameron. “Pillow, blanket. We didn’t want any interruptions, you understand.”
Demetrius nodded his head, and then said, “I understand.”
“I heard part of a…” Cameron paused flashing his eyes between Nikos and Alastair, “discussion when we arrived. Do continue.”
Alastair raised his chin. “Mister Stratos was just asking Nikos to explain himself.”
“Yes, gentleman,” said Demetrius. He pressed his hands down into the air to express his case. “I assure you that I do not condone whatever has led to Miss Laroque residing on this yacht in—” he hesitated, “whatever condition she is in.” He shifted his attention to Nikos. “Can you please explain to everyone what is going on.”
Pepe pulled the Berretta a small bit away from Nikos’ temple and then jabbed the barrel back against him with enough force to cause the playboy to shuffle. “Yes, please Nikos,” said Pepe. “Explain to everyone what is going on.”
Demetrius’ eyes flared contemptuously at Pepe.
A spoiled man-child always told yes, and never maliciously assaulted, Nikos cheeks flushed at Pepe’s blunt strike to his temple. His contempt, however, appeared to be directed at his father. Nikos acknowledged Pepe, his mouth tight across his face, leered at his father, and then he began to lash out. Tossing away the feint persona of the playful jetsetter, his tone became defiant and full of disgust, “You never believed I could set up my own deals. I wanted to show you I could.”
Demetrius shook his head. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “That thug Dada had several contracts with me. He has done work for me and everyone else. You merely tried to broker a contract that was already set with Abbo.”
“I wanted something more than that.” Nikos’ lip curled to a snarl. “Everything is you, you, you. I wanted to set up a future for myself. My empire.”
“That is ridiculous.” Demetrius held up a finger. “One day, everything that is mine will become yours.”
Nikos raised his voice, “No. I wanted something that was mine. I found out from Feizel the deal you had with the National Volunteer Coast Guard. He bragged about the deal. For five euros a ton, his father allowed you to dump millions of tons of hazardous waste into Somali water. The fool thought his father was a genius. I know better. You charge one thousand euros a ton across Europe, pay the fool a fraction, and then pocket the difference. I made a better deal with Ibrahim Dada.”
Demetrius frowned, “You found another fool.”
Nikos scowled, “I figured if I could take Abbo out of the mix and get Dada the deal, he would cut me in, and I was right. We agreed he would charge ten euros a ton and give me three. He was happy to make the deal. He already had almost all of the arranged hijacking contracts. He was already going after control of Abbo’s gun trade in Dubai, and with control of the waste and fisheries, he would have everything.”
“You’re heir to a billionaire,” said Cameron. “Why bother for a few million euros?”
Alastair frowned, “All of this trouble because of daddy issues.”
Pepe shook his head, “He wanted to prove he could undermine the old man.”
Demetrius gazed at Nikos in disbelief. “You are my son,” he said. “Why would you do this?”
“To show you I could,” said Nikos. “Hijacking the Kalinihta was easy to pin on Abbo. Feizel was on board from the start. I convinced him we were the new generation, the next regime. He ate that up.”
“You are the next generation,” said Demetrius.
“Yes, but like me, Feizel did not want to wait for his father to die to take his turn. He wanted to show his father that he was capable of doing more in their clan. Dada provided the men to take the Kalinihta, and the Somali Marines had taken the compound north of Kismayu from the Merca Group, close enough to call the place Abbo’s. Feizel loved the plan. My old buddy Feizel was partying with me all the way from the Seychelles to the compound. Dada even supplied the additional explosives to level the place when we left. Bit overkill, I admit. I thought the over the top explosions would be the give away.”
Cameron was puzzled. “Feizel had a gun pointed at you.”
“Yes, he thought that was part of the plan, and well, it was. I put an unloaded gun in his hands and told him we would be safe if he pointed it at me,” said Nikos. “He was so high he would have done whatever I told him.”
Pepe stared stone-faced at Nikos, and then said, “He kept waving the gun back and forth.”
“My .50 caliber Desert Eagle is gold-plated, very heavy, and I don’t think he’d ever held a gun before,” said Nikos. “He did not even know the thing was Israeli or he probably would not have touched it. The only part of my plan that was missing was how to safely get myself out of there without anyone finding too much out.” Nikos leered at his father. “Your people may have been too thorough.”
Alastair shook his head. “And that’s where I came in.”
Nikos nodded at Alastair. “Alastair had been my safari guide in Kenya, and I had gotten to know him. I knew he had once been a commando. I invited him to ski in Gstaad where he blended right in. Did you fellows know your friend here is descended from the peerage? His real name is not even Main, that’s his middle name. His real name is Alastair Main Bulteel-Boyd.” Nikos winked at Alastair. “You didn’t think I knew. Bulteel-Boyd in the SAS before the GCP and then off the radar for a while. I did a background check, of course. That’s how I found out we both knew Christine and then, more importantly.” Nikos tilted his head back toward Pepe. “I accidently make the connection of how he knew Christine; he saw a photo of me with my arm around her, and recognized her right away. I remember he told me that if anything ever happened to Christine, there would be a string of commandos at the door.” Nikos held his hands up in the air. “And then like magic, everything came together. And he was right, you two flew into the rescue with no questions asked.”
Pepe swung his Berretta over toward Alastair’s face. His already red eyes glazing, “You did this for money.”
Alastair held his hand up in defense toward Pepe. “Whoa! Whoa! He played me the same as you. I thought we would find her in Dubai. When Abbo mentioned Dada I suspected a double-cross and tracked Nikos here.”
Demetrius grabbed his son’s shoulder. “Why do you have the girl?” he asked.
“At the compound, everything was falling into place. Dada’s man Tijon, the bald giant, had shown me the exhilaration of pain when I let him beat me. The adrenalin mixed with the cocaine Feizel and I did back at the compound helped me see my—” Nikos pursed his lips, “—invincibility. I knew I could finally begin to make things really happen, to shape things the way I wanted them to be. I had manipulated you, Abbo, Dada, Feizel, Alastair, everybody. I never felt so in control with so much power, a puppet master. I told Christine that soon I was going to be making changes when we were free–she of course believed we were prisoners. Anyway, I told her I was going to change my l
ife and I wanted her with me, by my side.” Nikos tossed his hands in the air. “She laughed at me, can you believe that? At me? She told me I had been doing too many drugs with Feizel. So I took her.”
“So you took her?” asked Pepe.
“To teach her a lesson. To show her I could own her like anything else. I don’t know. I did not think everything through. I flew her to the boat in Monaco and have kept her out of it until I could figure everything out.”
“What is she on?” asked Pepe.
“Only tranquilizers, nothing more. I figured once she woke up and realized she had to stay with me, everything would work out.”
* * * * *
Chapter 71
Talamanca Bay, Ibiza
Talamanca Bay was far cooler by comparison to the inland climes of Ibiza. With six adults occupying the Azulejo’s main cabin, the small space was becoming quite warm. The fury of Demetrius Stratos and Pepe Laroque was increasing the temperature of the cabin several degrees. Both men were angry with Nikos, each for their own reason, yet the nature was the same. Nikos was disloyal and had betrayed the trust of those around him. Demetrius was angered by his son’s disloyalty to him and Pepe was angered by Nikos’ betrayal to Christine. Nikos was separated from reality, delusional. An heir to thousands of millions, he had created a deception within deceptions to suit unnecessary petty needs, manipulating some and sacrificing others indiscriminately.
Demetrius took in a deep nasal breath. “Take her out of here,” he said to the three gunmen. “This needs to end now.” He shifted his conversation between the three former Legionnaires. Each of them still held a weapon, all aimed in his general direction. “I did not want to believe you.” He pressed his lips tightly together. “I have already set aside an account for you…” he paused, “for your trouble.” Demetrius flashed his eyes toward Christine, half conscious on Alastair’s shoulder. “There is an exceptional amount set aside for Miss Laroque.”
The Somali Deception (Cameron Kincaid Book 2) Page 26
