Mary Dear - Redux

by de Gallegos, Alfredo

  McFadden feathered the propellers and let them idle, waiting for the submarine to make contact.

  Sitting on the inboard seat the young helmsman gripped the stick, the submariner’s nickname for the wheel.

  A lieutenant in the control room said: ‘Make your depth eight zero feet.’

  The sailor pulled the wheel slowly to his chest, taking the sub up to 80 feet below the water's surface so the Swordfish could raise its periscope. The control room was quiet except for the diving officer who called out the depths as the sub ascended.

  ‘One zero zero feet...nine five feet...’ The sailor pushed the wheel forward and the sub began levelling out. The planes now had to move in the opposite direction to slow the ascent so the sub didn't overshoot and broach the surface.

  He trained the scope aft to check that the ballast tanks were venting properly and announced scope’s breaking.

  The lieutenant had his face pressed to the periscope eyepiece, as its lens above sprouted from the water. He swivelled around with the periscope pasted to his face.

  ‘One close contact,’ he said.

  Standing off the subs portside the outline of the Catalina was clearly visible bobbing gently on the water.

  From the cockpit, McFadden looked about searching for signs of the sub; he thought he spotted something moving on the surface of the water just for an instant then all was black. A moment later it was there again. He could just make out the periscope of the Swordfish running along churning the water in its wake before the sail began to appear and soon the unmistakable silhouette of a submarine broke through the surface, its huge black shape like a giant whale standing off some 200 meters away.

  The sub signalled three short bursts of light and McFadden replied with two short bursts followed by two long ones.

  The hatch opened and red lights were switched on, illuminating the tower and topside around the bridge. McFadden could see two sailors, armed with what looked like automatic weapons and then an officer who appeared to be staring at the plane.

  McFadden trained his night vision binoculars and saw the Swordfish Commander, looking straight at him through his own pair.

  From the submarine, the seaplane and everything around it appeared eerily bright enveloped in a green sunrise. The sub’s Commander could see the pilot clearly. Now the tricky part of the operation had to begin.

  Commander Griffiths ordered a Zodiac to be launched and a few minutes later the submarine’s crew was manhandling a large crate onto the inflatable. Four armed sailors sat opposite each other at the bow and another four at the stern next to the helmsman. McFadden looked at the boat as it moved towards him, dangerously low in the water. He readied himself to receive them.

  It came alongside and McFadden waited for a sailor to throw him a line that he caught and tied to a hook on the Catalina. He did the same with the rope from the stern and the Zodiac now rocked gently on the sea held fast to the pontoon on the portside.

  McFadden helped the sailors secure lines to the crate and then to the hook attached to the cable dangling from the jib on the Catalina’s electric hoist. He started the motor, its electric whine sounding incongruous during the otherwise quiet operation that was taking place. The hoist took-up the slack. The crate began to move and they manoeuvred it through the door and into the back of the plane that had been cleared of seats to make space for cargo.

  Once the operation was complete the sailors on the Zodiac untied the lines that had held them tethered to the Catalina, said goodbye to McFadden wishing him luck and headed back to the waiting submarine.

  McFadden revved the two Mikulin M-62 piston engines and put the Catalina into the wind. He closed his right hand on the throttles and powered up feeling the plane surge forward gathering speed. McFadden applied more power as the plane began to leave the water bouncing on the waves before finally leaving the sea behind and banking steeply.

  From his cockpit McFadden caught a brief glimpse of the red light coming from the sub while Commander Griffiths went below, pulling the hatch shut behind him.

  McFadden circled once and caught sight of the submarine just as the sail began to submerge beneath the waves and disappeared. He levelled the Catalina and set a heading that would take him back to Medellin.

  Chapter Twenty

  Elliott and Tim left the Mare Nostrum on board a large Zodiac powered by twin Mercury 250 HP OptiMax outboard engines. The special equipment that Elliott had commissioned from Herr Mueller was safely stowed onboard and would be deployed once they arrived at the dive site. It was a beautiful morning. Elliott should have been happy but the day reminded him too much of his previous trip and what had happened to Billy. He could not help a sense of foreboding, and he tried to push it out of his mind. Even with Tim’s help, despite what he’d told him, this would not be easy, he just hoped that Tim was as good a diver as Renfrew had led him to believe.

  As they neared Lone Stone they were relieved to see that they were the only people there. All the activity was centred on where the film unit were shooting that, as luck would have it, was on the opposite side of the island.

  Elliott wondered if Herr Mueller’s contraption would work as well as he’d said it would. Elliott had not had an opportunity to test it and had only had a chance to examine it in Renfrew’s Wandsworth warehouse. Elliott liked the fact that it was a simple concept, with very little that could potentially go wrong. Well it’s too late now to make any changes, he thought, so it had better work.

  Tim was at the helm and Elliott navigated with the aid of the GPS. He heard the engine note change and felt the boat slow down. When they stopped they lowered two anchors, one for the Zodiac and the other to be used for the salvage operation.

  There are many robots used in deep-sea salvage operations, but the treasure Elliott was after lay in relatively shallow waters and Mueller’s design had taken that into account. It had to be light and capable of being handled by two men. It was effectively a light steel construction of interlocking struts that formed four oblong sections. These would need to be fixed to the coffer using an ingenious system of hydraulically operated clamps that would attach themselves like limpets to the side of the crate. Four compressed air canisters were fixed to each section that, when activated, inflated a flotation collar made up of four independent segments that went around the perimeter of the crate. The inflation of the collar was controlled by a computer that sensed resistance to lift and adjusted the level of inflation of the individual sections allowing for the coffer to be lifted evenly on a level keel.

  Once assembled, Elliott took two sections down with him and Tim followed with the other two.

  This time the dive was uneventful and Elliott hoped that everything else would go just as smoothly. When they reached the coffer they anchored three sections to the seabed and between them proceeded to fix the first oblong section to one side of the crate. This required them to adjust the size of the oblong by undoing nuts and bolts and sliding them along and locking them into place. Elliott appreciated for the first time the benefits of keeping things simple, and the Swiss engineer had certainly provided it. Elliott worked with Tim to complete encasing the crate on all sides and they were now ready to inflate the flotation collar. Elliott armed the handheld computer and pressed the red button. There was an instant hiss as the compressed air was released from the canisters and began to flow into the different segments surrounding the coffer. The case shifted sending puffs of sand up that clouded the water around it. It had only moved slightly and remained buried in the sand. Elliott and Tim took up positions on opposite sides of the crate and began to rock it to and fro. After a few minutes the crate began to lift throwing up a larger cloud of sand that enveloped them. As the crate ascended Elliott and Tim rose with it and, as soon as it was possible, they attached another clamp fitted with an eyelet ring to the bottom of the crate and hooked the spare anchor to it. They continued their ascent and when they were five metres from the surface they secured the anchor chain so that the crate would
not float to the surface but remain suspended at that level. With Tim’s help Elliott retrieved four smaller anchors from the Zodiac and attached them to each corner of the crate so that when they reached the bottom they held it steady and stopped it drifting with the current.

  When the time came to retrieve Our Lady of Lima the task was undertaken with the degree of reverence and care that such a precious relic deserved. She lay at an angle and partially buried in the ocean floor but Tim and Elliott were able to straighten her to an almost vertical position. They then cleared the area around her and slipped a circular ‘lifejacket’ along the length of the statue that was then tightened with a harness. They started with a partial inflation and the statue began to float loose of the seabed. They had to get it out of what had once been Thompson’s cabin. Elliott and Tim guided it through a large gap on the side of the brigantine and when it was clear of the ship, they inflated the jacket fully and its precious cargo ascended quickly towards the surface. When the statue was level with the coffer they stopped it and secured it to one of the sides of the crate.

  The whole process had taken just over one hour and that whole time they had not seen a single shark or another diver. It had been a textbook operation and Tim and Elliott were elated.

  Before swimming to the surface, Elliott switched on the positioning beacon attached to one of the oblongs surrounding the crate, and as he did so a small red light began to pulsate at regular intervals. Elliott checked his GPS and confirmed that the signal was correct. He gave Tim the thumbs up and together they set off for the surface and their waiting Zodiac.

  Commander Griffiths had been ordered to remain close to Cocos Island to await a signal from Tim Martin telling him that the special cargo was ready to be collected—and giving him the radio frequency of the homing beacon that would enable him to find it. The message came in the afternoon and was delivered to his cabin. He read it and immediately set about proceeding to the designated location. He was anxious to recover the consignment and return to base. The retrieval of the coffer containing loot from the Gold Train was covered under international treaties and conventions relating to salvage. The Gold Virgin, part of the Lima Booty was not considered salvage but fell under a category governed by Admiralty Law. Commander Griffiths had his orders. It was not for him to worry about the rights or wrongs of the operation, he would leave that to the politicians and lawyers. With the operation successfully completed he was just happy to be going home.

  At their last meeting Sautiev had told Abdul Khan that before the month was over they would need to meet to go over the final details of his plan. Jake Scott had asked Khan to await his call and to let him know when Sautiev contacted him. He was to use any excuse but had to get him to the Arboretum in Finsbury Park. They wanted to take his picture and, if possible, record his voice. Khan was worried but agreed.

  When Sautiev called he was ready.

  ‘We have to meet,’ said the familiar voice.

  ‘Yes. Where and when?’

  ‘Ten tomorrow; at the café.’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s too crowded; too many people. I’m sorry... I’m a bit nervous,’ he said.

  Khan did sound nervous but he didn’t like plans or meeting places that he had not organized. Still, he was experienced and it was natural for the young man to be nervous, after all he had never done anything like this before. Talk of sacrifice is one thing, it’s quite another to put it into practice.

  ‘Where did you have in mind?’

  Abdul hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. Somewhere less crowded.’ He paused. ‘There’s a place I go to when I want to be alone. It’s peaceful and I read the Holy Koran there.’

  ‘Where is this place?’

  Khan told him and there was a long pause before he answered.

  ‘If it will make you happier we will meet there but I need another day. Let us say the day after tomorrow at 10 in the morning.’ When he hung up Abdul realized he was sweating and the familiar nauseous feeling had returned.

  Abdul contacted his handler and Jake told him not to worry, assuring him that he would be well protected. They would be nearby though quite invisible.

  As soon as Sautiev put the receiver down he started thinking. He liked being in control and something about the conversation with Khan had got him worried. He’d decided he would pay a visit to the park. If after that he was still concerned, the meeting place could be changed at the last minute and if anyone were onto him it would give him a chance to escape. When he arrived at the location that Abdul had suggested he felt reassured. It was quiet and deserted. Anyone who looked as if they should not be there would be easily spotted and he felt that the meeting could go ahead as planned.

  The moment Jake took Abdul’s call he set a plan in motion that had been prepared the first time that he had decided on the location for his ‘walks’ in the park.

  A team of workers had arrived early one day to put a circular screen of around ten feet in diameter with a Finsbury Parks Maintenance sign to deter the curious proclaiming ‘Drainage Works in Progress’, apologising for the inconvenience. When they were done at the end of the day they left behind a perfect ‘hide’ that, coupled with a directional mic would be an ideal surveillance point where one man could remain undetected all day if necessary. It was accessed via a neatly concealed and camouflaged trap door set in the grass. A fit person could get in and out in seconds. It was just a case of waiting until the coast was clear. Inside, the walls were lined with special corrugated sheeting and the floor was timber decked. A comfortable swivel chair stood in the middle. There was a small table and a mini periscope had been installed that could be raised to peer directly at anyone sitting on the bench or anywhere near it, on a radius of 360 degrees. A camera with a powerful zoom could be fitted to the periscope allowing the operative to take as many photographs as were required. A heavy-duty battery was used to run an air conditioning unit and a light.

  On the day of the meeting, Sautiev arrived an hour early and found five policemen near the location of his meeting with Khahn. He was about to turn around and leave but decided to stay a few moments longer, thinking that perhaps Abdul had arrived earlier too and the police had grabbed him. He then saw a bunch of rowdy young men and women that appeared to have been there all night. They had blankets with them and looked like hippies who’d spent the night making love and smoking pot.

  The police left taking the revellers with them and Sautiev saw them go. What he did not see was the young man who slipped deftly down a trapdoor and into the hide.

  Sautiev waited and, at precisely 10am, saw Abdul walking towards the park bench carrying The Holy Book with him.

  Sautiev scanned the park and it was quiet. Not a soul in sight. He approached Khan who was seated on the bench.

  ‘As-Salam Alaikum,’ he greeted him.

  ‘Alaykum As-Salaam,’ replied Khan with a slight bow of his head.

  Sautiev sat beside him and said this would be their last meeting. Instructions would be left for him taped to the underside of the bench they were now using. It would happen sometime during the coming week and he should visit the park at the end of each day to check. After that all he had to do was follow instructions and Allah would be with him.

  In the hide Jake Scott was busily taking photographs of the two men on the park bench and the recorder was running.

  Sautiev was the first to leave, and half an hour later, Abdul Khan left and walked home. Scott waited another two hours checking through the periscope that there was no one else about. Finally he emerged from the hide as silently as he had entered it, carrying a small briefcase and stopped to remove the mic from underneath the bench before going to collect his car from a nearby car park.

  Jake Scott sat facing Simon Cheshire in the latter’s office at MI6. Cheshire sat behind his desk with his back to an excellent view of the Thames and the Houses of Parliament.

  ‘All right Jake. What have we got?’

  ‘It’s better than I ever dreamed possible Sir, a compl
ete conversation and about one hundred photos, all first class.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news. Let’s have a listen then.’

  Jake set up the CD player and soon they were listening to the conversation that Jake had recorded.

  ‘Let’s get this to GCHQ straightaway. Let them do a crosscheck with their intercepts and see if we get lucky. At least we have pictures of this Sautiev character and that should make life a lot easier.’

  GCHQ, the Government Communications Headquarters located in Cheltenham, provides signals intelligence to the UK government and the armed forces and works under the guidance of the Joint Intelligence Committee. Established just after WW1 as The Government Code and Cypher School, it was known as GCCS up until 1946 when it was changed to its present acronym.

  Jake Scott sent the contents of the CD as an encrypted file and five hours later they heard back from GCHQ. Their luck had improved: They had intercepted a voice that they believed to be that of a KGB assassin for whom they only had a codename. The voice of Timur Sautiev on the recording was a perfect match for the man they called Grigori.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Esteban Blanco was returning home early from New York onboard his private jet.

  Up until the construction of the new José María Córdova International Airport, Olaya Herrera Airport had been the sole international airport serving Medellin but now, with one exception, it only served national flights. When the Colombian airline ACES ran into financial difficulties in 2003 their national partner Avianca took over their routes and moved the entire operation to the new airport. This left some excellent facilities at Olaya Herrera looking for a buyer. Esteban Blanco moved in and bought a large hangar and offices that he now used as a permanent base for his Falcon 400.