Marvik instructed Ben to remove his shabby jacket, which he did with a resigned shrug. Marvik expertly searched it and the hem with Bryony eyeing him with a mixture of disbelief and fear. None of the other six people in the carriage took a blind bit of notice. He handed it back to Ben as they pulled into the station. It was free of a tracking or listening device.
He hurried them through the station and climbed into a waiting taxi, giving the driver instructions to make for Chelsea Harbour marina, just over four miles away. There was no sign of the motorbike rider or anyone following them. At the marina he led them down to the boat.
Alarmed, Bryony said, ‘We’re not going back to Eel Pie Island, are we?’
‘No. I’ll take you to safety.’
‘And where’s that?’
But Marvik didn’t answer. He broke open the hatch that led to the cabins below.
‘There might be warm clothes or bedding in there.’
She climbed down and Ben followed her.
Marvik cast off. He fuelled up, paid the marina manager for the fuel and the use of the berth, and headed up the Thames towards the sea.
TEN
Wednesday
It was dawn when he finally moored up at Sovereign Harbour Marina, Eastbourne, on the south coast where Strathen was waiting for him on his boat. They were sixty-seven nautical miles east of the Hamble where Strathen said he had set off at midnight. Both Bryony and Ben were asleep in the cabin below.
Marvik had made good time and no one had stopped them. The boat probably still hadn’t been reported missing. He’d stalled Bryony’s questions. She didn’t put up much resistance. The shock and drama of the evening coming on top of the news of Sarah’s death had numbed her for the time being. She had been exhausted. Ben had said very little but Marvik had noticed how he was constantly fidgeting, sniffing and sweating. It looked as though he’d need a fix and pretty soon. Marvik would have to get him to a doctor but that might not be easy because Ben would have to give details of the medical practice he was registered with in London and admit to being a drug addict. He might already be listed as an addict, and although that information was confidential Marvik couldn’t take the risk that the people intent on stopping them didn’t have access to medical databases, especially the one that listed registered addicts. Whoever had bugged Ben’s bedsit knew that he was hooked on heroin. They might even have been supplying him in order to get information from him. But what kind of information Marvik didn’t know – he intended to find out.
‘I’ll wake them,’ Marvik said to Strathen, who had climbed on board. ‘We’ll transfer to your boat.’
‘I’ve got food, drink and warm clothing on board.’
‘No methadone?’ Marvik said, tongue in cheek.
‘Like that, is it? Which one?’
‘The boy.’
Strathen raised his eyebrows, forcing Marvik to add, ‘Yeah, I know, by the time we were his age we’d already been on several missions and seen more of life than he’ll ever see in his lifetime, and judging by the way he’s going I doubt if he’ll make old bones.’
Marvik went below and nudged Bryony who was asleep next to her brother. She had managed to find a blanket to cover them. She started violently and sat bolt upright, alarm on her pallid face. Registering him, her expression relaxed. Rubbing her eyes and running a hand through her hair, she swung her legs over the side of the bunk and dashed a worried look at her brother before asking where they were.
‘Eastbourne. We’re swapping boats. Wake your brother and come up on deck. And hurry.’
She reached out and gave Ben a push; he groaned and stirred. Marvik left her to it. He was keen to get moving. They’d eat and drink on the move. He still needed explanations from Bryony, and the police were bound to be looking for her, but Strathen said he hadn’t picked up any news on the fire yet.
‘Did you find anything in the house?’ Strathen asked.
‘Only a notebook with my father’s name on it.’
Strathen’s eyebrows rose. Marvik would have said nothing except for the fact that Bryony might let it slip and he didn’t want Strathen to think that if he had held out on that he might be holding back on other information.
Murmured conversation came from below. Marvik heard Bryony’s sharp tone ordering her brother to do as he was told. She appeared on deck and started at the sight of Strathen, not because he had a prosthetic leg, which didn’t even show beneath his casual trousers, but because she hadn’t expected company. Her surprise gave way to a dubious expression and Marvik said that he and Shaun had worked together in the Marines.
‘But you’re not working for the Marines now,’ she said, still bewildered. ‘Just who do you work for?’
‘Ourselves,’ Marvik answered shortly. ‘Let’s get moving.’ He indicated the boat moored up next to them. Bryony gave it the quick once-over and then nodded. She obviously approved. And why shouldn’t she? thought Marvik. It was larger, more powerful and far more modern than the one they had been travelling on. Ben didn’t seem to take much notice of it. With his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets, he shuffled on to Strathen’s boat sniffing, shivering and twitching.
Strathen told Bryony she’d find a couple of warm jumpers and jackets below in the forward cabin. ‘They’ll be far too big for you but they’ll do the trick. There are also two buoyancy aids – you’d better put them on.’
‘We’re not planning on abandoning ship, are we?’ she said half-jokingly.
‘Just a precaution. And if you’re hungry there’s bread, eggs, bacon, tomatoes and sausages. And coffee and tea.’
She went below as Marvik cast off and Strathen manoeuvred the boat out of the marina and into the English Channel. To Marvik, he said quietly, ‘The weather forecast isn’t good.’
The early morning sky was heavily overcast. There had been a respite in the rain for a few hours overnight but as Strathen had said it looked set to return and the wind was already picking up.
Bryony called up. ‘Do you want something to eat?’
‘Bacon sandwich would be nice,’ Strathen shouted back.
‘Make that two.’ Marvik had forgotten when he’d last eaten. ‘Any progress at your end?’
‘I couldn’t find anything more on Bradley Pulford – the real one, that is – but then how do we know that the real one is buried in that grave at Steepleridge?’
Marvik eyed Strathen, surprised and troubled. ‘But his body was identified by the crew and the captain.’
‘You’re right. I just threw that in as a possibility. I don’t think they would all have lied or colluded in saying he was dead when someone else was lying in the bottom of that cargo hold.’
Marvik could hear the clattering of plates and the welcome smell of bacon wafted up to them. ‘Her brother’s bedsit is bugged and there’s a small video camera behind a crooked smoke alarm.’ Strathen threw him a surprised look. Marvik continued, ‘A motorbike pulled up outside and followed them to the station. It wasn’t the same one that tried to run me down.’
Before Strathen could comment, Bryony called out, ‘Do you want to eat up there?’
Marvik went below.
‘It’s getting a bit choppy,’ she said a little worriedly. Ben was looking paler.
Marvik took over cooking the breakfast and in a few minutes he was carrying two plates and two mugs of coffee up to the helm on the aft deck. Bryony followed with a plate of toast and a mug of tea for herself. Her body swayed and staggered with the roll of the waves and her eyes narrowed with concern at the grey swirling mass of sea ahead.
Strathen put the boat on autopilot and flipped the seating round from the helm to face Marvik and Bryony across the table. The deep coving around the seating and the canvas awning protected them from the elements.
‘Ben’s not hungry,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I am.’ But she bit into her toast. Marvik could see that she was lost in thought. Her make-up had worn off and she looked younger and prettier.
‘I w
onder if I would have got the part?’ she said after a moment. ‘I was auditioning for Eastenders yesterday. It went well. They called me back for today. They’ll give it to someone else now. Might have been a breakthrough for me.’
‘There’ll be others.’
‘I bloody well hope so.’ She rounded on him, suddenly angry. ‘If you hadn’t arrived I’d have been in with a chance. Instead I’m on this bloody boat in the middle of a shitty sea heading God knows where. Why?’
‘You know why,’ Marvik answered solemnly, picking up his mug of coffee.
‘You can’t seriously think this has anything to do with my dead grandfather, Jack Darrow?’
‘What do you know about him and this time the truth, Bryony. Please.’
She looked about to repeat she knew nothing, then exhaled. ‘It’s not much and it doesn’t explain why Sarah was killed,’ she began belligerently. She sipped her tea and continued, ‘Sarah’s father, Oscar, was friendly with Jack – they were on the picket line at the docks during a strike in 1979. Oscar disappeared and Jack was found dead at the bottom of a cargo hold. I didn’t know about Oscar Redburn’s disappearance until Sarah told me. I looked up the details of my grandfather’s death in the press once. It said he’d probably committed suicide after filching money from the union. I asked my dad if that was true. He said how the hell did he know and not to rake it all up and upset my grandmother, so I didn’t.’
‘Until Sarah contacted you.’
‘Yes.’ She took another swallow of tea and stared across the cabin with a worried expression at the rising swell of the sea beyond. ‘We’re not going to capsize, are we?’ she asked fearfully.
Strathen answered, ‘No, we’ll be fine.’ He took the boat off autopilot and slowed down.
‘Go on,’ Marvik encouraged Bryony.
‘Sarah asked me if I had any of my grandfather’s papers but I haven’t and when I asked my dad he said he’d ditched everything after my grandmother died when he cleared out their council house, and besides there was nothing except pictures of their wedding and family outings, which he’d also thrown away. He said he had nothing relating to Jack and he didn’t want it. It was as though he was ashamed because he believed the suicide theory and that Jack was a thief. But Sarah said that a lot of dirty tricks were employed during the strikes by the press trying to rubbish the strikers. I thought there must be an official report on the accident somewhere but I’m hopeless at research so Sarah took it up and she found it incredibly difficult to unearth the information. Apparently ports are very casual about reporting accidents and were even more so in 1979. She couldn’t find any official report into the accident; even the shipping company didn’t have a record of it.’
Marvik addressed Strathen. ‘Shouldn’t they have lodged it somewhere?’ he asked, thinking that Pulford’s accident in Singapore had been recorded.
‘I can check but if the accident was on British soil and on a British ship then it wouldn’t be in the Registry of Shipping and Seamen – that only contains deaths at sea and in overseas ports.’
Bryony continued, ‘I requested a copy of the death certificate which told us nothing. Sarah helped me apply to the coroner’s office for a copy of the inquest and that gave us slightly more. There was no cargo being loaded or unloaded because of the strike but there was still cargo on board the ships that had come in before the strike was called and it was to one of these that Jack had gone. The cargo was stacked up and there was a gap between each tower. The men used to walk across the top of the cargo stacks. Either Jack misjudged the gap and fell to his death or he deliberately threw himself down into the hold, unable to face the shame of what he’d done.’
A striking similarity to Pulford’s death, and Marvik knew that Strathen was thinking the same.
Strathen said, ‘Was any of the union money found on his person or in his house or bank account?’
‘Not as far as I know.’ She shivered inside the jacket Strathen had given her. It was too big and almost reached the top of her boots but that was an advantage in this weather even though they were under cover. ‘It was years ago. And it was only a strike. People don’t kill because of that.’
Grimly, Strathen answered, ‘Don’t you believe it. There was a lot at stake, especially then. The seventies was a decade of political turmoil with a succession of incompetent governments, ending in an election in 1979 that heralded eighteen years of a Conservative government and even more political unrest under Margaret Thatcher.’
‘Yes, but whatever happened then can’t have any bearing on things now,’ she protested.
‘It can if someone wants the truth to remain buried.’
‘But what truth?’ she cried, exasperated.
Strathen didn’t answer and Marvik remained silent for a moment. They didn’t know but whatever it was it was explosive. ‘Did you discuss any of this with your brother?’
‘Yes, but he’s not interested.’
Someone else was, though, and had listened in. Marvik wondered if the house in Eel Pie Island had also been bugged.
‘What else did Sarah tell you?’
‘Nothing. That was it,’ she cried dejectedly and wearily. She bit into a piece of toast and then put it back on the plate, looking fearfully at the heavy waves.
Marvik said, ‘Did Sarah mention anyone else?’
‘A man called Gordon Freynsham who was the last person to see her father. She’d been to see him but he said he couldn’t help her. She’d hoped to get some pictures of her father but he said he didn’t have any and neither did the university but I had one – have one.’
Marvik threw Strathen a look before his heart sank. ‘Don’t tell me it was in the house?’
‘The original, yes, but I scanned it to my phone and to Sarah’s. Do you want to see it?’
Marvik wished Sarah had shown it to him but he’d only met her once – why should she trust him? He nodded.
‘It’s on my phone. I’ll fetch it.’
Marvik addressed Strathen. ‘Will it be OK if she puts her phone on?’
‘If the location tracker is deactivated possibly, but someone might still be hacking into her phone and the moment it’s switched on it will send out an alert. We need to be quick.’
‘I’ll get her to send the picture to my phone.’
‘Yours might also have been hacked.’
‘The pay-as-you-go phone that Crowder gave me, then.’
Strathen nodded.
Marvik peered down into the cabin as Ben staggered up. ‘I feel sick.’
He looked it. His face was grey, his eyes wild and staring, he was sweating profusely and trembling. Marvik quickly unhooked the rear of the canvas and steered Ben to a seat where he sat with his head over the side, retching.
Bryony followed her brother up on deck, looking very concerned. She had her phone in her hand.
‘Have you switched it on?’ Marvik asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘We need to be quick.’
‘Why?’ Her eyes darted to Ben.
Strathen caught her meaning immediately. ‘Where’s Ben’s phone?’
‘On the table.’
Strathen rushed down and retrieved it. Climbing back on deck, he said, ‘How long has he had it on?’
‘No idea.’
And Ben didn’t look in any fit state to answer. He was being violently sick. They’d have to get him to land and medical assistance as soon as possible. Marvik didn’t want to run the risk of him dehydrating, which, given his seasickness and drug addiction, looked highly possible. His skinny frame was shaking uncontrollably as he leaned over the aft of the boat and he hadn’t put the buoyancy aid on. The sea state was getting worse and the swell was increasing.
Stuffing his phone in the pocket of his trousers, Marvik crossed to Ben while addressing Bryony. ‘Get me that buoyancy aid.’
She staggered below while Marvik tied a line to Ben’s waist and clipped him on. He took the buoyancy aid from Bryony, who looked deeply worried, and
managed to pull it over Ben’s head without getting covered in spew. His face was deathly white, his eyes rolling and sunk in their sockets, and he couldn’t stop retching. Bryony looked at him, horrified. Marvik gave her a line and clipped her on as she sat beside her brother with her arm around his shoulders, the boat rising and falling alarmingly.
Marvik took her phone from her, sent the picture to his and then switched hers off and handed it back to her. Fetching a bottle of water from the cabin, he said, ‘We need to get Ben to hospital. Get him to drink some of this if you can; if not put some on his lips.’
She nodded, looking anxious. Marvik picked up the plates and cups and nodded at Strathen, who radioed up the coastguard.
Marvik put the dirty dishes in the galley sink and reached for his pay-as-you-go phone. He found himself studying five men – two were holding up a large banner brandishing the slogan ‘A Fair Wage For Work’. The oldest of the men had to be Jack Darrow, a well-built, muscular man, good looking with fair hair and penetrating blue eyes in a square-jawed, rugged face. At the other end of the banner was a younger man, stocky, with a round face, a troubled frown, discontented mouth and deep-set eyes. He was of a similar age to the other three men in the photograph – early twenties – who were sitting cross-legged on the ground. On the left was unmistakably Gordon Freynsham with his narrow face and slightly feminine features, looking ill at ease, while beside him was a smiling and clearly confident Oscar Redburn with his long, light-brown hair framing a keen face. Marvik didn’t know who the dark-haired, solemn man the other side of Redburn was but he looked uneasy, as did Freynsham, but angry rather than sullen. Marvik got the impression that only Darrow and Redburn were comfortable with the photograph being taken. He wondered who had taken it and why Strathen hadn’t found it in the newspaper archives. Maybe it had been taken by a press photographer and then simply never used, but that didn’t explain how Bryony had got hold of it. He climbed on deck.
Strathen said, ‘The coastguard helicopter’s on its way.’
They’d airlift Ben to hospital. They might even take Bryony with them. Would they be safe, though? He crossed to her. Ben was still retching violently.
Dangerous Cargo Page 11
