by Sewell, Ron
People scurried past, not giving him a glance as he dodged the slow-moving traffic. James started the police launch’s engine. Bear turned his head and chuckled as Brompton Satcom’s van arrived.
Deftly, he boarded the craft dropping his mobile in the river. “Time we got lost.”
Chapter Seven
Petros, Maria and Alysa arrived at Ercan airport, Northern Cyprus. In a hired green Shogun four-by-four, he drove into the five-star Mercure Hotel’s car park.
As he parked he appreciated the irony of life. His prior visit to this part of Cyprus had been dangerous and exciting. The hotel, which commanded a great view over the Mediterranean, appeared no different to many other tourist locations.
Maria frowned; her dark eyes gazed at him. “I don’t agree with your decision to come here.”
He stared at her. “My love, for two weeks we relax and enjoy ourselves. We’ll be okay,” he affirmed. “We just need breathing space.”
“I hope so.”
“We make decisions and stand by them?”
She looked frustrated and paused before responding. “I don’t know, but I accept you’re doing what’s best.”
They approached a good-looking young woman at the long reception desk. “Can I help you?”
Petros gave an amiable smile. “A room for two weeks with a cot, if one is to be had, please.”
“I do not see any booking,” she said in perfect English, her eyes questioning.
Petros laughed. “A spur of the moment decision but if you’re full, we’ll go elsewhere.”
The woman shook her head and smiled. “No problem, sir.”
He leaned on the counter and engaged her attention. “My wife and I enjoy our own company. Do you have a private suite available?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“I’ll be paying cash, sterling.”
The woman’s eyes sparkled. “You are selecting the best suite in the hotel.” She punched the keys on her keyboard. “Three thousand, four hundred pounds, plus currency exchange fees. Your passports, please.”
He sighed. “Do you know you never flinched when you told me the damage to my wallet? Any chance of a discount?”
She lifted the telephone handset and smiled. “I’ll ask.” For a minute or two she chatted in Turkish and replaced the handset. “My manager agreed the hotel will forgo the other charges.”
Petros nodded. “Fair enough.” He handed over the correct sum.
She returned their passports and signalled to a porter. “Take our guests’ bags to the presidential suite. Mr Kyriades, when you and your family are rested, please inform reception of your dinner requirements and the time.”
He smiled. “Thank you for your help.”
They followed the man wearing a poorly fitting uniform into the mirrored lift and waited in silence as it ascended. A thick dark blue carpet covered the floor of the corridor leading to their suite. At the door Petros took the key card. “Thank you.”
“Sir, I must show you the facilities.”
Petros slipped him five pounds and patted him on the shoulder. “No problem, my friend. It’s more fun finding out.”
Maria squeezed his arm with her right hand. “Hurry up, your daughter needs changing.”
Petros smiled. “Back to earth in an instant. Children have a habit of doing that.” He inserted the card and opened the door, allowing Maria with Alysa to enter.
The smell of air freshener suggested the cleaner had recently been in to check. The curtains were open and a warm breeze wafted through the room.
“This place is wonderful,” said Maria as she took Alysa to the bathroom.
Their room was on the third floor facing the sea. Petros’ thoughts disturbed him as he realised he could do nothing but wait for Bear to call.
* * *
Rays of a bright sun filtered through the gaps in the vines woven in the trellis. Petros, Maria, with Alysa in her pushchair, wandered along the path surrounding the forty-metre rectangular swimming pool bordered by well-maintained gardens. Far out on the choppy sea a luxurious cabin cruiser carved its course. The passengers waved to those walking on the beach.
“One day and I’m bored out of my skull,” said Petros. “Fancy a coffee?”
They sat at a poolside cafe under a multi-coloured umbrella.
“Are you enjoying your stay?” said a well-dressed auburn-haired waitress with an oval face and large penetrating eyes.
Maria caught a whiff of the girl’s perfume. “Chanel No 5,” she said without any passion.
“Two coffees, black, no sugar. And cold milk for my daughter, please.”
“Anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
The girl turned and disappeared into the cafe.
Maria smiled, stretched her long legs, and placed her right hand over her husband’s. “Stop worrying. Bear will sort it out.”
Petros prayed she was right. “By the end of the week I’ll know the score. If anyone can get to the bottom of this stupidity, he will. But I won’t ask him how.”
“My love, there’s little choice.” She turned as Alysa woke up and squealed.
“Your order, sir.”
He showed her the room key card and signed a slip. “Thank you.”
He mentally reviewed his state of affairs and it calmed him.
On their balcony Petros sat reading the ‘Times’ and often glanced out to sea. By the pool, guests relaxed on lounges, and to escape the heat, jumped into the crystal waters less than a metre away. Even here, he scanned the vicinity. No threat existed, but it did not stop him thinking.
* * *
Petros positioned himself on the edge of the bed and waited while Maria dressed Alysa. With a two-hour time variation, Bear would be eating breakfast. He punched in the number on his new mobile as conflicting emotions gripped him. He valued Bear’s skill and experience but what if something had gone wrong? Was it safe to return home?
“You okay?” said Maria.
“Miles away.”
“Make the call.”
He took a deep breath and controlled his thoughts. “It’s ringing.”
“Yes,” said Bear in his usual manner.
“Bear. Can we come home?”
In a few words and without going into the precise details of his interrogation of Spink, Bear described his get-together with Chinese George. “He wants a meet. I believe it might be prudent, if nothing else, to talk to the man who’s paying for your new boat. Spink was out of line and treated you like a failed protection contract. A burning restaurant soon conveys the message to other reluctant payers.”
Petros didn’t consider it necessary to go into specifics. “Wish I’d been there when Spink spewed his guts out. I’ll take Maria and Alysa to her aunt and family in the south.”
“I’ll tell you the rest when you return. Give my love to Maria and the little one.” The line went dead.
“Bear sends his love. We can go home.”
Maria smiled and her face softened. “He did it. I hope you said thank you.”
Chapter Eight
Steven Spink adjusted his tie before pressing the access button at Chinese George’s home. With his usual smug manner he looked intently at the camera. The gate clicked and he strolled towards the main entrance.
“You’re on time,” said the minder as he stood in the hallway.
Spink caught something in the man’s tone. “Punctuality is the essence of good business. You’d be best to remember it.”
The man stared at him. “Whatever you say. The boss is in the conservatory.”
Spink brushed past and walked with heel-thumping strides to the rear of the house and into a space full of orchids of every hue and size.
Chinese George continued spraying a deep black orchid with maroon streaks. Without turning he spoke. “Steven, so pleased you are here.”
“My pleasure.”
George shook his head. “With luck this superb orchid will give me a new flower beyond my wildest
dreams. Patience and faith make caring for orchids,” he waved his right arm, “nature’s most exotic art form.”
“I’m afraid I cannot spare the time,” said Spink.
“You should make time. Life is simple, but we insist on making it complicated. Have you transferred my funds to the off-shore account we discussed?”
“Yes and the documents are here.” He patted his briefcase.
George’s hand shot out, grabbed and twisted Spink’s left wrist. “Well now forget you did,” his voice purring with pleasure at giving pain.
Spink rubbed his arm, restoring the circulation. “As we agreed, I’ve taken my commission.”
“I value your silence and efficiency in dealing with my affairs. A drink to the satisfactory conclusion of our business?”
“A small brandy, please.”
Spink listened to the clink of ice cubes.
George returned with two crystal glasses, one tall with a pale liquid, the other a goblet containing a generous measure of Remy Martin.
George raised his glass. “To the future.”
Spink sipped and savoured his. “You haven’t mentioned my incarceration and arrest?”
George examined the man in front of him. “You appear well and I assumed you did not wish to discuss it.”
Spink nodded and finished his drink. “I thought you might be annoyed at my disclosure of information.”
George placed his hand on Spink’s waist. “Come, let me escort you to the main door. “Unfortunate, but you had little choice.” George opened the kitchen door as they reached it and said, “Are we ready?”
A gruff voice replied, “Yes, Boss.”
Spink stepped out into the open and, to his surprise, the main entrance slammed shut. A shiver went through his body as he strolled out of the gates. A gap in the traffic enabled him to cross to the river’s edge. Walking along the pavement the brandy settled his nerves as he assessed George’s answer. If he wasn’t bothered, he had no reason to worry. The ace in his pack was he knew the business better than George did. He was the man who buried the bodies.
He stopped, leaned on the concrete barrier and gazed at the river, its dark water uninviting. A refurbished Thames barge rocked as craft large and small passed, stretching its mooring ropes before springing back and compressing its fenders.
Steel-capped shoes on the pathway caused him to turn his head. One of George’s minder’s approached. Spink stared at the sinister eyes of the man now standing in front of him, whose thin lips presented a wicked smile.
“I thought I’d missed you, Mr Spink.”
“Did I forget something?”
The minder glanced left and right along the road. “Yes. It would have been better for you if you had. The boss is never happy when he loses face.”
Spink’s expression showed complete amazement as the minder’s stiletto blade sliced into his heart and he gasped, “Why?”
The man pressed him onto the barrier as he prepared to tip Spink’s body over and into the river. As a discarded rag doll he fell into the mass of debris between the barge and the wall.
Why, why, why? ran around his mind. Water filled his mouth, his nose, his lungs, but he did not care.
A surge from a passing pleasure craft suck the barge away from the river wall. As the tension in the mooring ropes dragged it back, it crushed Spink’s body.
“Job done,” said the man. Whistling, he returned to the house.
* * *
Chinese George turned from his bedroom window and put Steven Spink out of his mind. On descending the stairs he thought, Must find someone to replace him.
Relaxing in his conservatory, he sighed and made one more call.
“Wilkins Fire Protection. Mr Wilkins at your service.”
“I want an office assessed for insurance purposes,” said George. “I believe it may have major problems that needs instant rectification.”
“A serious fire risk. I’ll give this my personal attention. Is there a best time for me to visit?”
“Sometime this evening might be acceptable.” George gave the location of Spink’s office and ended the call.
* * *
John Dexter, watch manager of the London Fire Brigade, stared as the aged properties collapsed in on themselves. “Old buildings,” he muttered. “Tinder bloody dry. Should have been condemned and demolished years ago.” At regular intervals he talked to the other managers as the four pump teams contained the fire. They were approaching the end of this call.
“Containment, Harry. You and your lads keep pouring water on this until you’re satisfied,” said John. “The other three crews can return to the station.”
“Roger, Boss. I’ll do the paperwork in the cab while we’re here.”
“Good man. Tick the right boxes and make the brass happy,” John said with weariness in his voice. He walked back to his car and drove away.
Chapter Nine
Night cloaked northern Europe as Petros stared out of the aircraft’s window. Maria, in the seat beside him, slept with Alysa in her arms.
During their last few days in Cyprus they visited friends and family. Still, he thought, Alysa enjoyed every moment. A sudden bump interrupted his thoughts as a member of the cabin crew announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are commencing our descent to London Heathrow. I would ask those passengers not seated to return and fasten their seat belts. Our ETA is now 0110 Greenwich Mean Time. The weather is typical – damp and twelve degrees – so wrap up warm before disembarking. Thank you for flying British Airways and we hope you travel with us again soon.”
Turbulence rocked the plane as it descended, landed and cruised to the terminus. Alysa moaned as Maria, with care, manoeuvred her daughter’s unwilling arms into a coat.
One hour later they relaxed in the warmth of a taxi taking them home. Petros paid the fare along with a large tip. He held the sleeping Alysa while Maria opened the house door. The driver carried their bags into the house.
A deep growl and barks came from the upper landing. “Dog, shut up.” The growls changed to excited yelps. Charlie charged, his paws slipping on the polished floor, before he crashed headlong into Petros.
Alysa woke, her eyes alive, squealed and held out her hand while Charlie slobbered over it.
“What are you doing here, Dog?” said Petros.
From the minstrel’s gallery came a familiar voice. “Good to be home?”
“You’d better believe it. I assume Jocelyn’s sleeping.”
From behind Bear, two arms wrapped themselves around his chest. “You must be joking. When your cab entered the drive the dead in the cemetery heard Charlie. Hi, Maria,” said Jocelyn. “I’ll put the kettle on and make us a cup of tea. These men of ours will no doubt want to talk. You get Alysa ready for bed.”
Bear’s strong right hand gripped Petros’. “Glad you’re back, safe and still in one piece.”
Maria took Alysa upstairs.
“Do you want to have a chat?” said Bear.
“I’ll sleep better if I know what’s been happening.”
“Tea for two or are you having something stronger?” said Jocelyn.
“G and T please,” said Petros. “Maria will be at least an hour sorting out Alysa.”
“Aren’t you going to help?” she asked.
“If I did, it’d take two hours.”
“Three G and Ts,” requested Bear.
Jocelyn’s saluted. “Yes, sir. They’re on their way.”
She placed two drinks on the table. “I’ll go and give Maria a hand and spend a few moments with my Goddaughter.”
Sipping his drink, Petros sat in his favourite armchair and lapsed into thoughtful silence.
Bear sat opposite him. “True to his word, Chinese George arranged and paid for your new boat. He did ask that you cancel your insurance claim. In the morning you’ll find Dream Chaser II moored at her berth.”
“Excellent,” Petros rubbed his hands together. “Okay, why is this man so co-operative? What does he wan
t?”
“I believe he wants us to undertake a collection.”
Petros’ eyes fixed on his friend’s face. “Be that as it may, he has my boat ruined and asks that we work for him. Doesn’t make sense. Why?”
“George assured me he didn’t give that order. I believe him but he instructed Spink to make sure you understood who was asking the question. I gather Spink’s employment has been terminated.”
Petros stiffened. “Forever?”
“Well, he hasn’t been seen and his office caught fire the other night. I’m not assuming anything.”
Petros grimaced at the older man. “He’s missing and possibly dead? Do you suppose we should work for a man used to getting his own way? In this world, you have friends and enemies. I prefer working for those I have knowledge of; they don’t stab you in the back. Give me one reason.”
“I can’t. He doesn’t know I’m with you. He wanted me to ask you to contact him. This is his card.”
With a gulp Petros swallowed the remains of his drink. “I’ll need to give this thought. Any suggestions?”
“Listen to what the man has to say.”
“Why should I trust him?”
“Because we’re in the risk business.”
Petros rubbed his tired eyes. “Bear, I can’t thank you enough but now I’m knackered and need my bed.” He stood, smiled wearily, and said, “Goodnight”.
Chapter Ten
“Chinese George,” said Petros. “He wants to get together.”
Gritting her teeth, Maria paused. “Do you have to go?”
Mindful of her tone he chose his words. “Don’t be worried, I’ve selected the meeting place. The Huntress fountain in the rose garden, Hyde Park. I know the park better than the locals. I prefer the open. Difficult to screen the unexpected.”
“Why and what time?”
Petros shrugged. “Two o’clock this afternoon. Bear told me the man loves flowers and there will be other people in the grounds.”
