“Thank you,” Tim was genuinely touched.
“We will get her back. I have organised the flight and hotels and thanks to your clever but slight dubious negotiations with Mailer, we have backup already on its way just in case our Russian friends were thinking of getting physical.”
“Come on let’s go and get your beautiful new wife back,” he said and headed for the door.
Chapter 31
Stanley Jones looked out across the deck of the HMS Defender, a type 45 destroyer. He was glad to be back in the Med after their posting to the Gulf, where they had been on patrol in an effort to reduce the risk to shipping of a terrorist attack. The heat in the Gulf had played havoc with the ship’s engines and their mission had mixed fortunes. In fact Captain Jones’ command hung in the balance after a super tanker was successfully attacked by ISIS backed terrorists.
They had been patrolling Libyan waters in an effort to stop and apprehend the people smugglers bringing migrants across the Mediterranean to Europe. In fact the British warship could, in reality, do very little to make a difference on the trade in human misery.
The smugglers have two ways to send their human cargo across the sea. One is the use of inflatable rafts and this is by far the most common method. Loaded to the gills with passengers they set to sea. The smugglers do not man the boats themselves so there is no opportunity to catch them or deter them.
The other way, the human cargo is transported to Europe, is in wooden fishing trawlers. These are bought from local fishermen just before a planned trip, giving authorities little time to respond. Moored out at sea on the night of a smuggling trip where they wait to be filled by the smugglers ferrying the passengers in small inflatable boats. Again they are loaded to capacity before heading for Europe. The smugglers employ low level expandable fishermen to just about keep the boat moving.
Whatever method used, the Navy has little opportunity to make an impact on the trade as there is no chance of catching the people truly profiting, as they never put themselves in reach.
They were entering the harbour at Souda Bay where the United States Naval Support Activity is located. Souda Bay is on the northwest coast of the Greek island of Crete. The Greek Navy also had a large naval base which occupies a large portion of the north and south coast of the harbour. Jones would be hosting a dinner for a few of his fellow naval opposite numbers. He would be waving the flag for Britain.
The orders to divert from their people smuggling mission in Libyan waters to Crete had all been very last minute and was a little surprising. Jones however was even more surprised when he was ordered to facilitate a small team of six Special Boat Service personal in going ashore under cover of darkness. He was also ordered to put the helicopter on standby to provide support for them should it be necessary.
Moored in the harbour of the town was the Lady Heloise. Jones had specific orders to keep her under surveillance at all times. The yacht would appear, may be involved in the human traffic trade, according to intelligence reports. He trained his field glasses on her and felt that if the luxury yacht was involved in smuggling it would be the most unlikely candidate he had even seen in his experience.
Jones was intelligent enough to understand that the smuggling was merely a justification and that he would be unlikely ever to know why a destroyer was shadowing a pleasure boat. Even more puzzling was that his orders also required him to keep ready a fully armed boarding party in readiness, to seize the lady Heloise should he be instructed to do so. Logically, the Cretan coast guard were the people for the job and not a type 45 destroyer. The only thing he brought to the table was that he could blow the yacht to smithereens in an instant and that was even odder in that his orders also made proviso for him to do just that. Jones surmised that whoever was on that yacht had seriously pissed someone off in Whitehall and the Admiralty.
Aboard the Lady Heloise, Jackie was settling down to breakfast with Yerik. “So you see, if your husband keeps to his side of the bargain, this time tomorrow you will be sitting down to breakfast together,” he said.
Jackie still had no idea what the whole affair was about. She had been snatched in Egypt, driven to the back and beyond, helicoptered to this boat and sailed around the Med. “Where are we?”
“Crete, it is the largest of the Greek Islands. Why don’t you go up on deck and get some sun after breakfast. Rest, as you will be having a late night.”
She had no choice and accompanied by her ever present guard, she spent the day sunning on deck. She wanted to believe Yerik that soon she would see Daniel and Tim and this nightmare would be over, but in truth she trusted him not a jot.
She walked to the side of the deck and lent over. The bodyguard was alongside her in an instant. She had contemplated jumping to the sea and attempting to swim for freedom but that option was not to be allowed her. Se could see the HMS Defender across the bay and wished she had some means of getting help.
Jones had his binoculars trained on the deck of the lady Heloise and was watching the attractive bikini clad young woman approach the guard rail. “Not bad, not half bad,” he said to himself. “I wouldn’t mind rescuing her.”
Chapter 32
The Sun was shinning as they arrived at Heraklion airport. Their transit had been easy. They had loaded their entire luggage into the diplomatic pouch. The pouch, in this case, was a large metal box that it took the two of them to carry. The excess baggage charge had not been nice but the airline had been accommodating to the two men from MI5. The Greeks had of course wondered why there was a need for two diplomats to travel to a Greek island, but the cover story of people smuggling from Libya and the possible threat to the EU was sufficient to satisfy their curiosity. The Greek Government were open to any help in stemming the flow of migrants into their Country as they were struggling in funding the cost of the massive influx they had been experiencing over the last few years.
Tim and Stiles found the car rental company just inside the airport terminal. Stiles had managed to secure a jeep with off road capability and satellite navigation installed. The paper work was soon completed and they wheeled their box out of the terminal across the road and into the car rental lot.
After a false start in the wrong direction they were driving along the road with the sea in view. Gloriously blue, the waves lapped the shore and the Sun shone with an intensity not found in England. If it were not for the cloud of Jackie’s captivity hanging over them it would have been an idyllic start to any holiday.
They turned off the main highway at a sort of temporary round about with excavators parked up around piles of earth on either side. It was fairly clear that a major road improvement scheme had been started then abandoned as funds ran out with Greece’s worsening economic crises. A small road led off towards a mini theme park and play area and a golf course in the distance. The track wound past stoney fields with a mixture of olive trees in which sheep were grazing.
Stiles was driving and passing the tennis courts, he pulled up outside the main building at the Golf Resort Hotel. The hotel was a holiday resort complex with individual apartment blocks laid out across the site linked by pedestrian walkways. The golf course could be seen in the distance while closer to hand were the swimming pools, tennis courts and even a crazy golf course.
“It is very holiday village,” said Tim.
“I know but it is all the accommodation we could get at short notice. It will serve its purpose though,” said Stiles.
They had two apartments at ground level, their layouts were identical. The external door opened onto a living area with a dining table for four on the right as you entered. Directly ahead was a seating area with two chairs and a sofa bed facing a television. Beyond, through two large opening glass doors, was a terrace with a table and chairs. To the left as you entered was a wide passageway that was fitted as a kitchen, passing the cooker and hob on your left was a door leading to the bathroom. To the right of the bathroom was a large airy bedroom with further glass doors opening onto the terrace
.
Tim and Stiles were sat on the terrace at Tim’s apartment. The terrace was separated from the pathways and gardens beyond by a low metal fence. There was clearly a problem with stray cats in Crete. As soon as they settled in the chairs on the patio the cats began to wander up and through the gaps in the railings in the fence. They were bold cats and Tim found he had to keep the patio door pulled to, as they would dash into the apartment at every opportunity in a search for food. One lapse in security Tim realised would result in the apartment being marked as the cat’s territory with a deposit of cat’s urine.
“The plan?” said Stiles.
“The rendezvous is up in the hills behind the port of Chania. It is remote, past a little village. There is one road in and one road out.”
“Not good from a strategic point of view. They will have the advantage over our movements. Do you have the map coordinates and time?”
Tim passed him his cell phone. Stiles copied them into his phone and pressed send.
“What was that? I can’t have you risking Jackie’s safety. I don’t give a shit about the file. I will hand it over and get my wife back.”
“Insurance, just in case we have problems getting out.”
Tim had no choice but to take Stiles at his word but he still feared that the draw of having leverage over the Russians would be too much to expect the UK security forces to pass up without at least an attempt to keep hold of it.
“Lets see what is in our goody box.” Stiles opened the diplomatic bag. He handed the file that Maurice Lee had lost his life over to Tim, making a great show of not looking at it. Tim took it without saying a word. At this point in time it was the most precious item in the World for him as it represented his only hope of saving his wife and Daniel’s Mother.
Stiles then pulled out two metal boxes, they were oblong and very well made in bright aluminium. He handed one to Tim who unlatched the lid and opened it. There was a gun inside. At first Tim thought it was the Markarov that he had become familiar with when Yosuf and acquired two for them both. It was similar but when he felt it in his hand it was lighter. Stiles smiled, “Just like James Bond a Walther. Do you know how to use it and load it?”
“Yes,” said Tim realising that the Markarov had been virtually a copy. Stiles passed him the ammunition and a shoulder holster. Stiles dug further into the large box and pulled out two bullet proof vests.
“Are you planning a fucking war?” said Tim.
“Just put it on and we’ll get them adjusted so they hang properly and cover all the right bits, better safe than sorry.”
There were further goodies in the box, high powered torches and two large knives. They sorted everything out and laid it out on the bed in the rear room ready for their sojourn later that night.
The day dragged slowly and the tension mounted. If Tim thought about the exchange his stomach felt like there were a small football team having a kick about in it. He tried watching the television but there was only one English Channel and that was showing a rerun of an antiques buying show. Stiles was dealing with matters in an easier fashion. His previous life with the Navy had taught him the art of making the most of down time before an operation. He had a little snooze and ate well when they drove down from the resort and found a local Taverna. In contrast Tim could not relax and had little appetite.
“For crying out load, just relax will you. You are making me nervous and that is not the way we need to be,” Said Stiles as Tim got up and paced around his apartment. “Stop worrying we shall get her back safely and you will wake up together here tomorrow morning as though you were still on honeymoon.”
“Right,” said Tim
“Well, I will let you do a bit more pacing and worrying. I am going to my apartment to get some shut eye so I don’t nod off while we are playing swap the hostage tonight. Try and rest it will be a long night.”
He left and Tim was on his own. He knew Stiles was deliberately playing the risks down. It was quite possible that they could all be dead in a few hours. He appreciated the risk Stiles was taking on his behalf. MI5 need not be involved in this at all but Elaine had rallied to support him and Stiles was putting himself in physical danger for him. There was little to be done in reducing the risks any further. The biggest factor going for his and Jackie’s safety was Stiles. He was the deputy director of MI5. Killing him would be a major step in escalation for any foreign power or criminals.
The secret service game really did rely on sticking to basic rules. In essence you did not bump off each others top personell. It would make the whole situation impossible with an endless round of tit for tat killings. In any event, often security interests coincided. So your enemy on Monday may be you friend in counter terrorist activity by the end of the week, so you needed a working relationship with your counterpart and bumping them off would not be helpful in establishing one.
Stiles was in essence setting himself up as a guarantor of Jackie’s and his safety. It was a gamble but he was sticking his neck out betting that no one wanted the fallout that would follow from an attack on the senior figure in a Country’s Security Service.
Tim must have dozed off and woke with a start when the door bell rang. It was dark and he fumbled around eventually finding a light switch. His eyes adjusted and he looked at his watch it was one thirty in the morning.
He opened the door. “Time to go” said Stiles.
Chapter 33
It had been a long twenty four hours for Trist and Annubis. Unable to just drive into the Rojas hacienda they had to trek to the kill position. Undercover of darkness they made the eighteen or so mile journey. The night air proved to be chillier than they had anticipated and the lack of a moon had made the journey very uncomfortable.
Enrique Rojas was not a stupid man and made sure regular patrols protected his property and there were surveillance cameras that served the dual purpose of checking the animals and checking for intruders. They were equipped with night glasses which at least gave them the opportunity to check their route and avoid the cameras that were mounted high up on long metal poles.
The route they had chosen was the shortest from the road. Their goal was a building under construction that was destined to be some sort of exotic animal compound in the future. At this stage, however, it was just a shell surrounded by scaffolding with a large flat roof. They had selected that precise location as it both offered a view of the main house and its grounds with garden and swimming pool and it also offered the flat roof upon which the helicopter would be able to extract them after the kills.
They had driven to their start point and abandoned the car. It had been pushed into a deep gully that ran alongside of the road. They had taken considerable care to cut brush, scrub and foliage to completely conceal the vehicle. Satisfied that it could not be seen from the road or air they had gathered their gear, including the two sniper rifles and headed into the darkness.
They maintained silence as they progressed to their hideout. Trist wished that he could just have taken the opportunity under the cover of darkness to shoot Annubis in the back. That would have been so less risky and simple. Rojas on the other hand had stipulated that he wanted him alive. He also wanted Rodriguez out of the way. The death of Rodriguez at the hands of Annubis was ideal. Rojas got his Father’s killer, the death of a rival and the bonus of shifting the guilt for the assignation of Rodriguez onto the Americans.
Trist soon realised that his companion was in a different league to himself when it came to mental and physical toughness. Annubis just kept going and soon Trist found it hard to maintain the pace being set. When he called for a rest his companion just seemed to be bemused by the need to halt. Annubis said nothing and just waited silently while Trist caught his breath.
After five hours of walking they were coming upon the animal compounds. Their progress had been considerably slower than they had anticipated, due in the main to Trist. The wire fence was stretched before them and dawn was rapidly approaching. Their planned route called f
or a sizeable detour to avoid contact with the inhabitants of the fenced in enclosure.
Annubis stopped, “We do not have the time to go round.”
“Do you know what is behind that fence?” said Trist.
“It is of no consequence. If we are not in position by the time the Sun rises we will be seen and killed.” He took some metal cutters from his pack and began to cut a hole in the ten foot high, chain link fence.
“Are you fucking mad, there are lions in there?”
Annubis looked at Trist and at that point Trist realised this man was fearful of nothing. The lack of fear was borne from the fact, he realised, that this Annubis wanted death. In fact he longed for it. In that instant Trist realised that he was looking into the eyes of the most dangerous of all creatures, a man who had had enough of life and placed no value on it. His was, in his heart, already no longer of the living but in the company of the departed.
Trist said nothing, further realising that his chances of survival were greater facing lions than they were facing this man.
They were soon the wrong side of the fence. Annubis had made a very big hole in the fence as he saw little disadvantage in having a pride of lions joining Rojas’s planned get together with the other drug barons later that day. In fact they could prove a worth while distraction.
Annubis picked up the pace and headed straight across the lion enclosure, Trist was forcing himself to keep going. The fear was almost crippling him and his legs felt like they were as heavy as lead. His companion on the other hand seemed oblivious to the threat and walked confidently ahead. Their journey continued and their short cut seemed to have paid off as the ring fence came into view ahead. Trist actually did breathe a sigh of relief as they were within a few hundred feet of getting out of the lion enclosure. He exhaled loudly.
Bank (A Tim Burr Thriller Book 2) Page 13
