by John Moralee
“You’re paranoid. He’s explained what happened last night.”
“Lee –”
But it was too late. Costas was back – with the vase, wrapped in paper and tissues. He unwrapped it carefully. It was red and black, about 30 cm tall, decorated with pre-Columbian artwork. Unusually, it had legs so it could stand on uneven ground.
All he wanted them to do was to take it home with them. It seemed like a simple request, considering the favour he had done them. That was why Lee agreed to do it for Costas, despite Donna’s reservations. Donna said nothing, not then, because if she raised objections in front of Costas, they could have been in danger.
Costas still had his rifle.
*
Later that morning, Costas drove them as far as the bus station that would take them to the airport for their scheduled flight later in the day. The bus station was across the street from the town square, where she could see market traders selling everything from cheap T-shirts to expensive rugs. It was a couple of hours before the bus arrived. Costas thanked them again for helping him before leaving them at the station. Once he had gone, Donna opened her guidebook and looked for the map of the area.
“What are you doing?”
“The police station is only three streets from here.”
“So?”
“So, we have to report the robbery.”
“But Costas told us not to.”
“Exactly. He told us. Why? Because he’s in league with the robber.”
“Come on! You don’t know that.”
“Lee – doesn’t it strike you as odd the first vehicle that came along stopped and rescued us? Or that the driver somehow managed to contact the robber and get our things back? It was all set up so we would feel like we could trust Costas. Costas saved us. Therefore, he’s a hero. Why wouldn’t we do him a little favour smuggling a vase into Britain? We’re smuggling something illegal. We have to contact the police.”
“No, no.”
“Just a second,” she said, walking over to a newspaper vendor. She could see several imported English-language newspapers, but she wasn’t interested in them, not today. She picked up a local Spanish newspaper and flicked through the pages. It was difficult reading the Spanish, but a photograph was easily understood. She paid for the newspaper and showed it to Lee.
The photograph showed several Mayan vases, similar to the one in their possession. It took a few minutes to translate the article into English, but the story described a robbery of several priceless relics – a collection of vases worth around a million dollars on the black market. The authorities were afraid the thieves would sell them abroad – so they had increased security checks at the borders and airports.
“Now do you believe me?”
*
The police station was a weathered stucco building with rusty iron bars on the windows. A policeman with an assault rifle stood by the steps leading inside, looking at the street through intimidating mirrored sunglasses. Donna and Lee passed him. Inside, a brass ceiling fan blew a cool breeze over the empty area in front of a large cluttered desk. The desk sergeant was reading a magazine about sports cars. A portable TV was showing a soccer game. The players looked an inch high. There was no one else around.
“We want to report a crime,” Lee said to the sergeant, who reacted by closing his magazine.
“What sort of crime?” He sounded bored.
“Robbery.”
“And smuggling,” Donna added.
“Robbery and smuggling?” Now he was interested. The sergeant picked up a telephone and spoke to someone else for a few minutes before hanging up. “My captain will deal with you. Please follow me.”
He raised a hatch for them pass through into the rear of the station. The captain’s office was down a hall opposite the jail cells, where a couple of grubby men were sleeping off hangovers. She could smell urine and powerful bleach. The brass plaque on the door said Captain Alverez. The sergeant knocked on a door and returned to the front desk.
“Come in!”
The captain’s office was quite large and lit by hazy sunlight pouring through the half-closed metal blinds in strips of brilliance. The white-painted room looked in need of a fresh coat of paint. She could see how clean the walls had been where some pictures had been removed, leaving white rectangles behind. The captain was behind a desk with a surprisingly modern computer. He was wearing a white uniform with overly decorative epaulettes. Five stars on his lapel marked his rank. The jacket looked large on his shoulders. His dark beard gave him a scruffy appearance like the drunks in the cells.
“My name’s Captain Alverez. Please sit down. Tell me what happened to you.”
They began with the robbery, then their rescue by Costas. The captain listened without comment, taking notes, until they had finished.
“Well, you were right to come to me. This man Costas is well known to me. He is the chief bandit in the region. A very bad man. I have never caught him committing a crime himself because he’s clever. He has other men do his dirty work – like the man who robbed you. He is Costas’s cousin. As you have already figured out, Costas no doubt arranged for you to be robbed so he could come to your assistance. When he returned your passports, he wanted you to feel obliged to help him in return. He likes using innocent tourists as mules. If you got caught, he could deny everything. The black-market export of priceless artefacts is a huge business worth millions of dollars. My country has had its cultural heritage bled dry by the smugglers. Costas set you up to be mules running all of the risks from him. May I see the item?”
Donna showed him. He didn’t touch it. He typed something into his computer. “Yes. Look at this.” He swivelled the monitor around. A picture of a similar vase was on the screen. “Several vases like the one you have were stolen from an archaeological site three days ago. On the black market each one is worth at least £75,000.”
“As much as that?” Donna asked.
Alverez nodded. “Probably more. In London, they could sell for as high as £100,000.”
“What should we do?”
“I’d like to catch him with your help. If you go through with the delivery, the authorities in your country can have his London-based connection identified and later arrested, when we have enough evidence to bring down the whole operation. Costas won’t be able to use anyone else if he is in prison. Are you willing to help?”
Donna looked at Lee for his response.
“Would we be in any danger?” he asked.
“No, no. Absolutely not. I will contact my superiors and arrange everything. By the time we arrest Costas, he will never know how we got our information. You won’t be asked to testify. It will all be over for you after you deliver the vase to London.”
Lee grimaced. “What do you think, Donna?”
“I think Costas and his gang have to be stopped.”
“Okay,” Lee said. He reached across and squeezed Donna’s hand. “We’ll do it.”
*
The airport was not much larger than a football field. The terminal was a hangar-sized building with large Plexiglas windows. Donna could see their plane on the asphalt. Soldiers stood by the security checkpoint where all passengers had to queue to pass under a metal detector and have their bags checked thoroughly. Alverez had promised them their bags would not be checked, however. The terminal looked almost deserted except for a few weary tourists waiting to board the plane. Donna and Lee joined the queue. They passed through the metal detector with no problems. They only had to get by the security now. It was just a formality. Nobody was supposed to stop them. Donna and Lee approached the desk carrying their hand luggage. The vase was inside her bag wrapped in brown paper.
“Passports, please.”
She showed hers. So did Lee. The guard studied them, matching photographs against their faces, matching their heights against a chart. He nodded, apparently satisfied, letting them continue without checking their bags.
They were walking out of the terminal
when the soldiers surrounded them, pointing AK47s at their chests. Without saying anything, the soldiers indicated for them to come with them. Despite their protests, they were bustled into a small windowless room as dank as a basement. The solid steel door had a grille in it. The furniture consisted of a table bolted to the concrete floor and some plastic chairs. They were forced to sit down. The soldiers exited, except for one guard, who stayed by the door. A few minutes later some police officers entered.
One was Costas. Another was Alverez – but now he was wearing a uniform with only four stars. Costas was dressed in a captain’s uniform: the very same captain’s uniform Alverez had been wearing earlier.
He was not only the chief bandit, but the chief of police.
There was another man with the two corrupt police officers. He had the rank of colonel. Donna had not seen him before.
“These are the thieves,” Costas told the colonel. “You’ll find the stolen items on them, sir.”
Their bags were opened and unpacked onto the table. The vase, wrapped in paper, was placed in the centre.
“That’s one, sir.”
The colonel slipped on latex gloves before removing the paper. He lifted up the vase for everyone to see.
“What is this?” the colonel said.
The men stared at the vase.
Costas frowned.
It wasn’t the one Costas had given Donna and Lee.
“Oh, I bought that at a market,” Donna said. “It’s a good replica of a Mayan vase. Perfectly legal. Look at the base. You can see it was made in 2004.”
Costas stared at it. “I don’t understand, sir. They have the vases. Check their bags.”
“I have checked their bags, Captain. They don’t have any of the stolen vases.” The colonel glared at Costas. “What the hell is going on, Captain Alverez?”
“They must have switched it,” Costas said.
“Colonel,” Donna said. She had the colonel’s full attention. “I suggest you have Captain Alverez and his lieutenant disarmed. You’ll probably want to arrest them both when I’m finished telling you what happened. You might also want to check the luggage of the other passengers on the place, just in case someone – the real smuggler – is trying to leave the country while you have the wrong people in custody.”
The look she saw on Costas’s face told her that was exactly what was happening. Costas had never intended for them to get out of the country with the vase. He had planned on arresting Donna and Lee, which would have framed them for the crime. The gang could then smuggle the rest of their horde out of the country, once the security checks had been cancelled.
“You can’t listen to her,” Costas protested.
But the colonel did.
*
Maria was found among the passengers - possessing a suitcase filled with the rest of the stolen relics. She confessed quickly under the threat of a long prison sentence. Costas was arrested. The last Donna saw of him was when he was led away in handcuffs and leg-irons. Donna and Lee were released after making statements. The colonel thanked Donna and Lee for helping him arrest the gang.
“I have a question,” he said. “When you went to the police station, how did you know the man claiming to be the captain was deceiving you?”
“No offence, Colonel, but I thought the speed he organised everything was suspiciously efficient, considering the layers of bureaucracy in any police force. I also wondered why he was wearing his full-dress uniform inside on such a hot day, a uniform that clearly didn’t fit him. Most people like to decorate their office with family pictures, photographs of their children, wives, pets, but there were white spaces on the walls where they had been, like they had been hastily removed. After we left the police station, I decided we had to leave the vase behind. So, we replaced it with a cheap imitation. I suggest you have someone collect the real one before it’s stolen. I left it in under the seat at the bus station.”
*
Two hours later, Donna looked down at the ocean from 22,000 feet, wondering if the package she had airmailed home would arrive there before she and Lee landed at Heathrow.
Some souvenirs were too valuable to carry in luggage.
AFTERWORD
Dear Kindle Reader,
I hope you enjoyed these stories.
John Moralee © 2012.
OTHER KINDLE TITLES
Acting Dead – a mystery novel
The Bone Yard and Other Stories – horror short stories
Bloodways – horror short stories
Afterburn and Other Stories – crime fiction omnibus
The Good Soldier and Other Stories – short stories
The Tomorrow Tower – SF short stories
Thirteen: Unlucky For Some – crime stories (*)
Under Dark Skies – crime stories (*)
The Uncertainty Principle – SF detective story (*)
* included in omnibus Afterburn and Other Stories
John Moralee © 2012
