by Oliver Tidy
Roberts snorted a little laugh. It seemed friendly enough. ‘He said you’d be naturally suspicious.’
‘Who did?’
‘The chief, of course.’
Roberts took out his mobile phone, hit a few buttons and held it to his ear. His eyes did not leave Acer’s face. ‘Good morning, sir. I’m on board. He’s here. I’ll pass you over.’
Roberts did not hand the phone to Acer for a private conversation. He activated the speakerphone and set it down on the table between them. Then he turned his attention to enjoying his coffee.
‘Good morning, Acer.’ It was Crouch and it was a relief.
‘Good morning.’
‘You made it. No further problems?’
‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly.’
Roberts flicked his eyes up.
‘Go on,’ said Crouch, and there was a note of anxiety in his voice.
Acer briefly outlined the kidnapping of Zoe. ‘We got her back. Mother and daughter are both safe and well.’ Roberts was making no secret of studying Acer now.
‘How?’
‘I went after them.’
‘You went ashore in Egypt and recovered her?’ said Crouch and now there was a hint of admiration, disbelief perhaps.
‘Yes.’
‘Casualties?’
‘Two.’
‘We’ve heard nothing?’
When Acer didn’t comment, Crouch said, ‘Who were they?’
‘Locals. But I think they were put up to it. I also think that VEVAK were behind it. Kidnapping of passengers from ships is unprecedented in that area. It’s too much of a coincidence to imagine that the first one should be a girl the Iranian secret service are keen to have back.’
‘Agreed. And even if you’re wrong we must assume the worst. Assume the worst, hope for the best.’ Almost as an afterthought, he said, ‘Well done. Listen to Roberts. Do as he says. And don’t be fooled by that arrogant exterior. He knows what’s what. I’ll see you back in London soon.’
The call was terminated. Roberts leaned forward, retrieved his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. A grin played at the corners of his mouth. ‘Happy now.’
‘Happier. What have you got in mind?
‘Simple really. Get you lot ashore and up to the safety of the Consulate. They’re expecting you. There’s a flight leaving for London this evening. You’re booked on it.’
‘What sort of flight?’
‘Charter. There is no other kind from here unless you’re royalty or a celebrity. Problem?’
‘It depends how determined VEVAK continue to be to silence the mother. From what I’ve seen of them so far they have been very determined. Charter will make me nervous, that’s all. Too many unknowns.’
‘Nervous is good. Nervous ensures vigilance. We have good relations with these people. You won’t be going in with the cattle. I’ll arrange a private arrival and good seats.’
‘What have you got in place to get them from the ship to the Consulate?’
Roberts’ hesitation indicated that it was just him.
‘Listen,’ said Acer. ‘This isn’t a simple baby-sitting job. You need to sort something out. VEVAK will know we’re still on here. I haven’t brought them all this way just to have something go wrong on a fifteen-minute drive to the Consulate because you didn’t realise the threat. They’ve tried kidnap. Next time they might just try a hail of bullets. Job done. And if we’re in the car with them...’ He let that hang in the air for a long moment before saying, ‘Let me know when it’s in place and you’re ready for us. Oh and there’s something else I think you should see to.’
Roberts raised his eyebrows.
‘There are three male passengers on this ship. They’re all British. They’ve been privy to everything – the pirates and the kidnapping. They need to be made to understand that stuff isn’t for their blogs and their online diaries as soon as they get to the nearest Internet cafe. These are people’s lives. Call it damage limitation in the national interest because if they tell half of what’s happened the British authorities are going to have some difficult questions from some angry governments to deal with. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
***
80
Roberts was there to meet the ship when its turn came to dock for unloading at Corfu’s harbour. On the quayside Acer saw a VW Transporter with blacked-out windows. Roberts had arranged for two local police cars to escort them. He took grim satisfaction from that and gave Roberts credit that he’d listened to him.
Before they disembarked Roberts had business with the British passengers. Captain Wallace gave Roberts the use of his cabin to speak with them individually. After brief interviews each was asked to sign the Official Secrets Act, thereby ensuring that those not associated with the running of the ship and bound by separate contracts, were prevented from posting potentially harmful revelations all over the Internet. None refused.
While Roberts was exercising his diplomatic skills with the passengers Acer went in search of Niki. As usual she was alone in her cabin. As before, she let him in without warmth or welcome, just a resignation for her position.
‘We’re not going to be taking weapons off the ship,’ he said. ‘I’ve decided to leave them with Wallace.’ She did not immediately move to hand over the gun he knew she still had.
‘And what happens if we are attacked when we leave the ship? How will we defend ourselves?’
‘Roberts has organised a police escort for us. They’ll protect us. But I think we’ll be safe now.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘I can’t, of course, but you are my responsibility here, like I was yours in Iran. We have no right to carry guns here and in any case there’s no way you’ll be taking a weapon onto the plane. Better to leave them with the ship and not cause anyone any problems.’
Reluctantly, she went and got her pistol from her bedroom. She handed it over without ceremony or further argument.
‘What will happen to me when I get to England?’
The question surprised him. ‘I don’t know, to be honest. I haven’t discussed the details with anyone. I thought it would be sorted out when we get there.’
‘I told you I have information that could prove valuable to your security services.’ He nodded. ‘I don’t want to be held as a prisoner when I get there.’
He stifled a laugh. ‘I don’t know who you’ve been listening to about the UK but I like to think that we know how to look after people that help us. I won’t abandon you, Niki. You’ve looked out for us and I’ll look after you. I’ll make sure you’re treated as a friend, not an enemy of my country.’ He studied her for some reaction to his choice of words but he might as well have been looking at the wall for all he learned.
It was clear she had nothing else to say. The ease with which she parted with her weapon forced him to wonder whether she had others.
Acer wanted to talk to her, but it would have to wait. Time was pressing and he had things to do. He wrapped the gun in his jacket and went in search of Wallace to give him his leaving presents.
When the time came to disembark most of those who called Arcadia home, temporary or otherwise, were on deck to say their farewells. After their interviews with Roberts, Gordon, David and Peter were looking at Acer with a new respect. He wondered if having his little group – as he had come to think of them – on board had made their cruises.
There were no tears when the little party left the ship but there were plenty of handshakes, kind words and genuine offers to keep in touch.
Acer noticed with approval that Roberts displayed an appropriate level of vigilance as he shepherded them across the concrete and into the people carrier. When they were all buckled up, they drove away, sandwiched between the two police cars.
***
81
The British Consulate was situated in the middle of a well developed street in a busy part of Corfu Town. It took them a trouble-free ten minutes to reach it from the dock area. Beca
use of their delays over Arcadia getting a wharf-side berth they did not have to look forward to a long wait at the Consulate before they would need to be on their way to the airport and their plane home.
They were provided with refreshment and every common courtesy in keeping with the nature of their visit. No one of an official standing came to meet them, to express either an official or a private view of what they had endured. Acer guessed that it was more likely no one knew rather than no one cared. Whatever the reasons, it didn’t concern him. And he was pleased that he would be spared the meaningless platitudes and enquiries of bored civil servants who’d probably rather be reading the paper with their feet up than making sympathetic noises to stray subjects of the realm.
Roberts stayed with the little group and Acer asked if he might be able to make a call to London. He had things to discuss with Crouch and they were private. Roberts arranged it.
***
82
There was still plenty of daylight left for their short drive from the Consulate to the airport. The low key nature of their brief visit ensured that, unlike leaving Arcadia, they had no farewells to make.
The people carrier and the police escort were again on hand. Acer was glad of the presence of armed law enforcement. He harboured a significant private worry, despite the conflicting intelligence that he couldn’t make sense of, that VEVAK might be tempted to try something desperate while Dominique and her daughter were still outside the sanctuary and protection of the UK and therefore more vulnerable. Whether the risk of that was high or low didn’t matter. The fact that it existed at all was enough of a spur to make sure every precaution was taken.
When everyone was in the vehicle Acer took Roberts to one side and said, ‘I take it we’re going the most direct route to the airport.’ Roberts nodded. ‘Can we not? Call it my paranoia if you like, but I think that if VEVAK are going to make a last ditch attempt to stop us getting back to the UK they’ll do it on the road. They might have something planned and in place already.’
Either Roberts was getting used to Acer’s conviction that VEVAK were not yet finished with them and was prepared to indulge and humour him for a quiet life, or he simply saw the good sense in an idea that should have occurred to him. He spoke to the police.
He returned a few minutes later. ‘Sorted. They understand.’
‘Let’s just hope they’re trustworthy then,’ said Acer and meaning it, which earned him a look of unease from Roberts.
As they navigated their way through the busy streets of Corfu Town, and while the others seemed engrossed in the pretty and quaint views of the Greek island, Acer only had eyes for Niki. From behind his sunglasses he studied her. She had seemed nervous when they had been leaving. She hadn’t been able to mask the anxiety that she was clearly feeling about this last stage of their journey. On one level it was quite understandable. On another it bothered him. The backpack that she’d carted all over the region with her and had never been far from her grasp was on her lap and she hugged it to her like a mother might hold a baby she feared for. And Acer wondered, once again, what is was that worried her so.
***
83
The plane was already boarding by the time the little convoy came to a halt next to the front steps. Roberts had arranged diplomatic status level of travel and so they avoided all the normal airport security. Their arrival, with a police escort, attracted a good deal of attention and interest from the holidaymakers heading home after a week or two of package holiday excess.
Only when they were all on board, buckled into their seats with their meagre luggage stowed in the overhead lockers and the doors firmly shut did Acer finally relax. Roberts had done them proud and Acer was grateful. They occupied first class seats together. They had room to stretch and they were isolated, albeit by only a thin curtain, from the ‘cattle’ as Roberts had rather disparagingly referred to the economy classes.
The three-hour flight was remarkable only for the gloomy atmosphere that characterised first class. Rather than an air of muted celebration at their escape and impending return to ‘normal’ life and ‘home’, a mood indicating something of the opposite prevailed.
For Dominique it could have been the knowledge that she was returning home without her son and her husband. Acer knew from experience that losses such as those soured everyday life and could seldom be forgotten.
While her confidence and speech had gradually improved since returning to Arcadia, Zoe rarely smiled or appeared to find joy in anything. And people had tried. Her eyes, her most remarkable features, continued to tell a story of a girl who had suffered horribly, was haunted by her experiences and would be likely to spend at least the next few years of her life deeply affected by the trauma.
Niki had been sliding slowly into an apparent pit of depression ever since her brother had vanished. She had become more and more withdrawn as the time and distance between Hassan’s disappearance and her here and now lengthened. It was hard for Acer to see how that would end for her. In Qom and Tehran she’d possessed a fire and a spirit that had radiated out from her. Now it was as though that fire had been doused and the spirit was guttering in a stiff breeze, almost extinguished.
It occurred to Acer as he sat nursing his soft drink and staring out of the window at the lights of Europe twinkling thousands of feet below that Niki’s descent into cold indifference was an inverted reflection of Zoe’s recovery curve. When he had finished worrying about the others his mind inevitably strayed back to something that had occupied his thoughts often in the past few days – his own anxieties and uncertainties that awaited him on his return and end to this operation. Again, he felt his stomach flutter at the prospect, no matter how slim, that his daughter might still be alive.
He struggled with trying to recollect the exact words that Botha’s widow had said to him before he’d let her go back to her life and her own children. But there was something that his hope grasped at. He was sure of it. And he had to hope that she had some information for him because the alternative would mean he’d have nothing.
***
84
They were met off the plane at Gatwick airport. Crouch had laid on another people carrier with driver. Because of their status they bypassed the airport’s security measures and without having to wait for luggage from the hold they were soon on the M23 towards London.
Crouch sent his apologies that he wouldn’t be able to see them before the morning. And that suited everyone.
Acer was impressed with the lodgings. The hotel was a household name in a swanky area of the city. They went in through the front door that was opened for them by a man wearing a top hat, highly polished shoes, white gloves and a long coat with braiding hanging off the epaulette of one shoulder. Out of context he could have been heading to a fancy dress party with a naval history theme.
They were shown to their suite of rooms on the top floor by a hotel porter in a neat burgundy uniform and matching hat. Their secret service escort indicated he would be chaperoning them and then baby-sitting them for the night.
The accommodation was far in excess of what Acer was expecting – some dingy and grubby safe house where nothing worked and the place stank like a dirty ashtray. He mentioned this to their escort and was left in no doubt that their reception was an exception to the rule. Acer sent Crouch a kind thought. The escort asked if there was anything else he could arrange for them. Acer asked what the budget was and learned that the cheque was open.
‘In that case,’ said Acer, ‘I noticed there were clothes shops off the lobby. Can we get some new gear? We’ve been living in these second-hand rags for too long.’
The escort shrugged and said, ‘The chief says you’re to have whatever you want. The Treasury’s footing the bill.’
It was obvious that the prospect of a bit of retail therapy brightened Dominique, if for no other reason than it would be a pleasure for her to shop for some new clothes for her daughter. Zoe seemed indifferent. Niki declined the offer and Acer c
ould not be sorry about her decision. Her miserable face like some petulant teenager would have ruined any chance the shopping raid had of being a bit of fun.
Niki retired to her room without ceremony and asked not to be disturbed until the morning. The escort accompanied the others down to the lobby shops where they spent a pleasant hour and some Government money.
By the time they’d finished they were hungry. They ordered room service and while they waited they used the suite’s facilities to clean up.
Refreshed and dressed in their new clothes, Acer and Dominique broke the seal on the room’s mini-bar and helped themselves to a bottle of chilled Chardonnay. They stood side-by-side at the lounge’s huge plate-glass window, fluted wine glasses in hand, and stared out over the metropolis in contemplative but comfortable silence.
‘We’re nearly there,’ said Acer.
‘Thanks to you.’
‘Only in part. There are a lot of people who’ve helped us get to the penthouse suite of this hotel so that we can sip expensive plonk from cut glass crystal.’ He raised his glass and Dominique dinked hers against it.
‘I know. But if it were not for you coming to Iran for us my daughter would still be lying mute, suffering and malnourished in some horrible state orphanage and I’d be living my own kind of hell between visits. I never thought anyone would come for us. I gave up hope.’ Her voice caught in her throat and he resisted the urge to turn and look at her.
‘I’m glad I did. I’m just sorry it wasn’t sooner and that we were only able to get you and your daughter home.’ Realising that that might be a trigger for some tears, he quickly added, ‘And besides, if I’d not found you, I’d not have known that my daughter left the Pacific alive. That she might still be alive.’
