Plantation A Legal Thriller
Page 93
Chapter 93
An hour later at around one o’clock, Ashby and the adjuster were on the balcony of his hotel room, thinking of ways they could get on board the Marseillaise without being caught and thrown overboard.
When the loss adjuster had been going through the Stratos papers faxed to him from Lagos, he’d recalled reading in the insurance news that Plantation was close to crashing. A delicate situation. It was possible that whatever they came across in Cape Town might save Plantation or finish it. As to the latter, Paxtons would want the run-off work lasting twenty to thirty years. Ashby was the head of the company and needed to be impressed. Paxtons would have to tread carefully.
The adjuster was Afrikaans and went by the name of Gerhard – Gerry Meyer. For over a decade, he’d been an officer in the South African army. He’d fought in the border skirmishes near Botswana, Rhodesia (as it then was) and Namibia. In comparison, insurance was a tame affair but he liked it that way. He’d tired of the never-ending conflict. The war in the bush against the ANC hadn’t stopped the terrorism inside the country. There were bombs going off in the major cities every week.
“Did you send someone to meet me at the airport ?” asked Ashby.
“No. It might have been the Lagos office,” said Meyer in a heavy guttural accent.
“I doubt it because I told them not to bother.”
“Was someone there to meet you ?”
“Yes. Two men in suits. One of them had a sign with my name on it.”
“If we didn’t send them, who did ? The hotel ? Or your airline ? Maybe it was part of a free upgrade ?”
“No, it was none of that. It was someone who knew I was going to be in Cape Town today and wanted to get me out of the way.”
“Who could it have been ?”
“I don’t know – possibly criminals. Perhaps it was Hellas Global. They’re crooked. Someone in London might have said I was coming here.”
“Does your London office know you’re at this hotel ?”
“Not yet. You’re the only person who does....it means that whoever they were, they’re out to stop us looking over the Marseillaise and we’ll have to be ready for them. If we just turn up at the dock, hoping to go on board the ship, we’ll either be refused permission or we’ll be attacked or warned off or something else.”
“Well, criminals don’t bother me. In our game, you can meet some ‘interesting’ people from time to time. There must be something this lot don’t want you to see. They might want to keep you out of the way just long enough for the ship to leave Cape Town. By then, it would be too late to stop the claims money being paid.”
“We need to head them off somehow. You probably handle your fair share of marine claims. What happens when the ship comes into port ?”
“The pilot will meet her before she docks to check whether she has all the correct paperwork and that there’s nothing for the port authorities to worry about such as an infectious disease.”
“And after that ?”
“When she’s berthed and tied up, a customs officer and someone from the Harbour Authority will go on board to speak with the captain, inspect the cargo, assess customs duty, check the crew’s passports if they’re going ashore – that type of thing.”
“Could you organise for us to go on the ship at the same time ?”
“I doubt it. The only way you might get on board is by persuading the police or the Harbourmaster that there’s something wrong with the ship and that they need to do a thorough inspection.”
“It’s worth a try. After all, they can only say no, can’t they ?”
They decided to start at the local office of Interpol. For over an hour, Ashby had a long and meandering conversation with an inspector who, although sympathetic, said he couldn’t intervene on mere suspicion only.
“At the very least, Mr Ashby, a warrant would be needed from a magistrate if the ship was to be searched. But what are you looking for ? You might have your doubts about Benin Maritime but what have they done wrong ?”
“I believe they’re part of a contraband syndicate, operating between southern Europe, north Africa, Nigeria and South Africa.”
“What evidence do you have to back that up ?”
“A contact in the security service told me that Hellas Global were engaged in this type of activity.”
“But even if that’s the case, you don’t have any proof that Benin Maritime are smugglers or that they’re connected with the Greeks.”
“Not yet but that’s why I want to search the Marseillaise.”
“I’m sorry. I’d like to help you but until you have categoric proof that Benin Maritime or Hellas Global are committing some sort of crime, I can’t do anything for you. I suggest you speak with the local constabulary. They might want to take a look at the ship and if they do and you find something, let me know.”
Their next stop was Cape Town Central police station. Meyer knew a detective superintendant there. Both of them had been in the army together. When the Super heard Ashby’s story, that Hellas Global were known to be smugglers, he asked the source of the information. When Ashby said it was an intelligence contact in London, the Super changed his tone : the Marseillaise might have more than just cigarettes and whisky.
“Could you give me a couple of hours to follow this up ?” he asked. “I don’t usually have someone coming to me with information like this. It'll take a bit of time to decide how we handle it.”
In the space of an hour and a half, Ashby and Meyer sat in the front reception of the police station which was more like a barracks.
There were relatives and friends of people arrested who were waiting for word of them. A parade of mostly young black men were being brought in for questioning. Some were released after a short time while others went through the station doors and didn’t come out again.
As the afternoon went on, Meyer’s army friend eventually returned and took them to a room used for interrogations.
“You interest us, Mr Ashby. What you’ve told us extends to other countries, not only our own. I’ve been invited to pass you on to.....an associate.....his name is Brandt. He’ll talk to you about a search operation. Wait for him to contact you this afternoon – after four. The bar of your hotel would be the best place to meet and then you can find somewhere private to talk about it. Let’s see if you come up with anything,” and then they were shown out by a uniformed officer.
As they were going back to the hotel, Meyer said, “You know, Mr Ashby, in my job, there’s always something different. Yesterday, I was chasing tourists who claimed on their travel policy for lost luggage they’d hidden at the airport. Today, it’s.....who knows ?”