by P. W. Child
Sam looked at Crystal with admiration, “Then she’ll know how we can get the vessel out of territorial waters first.”
“She does not. That is Dave’s side of things,” Crystal corrected Sam.
That meant only one thing – it was going to be a clandestine project, utilizing only the best and slightly less legally sound personnel. It had to be kept a secret.
Ch apter 9 – Cheryl’s Deal
“So we are waiting for Sam Cleave and his associates to meet us at the harbor,” Dr. Malgas told Cheryl. “Would you be interested in helping out, perhaps? You know, since you said you are between jobs right now?”
“What kind of work? Cataloguing?” she asked.
“I think so. We will need to mark whatever we pull out of the wreck and the other members of the assignment will probably be too busy working on the wreck itself assessing its historical significance; Sam and I will study the vessel’s history and have Mieke Badenhorst help us deal with the PR-side of things. She is my current assistant,” he explained. “Would you be interested in joining us?”
Cheryl shifted in her seat. What she had to clarify now was the difficult part of the conversation. Telling Dr. Malgas that she had to drag two shady looking men with her had to be handled with great sensitivity. However she was going to convey her condition, it would have to happen soon. She was beginning to feel anxiety, and she knew the next symptoms of withdrawal would be visible perspiration and tremors
“Billy, I…don’t work anymore alone these days,” she smiled shyly. “I too, have an assistant and an associate who helps out on our various projects, you see? And I have to include them. Would that be alright?”
Billy Malgas cleared his throat at the revelation, which made him a bit reluctant. He had not intended to include this many people in the hoax, especially since only he and Mieke knew that the whole thing was a complete and utter lie. He was afraid that adding more people would increase their risk of getting caught lying, but to keep up appearances that he had faith in his claim he could not refuse. What would his reasons be?
“That, uh, changes things a little. I’m not sure if we have the funds to accommodate everyone’s fees. Tell me, what your colleagues could bring to the project?” he asked.
Cheryl’s body ached. She had no idea if Zain or Sibu had the kind of drug she needed, let alone if they would take her to one of her dealers and the notion hammered a sharp stake of panic into her mind. As if in tune with her inner turmoil, the weather started to turn while she discussed the plan with Dr. Malgas. The wind picked up, and the skies clouded up. Not that Port Elizabeth had much precipitation, save for a rainstorm once in a blue moon that would last about fifteen minutes. But it seemed to cool down considerably at this hour, prompting Cheryl to make her case and be done with it.
"They are two very high-end security consultants, Billy. Believe me, they won't allow any unwanted prying in your business," she assured him as if she had all the faith in the world in her two captors. If she could just convince him and get going already, before he saw her suffering a panic attack and cramps, she would not run the risk of losing her old mentor’s trust. She also did not want to disappoint him, strange as it may sound under the given circumstances.
“Oh, I haven’t even thought about that side of things,” he exclaimed. “You are quite right, Cheryl! We will – almost most important of all – need security to keep the media and the coast guard off our backs until we have secured the find. Good thinking, girl!”
‘Yes! He bought it!’ she thought. ‘Now just close the deal and get the hell out of here. I have to get to Central soon. I have to get in touch with Pat Pyramid, or I'm going to die!'
Patrick the Nigerian, or Pat Pyramid, as he was called on the street, was Cheryl's drug dealer. He had earned the name because his place of operation was the surroundings of the Donkin Reserve, a pyramid-shaped monument built by Sir Rufane Shaw Donkin, who named the then-rising seaport of Algoa Bay Port Elizabeth in honor of his wife. Pat was one of the dealers who had turned the once posh historical part of the city into a gangster slum for people like Cheryl.
She used to frequent many dealers, but he was the quickest and second most affordable for the heroin she needed. The once brilliant assistant turned prostitute was hooked on several substances, but mainly heroin and the occasional cocaine kept her body busy in between sporadic rushed of speed. The latter usually served for those all-nighters with more than one client at a time when she really had to perform at the top of her game.
“So, do we have a deal?” she asked Malgas in a shaky voice he would soon recognize from the old days.
“I think your offer is feasible. It did not even cross my mind before, silly coot that I am,” he chuckled.
The front door shuddered under a heavy hammered fist. Billy and Cheryl jumped in their seats, and for a moment neither knew what was going on. Soon after Cheryl realized that she had been inside for over an hour and that her wardens were probably very impatient by now. Billy grabbed his gun and went to the door, a decidedly deadly move considering who he was dealing with. Cheryl launched herself from her chair and caught up with him, "No, no, Billy! Put the gun away!”
He looked at her in befuddled panic as she grabbed his arm. Cheryl realized that her behavior probably looked a bit overzealous to him, so she sighed and smiled, “You don’t need that thing. It’s just my guys. I asked them to come and introduce themselves to you. Think of it as a…umm…an interview!”
Slowly he put his firearm away, trusting Cheryl's judgment. She made sure she stood close by him as he opened the door, to prevent them from just shooting him in the face upon sight.
“Hello, boys!” she said quickly as their intimidating shapes stood on the porch. The light fell on their crude, malevolent expressions and Billy felt a jolt of terror shoot through him. “Dr. Malgas just accepted our services as his security wing on the expedition! Isn’t that awesome?” Her eyes widened to signal them that they were to play it cool, and they promptly complied with her gesture.
“Good evening, Dr. Malgas,” Zain exuded charm at the man who almost got a face full of lead from him.
“Evening,” Dr. Malgas said, and shook Zain’s hand, still hesitant to believe he just hired those shady-looking people. Cheryl broke the tension and stepped out to speak to her new colleagues. “Just let me get my purse, gentlemen, then we can go.”
“Goodbye, my dear,” Dr. Malgas said as Cheryl embraced him at the door.
“I will call you tomorrow to find out where the rendezvous point is,” she smiled. “We will be ready to sign any contracts your benefactors draw up for security on their trip.”
“Good, thank you,” he agreed and waved them off, as they returned to the large car now parked in front of his home.
“So what is the deal?” Zain asked her as they approached the vehicle.
“Can you just wait until we are driving?” she sneered. “He is still watching us. Act professionally or we will lose our only chance.”
Annoyed at taking orders from their prey, the two thugs just scoffed and got into the car. They drove back to Cheryl’s apartment, where at least one of them had to stay over to make certain she did not flee.
“You have to bring me to the Donkin, please. Quickly?” she asked Zain, who was driving.
“Why?” he asked.
“Please,” she implored with no sign of her previous authority. She had regressed back into the sobbing, desperate street walker they met on the ledge. “I have to get my fix! I’ve already waited too long, Zain, please! Let me please get half of what I usually take, you know, just to tide me over until I get a trick to pay for a proper push.”
Sibu clapped his thick hands and laughed heartily in the back seat.
“Fucking hell, Zain! This girl should get a Grammy for acting, holding it together at that man’s house this long, hey?” he roared boisterously.
“It’s an Oscar, not a Grammy, you fucking imbecile!” she screamed at him, clearly losing control f
rom the pain and cramps of withdrawal.
Without warning Sibu slapped the hooker hard against her head, slamming the side of her face into the closed car window. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back so hard she thought her neck would snap.
“Sibu, stop it!” Zain shouted. “If she has marks tomorrow they won’t believe our story! And you!” he raged at Cheryl, “Don’t forget who you are, filthy little skank. And don’t forget that your life is in our hands. Are we clear?”
Cheryl nodded, her scalp and face stinging from the treatment she had just received for losing her cool. But on the inside, she cared for nothing other than getting that spoon heated, the sweet release from the grace of a needle to make all the pain and worry go away. It did not even matter to Cheryl if she got beaten up, doubled teamed or held at gun point. All she wanted was to get her fix.
Chapter 10 – Subterfuge in Action
In the morning Dr. Malgas received a phone call from Sam Cleave, confirming the time and place for their meeting. From what Sam told him, all the arrangements had been made to begin the survey of the vessel and that the team would arrive at Port Elizabeth International Airport soon.
“Thank you, Sam!” he said. “Call me as soon as you land and we’ll meet you there.”
With a weary exhale he placed the phone on the table in his living room, where he was nursing a cup of bitter black coffee. Through the empty rum bottle he stared at the front door, too tired and depressed to get dressed before Mieke would arrive. She was due to be there soon.
“And so it begins,” he sighed in miserable slurs of fatigue. He had hardly slept an hour all night. Something about those people Cheryl had brought with her did not feel right. Cheryl did not feel good. Mieke was pulling off something borderline illegal. Sam was already slightly vexed at Billy’s constant excuses and there were no classes scheduled for the week, so he wouldn’t make a dime. And now that Sam’s people were already traveling from Scotland to come and investigate the fake claim, Billy felt even more terrified at the uncertain outcome of the whole thing. He had nowhere to turn; he had to see it through, or nobody would ever trust him again. He simply could not falter now, because his only alternative would be unemployment, which was not an alternative at all, since without a family to support him he was bound to end up on the streets of the city’s already crumbling infrastructure.
Just like the city he resided in, his life had once been vibrant and successful with international acclaim and full of allure. But now, mismanagement and greed had taken its toll forcing him to enter a very gray zone in an attempt of recovery. Billy Malgas shook his head and forced his limbs to action if only to change posture and appear enthusiastic. The one good thing in all of this was that he was going to see Sam again. The lad was an entertaining and energetic presence; Billy would welcome at this juncture of his life and career.
After a quick shower, Dr. Malgas got dressed in his best smart casual attire. He could not deny that to looking decent and having brushed the rum off his breath made him feel better about everything. In the mirror, he looked like a proper academic again and by some force of will plastered a smile on his face, just to see how he would look to Sam Cleave and his team he didn’t know yet.
"Not too bad, not too bad," he grinned wider, throwing in a bit of attitude in his pose. "You keep this up. You might just sell this bullshit to them, after all... and if you do," he came up close to the mirror to scrutinize his features, "you might just come out of it stinking rich with endorsements and guest lecture invitations!”
A knock at his door kicked Dr. Billy Malgas into action. Mieke was here.
On their way to the harbor, Dr. Malgas thought it was a good idea to familiarize himself with Mieke’s plan and the details of the ship in question. It was a windy morning in Port Elizabeth, and the brunt of the traffic was gone since rush hour had already passed. Mieke had suggested having brunch at the Sea Lion Restaurant and Fisheries, a well-loved eatery on the harbor’s long line of fish markets and yacht clubs.
“How did you find this wreck in the first place, Mieke?” he asked her.
"I have known about it for a long time, actually. My brother and his girlfriend once took my parents and me out to the sea for a fishing day. Her father is retired and very well off. He used to love being out on the open sea, but his health didn’t allow him to go out on the yacht so much. So she told my brother to invite us. It was on a Sunday, I remember,” she explained, gesturing wildly with her hands as she always did.
“So they all know about it?” he asked.
“No. When we lay at anchor, you know, everybody was drinking and listening to music on the bar stereo, I jumped into the water to cool off. It was more of a dare from my brother," she giggled. "Nobody else wanted to go, so I won two hundred bucks with that bet!"
Dr. Malgas enjoyed her enthusiasm so much that he almost forgot to ask about the more significant details, "Okay, okay, but do you know exactly where it is?"
“I saw it when I dove under the ship. Almost had a bloody heart attack," she recounted with a wince of terror. "Just saw this huge dark thing under me! Jesus, I almost died when I saw it at first. It is huge, Dr. Malgas. And only I saw it."
“Are you sure? How long ago was this?” he asked.
"Positive. Of course, I don't know if anyone else has seen it before or after me. No-one ever reported it or said anything," she told him.
“How long ago?” he persisted.
“Um, about six months? Just before the summer," she recalled. Malgas gave it some thought. So far it all seemed plausible. Even if they found out that it was not the Graf Spee, he could still claim that had simply been mistaken.
“How are we going to convince professional historians and salvage divers that this is indeed the Graf Spee, Mieke? You do know that those ships had a certain construction and other features like emblems and deck guns only the Germans used,” he frowned.
They pulled into the harbor area, passing countless train tracks to reach the security checkpoint.
“I took care of that too,” she winked. It was meant to put him at ease, but Dr. Malgas only tensed up at the thought of the young blonde beauty being at the helm of his reputation. After having their IDs checked, Mieke and Dr. Malgas took the small road behind the row of structures along the harbor front to the restaurant.
“How, Mieke?” he whispered urgently. “My nerves are frayed, girl. I have to know what you know. When these people get here, I have to sound sure of my game. Now how did you ‘take care' of the details?"
They ordered coffee and took the menus from the waiter.
Mieke suddenly looked guilty. Her eyes danced in his glare as she sought the right words. Dr. Malgas felt his throat close up above his hammering heart. He felt too sick to eat now. Judging by her expression, she had done something he might have to pay for later, he feared.
“Mieke,” he said blandly. “Just tell me. Now.”
She took a deep breath. “I had the emblem cast in iron and then oxidized to rust and look approximately the right age,” she admitted. His face remained unchanged as the words still found their way through his logic. “My brother and two of his metallurgist colleagues did it for us, and then we went out to the estimated area and dropped the plaques into the water. If they find those in the vicinity of the ship they’re bound to agree that it must be part of the Graf Spee, right?”
Dr. Malgas shook his head relentlessly in disbelief. “The metallurgists and your brother… they know what is going on?”
“I swore them to secrecy, and I paid them out of my trust fund. If this works, we’ll get all our money back. Don’t worry about it,” she insisted.
“Jesus Christ, Mieke!” he whispered hard, leaning toward her across the table. “Do you realize what this little secret is going to cost us if they find out it’s all…”
The waiter arrived to take their orders.
"Can you please come back in a few minutes?" Malgas snapped at the unwelcome intrusion. "And bring me a double Re
d Heart Rum. Neat. No ice."
“They won’t find out, Doctor. Remember, nobody said we did a dive down there, so they can’t blame us if it turns out to be fake! It could just be an honest misidentification. Relax, or you will never successfully sell this hoax,” she whispered. She looked up, past him to the deck entrance. By his description and from some old photos she recognized the stylish woman, who was accompanied by two stern-looking suited men.
“Just a heads-up. Cheryl Tobias is here.”
Chapter 11 – Gadgets Ready, Engines Fueled
Purdue listened to the lively chatter within his normally quiet mansion, as Sam and the women debated the best way to get to the wreck site.
“If we fly down, we’ll have to wait a few days for Crystal’s survey ship to make it down there,” Nina countered. “If we charter a boat there for, say, three days, we can, at least, scout the area and locate the vessel in the meantime.”
“That would be a waste of time. We may as well travel on the survey ship in the first place,” Crystal negated the idea.
They were trying to figure out how to proceed, especially since the wreck was in territorial waters and the whole excursion had to be as inconspicuous as possible. Purdue smiled.
“You do realize that chartering a ship would double the expenses and that others would know that something is afoot, right?” Purdue called from the adjacent study, where he was mapping out a route on his tablet. It was a brand new version of his tablet he had only been using for three days so far, but he was getting the hang of it.
He could hear their moans of defeat at his comment, but they soon started arguing again. The suggested schedule would allow for them to spend approximately three days on the eastern coast of South Africa hoping they wouldn’t arouse suspicion from locals or the coast guards. The whole excursion would be expensive either way, he thought, so he wanted to give his latest invention a try. Purdue had been working on the software since Sam approached him about the prospect of a Nazi Panzerschiff in the Indian Ocean.
