by Paul A. Rice
‘And finally,’ she whispered, reaching into her bag and extracting a piece of Clingfilm. ‘Would sir care for a lemon slice with his ice and black stuff?’
I just shook my head, staring in disbelief as the best-looking waitress in the entire world served me my favourite poison whilst I happily sat on a sun lounger, in Tripoli, under the starriest night I think I’ve ever seen. Life was good!
‘Well, I gotta give it to you, girl,’ I said, softly. ‘This is probably gonna be the most bizarre and definitely the best damned drink of whiskey I think I’ll ever have… and I’ve had a few – cheers, Andi!’
We reached over and chinked our glasses, before taking a long swallow of our drinks.
‘Oh, yeah…’ she said, taking another sip.
‘That just about hits the damned spot! How’s yours, JC?’
‘It’s perfect, absolutely perfect!’ I said, grinning like a school kid.
To be perfectly honest, I felt like a school kid.
We stayed up there for hours and it was great, especially since neither of us was on stand-by, nor were we required on the ground until the next evening. Knowing that simply brought a sense of freedom to the whole affair. We could relax and be ourselves
Andi told me that she lived in New York and that, if the idea ever took my fancy, I was only to call her and she would give me the keys to her apartment, even if she wasn’t there. I reciprocated, telling her about my places in London and Italy, saying that she would absolutely adore Pesaro.
We talked about everything: school days, money, houses, cars, even work – you name it, we discussed it, except for our love-lives, somehow we just seemed to skirt around that particular subject.
She asked me if I’d been in the Hotel Rixos. I said that I had, telling her that my time in the hotel would be a memory I kept for a quite a while. There were a lot of things that happened whilst I was there, which only I would remember, because I’d been out-and-about on several occasions, having a little nosy… but there’s no way could I have ever told my companion that, and I was when glad she asked a different question about my time there.
‘Were you in there with Micky?’ Andi asked.
‘Micky, which Micky are we talking about?’
‘Donaldson,’ she said. ‘You must know Micky Donaldson – tall, dark-haired, very good-looking, she worked for Sky News?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ I said. I remember her; she got into a fight with one of the minders didn’t she? Yeah, I remember her – I think I stepped-in and stopped it.’
‘Andi snorted. ‘I think you did a bit more than that, Jake…’ she said. ‘According to Micky you probably saved her life, and if not, then you certainly saved her from a severe beating, either way – you definitely saved her job!’ She smiled at me again and I kind of wished she’d stop doing that. Kind of…
‘What, how do you know that?’ I asked, frowning at her.
‘She’s my best friend – I only got to speak to her this evening, just before we came up here, she’s in Tunisia right now.’
Andi grinned impishly, saying: ‘I mentioned your name, and Micky told me the story.’
‘Ah…’ I said, shrugging my shoulders. ‘You bloody women, there’s no getting anything past you guys is there?’
Andi laughed. ‘You do know that she had the hots for you, don’t you, Jake?’ she said, eyes sparkling again.
Starlight and sparkling eyes, they were an absolute killer. It was my turn to snort this time, not only at Andi’s daft comments but also at my own poetic, whiskey-induced, claptrap thoughts… ‘Starlight and sparkling eyes… what the fuck are you on, boy?’
Andi said, ‘Micky says that I’m to say hello to you, and I’m also under strict instructions to pass on her email address!’ She started rummaging about in her bottomless bag again.
‘Hey, Andi,’ I said, reaching over and tugging on her arm.
She stopped the rummaging and sat back up to look at me.
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I don’t want her email address – it’s cool of her to offer, but it was a long time ago and it was just work. Say hi for me next time you see Micky, but just tell her that I’m married, or something, Okay?’
‘Oh, Okay then,’ she said.
‘Are you?’
‘Am I what?’
‘Married?
‘Me, married? Don’t be daft!’ I said, laughing softly.
‘Well, what then, Micky is a hot chick, Jake!’
‘Yeah…’ I thought, ‘…a hot chick with a fucking big mouth. That silly cow had nearly caused me a whole heap of trouble in the Rixos!’
Not wanting to drop myself in the shit with Andi and her best mate, I bit my tongue and said, ‘Yeah, she certainly is – but she’s not my type…’ I wished right there and then that I hadn’t said that, purely because it was bound to lead to the next, obvious question.
It did.
‘Well, what is your type, JC?’ she asked, staring at me intently.
‘I… well, I just…’ Stumbling verbally, I held out my hands in a gesture of defeat, shrugging as I said: ‘I dunno, really. I… err…’
In truth I didn’t really know what to say. Well, no, that’s a lie because I did know what to say, but I also supposed that by saying something like: ‘You, Andi – you are my type,’ that it might be seen as a bit too straightforward. Luckily, Andi’s next comment got me out of the hole I was busily digging for myself.
‘You’re never… I mean, you’re not gay… are you?’
Then, and suddenly realising how bad that must have sounded, she quickly added: ‘I don’t mind if you are, though, Jake – it’s all cool with me, you’re still a lovely man…’
I’ve never heard anything less convincing in my life.
‘Ah, the wonders of the modern world,’ I thought. ‘Here I was, on the piss in the middle of Libya, and there she was, all worried about upsetting her hairy-arsed, security advisor’s sense of political correctness – how bizarre, how quaint, and how fucking crazy!’
I choked, spitting out a mouthful of precious whiskey in the process. ‘Fucking hell, Andi,’ I spluttered. ‘Just because I can’t tell you exactly what my type of woman is, doesn’t mean that I necessarily like ones called Derek, does it? I’m a ‘lovely man’… what are you like?’
Andi howled with laugher, choking on her drink and slapping her thigh, tears running down her face. I waited until she had calmed down a bit before speaking again.
‘Listen, I don’t care what anyone does,’ I said, sincerely. ‘Just as long as they’re not making a big issue out of what they do with their private lives, then that’s fine by me. Personally, my taste is definitely with the ladies, but that’s just me…’
‘Derek?’ she said, barely stifling another bout of choking. ‘Oh Lord, you are quite something else, JC, quite something else entirely!’
‘Well, Okay,’ I agreed, ‘that was probably a bit uncalled for, wasn’t it, Andi?’ I muttered, deliberately accentuating her boyish name.
She burst out laughing again, saying: ‘Ouch! That one burned! Waiter, may I have a saucer of milk for the catty bitch on table number-nine, please? Miaow…’
Then, looking at me with those piercing blue eyes, Andi smiled and said, ‘So… you’re young-free-and-single, are you, mister mystery man?’
I looked at her, pausing to think for a while. Andi wasn’t stupid and she probably knew that I’d been skirting around some of the things we’d talked about. She may have thought that I’d been hiding something about my love-life, but she couldn’t have been further from the truth. The things I had avoided talking about had nothing to do with love.
Breaking away from those thoughts, I answered her last, probing question. ‘Yeah,’ I said, cautiously. ‘I am single, that’s for sure. But young… well, that’s a matter of opinion, I suppose?’
We told each other our ages, she seemed genuinely surprised to discover that I was fifty. I told Andi that age was all in the mind and that in my mind I was a man of twenty
-one, who just so happened to have an extra twenty-nine years’ worth of experience… She laughed at that, saying that nothing beats experience. I was equally shocked to hear that she would be thirty-eight on her next birthday – in November of that year. I had guessed that she was a lot younger, which had probably had put me off a bit, albeit subconsciously. Getting involved with someone who was half my age had never held much attraction for me.
Laughing about how quickly life had passed us by, we sat on the roof and enjoyed each other’s company until the dawn broke, reaching like pink fire into the sky behind us. We had flattened the whiskey. Sipping on the last dregs, we looked at each other and smiled. It had been a great night and I think we got somewhere. By the time we were ready to call it quits, she pretty-much knew that I was interested, but she also knew that I wouldn’t play silly-bastards when I was on task. I hoped that the interest was reciprocal – Andi certainly seemed taken by me, but, I never go shopping without any money, and only time would tell.
‘Come on, sleepy-head,’ I said, seeing her starting to slump. ‘Let’s get some kip, shall we?’
Andi yawned and stretched out her arms. ‘Damn it, I don’t want this night to end,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘You’re right, though. I’m really quite tired, and…’ she tried to rise to her feet, staggering slightly, ‘… by the looks of things, I’m also filthy drunk!’
I grabbed her arm, steadying her slightly. Andi looked up into my face, smiling as she did so. Her eyes were like blue moons and that wicked dimple just slayed me on the spot. It was a gorgeous smile and I knew right then that she had been, and was being, genuine. We stayed there for a few seconds, staring at each other.
‘We need to get together, Jake,’ she murmured, ‘and soon…’
I held her away from me, and, whilst trying not to look too deeply into those eyes, said, ‘Yeah, we do – this shit will be over in a few days and then we’ll be out. I reckon that we could have a right laugh at the hotel in Djerba, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, I do, that would be lovely,’ Andi whispered.
Placing her arm around my waist, she pulled me towards the stairs, saying: ‘Now then, Jake Collins, start earning your money and escort the lady to her boudoir, because she can barely stand…’
I left her arm where it was until we reached the stairs, then leading the way, helped Andi back to her room downstairs. Standing in the half-light of the landing, I watched in amusement whilst she fumbled with the lock. Eventually succeeding, she pushed the door open and turned to me with a sleepy grin upon her face.
‘G’night,’ she whispered, ‘nitey-nite, my gorgeous, mysterious security man. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep tight, I wish you sweet-dreams!’
‘Night, Andi,’ I said, softly.
I stood in the shadows, waiting until I saw her door close before turning away. Once back in my palatial room, I dumped my clothes, flashed the toothbrush around my mouth for a few seconds, downed a bottle of water, and then crawled into my pit.
My only thoughts were only of Andi that night, and they were all good. I don’t think that I’ve ever wanted to stop earning money in order to get to a second-best hotel, quite so badly.
As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who had been ‘skirting around things’... Andi also had her fair-share of secrets, but it would take a while before I found out about them.
12
Missing
It was that same afternoon, on the 29th of August, when Andi and her crew went missing. I was in bed, sleeping-off half a bottle of Mr Daniels’ finest. Knowing that I hadn’t been there to help in her hour of need, only made me feel worse. If only I’d of been up and around, if only I had of gone out with her, if only… ‘If, if, if… shut-up, Jake!’ I thought, upon receipt of the bad news.
I had only discovered there was a problem when Gracie walked into the kitchen where I was making yet another brew.
‘Jake, can you get all of your guys together and meet us in the dining-room,’ she said. ‘There might be a bit of a problem…’
‘We’ll be right there,’ I replied, dumping the tea and heading for the garden where big Jim and Rory were chilling-out in the sun.
Moments later we were gathered around the table – Gracie and her lot, the techs and the other, junior correspondent, a toothy little man by the name of Charles, I think. To be honest, I can barely remember the man’s face, and I certainly can’t remember anything he said on that afternoon.
Gracie’s words were taking up every shred of my attention.
‘Andi and Bill haven’t called in,’ she said. ‘They missed their deadline, so I rang them and some Libyan guy answered Bill’s phone. He didn’t speak English and when I asked for Andi, he just laughed and hung-up.’ Gracie shook her head, saying: ‘I’ve had several people try their numbers and no-one’s answering, not even Ricky.’
She looked at me and I could see the panic in her eyes.
‘Who’s out on the ground?’ I questioned.
‘Bill, Andi, Gino and Ricky,’ she replied. ‘Oh, and Farid the driver…’
‘What time were they due to call in?’
‘Twelve-thirty, and they never miss their calls…’
I looked at my watch – it was 13:05hrs.
‘Right, they’ve been out of communications for just over half-an-hour,’ I said, looking at Rory. ‘We need to move and move fast! You call Ricky on his sat-phone, and try his local phone again, too.’
Rory stood up and walked onto the patio with his phones in hand.
Turning to the crew, I said, ‘Okay, this is how it goes: Do not, under any circumstances, call anyone on the news desk, not yet. We don’t know the situation and so it’s best not to start spreading wild rumours, especially since I’m sure they have family, Okay?’
The nodded quickly, listening intently whilst I continued.
‘Jimbo will stay here and look after you guys. Rory and I will go and find the area where they were supposed to be – can you give me the details, please?’
Gracie ran out of the room to reappear in a few seconds with her tasking sheet. Scanning the paper, she said, ‘The old town, they were supposed to be meeting some guy down there. He called us, he’s some ex-military guy who said that he knew where chemical weapons were being stored by Gadaffi, that’s why Andi went, this could be big...’
I took the details from her, saying: ‘All I want you to do is to keep trying their phones, all of them, I don’t care how many times you ring them, just keep trying.’ I looked at the others, saying firmly: ‘Nobody is to leave here until Rory and I get back, please ensure that you take that on-board, the last thing we want is another drama! We will go and find them, kick their arses for not calling-in, and then we can come back and have tea, right!’
The crew gave me a sickly smile and began to reach for their phones. I nodded to Rory, he and I took Gracie into the production suite, the lounge, and quickly reaffirmed the location of Bill and Andi’s supposed meeting.
Grabbing our gear, I hailed Raouf from where he had been getting his head down in the driver’s room. In seconds he appeared, slightly dishevelled but as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever.
When I told him the score, the driver scowled and shook his head.
‘They are not so good in that part of town, many old Gadaffi supporters live there’ he said, angrily. ‘Many now think they are rebels, but they are liars!’ We go there now and see – I will call my cousins to ask for news. I have many cousins and brothers, they will all help us. It is no problem, we find them, don’t worry, Mr Jake.’
We leapt into the car, Rory taking the front whilst I sat in the back and started calling our people in London.
‘Morning, guys,’ I said, into the satellite-phone. ‘Listen-in: have you heard from Ricky, yet? No, well, we may have a small problem on our hands then. One of the crews has missed a safety call and we can’t get hold of them. Start warning people off. We haven’t told the desk yet, Rory and I are on the way and we’ll confirm once
we’re on the ground.’
They acknowledged and I hung up. I knew that there would be a flurry of calls being made back in London. There were several people who would now be scouring the plans we have in place for such things as a client going off the radar. I also knew that if the crew were really missing, then there wasn’t much that the plan would do for us – we were going to be mostly on our own.
We barged our way through the traffic, Raoul doing a great job of not drawing attention to us, but still managing to get us where we were going in double-quick time. Rory and I both started taking down the coordinates of our location as we travelled along, passing my GPS to-and-fro, hanging it out of the car’s window to get a better signal. Eventually we arrived at the place where Gracie had said the crew were supposed to meeting their contact.
Sliding out of the car, both Rory and I scanned the area around a large, outdoor café. There was no-one there, and that was weird because I had seen other places on the way here, and they’d had plenty of customers. I walked up to the front door of the place and tried the door, it was locked. Cupping my hands over my eyes, I peered through the plate-glass into the cafe’s interior. As I did so, my eyes caught a glimpse of someone moving inside, toward the rear of the building. I wasn’t quite sure I had seen something, so I waited and watched. A sudden glare of daylight, spearing through the darkened interior of the room, made up my mind.
‘Rory, get the back – someone’s coming out!’ I hissed.
Both he and Raouf turned and ran down the alleyway at the side of the place. A few seconds later, Rory’s shout echoed out from around the corner. ‘Hey, you – wait a minute!’
Hearing his voice, I peered around the side of the building, but held my position in case it was just a distraction. I saw Rory stepping in front of a man, the guy tried to dodge around him but was collared by Raouf, who grabbed his coat and started angrily berating the guy in his native tongue. Dragging the man out into the open, we made him take a seat at one of the empty tables, which were situated on the café’s patio.
