by Andy McNab
The door opened and the sounds of wind and the ocean entered the room along with Egbers and my boots.
‘Mr Egbers there, he is my firefighter-in-chief, and I have to tell you, he does not want you to be part of our crusade, not yet anyway. He thinks you do not trust yet, and certainly not believe, and he should be taking care of this situation. He thinks he should be taking care of everything, not bringing in outsiders before they are fully confirmed.
‘But I feel you are already a convert, James – you are just practising a different version of the same belief. Besides, sometimes it can be best practice to have a generalist onboard. Do you not think?’
He got a nod and I got a smile in return.
Those eyes were starting to have that medicated look once more, but now I knew that, whatever the drug was doing, it was coming from within him. There was a messiah inside him, pushing itself out through his eyes. Whatever was going on between the two, all I could do was let them get on with it.
‘Thank you, James. So. Back to the CE business plan. Think Catholic Church. The top guy? That would be God, right? But we do not have one of those in our religion. Popes always start wars to prove that their imaginary best friend is better than that of the other guys. That is not our gig. We are about saving lives.’
I nodded. I got it so far.
‘So, normally below God you have the emissary – number one, numero uno, the Pope. This is the guy with the hotline to headquarters. But we do not have one of them, either – not yet. With me so far, James?’
He got another nod.
‘Good, James, that is good, because that is the problem I need you to fix. So, back to it. Below the Pope we have the cardinals. That is us guys, the cognitive elite. We are always thinking. We are always working stuff out. Wheeling, dealing, managing the cash – getting ready, doing all the backroom stuff for when the change happens. And when it does, we will be there, ready, just like all good cardinals. You see, the Pope and his cardinals will guide the people via their governments, who will depend on our resource. But when the time comes for us to do our thing, we will need a leader, we will need a pope.
‘But that is when the trouble will start for us cardinals. We will be good buddies to each other and talk the talk and show that we are doing the right thing, but just like any religious order, we will all eventually start to fight and claw and scratch and lie and deceive our way to the top. You see, everyone wants to be pope and some of the cardinals, well, they do not have friends, just interests, and being human normally means those interests are just to do with themselves.’
He gave another of his pauses for it all to sink in, and it did. But so what?
‘What is it you want me to do?’
Parmesh glanced at Egbers, then back at me. ‘James, I need you to steal something for me. A ledger. Here, in New Zealand.’
‘That it? Just steal a book?’
I might have been curious, but now I definitely wanted out of this shit. When something sounded simple there was a reason, and that reason was never a good one.
Parmesh nodded with a smile, and I wondered if he knew what I was thinking.
‘Just a book. But, James, what is written on its pages holds the key to who I should and need to be – the Pope. It belongs to Eduardo Castro, one of our cardinals, who really does not have the same vision as us.
‘Eduardo, in Mr Egbers’s words, which are always perfectly matched, is a husk of a man. Mr Egbers should know – he once worked for him. Eduardo reminds me of a modern-day Caligula. A damaged man with a damaged psychology and great power, yet we expect him to behave correctly.
‘But he cannot. He is unable to. He can only fill his emptiness with his ego and greed. He has no hope for our futures, just his own. The information, the names, the places he has written in the ledger, together they will give him the juice to become pope. It simply cannot be allowed to happen. I have to take possession of the ledger, and I need you to get it for me.’
Parmesh fixed his unblinking eyes deep into mine. I was making a supreme effort to do the same when Egbers had something to add: ‘Mr Castro thinks that just because he breaks all the rules it entitles him to make them. That cannot be allowed to happen. He is not important to us, just the ledger.’
Parmesh didn’t relax his focus as he slowly nodded in agreement.
‘Exactly, Mr Egbers, only the ledger. James, none of the other cognitive elite know that the ledger exists and we have to thank Mr Egbers for bringing its existence to my attention. I must be the one who has the ledger so that when the change comes it happens for the greater good, as any religion should guarantee – but when has that ever happened?’
I shrugged. Religions are man-made corporate institutions. And, like any corporation, to survive a religion must grow its brand, compete for market share. It had to be on top of its game just like Apple or Starbucks.
Parmesh let that settle in my head, his eyes burning into mine for good measure.
‘So, James … do you want to be part of something that changes the world, that brings peace and prosperity to all?’
Another pause. I wasn’t sure if it was there to fill. I couldn’t have, even if I’d wanted to. My head spun. Whose wouldn’t?
Parmesh had no problem filling the vacuum. ‘You know what, James? You were not a failure to yourself, or even your family, when you got caught today. People like us, we do not fail. We learn, make new opportunities, and move on.
‘So far, your journey has been all about payback. But today you have the opportunity to change the very system that brought your family all that damned misery, James. Now, that is an even better ride. Do you not agree?’
But agreeing to anything didn’t concern me.
What did was: Why me?
So I asked him.
13
‘James, I am so sorry, but now is not the time. You must trust me. You will be very well rewarded, not just for your work but for your trust. For the rest of their lives, your family, all of them, will never have to worry about anything other than how to enjoy themselves. And even the next generation.’
I hadn’t expected that: a sense of security, relief, had been presented to me on a plate. Could opportunity and timing be colliding in front of me?
‘How much are you offering?’
‘I have not really thought that far.’ He pushed his hair behind his ears. ‘Say, fifteen million US. No, let us say sterling. Now that is also something to get excited about, do you not think?’
Excited? Now I knew what it would feel like to see all your lottery numbers come up. Your head would be buzzing, but you’d be thinking, Is it for real?
Keep it logical. Just for lifting a book? That was a big number, and if it sounded too good to be true, it probably was. ‘What exactly am I letting myself in for?’
Parmesh gave the biggest smile yet as he took that for a yes, and I supposed it was. It had to be: what else was I going to say? But I still needed to get off this yacht and feel some control of events around me.
‘I need to know the where and the when – or how can I tell you whether or not I can do the job successfully?’
‘Details.’ Parmesh pushed it aside with a wave of his hand. ‘That is what I like about you, James. Details matter. The best early-stage investments in people appear obvious in retrospect. So many people jump to the money without having the detail worked out first. That is not good, James. But you, you are good.’
He threw a look to Egbers. ‘We have the right guy.’
I didn’t see Egbers’s reaction.
Parmesh leant over and shook my hand. It might have been the Brit reserve in me, but the shake seemed to go on for just a few seconds longer than it should have, and his eye contact was still too far on the messianic side of intent for comfort.
‘Thank you, James. Thank you.’
The South African was on his feet and waiting for me between the settee and the door, my boots in his hands.
Parmesh motioned for me to join him. ‘James, the helicopter
will take you back to Akaroa. Mr Egbers will tell you everything you need to know. We will talk soon and often, James. Again, thank you. This is such vital work. Our crusade is so important. We are willing to die making it a reality. That is how strong our hope is for our future.’
Egbers opened the door for me and stayed a pace behind. It was still windy on deck, but the yacht was slowing. The engines of the helicopter whined into action.
I was pulled in two directions. I felt like I’d been sold snake oil but not even walked away with a bottle of it. Was he a real billionaire philosopher? It really didn’t matter. I needed to get off Saraswati and onto dry land. For all the smiles, I was still being held against my will. Once I was away from there, I needed to take my time and do what I was good at. Working out situations with a practical, logical mind, thinking about problems methodically. And then I could be creative and innovative about finding the solutions that would get me out of this shit, or not. The money, even if not true, had still got my head churning. I had fucked up and got caught, but first of all I had to get off this yacht in one piece, then find out what I could about the job without too much contact with Parmesh, Egbers and that Brit.
Then decide.
Egbers made sure I had my boots back on and then he strapped me into what was effectively a red leather settee in the rear of the helicopter, facing the cockpit and the back of the pilot’s helmet. He jumped into a matching settee that faced me. No seatbelt for Mr Egbers.
The rotors turned and their noise was soon deafening. He shoved a headset into my hands before putting on his own. The rotors were suddenly just faint background noise. His voice was tinny but the threatening tone was undiminished.
He half closed his eyes in disgust, then pulled himself forward on the settee and leant over to me. He adjusted my microphone. ‘Speak normal, no shouting.’
I nodded as if he had given me advice on something I didn’t already know.
The helicopter lurched from the deck and gained height, then swivelled. Saraswati disappeared behind us. Waves crashed against the stretch of coastline dead ahead.
The South African leant over and poked me in the shoulder. ‘Listen to me. You’re going to Queenstown.’ He handed me a white envelope the size of a postcard. ‘Don’t look at it now, just listen to me. In there is Castro’s address, where the ledger is held. There is also a credit card. The PIN is 1234. Use it for hotels, cars, as you want – change the PIN, do whatever you like.’
I nodded.
‘In Queenstown, do your recce. I will contact you when I’m ready. Until then, that’s all you need to know. You understand me?’
I got the message. Shut up and do as you’re told. Fine by me. I just wanted this heli to land and me to step out of it to be alone.
What had taken a couple of hours on Saraswati was rapidly being reclaimed as we skimmed over a green mountaintop and into the mouth of the inlet. At the far end lay Akaroa.
I felt the hard plastic of the credit card as I tucked the envelope into my shorts, and very soon I could make out the shell of Parmesh’s colonial house, the churned-up earth and the machinery around it. We overflew the property to a field behind, which I knew Parmesh also owned, along with as much surrounding land as he had been able to lay his hands on.
The helicopter dipped its nose, and it wasn’t long before two hands the size of shovels undid my seatbelt, but then shoved a hand against my chest to prevent me from moving.
‘You have not asked one question. Why? Why not?’
He could read me like a book.
‘Mr Mani is a great man.’ It wasn’t an observation, it was a warning. His eyes seared into me as the helicopter gently settled on the grass. ‘A very kind and thoughtful man. He is a visionary. He will save us all.’
His face came to within a couple of centimetres of mine. I could smell his cleanliness again. ‘Mr Mani finds hope in everyone, and hope has two beautiful daughters. Anger and courage. Mr Mani has courage to see the way things could be. If you disappoint Mr Mani, you will see anger. I will make sure you watch us rip your children’s mother limb from limb before we do the same to you. Your children – what will become of them? Clear?’
Crystal.
‘Mr Mani will never know what has just passed between us. He has more important things to be dealing with. But make no mistake, you will perform whatever task he requires of you.’
The rotors slowed but didn’t stop. ‘Now get out. Go straight out at ninety degrees from the door. Do not go near the rear rotors. Do not run.’ He pulled off my headphones and yanked the door open.
The downdraught battered the back of my shirt and head before slowly dissipating as the helicopter took off.
At last I’d got what I wanted: to be back on firm ground and away from that lot. However, my great plan to work out what to do had just crashed and burnt. Once family are involved, two things happen: anger at them being threatened and the need to liquidate anyone who could hurt them; then, the realization that if you love them you’re fucked, because with family no risk is acceptable.
It looked like I was hitting the road.
Part Three
* * *
14
Queenstown
Tuesday, 27 November 2018
Speargrass Flat lay about ten kilometres north-east of Queenstown as the crow flew, except it was such a mega-exclusive area all the crows probably took Ubers.
Not that there was much to indicate wealth, driving north along the two kilometres of Hunter Road in my baby-size rental Toyota. The narrow strip of tarmac with grass and gravel at either side was nothing special, the only display of ostentation the double yellow lines down the centre of the road. Power and phone lines branched off every five hundred metres or so towards where all the money was tucked away in very private estates that were surrounded by manicured lawns and banks of thickly planted fir trees. It was well on the way to becoming the New Zealand version of Atherton.
To an outsider it wouldn’t have been obvious why, but the price of real estate had soared round there over the last two years. I happened to know it wasn’t just because of the views, even though there couldn’t have been many more stunning places to come and sit out the apocalypse. No matter which direction you looked, mountains cut into the clear blue horizon.
This was Lord of the Rings country. I knew that because I did all the film location tours the first time I was here, on the Dalladine job, exactly two years ago to the day.
But Dalladine wasn’t on my mind now. It was Eduardo Castro or, rather, his house: Sanctuary.
Not that he was the registered owner – they never were. Sanctuary was registered to a trust company, and its registered address was at a lawyer’s firm in Auckland.
When I was about halfway along the road, the sat-nav gripped me in a strict New Zealand accent to say I was nearly at my destination. I started looking for a driveway, gate or some kind of sign that indicated the place.
Wooden ranch-style fencing flanked the road on the left, and ahead more tarmac came in at a right angle onto Hunter Road. Very soon, a natural stone wall took over, then thick wooden gates, two metres tall, with all the usual electrical arms and a steel press-button entry box. But no house sign. Was it Sanctuary? If so, the new-looking, light-grey concrete road should snake the 1,986 metres through the grounds to where the front elevation of the house would be.
I carried on, and maybe ten metres past the gate the sat-nav told me I had reached my destination. I continued towards the T-junction, roughly a kilometre away, and the end of Hunter Road. The temperature was in the mid-twenties and I was grateful for the air-conditioning.
I turned left at the junction and headed west, looking for higher ground to have a better view of Sanctuary. I’d been there for two days now and there’d been no contact from Egbers or anyone else. I’d driven down to Queenstown overnight in the hire car the credit card had given me. My time around the lake in Queenstown had been taken up checking Google Maps, online planning permissions, anything
open-source about Sanctuary, trying to get an idea in my head of what I’d hopefully soon be looking at. I wanted a steer on the construction materials. Was it timber-framed, concrete, steel-framed, blockwork? What did I have to get through, over or under? And, of course, as on all my jobs, I tried to find out who the contractors were, because once I knew that, I could research their website, blogs and social media for work practices and maybe find a way in.
My problem was that the house was already built, and that was a first for me. This time, I wouldn’t be able to create a back door that would wait for me to open it. That worried me: I was entering a whole new world of problems that I’d managed to avoid in the past.
But what really concerned me – well, scared me – was the thought of what would happen if I couldn’t get in to take the ledger in the first place. That fear was the prime mover behind me being extra diligent in my research and not calling home. I wanted to keep focused and not give away that there was a major problem. Charlotte would be able to tell: she always could.
On the drive south I had played about with the idea of the family and me just disappearing off the face of the earth. I knew it was a stupid idea – it was a fantasy. I’d have to kidnap Pip, for a start. She wanted to be away from me, not for us to be forced together. Plus, I would be admitting to her that the last seven years had been a lie: she and the boys had been living off the proceeds of crime, and now, because of me, they were in danger. That would put a very firm lid on any chance of us getting back together. If we survived, of course. Where would we go? How would we hide? They would find us. Money buys you influence, buys you power, and it buys you knowledge.
I took Egbers’s threat seriously. Even if I felt he and the Brit wouldn’t follow it up, I still had to assume they would.
I had to accept that I was caught, and that I had no option but to do as Parmesh wanted. Whatever the ledger’s contents did for him wasn’t my concern.
