The Jason Green series Box Set

by Gordon Wallis

  The walk to the newsagent’s and back only took 15 minutes. As I walked into the flat, I saw to my surprise that the Aston was on the move. I made another cup of coffee and sat watching the flashing blue dot move slowly across London as I read my paper. Richard was heading north. He certainly wasn’t going to the shop. Eventually the car stopped moving at what I knew was a large shopping mall five miles north of his flat. It was time to have a look at his email account. I opened Gmail, entered his address and password and I was in. I still had a feeling of smug accomplishment from the hacking job the previous evening. As I sipped my coffee, I opened the most recent email. It was from a woman by the name of Angelique. The email address was web-based so I had no way of telling where she was from, but I could clearly see that she struggled with typing in English.

  “Dear Richard, I was so happy to know that you will once again be coming here. I have been thinking about you and your busy life in London and wondering what is it you have been doing. Life here is good as always but sometimes a little boring? I hope I write correct English! I do look forward to meeting you again soon, Angelique x.”

  It didn't read like a love letter to me, but Richard had clearly cultivated some mild interest from her. The next email was from a supplier of skiing equipment. It was a reminder to settle an outstanding account of £16000. I imagined that it would have been part of his Christmas stock.

  It wasn’t what I was looking for, so I carried on down to the next email. It was from Facebook. A friend had tagged Richard in a photograph. I made a mental note to attempt to hack into that site later on to see if I could find anything there. The email below was obviously from a friend of his.

  “Looking forward to seeing you mate, drinks at The Bell Saturday night it is then!” it read.

  The next email really did get my attention. It was from a company called Premier Travel based in Sloane Square. Immediately I put the mug of coffee down on the table, sat up straight and slowly read through it.

  “Dear Mr Lewer-Allen. As requested herewith your itinerary and e-tickets for your trip. Please be sure to print this page out and take it with you to the airport. Please note, check in time is latest two hours before your flights, barring the transfer from Stone Town to Dar Es Salaam which will be one hour before departure.

  British Airways, London Heathrow to OR Tambo International, Johannesburg, Friday 15th February, 10pm departure, arrive OR Tambo International, Johannesburg, Saturday 16th February, 9.40am.

  South African Airways, Johannesburg to Cape Town International, Saturday 16th February, 10.45am departure, arrive Cape Town International 12.45pm.

  South African Airways, Cape Town to Zanzibar, Monday 18th February, depart 7.30am, arrive Stone Town International, Zanzibar, 1.30pm.

  Tropic-air, Stone Town International Zanzibar to Dar Es Salaam International, Tanzania, Monday 25th February, depart 4.30pm, arrive Dar Es Salaam International, 4.50pm.

  British Airways, Dar Es Salaam International to London Heathrow, Monday 25th February. Depart 9pm, arrive London Heathrow, Tuesday 26th February 6am.

  We would like to thank you for booking through Premier Travel and wish you a pleasant trip.

  Jackie Strong

  Booking Agent

  I glanced at my watch. The date was Friday 15th February. Richard was going on holiday again, and he was leaving that very night. Lucky for some. Cape Town, Zanzibar. I had never been to either place, even having lived in Africa all those years ago. I would have to inform Gareth Lewer-Allen of his son’s holiday plans. At least I would have ten days or so to sniff around Richard’s private life while he was away. Maybe do a more thorough search of his flat and see if I could find anything else of interest. The time was 9.20am. Gareth Lewer-Allen would be at his offices by now. It was as good a time as any to give him an update. I decided that I would tell him that I suspected that he had been right all along. That Richard was indeed involved in some lucrative and possibly shady activity apart from the surf shop, but that I would need more time to find out exactly what. It was completely true after all.

  I had nothing to hide and it would extend the time frame for the job nicely. I might be able to stretch it to three weeks, and at £1000 per day, that would be very sweet indeed. I opened my bag and found the personal calling card of Gareth Lewer-Allen. I quickly ran through what I was going to say and dialled. The phone rang three times and was picked up.

  “Lewer-Allen,” the deep voice said.

  “Mr Lewer-Allen, this is Jason Green.”

  “Good morning Mr Green, I was wondering when I would hear from you. Do you have any information on my son yet?” True to form, all pleasantries were abandoned and he had cut straight to the chase.

  “I have. Firstly, the flat your son is living in was bought outright. He is not renting. And I'm sure you're aware of property prices in that area.”

  He paused, “I knew it, I knew it! I knew he was up to something. What is he doing Mr Green? How the hell is he getting all this money?”

  He sounded irritated and desperate.

  “I’m afraid it’s too early to say,” I said slowly. “I did witness something irregular yesterday, an exchange of sorts. And with some very unsavoury characters. I don’t want you to panic though. It could be anything and it might well be totally innocent. I am going to need some more time to find out exactly what he’s doing.”

  “If my son is doing something illegal, Mr Green, my standing in the world of investment banking would be ruined, a lifetime’s work would be lost.”

  “Another thing Mr Lewer-Allen,” I interrupted. “Your son is booked on a flight to Cape Town, South Africa tonight. From there, he flies to Zanzibar, Tanzania on Monday and only returns to London on the 26th of February. I will use the time he is away to do some more research into his private affairs and his circle of friends. I hope to have something concrete for you before he gets back.”

  There was a long pause.

  “No,” came his reply, “no, I would prefer if you were to follow him on this trip. Watch him like a hawk, and report to me whenever necessary.”

  I was instantly taken aback, this was totally unexpected.

  “You want me to follow Richard to Cape Town and then on to Tanzania?” I said, incredulous. There was another pause.

  “Yes Mr Green, I would like you to do exactly that. You have no idea of the pressure I am under. This uncertainty of what Richard is doing is affecting my personal life and could quite possibly affect my business in a very negative way. I would like you to follow him please Mr Green.”

  Once again, I realised I was dealing with a desperately worried man.

  “If you are in need of some more money, let me know and I will arrange it immediately.”

  My mind was spinning.

  “No, there’s no need for that,” I paused in thought.

  “Very well,” I said. “I will follow him to Cape Town and I will see what I can find out for you.”

  “Thank you, Mr Green, thank you. I’ll leave it to you and you will call me when you have something yes?” he said.

  “Yes, I'll do that, thank you, goodbye.” I hung up feeling totally stunned.

  This was turning into a roller-coaster ride. Johannesburg, Cape Town, Zanzibar. Tonight. Fucking hell. I lit a cigarette and started pacing up and down the lounge. My mind racing. I would need to try to get on the same flights as him, all the while not being seen. I would need to book the flights, pack for the trip and organise car hire at the other side. Green, you had better start jumping around, old boy.

  I crushed out the cigarette and went back to the laptop. The Aston was still parked at the mall in north London. Shopping for your holiday are you Richard? His Gmail was still open, so I started looking for any other correspondence pertaining to his trip. One was from Hertz car rental at Cape Town International Airport.

  Dear Mr Lewer-Allen. We are pleased to advise that the 4x4 Land Cruiser vehicle you requested is available and will be ready for you on your arrival on Saturday 16th F
ebruary. Please proceed straight to the Hertz desk in the arrivals hall where you will be met by our representative, who will arrange everything for you.

  It went on to give names, times etc. I printed off his flight schedule and the car hire details. I realised I needed a lot more than this. What if I lost him in Cape Town? The only contact would be his cell phone. This was another unknown. I didn’t like unknowns. I searched his inbox for more information. It came in the form of an email from The Blueberry Guest House, 45 Walker Road, Kalk Bay, Cape Town.

  Dear Richard, yes we have your usual rooms available for you for the nights of the 16th and 17th February. We are looking forward to seeing you again. Please let us know if there is anything you need us to do for you prior to your arrival. Kind regards, Jerry and Kate Grobelaar.

  That was a real result. I was pleased. At least there would be an address to watch and I wouldn't be stuck in Cape Town, looking for a needle in a haystack. I quickly did a search for accommodation in Kalk Bay, Cape Town. There were about ten results. All of them hotels and guest houses. The Blueberry Guest House was one of them. I went to the website to have a look at where Richard would be staying. It was an old colonial-style house, boasting rooms with expansive sea views. It would make a lot of sense to try to find something close by. I quickly searched for a map of the Kalk Bay area of Cape Town. Walker Road was easy to find and close to the main road to Simons Town. I found a decent looking place that was only three blocks from the Blueberry - Binkie’s Bed and Breakfast. From the website it seemed that although it wasn’t as smart as the Blueberry, it would do fine for me for two nights. There was a phone number at the bottom of the site. I called the number. It rang for an eternity, then was answered by a man who sounded like he had a dreadful hangover.

  “Binkie’s Bed and Breakfast, can I help you?”

  “Oh hello, I’m calling from the UK, I was wondering if you have a room for Saturday and Sunday night?”

  “Umm, ahh, hang on just a moment please,” said the groggy voice.

  The receiver was put down and whoever had answered was coughing and rummaging through papers. After a while, the receiver was picked up again. Clearing his throat, the man spoke,

  “Ah yes, we do have a room for those nights. Have you been here before?”

  “No I haven't, but it seems pretty clear from the map on your website. I should have no problem finding you.”

  “Ahh ok, can I get your name please?”

  “Jason Green.”

  “Ahh ok Mr Green, do have any idea when you’ll be arriving?”

  “I'm not sure but I would say some time in the late afternoon.”

  “OK, that's fine, I've got you in room number five. I'll expect you tomorrow afternoon then.”

  “Thanks very much, see you then.” I hung up feeling relieved.

  I made a list of what I would need to do. There were still too many unknowns. I took another look at Richard’s email account again. I needed to find out his plans once he got to the island of Zanzibar. After a few minutes browsing the mails I found one from a place called Eden Beach Lodge’ in Paje, (pronounced pah-jay) Zanzibar.

  Dear Mr Lewer–Allen. We can confirm your booking from Monday 18th Feb to Monday 25th February. The staff and I are looking forward to seeing you again. Thanks for choosing Eden Beach Lodge.

  Kind regards, Jose Santiago, General Manager. Eden Beach Lodge, Paje, Zanzibar.

  There was a link to a website for the resort at the bottom of the email. I clicked on it to see what sort of place I was looking at. It seemed Richard would be staying in what I could only describe as a tropical paradise. There was a gallery crammed with pictures of the resort. It had three hundred metres of beach front with various bars, and an award winning restaurant. There were twenty separate bungalows with air conditioning, cable TV, and sea views. There were swaying palm trees on pure white sands that stretched out to turquoise waters beyond. I shook my head, incredulous. It was unbelievable that I too would be there in a few days. I had done my fair share of travelling during my marriage. Europe, the US, India, South East Asia. But I hadn’t stepped a foot in Africa for more than twenty five years.

  My list of things to do was getting longer by the minute. Car hire for Cape Town and Zanzibar, accommodation for Zanzibar, preferably in the same resort as Richard, flight bookings, passport and visa requirements for Zanzibar, packing.

  I glanced at the tracking page on the laptop. Richard was still parked at the shopping mall in north London. I then went to the websites of the airlines on Richard's flight schedule. It was a complex procedure to try to book and pay online.

  I decided I would drive up to Wood Green to my travel agent with Richard's schedule and book from there. I dressed warmly, packed my bag, and left the flat. All thoughts of the cold were far from my racing mind as I opened the little hire car and started it. I figured if I could organise the flights, I would be OK. I would have the rest of the day to arrange car hire and hotels for the rest of the trip.

  The rain had started by the time I reached Wood Green. As usual, parking was a problem so I headed for a pay parking arcade with four floors of space. I took the ticket from the automated boom and drove to the third floor where I found space. I parked and headed into the shopping area. The travel agents were on the ground floor of the mall so I took the escalator down, all the while my mind racing with thoughts of the trip. You will get on the same flights and you will find accommodation in Zanzibar, just relax, I told myself.

  The windows of the travel agent were plastered with posters of exotic, sunny locations. A chubby, surprised looking woman with spectacles stood up, smiled, and invited me to sit down at her desk. I pulled Richard’s printed flight schedule from my jacket pocket and started.

  “I'm afraid I've got a bit of a rushed trip to organise. I have a friend travelling to South Africa tonight and I would like to get on the same flights.” I said apologetically.

  “No problem sir, if you can give me the flight details, I'll try to organise that for you.” I handed her the schedules.

  She pushed her glasses up her nose and immediately went to work on the desk top computer. My heart sank when she came back with bad news.

  “I'm afraid that the British Airways flight to Johannesburg tonight is fully booked, and the South African Airways to Cape Town is also fully booked. Would you like me to try some other options for you?”

  “Yes please,” I said, “it’s really important that I get there around a similar time.”

  “Ok, just a minute,” she said and busied herself once again. After what seemed an eternity, she came back with an alternative.

  “I can get you on a Virgin Airways flight to Joburg tonight at 9pm, arriving 8.40am, and then on a local South African carrier to Cape Town, leaving 10.15am, arriving 12.15am. The Virgin flight is full and I can only get a ticket for first class. Will that be OK sir?”

  “Yes that's fine,” I said. “Could you go ahead and book those for me please?”

  “Ok, I'll do that right now, and what other flights would you like me to look at for you?”

  I went on to tell her about the flight from Cape Town to Zanzibar on Monday the 18th. To my disappointment, this flight was also fully booked.

  “I can get you on a South African Airways flight to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania on Monday, leaving Cape Town International at 6am, arriving Dar Es Salaam at 11am? Would that be OK for you?” she asked.

  “How will I get across to Zanzibar?” I asked.

  “I'm afraid the carriers are small operators across to Zanzibar, I don't think I can issue tickets for that from here. Especially as you're in such a rush. I’m sorry sir.”

  “Ok, no problem, I'll take care of that myself when I get to Dar Es Salaam. Can you go ahead and book those flight for me then?”

  “I've done that already sir, now what about your return flights, when are those?”

  I gave her the dates and times for the flight from Dar Es Salaam back to London. Again the flight was fully booked
. I opted for an Ethiopian Airlines flight to London via Addis Ababa later that night.

  The trip was expensive. I handed over my credit card and paid. Gareth Lewer-Allen will be footing the bill for this, I thought, and I have no problem flying first class on his tab. Ten minutes later all the tickets and boarding passes were issued and handed to me.

  “There is no visa requirement for Tanzania and Zanzibar if you’re travelling on a British passport sir, so I think we are done.”

  “Yes, looks good,” I said as I paged through the various tickets. “Thanks very much.”

  “Have a good trip sir!” she said smiling at me as I stood and made my way to the door.

  I was relieved. It wasn’t perfect but all my flight times were around the same time as Richard's. I packed the tickets into my jacket pocket and headed back into the mall. What else have I got to do here, I thought. Suddenly I realised that I was starving. I knew there was a good coffee shop on the first floor so I headed up the escalator to get something to eat and sit down for a while to gather my thoughts.

  I ordered a full English breakfast, sat down, and opened my laptop. The Aston was on the move again, heading back towards Sloane Square. I watched the flashing blue dot moving slowly through maze of streets on the screen. We’ve only known each other a few days Richard, and now were off on holiday together, I thought, with a half smile on my face. My stomach rumbled as I smelled the breakfast cooking. I opened a search page for Zanzibar accommodation. I had forgotten the name of the place Richard was staying at in Zanzibar so I opened up his email again to find the name. After a few minutes I had found the email. The place was called Paje. I Googled it and it came back with a lot of information.