The Jason Green series Box Set

by Gordon Wallis

  The pattern continued until the fish was only ten metres from the boat. I could see its long dark shape under the water. Its relaxed and slow swimming motion only betrayed by the immense forces that were bending my rod at forty five degrees. Sensing that death was imminent, it broke its pattern and swam to my right as if to move to the front of the boat. “Must get out the seat now boss!” Screamed the captain. “Fish wanna go round to the front, you gotta bring him back now!” He quickly freed me from the seat and I stood for the final chapter of what had become an epic battle. Bracing myself with my left leg, and leaning back into the strain, I slowly moved to the side of the boat in the middle of the deck. I gave another monumental pull on the rod. I felt a long slow, ever-increasing burn in my left arm as I pulled him round for another pass. Slowly he turned and came. The captain had grabbed an eight foot long, thick metal pole with an ugly hook on the end of it. He stood next to me holding it out ready for the pass. “I’m gonna get him with the gaff now boss!” he whispered. “Deck hand and me gonna hold him, then we bring him in.” I brought the great fish slowly back towards me from the front of the boat. Again everything appeared to be in slow motion.

  He was two metres away from where I stood and was attempting to make another arc. It was then that I saw him for the truly magnificent creature that he was. Through the crystal clear water I saw the serrations on the sword. I saw the beautiful luminous shades of green, blue, and black running the entire eight foot length of his perfectly formed body. I saw the huge spiny fin and tail break the water. Then I looked into his eye and he looked into mine. His eye was the size of a tennis ball, but black and flat. What are you thinking? I thought, feeling almost delirious with exhaustion, you’re looking death in the eye, what are you thinking now? The captain put one foot on the side of the deck and held the gaff out ready to impale the fish. All the while I stared into its seemingly emotionless eye. Then, as if to say, “thanks, but this is not going to happen today,” the fish made a sharp movement to the right with his head and the thick wire trace that attached the lure to the nylon line snapped. The great fish moved off at an angle into the deep. I watched it go for a good four metres through the clear water. It moved with slow, graceful, dignified sweeps of its tail until it disappeared into the blue. For some reason I felt a huge sense of relief. Not because the fight was over but because the fish had got away. It had fought with immense strength and bravery. It had looked death in the eye and won. “You go boy,” I said out loud, “you deserve it.” I handed to rod to the captain who had tears in his eyes by that time. I guessed he thought he would miss out on a very large tip. Both Richard and the deck hand were both standing shaking their heads. Their lips were moving and they were speaking but at that stage I couldn't hear a thing. I walked over to a bench seat that was situated in the shade at the back of the cabin and slumped down onto it on my back. I lay there breathing heavily, soaked with sweat, for a good ten minutes as the sounds of the engine, the lapping of the water, and the chatter of the others gradually returned. The next thing I knew was Richard had sat down near me and heard the sound of a bottle opening.

  “I think that deserves a beer, Jason. That was fucking amazing. Sorry you lost it mate!” I opened my eyes and reached up to grab the bottle he was holding out for me. The icy coldness of the bottle soothed the red and raw callouses of my right hand.

  “Tell you the truth Rich, I'm not upset it got away at all,” I said, “I'm glad. It was too beautiful to kill.”

  “You’re right” he said thoughtfully, “it was. What a fucking amazing day huh?” “That's for sure.” I lay there, recovering and chatting to Richard for a good ten minutes before eventually sitting up. We spoke at length about the fight and the fact that we both thought we had hooked into a fish at the same time.

  We laughed about his line breaking and him falling into the deck hand. He wasn't bitter about anything and instead was happy just to have been there for the experience. I had become fond of Richard Lewer-Allen despite who I was and what I was doing. It was impossible not to be. As he passed me a second beer we toasted the blue marlin that got away. As we drank my mind slipped back to the sad fact that I was there in a professional capacity. Another fine bonding experience for you and Richard today, Green. How are you going to extricate yourself from this? How is this going to come to a conclusion?

  The captain, who had been busying himself on the wheel deck climbed down and addressed us both. “sorry bosses, time is late now,” he said in his Swahili accent, “think we should start to head back to Paje.”

  “That's fine Austin,” Richard said, “let’s go”. The captain climbed back up the chrome ladder to the top deck and revved the engines slightly. Richard and I took seats on either side of the boat so as to take in the view as we went. The sky above was completely cloudless and the dark green slab of the distant shore looked like a thick carpet.

  “We go!” shouted the captain. The powerful inboard engine growled like a singer in a thrash metal band and we were off. Richard and I didn't talk very much as we sped down the coast back to Paje. There was too much noise from the engine and the wind. Instead we sat, enjoying the view and the cooling effect of the spray and the wind. Eventually we neared Paje and the captain made a wide circle to the right with the boat as if to show off to the tourists on the beach. It was then that I noticed the large, white Mediterranean house I had seen that morning on my run. It looked even more imposing from out on the sea, stretching for hundreds of metres along the coast. Surrounded by jungle on either side. The whole expanse of it protected by the four metre stone wall. Then the captain slowed the engine so we would be able to safely navigate through the breakers and the reef to the calm water beyond. Finally the noise of the motor and the wind were gone and we were able to talk again. I stared at the house blankly as I sipped my beer. “I saw that place this morning when I went for a jog,” I said pointing at it. “What is it, is it a hotel or a house? Looks pretty big.”

  Richard turned to see what I was pointing at. “Oh that?” he said, “that's a house. Belongs to a friend of mine. Carlos. Yeah, it’s huge for sure.”

  “Impressive place!” I said.

  “Carlos,” replied Richard, “oh he’s a business man. You know the bottled water we were drinking? He bottles that stuff. Sells it all over Zanzibar and Tanzania. He's also got a surfboard manufacturing business on the mainland in Dar Es Salaam. Ships them all over the world including to my shop in London.”

  “Oh right.” I said and thought nothing of it.

  “I'm actually going to a party there tonight,” he said, “you should come with me Jason. Bring Helen along.” I sipped my beer and thought about the offer for a few seconds. I had screwed up enough and been with him the previous night and that day. It couldn't harm any more. “Will you take Ineke?” I asked.

  He turned and looked at me. “Um, no,” he said thoughtfully, “no I don't think so.”

  “Well we can't separate them” I said, “they are on holiday together.” The boat chugged along for a few more seconds. “well let’s just you and me go together.” he said. He had the same look on his face as when he had invited me on the fishing trip in the morning. Go on Green, you might learn something, you never know, and you’re already in the shit here.

  “Yup ok, I'll come along Rich,” I said reaching for my cigarettes.

  “Excellent!” he replied. “Considering what happened last night, I think we should go by taxi,” I said.

  “No need!” he said smiling, “I'll pick you up on the quad bike!” I nodded, lit my cigarette, and stared back at the water sports centre. Eventually we made it safely back through the reef and into the calm water beyond. The driver revved the motors briefly just before we got to the beach and boat surged forward. The sand made an abrasive sound on the fibreglass below as we stopped.

  “Very sorry about the fish bosses,” said the captain mournfully. “That's fine Austin, we had a good time,” said Richard as he passed him a $100 bill.

  �
�Oh thank you boss, thank you very much, thank you.”

  I thanked the crew and got off the boat. “What are you doing this afternoon Jason?” Richard asked.

  “No real plans Rich,” I said, “thought I might go back to the hotel and catch up on some emails, do some work.”

  “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, “I've actually got some stuff I need to take care of as well. Can I give you a ride back to your hotel?”

  “Thanks, but I think I'll take a walk Rich.” I said.

  “Ok, well, I'll be with you at about 6pm, there's no need to have dinner at the hotel. There’ll be plenty of food at Carlos’ place, should be a great party.” He said.

  “That's fine,” I said, “I'll see you later Rich and thanks for the fishing, it was a lot of fun.”

  “Pleasure mate, see you later,” he said and I made my way back down the beach in the blistering sun. The walk took the usual ten minutes and I was grateful to get into the shade when I arrived at my hotel. There was no sign of Ineke or Helen anywhere, and I made my way straight to my room to the cool of the fans. I was covered in dry sweat and sea salt so after a quick cold shower I felt a lot better. I stood in the breeze of the fans and stared out of the window wondering what to do next. Richard had said that he had some work to catch up on. What work was he talking about? Richard didn't work very hard even when he was at home in London so what work would he possibly have to do here on the east coast of Zanzibar? It would be foolish of me to go up to his hotel after just having spent the entire morning with him. He might see that as unusual if, by accident, we were to run into each other. After all, we did have a bad habit of doing that. I decided that I would eat some lunch in the restaurant and then take a taxi ride around the area, perhaps down to the next town, Jambiani, for no other reason than just to have a look around. The thought of lying on a sun-lounger all afternoon doing nothing didn't appeal to me. Before I left, I replied to the message I had received from Tracy Summerfield. I kept it polite and business-like telling her where I was and the fact that I was on business and would return to London within ten days or so. I watched the message go, then stood in the breeze of the fans, staring out the window at the scene outside. I still found it hard to fathom the incredible colours of the place. The dark lush green of the lawn and the trees against the stark whiteness of the sand. Then the incredible tanzanite blue of the ocean with paler sky above. I walked back to my bag and dug out the number for the taxi driver, Hassan, from the previous day. I dialled the number and it rang immediately. “Taxi service, Hassan speaking, can I help you?” came the reply.

  “Hello Hassan, this is Jason Green, you gave me a ride from the airport to Paje yesterday, how are you?”

  “I am very well Mr Jason, how are you sir?”

  “Good thanks,” I said, “I was thinking of going on a bit of a drive today, maybe down to Jambiani, just to have a look around. Are you available?”

  “Sorry boss, I am in Stone Town now,” he said sounding disappointed, “but I can come there if you like. It will take me thirty five minutes only.” I thought about it for a second then I decided that I would prefer him to drive me rather than anyone else. He had struck me as being honest and helpful and I had enjoyed talking to him. Plus he smoked cigarettes. “Ok that's fine,” I said, “I will pay you extra to come from Stone Town. I will have some lunch now and when you arrive please tell the reception to call me from the restaurant.”

  “Ok boss,” he said, “I will see you very soon, thank you very much for calling me.”

  “No problem, see you shortly,” I said and hung up. I packed a small bag with my camera and a few other bits and pieces, and headed out to the restaurant. I had been hoping to avoid the Dutch girls, Helen and Ineke, but as I arrived I was greeted by their smiling faces and waves.

  “Please come and join us!” they called, as I walked in. It would have been rude not to so I agreed and sat down with them at their table. We made small talk and laughed as we ate a seafood feast and drank mineral water from plastic bottles. All the while Helen kept looking at me with a mischievous smile and a sparkle in her eye. I decided that it was an appropriate time to let them know that I would not be there that afternoon or evening. I told them both that I had some business to attend to in Jambiani and that I would only return later that night. After all, I wasn't lying to them, and in reality I was actually on business. The disappointment in their faces, especially Helen's, was tangible. It was as if in some way they thought that we were on holiday together and shouldn’t be separated. It made me feel a little bit guilty especially after what had happened the previous night with Helen, but Richard had said that he would not invite Ineke to the party and who was I to argue with that? I consoled them by saying that I would do my best to join them both for a drink later that evening to which they seemed to cheer up. Soon after a waiter approached to inform me that my taxi had arrived. I signed for the meal, bade my farewells to the two ladies and headed towards the reception.

  I arrived to find Hassan waiting for me in a shady spot near his car. He was wearing similar clothes as he had been the previous day and as he stood to greet me, he gave me his familiar toothless grin. “How are you, Mr Jason?”

  “I'm well Hassan, thanks for coming to collect me.”

  “No problem at all,” he said as he opened the front passenger door,

  “Where would you like to go today?”

  “I thought we would take a drive south along the coast, maybe to Jambiani. I have some hours to kill so I thought I would take a look around.”

  “Hakuna matata!” he said cheerfully. He made a U-turn in the parking area and we drove through the big reed gates and down the sand road that led to the tar. When we got there we took a left turn and trundled off slowly. “So, how is business?” I asked, making conversation.

  “Ahh it’s ok Mr Jason, up and down sometimes you know. But then if I get lucky I get a customer like you and things are a bit better.” Once again I was reminded of the stifling heat of the taxi as Hassan wiped the sweat from his brow with a dirty looking cloth. To my right was scrubby bush and to my left was the lush green belt of palms and jungle. In front of us the road stretched ahead, baked a light grey colour by the scorching sun. We smoked and talked as we had done the previous day. A few minutes later I noticed another sand road to the left. It was wide and seemed well-used.

  “Is that the road to the water-sports centre Hassan?” I asked.

  “Yes Mr Jason, that is the one. Did you see it from the beach?”

  “I did,” I replied, remembering the unfortunate incident with the muggers the previous night. “So where do you live?” I asked.

  “I live back there in Paje,” he said pointing his thumb in the direction we had come from.

  “If you drive a few hundred metres up the road past your hotel, you will come to the village of Paje. That is where most of the people live. My house is up there”

  “Ok,” I said, “I haven't seen the village yet. Perhaps you can show me on the way back?”

  “Hakuna matata.” He replied. We carried on talking as we drove and I noticed the various entrances to the lodges and hotels I had seen from the beach. I also noticed the particularly grand entrance to the Eden Beach Lodge where Richard was staying. “So this taxi” I asked, “is this your only vehicle or do you have others?”

  “This is my only taxi Mr Jason, but I do have a small dhow.”

  “A dhow?” I asked with interest, “a sailing boat?”

  “Yes, a sailing boat. Thirty feet long. It stays in the harbour at Stone Town.”

  “So is it a working boat?” I asked. “What do you do with it?”

  “Sometimes we carry tourists to Prison Island for snorkelling. Sometimes we carry spices and coconuts to Dar Es Salaam. It just depends on who wants to hire it,” he said, wiping his forehead again with his cloth.

  “Ok, that's interesting,” I replied. As we carried on down the coast, the jungle on my left became thicker and there were hardly any buildings to b
e seen. It was then we came to a tall stone wall and a sharp right turn. “And what is this here?” I asked pointing to the wall in front of us.

  “This is the property of Mr da Costa,” he said, as he turned the vehicle.

  “Mr da Costa. Is he the owner of the big house I saw on the beach?” I asked.

  “Yes, that is the one. This is his property here behind this wall,” he replied, “a very very big property this one.”

  “Why is there such a big wall Hassan?” I asked. Hassan shook his head and smiled. “Ahh this man, Mr Jason, he doesn't want people to come into his property. When this man came here ten years ago, he bought this land from the government, then he put this wall around the whole place. We as children, we used to play inside there many years ago. Inside there you can find fresh water caves and water springs.”

  “So he is the person who bottles the drinking water that I've seen all over the place?” I asked.