The Jason Green series Box Set

by Gordon Wallis

  “Our protocol says we must first inform the local police and then report to head office that one of the crew is missing,” said Klaus with a deep frown on his forehead.

  “In that case I agree,” I said looking at Rodrigo. “Do you have contacts in the police?”

  “I do,” he replied in perfect English. “Mainly in Maputo. But if this is to go to the local police, of course I will make some calls.”

  “Well then I think we should do that immediately,” I said as I stood up. “Let's go. I'll follow you.”

  The afternoon was sweltering as we crossed the road to the car park. Charlie took the lead in his car and the three vehicles headed north up the beach road in convoy. The Macuti police station was situated in a ramshackle old colonial building with peeling paint near the lighthouse. We parked in the shade of a row of Casuarinas and walked into the charge office together. To the centre of the room was a long wooden counter that was deeply worn with decades of use. Behind that, to the right, was a group of prisoners sitting handcuffed on the floor against the wall. Their filthy clothes, bare feet and terrified expressions bore testimony to the appalling conditions of the Mozambican holding cells. Loud Latino music blared from a radio in an office at the rear. The room was dark, dirty and unbearably hot. Above us the single neon light gave off a loud incessant buzzing sound and behind the counter a young policeman sat, half asleep, leaning back in an old office chair. Clearly surprised to see us, the officer stood up slowly and walked to the opposite side of the counter. His sweaty face was a caricature of lazy arrogance and it appeared he was trying to impress the prisoners. Swallowing our impatience, Klaus, Charlie and I took a seat on an old wooden bench near the windows while Rodrigo and Alec spoke to the man in Portuguese.

  It wasn't long, before tempers began to flare and a shouting match began amongst the three men. Feeling angry and frustrated I stood up to confront them.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I said loudly.

  Alec turned to me with a film of sweat on his face.

  “They say they cannot investigate anything until the person has been missing for at least twenty-four hours,” he said.

  “Wait, wait please gentlemen,” said Rodrigo holding his hands up in frustration. “Please, wait outside and let me deal with this.”

  Reluctantly I walked out followed closely by Alec, Klaus and Charlie. I lit a cigarette in the shade and began pacing the overgrown garden.

  “Useless,” said Charlie under his breath.

  It was ten minutes later when Rodrigo finally emerged wiping the sweat from his face with a tattered old handkerchief.

  “Okay,” he said. “They have taken the report, but they will only act on it at 7.00 pm. this evening. I told them we would return then. If anyone has any photographs that will be of assistance.”

  “I have plenty,” I said, “and I'm not wasting any more time here. I'll meet you all here at 7.00 pm tonight. Until then, if anyone hears anything, we contact each other as agreed. Is everyone clear?”

  They grunted in understanding and I walked out of the garden back towards my vehicle. I had expected a poor reaction from the police but what I had just witnessed was more than the typical arrogance and incompetence one would expect from an African police force. I spent the next four hours relentlessly driving the maddening streets of the city and the surrounding suburbs. I stopped the vehicle every fifteen minutes to try to call Gabby's phone but as before it went straight to voice mail. It was with a profound sense of despair and hopelessness that I cropped and printed off some of my pictures of Gabby in the manager’s office of my hotel. I placed them on the passenger seat of the vehicle and as I was about to turn the key in the ignition, I turned to look at the picture on top of the pile. Where are you my darling Gabby? Where are you? I arrived at the police station at 7.00 pm. on the dot to find the other three waiting in the car park as arranged. Their sullen expressions were enough to convince me they too had made no headway in their search.

  Thankfully there was a senior policeman present who dealt with the report and spoke with Alec and Rodrigo at length while the rest of us waited in the twilight outside. They emerged half an hour later and it was decided we would meet at the Yacht Club to discuss the way forward. The mood was lugubrious as we took our table and ordered much needed drinks. Klaus informed us that he had alerted the head office of Satellite News Network that Gabby was missing. They had been on the phone every half hour since and were in the process of informing the Italian embassy in Maputo. We were told by Rodrigo that the police might want to interview us all separately the following day and that they would contact us individually in that event. After half an hour of bleak, hushed conversation, the others left to go home and I was left at the table with Charlie. Although he attempted to remain up-beat I knew he was as worried as I was.

  “I know I've only known her for three months, Jason but we've become really good mates. I just don't know what to do,” he said sombrely as he stared into his beer.

  “I know Charlie,” I said, “I know.”

  “Would you like to come to the pub for some dinner?” he asked.

  “Thanks mate but no,” I said. “I don't have much of an appetite and to tell you the truth I'm exhausted.”

  “I have to get back,” he said as he finished his beer, “you'll call me if you hear anything?”

  “Of course, I will Charlie. You'll be the first.” I assured him.

  I watched as he made his way towards the exit and I signalled to a waiter for another beer and a menu. The bright lights of the interior of the building were stinging my eyes so I made my way out to sit in the breeze and listen to the waves. I yawned as I browsed the menu and in the end I ordered a simple starter of crab cakes as I wasn't feeling hungry at all. The mist began to roll in from the sea as it had done the previous night, as I sat smoking and staring out into nothingness. The food, although superb, did nothing for me and I pushed the plate away after eating only half. In my mind I felt the black mists of depression and despair gathering steadily as I ordered another pint of Manica. Time and time again I looked at my phone expecting a different result, but it was always the same. It was 10.00 pm and quite a few beers later by the time I settled my bill and left the Yacht Club. The drive to my hotel took me up the beach road past Charlie's which seemed to be winding down for the night as there were only a few cars parked. The humid fog that rolled inland from the ocean made the driving visibility difficult and the only person I saw on the street was the familiar drug dealer who stood in his usual spot under the halo of the street lamp.

  I parked the vehicle and walked down to my villa in a state of dazed exhaustion. My attempts at normalcy by turning on the television and attempting to check emails were futile and I ended up on the verandah smoking a cigarette I didn't want and staring into space. Eventually I locked the door and headed upstairs for a shower. I stood, swaying slightly under the jets of water and closed my eyes. When I was done, I dried myself off and lay on the bed with a towel around my waist. In my mind I ran over a hundred different possible scenarios. None of which made any sense. Once again, I felt a terrible sense of hopelessness and anguish. This combined with my exhaustion and soon I slipped into a troubled and restless sleep. On three occasions I awoke, confused and sweating heavily, before once again slipping back into unconsciousness.

  It was 7.26 am. when I finally woke to the morning light coming through the vertical blinds. For a brief moment I had forgotten the events of the previous day, but they all came crashing home after a few seconds. I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked downstairs nursing a slight headache from the beer and stress. Before making coffee, I checked my phone in case Gabby or anyone had made contact or sent a message. There was nothing. Jesus Green. What the fuck? Knowing I would have to kick myself into action again, and needing to rid myself of the creeping hangover, I went back upstairs and pulled on some shorts and a t-shirt for a run. The morning sky was clear and there was no breeze as I walked through the gate and
crossed the road to the beach. By the time I had covered three kilometres on the hard sand my head was pounding, my foot throbbing and my mouth was dry. I sat on the sand, cupped my forehead and closed my eyes. Today is the day. She'll turn up. You'll find her Green. Think positive for fuck sakes. I ran harder on the way back to the hotel and by the time I walked into my villa I was dripping with sweat and panting heavily. I took a cold shower, brushed my teeth and walked downstairs to make a coffee and smoke my first cigarette. As I walked out to the verandah I picked up a pen and some paper in order to make some kind of plan of action for the day. I stared at the paper as I smoked and drank the coffee, but in the end, I wrote nothing at all. There's no fucking point. How about 'Find Gabby' It was 8.45 am. when I locked up and walked to the restaurant deck for breakfast. When I had eaten, I called Klaus and got an update from him on the situation. There had been no change and there was no news other than that an official from the Italian Embassy was due to fly into Beira on the afternoon flight from Maputo.

  “What the hell is he gonna do?” I asked.

  “I'm not sure,” he replied morosely, “perhaps he will work with the police”

  I told him I thought it would be a good idea for us all to meet at lunch time to update each other. He agreed and promised to stay in touch throughout the morning. I hung up and called Charlie who sounded weak and exhausted when he too confirmed he had heard nothing.

  It was 9.30 am. when I finally left the hotel and stopped the vehicle in the driveway as I decided which way to turn. It doesn't make a difference Green. What matters is that you are not going to give up. Get to it. Find her. Once again, I spent the morning searching every corner of the sprawling city. The densely populated slums in the wetlands to the west of the city were particularly hard to drive through and on two occasions I had to engage four-wheel drive to navigate the mud. Like clockwork I called Gabby's number at least twice every hour. It was at 12.45 pm. as I was buying a bottle of water from a roadside shack that my phone rang. My heart jumped a beat in anticipation finally of some good news until I saw the caller ID was Alec.

  “Hello Alec,” I said hopefully. “Have you had any news?”

  “No,” he said solemnly, “I'm sorry I haven't. The police called Rodrigo and said they need to interview us all. They asked if we could go in at 2.00 pm. today. I told them we would be there.”

  “That's fine,” I said. “I'll be there.”

  I made my way slowly through the mud and litter of the slums back towards the city and finally reached the tarred road. The lunch time traffic was heavy and the sun burned through the windscreen in a spirited fight with the air conditioning. Eventually, after much frustration, I made it through the traffic and arrived in the shade of the Casuarinas outside Macuti Police Station. Rodrigo, Alec and Klaus were waiting in the shade near the entrance. All three of them looked drained and morose as I approached.

  “Right,” I said. “Let's get this done as quickly as possible.”

  The heat in the charge office was unbearable so I waited outside while Rodrigo went in to see the officer in charge. After a few minutes I was summoned by Rodrigo who accompanied me as an interpreter to the office of the station boss. The old wooden floors creaked as we entered the dimly lit office. The officer in charge was a huge man with a bald head the size of a cannon ball. He sat in an office chair behind his desk and his body looked like it would burst out of his uniform at any time. The overhead fan only served to move the hot air around and the man wiped the sweat from his face with a cloth as he signalled us to take our seats opposite his desk. The interview took twenty minutes during which the big man shuffled papers and wrote the occasional scrawled note on a sheet of paper. Rodrigo translated everything and we stopped only once to photocopy my passport on an antiquated machine in the next-door office. The questions were exactly what I had expected and it was a great relief when they were finally concluded and I walked out of the charge office to the relatively cooler air outside.

  “How was it?” asked Klaus.

  “Routine, red tape, bullshit,” I replied as I lit a cigarette. “I don't expect much from that bunch. Anyway, I'm out of here. Good luck.”

  It was exactly 4.00 pm. when I got the call from Alec. I was in the city centre having done a round trip through the north of the city and was making my way to the port area.

  “What news?” I said.

  “The police have found the vehicle,” he replied. “It was hidden behind a building in Macuti. Not far from Charlie's.”

  “No sign of Gabby at all?” I said impatiently.

  “No,” he said quietly. “I'm afraid not.”

  “Right,” I said. “Meet me at the police station. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

  The disappointment was crushing and this was only made worse when we arrived at the location of the Land Rover forty five minutes later in the company of a junior policeman. The vehicle sat in a filthy alley way on concrete blocks with all four wheels missing. Also stolen were the battery and carburettor. There had been an attempt to remove the engine, but the thieves had been unsuccessful probably due to a lack of tools. A vagrant who lived in a nearby shack had been picked up by the police and was in the process of being interviewed at the station. As I stared at the broken old vehicle, I felt a cold chill run down my spine despite the appalling heat. This is not looking good Green. It was 6.00 pm. when the vagrant was released having been lightly beaten by the investigating officers. The man was in his seventies and was a toothless alcoholic who lived on cheap rum and home brewed spirit. He had told the police officers he had not seen who had parked the vehicle nor who had stolen the parts from it. The man was known to the police mainly for public drunkenness and they told us they had no reason to doubt what he had said. A tow truck had been despatched to pick it up and take it to the central police station for finger printing. A meeting was arranged for 7.00 pm. that night at Charlie's and attending would be the official from the Italian Embassy in Maputo. Klaus told me that his main concern was that Gabby may have been kidnapped. Although this sort of thing had happened only twice in Beira it was relatively common in the capital city of Maputo. My exhausted mind was spinning with possibilities as I took a shower back at my hotel. The sun had set when I pulled up and parked near the bougainvillea tree at Charlie's.

  Waiting inside at a corner table were my four companions and a man whom I assumed was the official from the Italian consulate. Wearing a light cream suit and sporting spiky gelled hair he was introduced simply as Mr Bianchi. I shook his hand, ordered a beer from a waiter and took a seat. I sat and listened as the man spouted various scenarios and theories to explain Gabby's sudden disappearance. One of these was the possibility of kidnapping although this was vigorously argued against due to the lack of any ransom demands. There had been constant communication with Satellite News Network and a blanket hush order on Gabby's disappearance had been given for the time being. I had to bite my tongue as the man attempted to dominate and steer the discussion and it appeared to me, he was more concerned with his expensive clothes and his suntan rather than the very serious situation we had found ourselves in. It was an hour and three drinks later when I finally spoke.

  “Gentlemen,” I said angrily, “this conversation is going nowhere. Please excuse me.”

  I walked to the stool at the bar I had sat on the first night I arrived in Beira and ordered a fresh beer. I turned once to look at the gathered men and caught Charlie glancing at me from his seat. His face was pale and there were black smears beneath his tired eyes. He nodded at me once before I turned to face the bar and lit a cigarette. My God what a fuck up Green. It was twenty minutes later when the solemn looking group approached me to let me know they were leaving and to say goodnight. The four men left together leaving Charlie who took his usual spot at the bar in front of the television. He stared at it blankly with unseeing eyes as he twisted his beer glass on the surface of the bar. Fully aware I needed to eat but feeling no hunger at all I paged through the menu. I sett
led on the calamari and handed the menu back to the barman as I gave him my order.

  It was as I was eating that the two Chinese men from Imperial Dragon walked in and took their usual place at the far end of the bar. I watched them where they sat and the waiter delivered their drinks. They huddled close together in conversation wearing their trademark tight t-shirts revealing their muscular tattooed arms. Once again, I felt a cold shiver run down my neck and spine as I watched them. Their demeanour was unchanged from before but some unknown feeling deep inside told me that something was different. I watched them as I wiped my mouth with the serviette and took a sip of beer. Although they appeared calm on the surface, the man with pock marked face glanced around repeatedly and his eyes darted from person to person. He's fucking nervous Green. The man is scared. The men stayed for one drink only and then left after paying cash at the bar. By then I had had a skin full of beer and that combined with the exhaustion began to make me feel sluggish.