The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4) (29 page)

***

A strong wind blew dust from the desert across Benghazi that night. Amadou, his head low to protect his eyes, threaded his way through the streets to his home. As he strode along ZZ joined him.

             
Their pace never faltered as ZZ spoke. “The fat man’s gone to his workshop and stayed. He never left.”

             
“Well done, ZZ. Thank you.” He checked the time. “Durrah will have prepared our meal by the time we arrive. Drop back until you can just see me and make certain I’m not being followed. You know what to do if I am.”

             
“ZZ smiled and faded into the gloom.

             
As Amadou approached his home, ZZ returned to his side. “I am hungry.”

             
“Today your work is finished.”

             
“I will miss Petros and Bear.”

             
“I agree they are men you can trust. A rare commodity these days.”

             
“You can trust me.”

             
Amadou opened the door to his house allowing ZZ to enter. “I know.” They strolled to the dining room where Durrah, Bear and Petros sat talking.

             
“Go clean up and I’ll serve the meal,” said Durrah.

A few minutes later Amadou and ZZ joined the others at the table, their plates full of meat and vegetables.

              From his jacket pocket, Amadou pulled an envelope and tossed it towards Petros. “Your passports stamped with today’s date as are your exit visas.”

             
He emptied its contents on the table, checked and handed Bear his. “Wonderful things passports. They help the authorities find you when they want to.”

             
“You’re correct but it works if the organisation has knowledge of where you are in the first place. These are stamped but were never registered. The records prove you were never here.”

             
“Amadou, we may have a problem,” said Durrah.

             
He removed the fork from his mouth and nodded.

             
“Ibrahim has not used his house or office phone which implies he’s spoken to no one or used his mobile.”

             
Amadou scratched his chin with his fork. “I’d use a pay-as-you-go. Difficult to trace and harder to monitor. As Ibrahim did not leave his house, we’ll be cautious in our approach tonight.”

             
“You’re not bothered?” said Petros.

             
“I am not. Ibrahim is a fool who believes he is wise. Fools own boats I can use. Eat your fill my friends as it will be a few days before you eat like this again.”

             
“Durrah can I have another serving of that meat?” asked Bear.

***

A low rumble came from outside the house. Amadou peered through the window. “Bear, Petros, time to leave. Say your goodbyes. Hassim has arrived in his mobile fortress.

             
Petros kissed her on both cheeks. “Durrah, thank you for your hospitality,”             

             
“Great food,” said Bear as he hugged her.

             
ZZ stood in the background with his head low.

             
“This is for you,” said Petros, he handed him a small parcel. “Listen to Amadou and be careful. The business you are entering is exciting but can be dangerous.”

             
With watery eyes ZZ hugged Petros and Bear. “Have a safe journey and may my God watch over you.”

             
“Let’s go,” said Amadou.

             
Durrah opened the door, checked the street and nodded. The three men descended the steps in three bounds. Inside the Hummer, Hassim grinned as he gunned the powerful engine.

             
They drove to the harbour by a circular route through deserted streets.

Hassim stopped in a side road
closest to the main dual carriageway and studied the perimeter fencing. “The gate to the cement factory is open. This way no one will stop us.” With a roar, he charged across the four lanes and into the docks.

“How much further?
” asked Bear.

Hassim chuckled. “
Soon. Fish smell.” The pungent whiff of rotten fish crept through the Hummer’s ventilation ducts.

“There’s a boat halfway along the main sea wall,” said Hassim. “I’ll stop a few metres from
it. No one move until I say so.”

             
Hassim alighted from his monster and strode towards the vessel. Lanterns swung from the main mast and nets and wires covered the deck. With both hands on the dock railings, he shouted, “Below – anyone there?”

             
From the shadows, a man replied, “What do you want?”

             
“Are you expecting anything?”

“What if I am
? It has nothing to do with you.”

Hassim waved and returned
to the Hummer. “One man. Amadou, I’ll take you home when you have completed your business.”

“Five minutes.”

The three men jumped from the rear section and walked towards the boat. The wind dropped as they descended the dockside steps.

Petros and Bear
, with a canvas holdall in each hand, followed Amadou. The second their feet touched the deck, two men came from the shadows.

“We are associates of your owner Ibrahim,” said Amadou.

“He told us two men not three,” said the nearest.

“I am not travelling but
before you leave, I must give you your instructions.”

“
Ibrahim gave us our instructions. We take our vessel to Malta where it will be dry-docked and the hull painted.” He waved his machine pistol. “These two will leave when we arrive.”

“
These men do not speak or understand Arabic. Look after them and I will see you are well rewarded on your return. Petros, Bear, enjoyed working with you. I’ll send Charles Haskell my bill. It sometimes helps in my business to have a sterling account.”

“Wi
ll be paid in full and if it works out, a bonus,” said Petros. “I gave ZZ two diamonds, when cut and polished they will be worth thousands. Make sure he doesn’t squander the money on cars and easy women.”

Amadou laughed.
“With his good looks and cheeky mannerisms, the women will be paying him for the privilege. Bear watch Petros’ back. Trouble finds him.”

“That’s what I do best, drag him out of the shit.
Thanks for everything. You never know we might work together in the future.”

“
I look forward to that day,” said Amadou.

He turned, ascended the steps and
returned to the growling Hummer.

One of the men touched Bear on the shoulder and beckoned to follow. They
meandered forward, their feet avoiding trailing ropes and wires. On climbing one ladder they entered the cramped accommodation section. The man opened the door to a cabin. The interior reeked of tobacco smoke and fish. He pointed and smiled.

“Home
, sweet home,” said Petros.

“Three days in here will be more than enough,” said Bear.
“I don’t think I’ll be getting undressed for bed.”

The
man thumped the mattress. ”Okay?”

Bear grinned. “Okay.”

“Top or bottom?” said Petros.

“I don’t suppose there’s anywhere on this tub that doesn’t
stink of fish.”

“After two days you won’t notice it,” said Petros.

“I wouldn’t bet on it. I’ll take the bottom. Don’t suppose that window opens.”

Petros studied the circular glass fitting. “No,
it’s not meant to.”

“
I’m going on deck. It must smell better than in here.”

“Good idea.
”

Outside
, the breeze diluted the stink of the dock. In the bow and on the aft deck, one of the crew unravelled the ropes that held the vessel to the jetty. On releasing his, the man on the bow clambered to the bridge. The dull throb of the engines as they increased revolutions indicated power on as the craft headed for the dock entrance and open water.

Chapter Twenty
-Two

Out of the harbour a heavy swell washed over the bow. The vessel tossed and rolled in a violent motion.

W
ind slapped their faces. “Jesus Christ, three days of this and in that cabin will be the death of me,” said Bear.

“You’ll get your sea legs by the morning. Let’s
try and rest.”

***

The grey sky dawned through the solitary porthole. Petros and Bear, having slept on the deck, woke stiff and tired.

             
“I wonder if they serve breakfast,” said Bear.

             
“We’ll be lucky to get fed,” said Petros. “But we might as well go and have a look.”

             
In the long swell, the craft’s movement continued to be problematic. Both men dragged themselves along the steel-walled passage and up a ladder to the bridge.

             
“What the hell?” said Bear as his eyes scanned the deserted space.

             
Petros shifted his frame to the main control consol. “Set to auto-pilot. My guess is the crew are in bed.”

             
Bear glanced at his watch. “Driving around the Med with no one steering does not endear me to boats.”

             
“This has a collision avoidance fitted,” said Petros. “I’ve seen them and they work providing the ship you are trying to miss follows the rules. And, of course, they’ve been set up in the correct manner.”

             
“Couldn’t give a shit. This tub seems to corkscrew whatever its direction.”

             
“You sleep on a plane.”

             
“Yeah and that has two pilots in the cockpit for most of the time. It may be hands-free but they’re there just in case.” Rain started to lash the windows obscuring the sea. “This we could do without.”

             
The bow pitched and vanished under a wall of grey water. Both men clung to the stainless-steel safety rail that curved around the bridge.

             
Grim-faced, Petros pointed at the heading on the auto-pilot. “My geography might not be to degree level but from Benghazi to Malta is to steer west, north west. They’ve set due north.”

             
“Doesn’t make sense,” said Bear. “If they wanted to get rid us, they could just toss us overboard.”

The man with the deep voice shouted
in Arabic and motioned with his gutting knife for them to move away from the controls.

“R
eady?” said Petros. He slammed the throttle levers to their stops while flicking the auto-pilot to manual.

Bear launched himself with such a force he flew at the man and head butted him in the face. The collision threw them back against the steel bulkhead.
The man fell away and slumped, his nose broken and bleeding, unconscious to the deck.

“Not bad for an old man.”

Bear ignored the comment as he nursed his head. “That fucking hurt. Anyway, one fast asleep and one to go.”

Petros grabbed
the cable tray on the deck-head, his fingers white from holding on, as the craft, turning and out of control hit a wave. Bear dropped to the deck and slid to the port side.

             
With a flick of a switch, Petros reset the auto-pilot.