“They are two of his men, but the boy wouldn’t know.” Freja was careful not to use names that would alert Alvaro. “They always arrived very late at night, frequently with someone else. It took me a while to realise, but they never left with the person they arrived with and I never saw that person leave.”
Rob rummaged about in is backsack to withdraw a compact pair of binoculars. The men were wearing slacks, linen shirts and lightweight linen jackets. “You have very good judgement,” he whispered. “They have guns beneath their jackets. I guess they now know that you escaped and are looking for you both.”
The men wandered into the square and immediately all of the locals hurried to make themselves scarce, a few coming along the path Rob, Freja and Alvaro had used. The men split up, each stopping locals, asking brief questions, before moving on to another. One of the men suddenly jogged after a young woman who was hurriedly leaving the square up the path. He grabbed her arm to stop her and ask a question.
“He’s saying that he recognises her from the resort and wants to know if she has seen anyone using the path between there and here,” Freja translated, whispering. The woman’s response was clear in any language, looking down at all times, clearly scared. The man looked about him, saw that they were alone and started to fondle the woman, slapping her when she resisted.
Rob was outraged. It was one thing asking questions, but quite another abusing the woman. Quickly and quietly he moved in, coming up behind the man. With one straight, hard jab from behind, Rob hit the man low on the side, as he also kicked the man’s legs from beneath him. The man crumpled on the ground. Rob quickly followed up, straddling the man who was reaching for his gun. Rob, desperate not to be seen, slammed the man’s head on to the hard ground twice, rendering him unconscious.
Thinking quickly, Rob frisked the man, removing wallet, gun, an expensive watch and rings. The woman and Freja looked on, shocked. Freja had emerged from the bushes with Alvaro, but she was covering the boy’s eyes.
“I’m sorry you had to see that. I’ve hopefully made this look like a robbery, but we should go.”
However, just then the other man appeared. “Hey!” The man started to reach for his gun, but Rob was faster and shot the second man twice, the sound reverberating through the square.
“Damn! We really don’t need this,” Rob cussed.
The woman gabbled something in Spanish. “She says you should finish the other man,” Freja translated once again. “She’s seen these people before and they are trouble.”
“I can’t,” Rob shook his head.
The woman nodded, as if she approved, despite her comment, then ushered them to follow her up the path. Rob quickly frisked the man he had shot, picked Alvaro up and placed the boy on his shoulders. Taking a series of side paths, the woman led them through the forest to another, smaller, informal settlement where, on the outskirts, she welcomed them into her one-roomed home. It was no more than a small hut of metal sheeting, but with a neat border around it, planted with some colourful flowers. Inside, the hut was clean and tidy, sparsely furnished, a sheet curtain separating one corner where the bed was. Fortunately, they had not come across anyone during their journey, but all the same, Rob was on edge. Okay, I just saved this woman from goodness knows what, but I would imagine she could get quite reward for turning us in.
Freja started chatting to the woman who quickly nodded and laid out some food on a rickety table. “I said that we are hungry and lost,” Freja explained. “I also said that we would pay her for her troubles if she feeds and helps us.”
Rob nodded encouragingly. He knew far too many people lived in extreme poverty and had seen so much coverage of places just like this on television that he, along with many, had become used to, if not immune to the images. However, confronted with the reality and seeing it for himself was powerfully humbling, particularly because everyone in the colourful market square had appeared so good-natured until the two men had appeared.
Looking at his watch as they started to eat, Rob was horrified to see the time. It was already early afternoon, so early evening in Britain and even later in Cyprus. Blast, I really must get a text out to Laura, and to Steven. Rob dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out his iPhone, only to be disappointed yet again – Still no signal! Bother it!
6
That evening in a pleasant sitting room of an unassuming terraced house in north east England, a married couple were in deep conversation, dark circles around their eyes, tired, gaunt expressions etched across both their faces. John and Samantha Wilde were a childless couple in their late thirties. Both wanted children, but neither wanted to bring a child up if they weren’t able to support it adequately.
Three years earlier they had been on the verge of losing everything. John Wilde, a mid-level logistics manager, had been out of work for nearly two years, and they had used all of their savings, unable to survive on Samantha’s meagre salary as a coordinator at a vehicle operations centre. That’s when they had come to the attention of an outwardly respectable American woman, Nikki Williamson, during a self-help course that Nikki was sponsoring. Nikki was a wealthy, glamorous, and well connected woman who, having heard of their plight, promised to help.
They received financial support with a favourable rate of interest, all properly documented with a long contract that John and Samantha only read in part. At the same time, John was given assistance with job applications and interview skills. Soon, however, life became uncomfortable. Samantha became obliged to discuss aspects of her work with some unsavoury men Nikki introduced them to. When, a few months later, John noticed a pattern between the information Samantha provided and reports of stolen cars in the local papers, they realised that they were in serious trouble. Timing was dreadful because Nikki had introduced John for an excellent job at an oil company that promised financial security. They therefore decided not to go to the police.
Samantha enjoyed her work coordinating fleets of vehicles for a variety of companies across the UK and Europe, building friendly relationships with the people she spoke to on the phone. The best part was arranging the delivery of high-end cars for salesmen and executives. The less interesting element was arranging the servicing and repairs of the cars, as well as vans of various shapes and sizes, many of which were collected and dropped-off by some of Samantha’s colleagues.
A few months after starting his new job as a logistics manager, John was required to prepare for and arrange deliveries of some additional materials to a nameless contact at his place of work without including those materials on any manifest.
“We’re just in way too deep, though,” John was saying.
“I know we are, but this can’t continue; look at us! We need to do something.”
“Yes, but what? If we go to the police, we’ll end up in prison and in trouble with her as well! It’s clear that Nikki has sources. We can’t just disappear – there’s no way to sell this place without her finding out. And we can’t say ‘no more’, think of those thugs who work for her – they’d kill us, or worse!”
“But, darling, I just can’t carry on keeping the pretence going,” tears welling-up. “It’s too stressful and what we are doing is wrong. We’ve always known it. It’s only a matter of time before someone notices. We can’t have children like this.”
John wrapped his wife in his arms and kissed her on the forehead. “I know,” he soothed, trying to sound in control, while internally being far from in control. “We can work on our exit plan after this next round of yours. I know you can be strong and will pull it off. Nothing has to change for me,” he said, trying to sound positive, but unsure whether he was successful.
7
At the same time, Emilio Arroz was having dinner with an Afghan warlord, Kamal Jabara. They were enjoying the view over Lake Van in south-eastern Turkey as they ate and talked. Both had a number of key associates with them and Kamal’s bodyguards encircled the group to ensure no one overheard their conversation.
“Emilio, it is good you succeeded to remove this man Estes; his product was hurting our income. But I am unhappy there are loose ends.”
“Kamal, the loose ends are the Estes boy, his nanny, and some wannabe hero tourist who fancied the nanny. There is nothing to worry about.”
“That is not so, my friend. The age of the boy does not matter. If he is found by the Estes cartel he will become a figurehead, directed by the uncle. Both need to be eliminated. The Estes product and pricing has damaged my income. A number of attacks across Europe have now been thwarted, particularly by those British. Your man Donald Norcott promised so much with his brilliant idea, but failed! His revenge would have been my revenge; I still mourn Mustafa and Sharif, my dear sons. This next attack must be a success.”
Arroz took a deep breath. Kamal’s memory was long and their first joint attack in Britain had been thwarted. They had put that down to bad luck, although Arroz suspected that Demir had something to do with it. Demir was a complicated man; he was ruthless in the management of his international criminal network that wreaked havoc for so many. Yet Arroz knew that Demir was also appalled at the concept of terrorism. Arroz was still smarting that he had not killed Demir when he had had the opportunity a year earlier. Had Arroz known that it was Rob Krane’s intervention both then and now, Arroz would have lost control of his senses and mobilised an army! Fortunately for Rob, he had so far remained anonymous.
“Kamal, I won’t even try to defend Donald’s failure, but as I’ve said before, he was not one of my men.” Arroz was frustrated with Kamal; he had a good, and long memory, but it was also selective when it suited him. However, Arroz was very wary about crossing the powerful warlord. “I will ensure that more people are mobilised to help track the boy, as well as find the uncle.”
“Good. We need more money for the production of the new chemicals and my drugs will provide that. We have sufficient for our test, but will need a lot more for the attacks. Those must happen soon when the weather is right. And this time, I want to strike all of the crusaders, the Americans and all Europe – not just through a financial collapse, that Donald Norcott would have achieved if he hadn’t failed!”
“Third time lucky, Kamal, if you are familiar with that expression. You will strike the west as you want and have revenge for your family.” I won’t debate America, that’s just not feasible at this stage, however tantalising!
Kamal stood suddenly, knocking the table and startling the others. “I salute that confidence.”
8
Following their meal Rob asked Freja to translate for him. He had to get a message to London, and he needed the woman to guide him to where his phone would have a signal. Freja initially objected, saying London was too far away to help. Instead, he should call the British and Swedish embassies. Rob hesitated before replying, Should I mention MI5? If I do, how will she react? I could, of course, call the embassies and Steven and just not mention it. But that could cause confusion with multiple parties going off on separate initiatives. No, I will only call Steven, and Laura. I need to trust this woman, I can’t afford to be caught out by lying.
“Freja, I understand your logic, it’s just that I know some people in London who will know what to do and are well-placed to help. They will involve the embassies as needed. The thing is, I don’t want lots of different parties starting different things to help; that could simply cause confusion.”
“Yes, I understand, but who are these people? Why will they be able to help more than a local embassy?’
