The Atlas Murders (42 page)

 Henry and Enrique studied
the faded photo. The façade of a hotel with a faded name was just visible and
Henry thought a good enlargement might just show it. The young man in the photo
was even more like Henry than the earlier picture.

“The last letter I had was
twenty years ago and it was from Juan. Alicia was dead and where she is buried
I will never know. Parts of the letter were blacked out so I don’t even know how
she died. I would not be allowed travel to wherever she is buried, but I am
hoping Juan might come to see me someday.”

 Henry put down the faded
photo and struggled to find the right words – any words.

Regaining some composure, he
leaned over and held her small frail hands in his.

 “I will be traveling around
the islands to look for this man I spoke to you about. You see Martha, I never
got him to justice, but if I can find him now I will be able to have him
convicted for all the people he killed. And
Martha, I promise I will find my son, your
grandson, and I will come back to you to show you where your beloved Alicia is
buried.”

 “Thank you so much Henry. You
can have that picture and I wish you good luck to try and catch this man.”

Henry reached over and embraced
Martha.

“I will find Juan, so look
after yourself and wait for me.” His voice was breaking up with raw emotion.

 She kissed him and brushed
the tears from his eyes. Don’t cry, you have lost one love and now you will
find another – your son. Be careful Henry.”

 The two men walked in
silence through the noisy streets; the old buildings stood like sentinels
watching the young sons and daughters of a wonderful country shackled to an
existence of penury.

“Enrique, I will let you
decide where we go for a beer. What’s your favorite watering hole?”

 “There are lots of nice bars
I would like to go to but very seldom do. There’s a nice place on this next
street.”

 Henry handed Enrique some dollars
and asked him to order the drinks in Spanish. The bar was quiet with only a
handful of customers. They sat relishing the cool beer.

 “When are you leaving Cuba?”

 “I will be flying to the
Cayman Islands tomorrow. I have business there before I travel on. There are a
lot of islands in the Caribbean and I could be gone for quite some time.”

 “I would love to travel with
you if it was only possible. I could be your interpreter when you go to the
Spanish speaking places.”

“I would very much like to
have you along; we’d make a good team, even at our age. I suppose you could
call us vintage.”

 “Si Henry, we are like the
good vintage wine, and we would get the job done. I must give you my address so
you might write to me and keep me informed of your progress.”

 Enrique brought back two
more beers and they both rolled cigarettes. They were like two graying teenage
lads on a night out!

 “I will not be flying out
until the afternoon so I can see you before I go. I will call at your house at
say ten o’clock in the morning.”

 “Fine Henry, I will be home
and I will have the coffee brewing.

 The next day, Henry found
Enrique at home and true to his promise the aroma of freshly brewed coffee
wafted through the living room.

“Good morning Henry, come and
sit here.”

He motioned him to an old arm
chair. The sunlight was shining through the large paned window and Enrique was
silhouetted in light beams of glistening dust particles.

“Henry here you are,” he
said, handing him a mug of steaming black coffee.

 “This is the elixir of my
life, only it’s so scarce and expensive, but maybe if it was plentiful it
wouldn’t taste so good.”

 Henry sipped the hot nectar,
savoring the taste before swallowing.

“It’s delicious Enrique, but I
feel sad having to leave so soon after meeting such a good friend. But maybe
this business won’t take too long and I could come back and we would share some
time together if you would like that?”

 “I would like nothing more
than you to return and I would be able to show you all of Havana and Cuba
itself if you so wished. I think it would be one of my last great adventures in
life, just the two of us wandering this wonderful island - the Pearl of the
Caribbean.”

 Henry looked at the sad face
with the clear mischievous eyes, the white teeth of a half developed smile and he
knew he had to return to his friend.

“I will be back and I promise
we will make that journey around Cuba, and you can show me your old home and
the place where you grew up.”

 Enrique stood up and
stretched out his hand. They shook hands on a promise they both knew they would
keep.

 He embraced Enrique and
handed him two envelopes; Martha’s name was on one of them.

“Could you please give this
to Martha, and the other is a small letter of thanks for your help and
hospitality.”

 He walked out into the dark,
shabby hallway. Turning back he nodded to Enrique who was standing in the dim
light of the open door.

The sun was bright as he
walked the hot streets back to his hotel. He would leave soon for Jose Marti
Airport and the short flight to Cayman Islands.

Chapter
Thirty-Four

 The flight landed him in
Georgetown at four o’clock in the afternoon, and a short taxi ride delivered
him to a small but tastefully presented hotel near the center of town. He
decided to visit the police station first and find out if any of his previous
acquaintances were still around. The walk up to town brought back some
memories; especially when he passed the Palm Grove Restaurant where he captured
Tukola that fateful evening. He stood to look around and take in the
surrounding shops and cafés and realized nothing had really changed very much.
He knew the chief constable, Gordon Mummery would have long retired and if he
was still alive he would be a very old man now. But he was hoping his old
friend Monty Simms might still be active. He was right about Monty; he was
ushered into an office and there Monty sat, flipping through some papers on his
desk. Henry had noticed the little name plate on the door: Chief Constable. He
had made it to the top job. Monty glanced up expecting to find one of his
sergeants standing there. He threw back his head and shifted the glasses on his
nose, jumping up he walked over quickly to grab Henry by the hand.

“My goodness, if it isn’t the
great man himself. Henry I’m so glad to see you.”

 “I can see you are looking
as young as when I last left here with my charge, and congratulations are in
order, you’ve made it to top man. It’s great to be back again Monty. Nothing
has changed much; it’s still so beautiful and idyllic here.”

 “Sit down Henry and tell me
what’s brought you back. I hope it’s a vacation this time. You must be a free
man now, comfortably retired and happy.”

 “Well, Monty you’re right
about the retirement bit, but I’m still not as you would call me a free man.”

 Henry noticed a bemused look
on Monty’s face and feared he was going to be castigated when he told him what
he was about to embark on.

 “Would you laugh or call me
a fool or even forcibly discourage me when I tell you I am spending my first
months of retirement planning to look for Tukola?”

 Monty laid a hand palm down
on his desk as if for support, he lifted his other hand to remove his glasses
and laid them on the desk. He exhaled a breath and the words came in a soft
tone. “Really Henry, after all these years do you think it possible that you
could catch up with him? Have you any information where he is or if he’s still
alive? You know none of us are getting any younger.”

 Henry smiled, a little
relieved that Monty didn’t dismiss the idea outright as completely unrealistic.

“We are not as young as we
used to be but neither is he, and I believe he came back here to get his stash and
perhaps went somewhere else in the Caribbean to set up his empire. With the
money he had, he could have bought his own island.”

 Monty looked at his watch,
then gathered the papers on his desk and stuffed them into a drawer. He motioned
to Henry to stay sitting. “This is going to be longer than I thought so I’ll organize
some refreshment. Coffee or tea?”

 “Coffee please.”

 “Now Henry, after you left
we had some of those Mafia boys here to claim the launch and they did a lot of
enquiring about Tukola. I’m sure they had someone in Britain follow proceedings
to see what would become of him. They all but admitted he stole from them. They
were very persistent in their questioning of some of the locals who they
thought might have seen Tukola. They were trying to piece together his
movements. I had surveillance on them and I’m sure they recovered nothing of
the stolen money. They left after about two months with the launch but otherwise
empty handed.”

 “Did you ever see Tukola
himself back here? You know of course what happened; how he walked away a free
man, so he could easily have been traveling on his own passport without fear of
arrest. He may have left it for years before returning for the money.”

 “Yes, you’re right and he
could have sneaked in on a yacht and not by air, so we’d have no record of his
entry. Ah, here’s the coffee, just leave it here please.”

 “Would you by any chance have
his file, I know it was a long time ago but I was hoping you may have kept it?”

 “You hoped right Henry; the
records are kept in a dusty old cellar with other stuff going back over one
hundred years. You know what the British are like for keeping records and
evidence.”

He called the orderly who had
brought in the coffee and asked her to get the file on Hadar Tukola. In the
last forty years there were very few criminal files, so it was not hard to
find. She returned within minutes and placed the file on the desk.

As Monty glanced through the
pages Henry noticed the picture of Tukola drawn by the artist was still crisp
and un-faded. Monty passed the file to Henry. “There’s not much here that you
haven’t already got yourself.”

 “The picture is as good as
first day it was done. Could I take some prints off it and I’ll send them to a
specialist department of the U.S. police; they’ll use their artists and
software to age the face, showing how he would look today.”

 “You’ll do no such thing.
I’ll have that done for you before you leave this office.” He looked over at
the computer and scanner.

 “I’ll have that off within
the hour and hopefully you’ll have it back in forty eight hours.”

 “Thank you Monty that would
be great.”

 “But tell me Henry, how do you
intend to go about searching the Caribbean? It’s a hell of a big place with
hundreds of islands.”

 “Firstly I’m going to buy a
yacht and with a minimum crew, maybe one person. I’ll sail to all the islands. He
suspects he is untouchable so he is likely to be living under his own name.
It’s a long shot but with today’s technology and communication, I might just
get lucky. You know if I can catch him now, there is enough DNA technology to
convict him. I checked with headquarters before I left and they assured me they
had enough material from Shirley’s body to secure a conviction.”

 Monty sat up straight and
stared at Henry.

“Excuse me but you are
becoming more remarkable by the minute. I am astounded at your vitality and
persistence. But a yacht?”

“Yes, definitely a yacht,” Henry
laughed. “I definitely need to procure a yacht and a good sailor to go with it.
You may be able to point me in the right direction. I’m sure there are plenty
of vessels for sale around here.”

 “There sure are; you’ve come
to the right place to buy a yacht. I’ll get a reliable chap to accompany you
around the docks and boatyards. I’ll have to make sure you get a good seaworthy
boat.”

 “Thanks again, Monty, that
would be a great help.”

 “Call here in the morning at
what time suits you and I’ll have the arrangements made for you.”

 “Would noon be ok, I have a
bit to do at the bank in the morning?”

 Monty stood up to see him
out, “noon it is.”

The bank opened at ten and
Henry was the first customer. He was asked by a young male assistant to wait a
few minutes before the manager could see him. “What’s your business with the
manager sir, and have you an account here?”

 “I have an account of sorts
which I’m not at liberty to disclose to you. It dates back forty years and only
the manager himself will be of assistance to me, thank you.”

 “Please be seated sir, I’ll
call when he’s ready to see you.”

 Henry waited and was
conscious of glances askance from staff behind their caged booths. He hadn’t
long to wait before he was ushered into the inner sanctum and was somewhat
reluctantly asked to sit before the manager’s desk. The manager was a well-dressed
man of mixed race in his mid-forties; he looked at Henry with sharp and nervous
twitching of his eyes. “What can I do for you sir?”

“My name is Henry Carter and
I’m a retired detective inspector from Britain.”

Henry noticed the lower lip
drop and a loosening of a tie knot. “I’m not here on official business as such
and if you like you can phone Chief Constable Simms and he will vouch for my
identity.”

 “I’m sure that will not be
necessary Mr. Carter. My name is Randolf Scolland and how may I be of
assistance to you.”

 Henry related the story of
the deposit of the diamond bracelet and showed him the receipt.

“I’ve come to collect that
item. I know it’s a long time and I’m prepared to pay you for its safe keeping
over all these years.”

 The manager examined the
receipt and sat motionless, not knowing in what direction to look. He wondered
where in the vault it could be stored.

“Mr. Carter, please make yourself
comfortable while I go and find your jewelry.”

After some time, the door
opened and the manager came in carrying a faded brown envelope. He laid it on
the desk and smiled at Henry. There was an air of elation mixed with relief about
the manager. It was like he had accomplished something out of the ordinary. I
suppose, thought Henry, he feels like one of these treasure hunters who’s found
some long lost pirate hoard!

“I have your parcel sir.”

He held it in his hands and
didn’t give it over to Henry.

“I have one of my staff type
you out a receipt which Mr. Carter, I will have to ask you to sign. This is very
unusual; we normally don’t hold property in keeping for customers.”

After signing, Henry examined
the seal and satisfied it was intact he tore open the parcel and the bracelet
fell out onto his palm.

“Good gracious! exclaimed the
manager, it’s beautiful.”

 Henry felt a little guilty
at having such a beautiful piece locked away, depriving others of its wondrous
elegance and pleasure. It was like the hoarding of a masterpiece from public
viewing.

 “Could you please let me
hold it, sir?”

 Henry placed the sparkling
jewel in the manager’s outstretched palm. He gazed at its clarity and beauty,
and turning it slowly the facets dazzled with a remarkable brilliance.

“I have never seen anything
so captivatingly perfect, just one stone alone must be worth a king’s ransom.”

 Henry nodded. “Could I be so
forward as to ask you where I might find a reputable dealer in precious stones;
would there be such a person on the island?”

 He handed back the bracelet
and sat back in his chair relieved and slightly sad at having relinquished such
a rare object. He looked over Henry’s shoulder as if he hadn’t heard the
request, and then he reluctantly, he spoke. “There is a dealer, named Benjamin
Geller and he is very reputable. He has a branch here but his headquarters are
in New York. His business is on South Church Street. He operates on the first
floor of number twelve. I will phone him and ask if he will send a car to pick
you up here.

“That would be very kind of
you.”

 Mr. Scolland had coffee
brought into his office for himself and Henry, and he also had the papers
signed and ready for Henry to open an account with his bank. Not such a bad
morning’s work, he thought, as he was estimating the amount of money the sale
of the bracelet would swell a bank account.

The big Chevrolet dropped
Henry outside the Geller establishment. A buzzer on the door and a voice
speaker led to the opening of the heavy security door. Mr. Geller was a small
wizened gentleman of around seventy years of age – possibly older. His sharp
bright eyes and rather pronounced nose gave him the look of a Dickens
character. He stood up to shake hands and a small wisp of gray hair which had
been brushed precariously across his otherwise bald pate, flounced languidly
over his left ear.

“You have something of value
you want to show me?”

“Yes sir, I hope you might be
able to value it for me. I’ll pay you of course for your time.”

 “Tut-tut, Mr. Carter; my
time is not that valuable.

 Henry handed him the
bracelet and for a man accustomed to handling precious stones his gaze of
delight told all. “Wonderful, magnificent, so perfectly beautiful, the work of
a master craftsman.”

He took out his little eye
glass and studied each stone in turn, then stared at Henry, his bright green
eyes questioning and inquisitive.

“Would it be impertinent of
me to ask you where you got such a treasure?”

 “I have had it in my
possession for forty years. Or should I say, the bank has held it for me for
that length of time. I have here the receipt to verify it.”

 The slight figure rested
back in his chair and laughed quietly with the mirth of a jester. He stopped
suddenly and closed his thin lips over nicotine stained teeth.

“It makes no difference how
long it’s in your possession, but how you came by it is important. If you had
an artifact from a pyramid for a hundred years, you should certainly have to
return it to its rightful owners. This bracelet would be documented not only by
an insurance company but also by the makers and the dealers who retailed it. On
the market it would attract as much attention as the Mona Lisa. You see, it
could be considered hot property.”