The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5) (24 page)

              “Tell me something I don’t know.”

              “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll get back to you.”

              “Sooner and with the life history might help.”

              “Leave it with me.” The connection ended.

              James stood and stared out of his office window overlooking the Strand. The sun kept disappearing behind the dark rain clouds casting shadows over the buildings. With a grimace he returned to his desk and studied a pile of computer printouts.

***

Edward Hammond pressed the keys on his lap top to gain access to the company records. The screen glowed with the words. ‘Records held in the Information Centre’. “Shit.” He grabbed his jacket and strolled the one mile to the Centre, housed in a bland red brick building. The security guard made him sign the register before allowing him to enter. In the cavernous ground floor library, he sat at a computer terminal and entered the Jupiter’s details.

              “Interesting,” he muttered as he typed the known information. The screen flashed – ‘Records not computerised. Located section C, row 11, shelf 4’.

              He strolled into section C and quickly found the heavy leather-bound ledger containing the information. From the records and documentation he read,

             
SS Jupiter, launched 1926, fitted out 1927 and traded as a general cargo carrier until nineteen thirty. Sold to Jose Maria Line and renamed Vincente, Nineteen thirty three. Whilst entering the River Tagus in collision with the Argos and sank. Raised and rebuilt in nineteen thirty three becoming the Illueca, trading as a general cargo ship until in nineteen forty, sold for scrap. Prepared for towing to the scrap yard in Thessalonica, Greece.

              He photocopied the single sheet and took a London cab to James’ office.

              Carole, wearing black nail polish and lipstick, a black one-piece body stocking, stopped Edward with a glare of annoyance. “I’ll let James know you’re here.”

              He hovered for a few minutes until she returned. “Sorry you had to wait but he was on a call. You know, client confidentiality. Please go in.”

              “Come in and sit down,” said James as he pointed to a chair. “My apologies for making you wait but I was in the middle of an important call.”

              “No problem.” Edward sat and handed across the single sheet of paper. “Can I ask why you’re interested in a ship which was scrapped in nineteen forty? She sails no more.”

              James peered over the sheet of paper and yawned. “You can ask but I’ll not tell.” He opened the right-hand drawer in his desk, leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Five hundred as agreed and keep your mouth shut.”

              Edward gave a nod of the head. “I was never here.”

              “The next time we don’t meet, you can buy me dinner.”

              “I’ll do that.”

              Edward waved to Carole as he left.

              She ignored him but mouthed, “Arsehole.”

***

James managed a weak smile as he reread the information. He typed, “Thessalonica Ship Breakers,’ into the box on the screen. His eyes studied a short list of builders, but no mention of a breaker’s yard. For a long time he sat staring at the ceiling, something did not make sense. Again, he checked historical records and noted the Allies bombed every Greek shipyard during the second world war making them virtually useless.

              Nothing remained but to sleep on it. Again, he read the single sheet. James thought ahead, the last thing he needed was an owner of the vessel crawling out of the woodwork. On a sheet of paper he made notes.

              1. The shipping company no longer exists.

              2. Destined for the scrap yard, therefore someone might have paid good money for the vessel.

              3. Somehow survived the war. Past its prime, it remained functional, served a purpose and sailed from Thessalonica in July 1944.

              4. From the initial salvage, carried a large amount of gold.

              5. Sunk by the Royal Navy.

              6. Found.

              7. Owned by?

                 He stared at the mess of paper covering his desk and the half-drunk cup of coffee. “Carole.” Then he remembered she had left. “There has to be an answer,” he muttered. “Time I went home.”

***

James woke with a start and glanced at the alarm clock. Becky remained asleep as he slipped silently from the bed and spent ages standing beneath the shower. His hand rubbed the stubble on his face but today he decided not to shave.

              In the kitchen, he watched the news on BBC World and drank his first coffee of the day. Without waking his wife, he headed for his office

Chapter Seventeen

Hidden from the hundreds of tourists in Palermo, The Chianti restaurant catered for the privileged few. The rich, the elite, and top class escorts. Gabriele Silvio, along with his brother Giovanni, sat in the simple furnished room at the rear. Six associates smoked and drank coffee around a circular oak table.

              Gabriele, their Padrino, refined his notes with suggestions from his team. Each man possessed strengths that he utilised. Experience being their mainstay. Although this appeared to be a straightforward piracy venture, no one deluded themselves. Much could go wrong as they planned alternative strategies. The procurement of an Arab Dhow remained number one on the list. Most of the other equipment was to hand or straightforward to obtain. The much needed part of the operation, the placing of a location device, he left to a paid member of the police department. The man, although weak-spirited, was aware of the price of failure.

              “We will assemble here on the day the
Tuna Turner
leaves harbour. Taking possession of the gold will be a major undertaking and will be completed in daylight,” said Gabriele. “I will use my own motor cruiser. Anyone damages the paintwork will have the cost of repair taken from his share.”

              “We are men of honour, Padrino, we know the rules,” said Antonino, a handsome young man with pale skin and black hair.

              “You will lead the assault on the ship. Three others, well armed, should suffice.”

              Antonino opened his mouth as if about to speak but thought better of it and simply nodded.

              “Our code of silence is the key to this operation. When Alfredo’s ship sails we make our move and arrange his burial at sea.”

              The group shook hands and without another word left.

***

Police Sergeant Calderone walked with a slight limp to the rear of his patrol car and opened the boot. From beneath the spare wheel cover, he removed a small, black plastic-coated electronic device.

              For a few minutes he strolled back and forth along the jetty checking Alfredo’s limited security. One of the crew would be on the vessel and at this time of night, possibly sleeping. Without making a sound, he traversed the gangplank. As quite as possible, he made his way to the external door, which led into the bridge. The handle turned, but to his disbelief, he found it locked from the inside. He shivered but controlled his fear. His eyes searched for a suitable place. He spotted a steel ladder leading to the top of the bridge. Hesitant, he ascended and saw an opening in the mast. With a definite clunk, the magnet held the device secure. A press of a button and the unit transmitted a signal every thirty minutes.

              Sweat ran across his face as he journeyed back across the deck.

              “Who’s there?” said a man.

              He fought off a wave of nausea. “Sergeant Calderone. I thought I saw a movement and came on board to investigate.”

              Marco shone a torch into the sergeant’s eyes. “Good to know our police do some work. I’ll see you off the ship. Roaming around a boat’s deck at night, especially with your bad leg, can be dangerous. You never know what you might tread on.”

              “My radio is in the car and I must report in,” said the sergeant.

              Marco shone the torch with his free hand as he guided the sergeant off. “Don’t forget to report in.”

              For ten minutes, Calderone sat unmoving before driving away. Later he would nod twice to his contact making it known the unit was in position.

              Marco returned to the crew’s mess. Strange, he pondered, the sergeant shivered as if he was cold but it is a mild night. He rang Alfredo.

***

James began the task of searching Mediterranean ship breakers’ records on his computer. But the thought nagged, why berth a ship ready for the scrap yard in Thessalonica? He read Edward’s report and whispered, “Eden, you’re a plonker of the highest order. Italy attacked Greece in October 1940 and this vessel remained in a Thessalonica shipyard, serviceable but forgotten. Until in desperation, the German SS needed a ship.”

              At speed, he checked the internet for the Jose Maria Line. With a broad smile he read, ‘Went into liquidation nineteen fifty two.’ One more question required an answer. On the demise of the owners, did the company go with them?

              Ten minutes later the words, ‘No assets,’ told him everything. A smile played on his lips. The
Jupiter
, according to available records, no longer existed. 

              James relaxed into his chair, his mind working overtime. He removed the pay-as-you-go mobile from his desk draw, pressed the memory button and waited. He chose his words carefully, “Hi, Petros, listen. I’ve researched your missing vessel and it appears she was simply abandoned when the Italians attacked Greece. The shipping company went into liquidation with no worldly-goods. This means whatever you recover belongs to you. Just keep the whole thing under wraps until I give you the nod. Remember people talk and Sicily is the home of the Cosa Nostra.”

              Petros listened but remained silent.

              “When do you intend to sail?”

              “Alfredo has ordered some specialised equipment. We’re ready to leave the moment it arrives.”

              “Sail the second it’s on board. I guarantee someone will notice and ask awkward questions.”

              “I’ll speak to Alfredo.”

              “Any problems, contact me on this phone.” James terminated the call.

***

Alfredo was in the galley talking to Marco when Petros entered.

              Petros searched for the coffee pot. “You look troubled.”

              “Marco tells me we had a visitor last night. Police Sergeant Calderone.”

              “Is that a problem?”

              “He is a man who sold his soul to the Cosa Nostra. No one trusts him, including his fellow officers.”

              “Those people don’t give refunds,” said Petros.

              “What he said made sense to me,” said Marco.

              Alfredo frowned. “He’s good at that.”

              “That’s the second time I’ve heard of the Cosa Nostra in the last five minutes. Where did you find him?”

              “On the deck,” said Marko. “We seal every door from the inside to prevent opportunist thieves.”

              “I just spoke to James and he virtually ordered me to tell you to sail as soon as the submersible and its team arrives. He believes the less said about this operation the better. I have a suggestion and before you ask, I’ll pay.”