The Galician Parallax (51 page)

‘You look like Humphrey Bogart, Lieutenant.’

Sergio turned up just past seven-fifteen after parking his motorbike in front of the yacht club about a hundred yards away.

‘Still got nearly an hour to go.’

Sergio just nodded, still recovering from a miserable journey along the motorway. He continued to unbutton his overcoat.

‘You seem relaxed, Sr Consul. All quiet on the Western Front?’

‘Come on, Lieutenant, let’s go.’

There were more people meandering in and out of the dock area as Stan and Sergio approached the control sector.

‘Good morning, Sr Consul,’ said one of the guards as he checked over his credentials. He then looked at Sergio’s. ‘OK, Lieutenant.’ As he waved both on to the main wharf, he added, ‘Have a good day.’

Thanks to Chema and Stan, Sergio avoided frisking or scanner checking that applied to all non-port authority personnel including members of a law and order department.

‘First hurdle over, Sr Consul; now for the next check.’

‘I’ve already sent a message to Captain Rogers that you were coming with me. You’re in my territory now.’

Although the cruise ship was only half an hour away it was still too dark to distinguish her silhouette ten miles inside the bay and heading towards the port. An itching feeling was running through the “sleuths’” nervous systems as the
Prince
’s side propellers finally eased her alongside and the dockhands secured her moorings fore and aft. Another group including the crane drivers instantly connected the gangplanks up to all three entrances.

‘She’s opened up her belly for business, Lieutenant. Show time.’

Stan and Sergio were amongst the first to be allowed to board the vessel through the main passenger entrance. Just as they were about to enter Sergio held back and looked at the aft gangplank. Several members of the crew that had shore leave were leaving the ship.

‘I know what you’re thinking, Lieutenant. Nothing we can do about it.’

They stepped off the gangplank onto the ship’s gangway and were welcomed by one of the duty officers that, after signing them in the ship’s registry, accompanied them to the captain’s quarters. As they followed the officer through the bowels of the ship and then into the passenger sector Sergio couldn’t help commenting.

‘My God. Unbelievable.’

The height of luxury in his life was a stint in a spa resort and a few days in a Canary Island hotel.
This is unreal
, he thought. They then went through one of the main lounges, past the slot-machine and gambling sector until they reached and went through a door with a “No Entry” sign. They were in the officers’ quarters. Up another flight of stairs and just before reaching the short staircase to the bridge the officer knocked, opened the cabin door and entered the captain’s suite.

‘Good morning,’ said Captain Rogers as he greeted Stan and Sergio, ‘good to see you again, Stan.’ He addressed the lieutenant, ‘Pleased to meet you.’

Before the two visitors settled down on one of the sofas, the captain handed Stan a sheet of paper.

‘Sorry about this, but we’ve had a casualty, I’m afraid. Mr Reginald Fairchild passed away early this morning; stroke. Didn’t have time to e-mail you.’

Sergio nearly burst out laughing. The tension built up in him over the past couple of hours, having prepared himself for some sort of showdown with a terrorist momentarily dissipated thanks to a sudden and unexpected turn of events. On the other hand, Stan reacted accordingly. It wasn’t the first time he had to deal with a ship’s casualty.

‘Sad to hear about it.’

Captain Rogers had the death certificate prepared as well as the ship’s log that had to be countersigned by the consul.

‘I’ll have to call the office, Captain. Haven’t got the consular stamp with me.’

Stan looked at Sergio who at first just shrugged his shoulders until he realised that they were being sidestepped.

‘Sr Consul. Our business.’

‘Captain, you got my message regarding the Lieutenant’s visit?’

Captain Rogers nodded.

‘As he doesn’t speak English I’ll try to act as translator.’

Stan got up and faced the captain. ‘One of your sailors on board, a Filipino…’ He rubbed the side of his face. Everything he had rehearsed was suddenly turning turtle in his mind. He was hesitating. Sergio realised his partner was lost for words. Speaking in Spanish he took over.

‘I need to speak with one called Mesias Silvestre. My department has reason to believe he may be involved in a terrorist plot against this vessel.’

Captain Rogers understood Spanish perfectly. A veteran seaman, used to many emergencies, kept calm. He looked at Stan.

‘Are you aware of this?’

‘Yes and I think it’s not only genuine but urgent.’

Captain Rogers placed the log he had in his hand back on a table. He took his time, the two “sleuths” waiting for his reaction. Coolly he asked, ‘Lieutenant, are you armed?’

‘Yes, of course.’

He went back to his desk, sat down and picked up the phone. He called the bridge. ‘Fraser, sir,’ answered one of the duty officers.

‘I need you down in my cabin right away.’ Whilst the two visitors remained silent, Captain Rogers was working on his PC. ‘His cabin is 347 on “Lower B” deck.’ He continued to type away on the keyboard. ‘Shares it with another Filipino, Desiderio Bello; both are off duty until midday.’ At that moment, 3
^rd
Officer Debbie Fraser knocked and opened the cabin door. The captain ushered her in and asked her to sit down. He then walked over to a large locked glass cabinet on one of the cabin walls that housed several sets of keys. With one of the keys on his personal key ring he opened it. He searched down the left side until he found the one he was looking for.

‘Excuse me, I won’t be a moment.’

He went into his bedroom. The others in the cabin remained silent. Captain Rogers was soon back with two 32-calibre revolvers in his hands. He handed one to a stunned 3
^rd
officer.

‘Hide it inside your knickers, Fraser.’

He looked at his watch. It was eight forty-five. He then turned round and addressed Stan and Sergio.

‘OK, let’s find out what this is all about.’

They were soon knocking on cabin 347 on “Lower B” deck. There was no answer. Captain Rogers knocked again; still no answer. He then used his ship’s master key and slowly opened the cabin door. There wasn’t a sound. He switched on the light. They looked around in bewilderment. They began searching. It seemed empty. There were no personal belongings of any sort, photographs, letters even the toiletry in the bathroom was missing. Except for their cabin-crew uniforms neatly folded in one of the cupboards, it looked as if the cabin had never been used.

The hotel lobby was empty and spacious for the final planning stages of the attack to go unnoticed. The reception counter was a good distance away from where Badi and the two Filipino suicide bombers were seated. Meanwhile, Habib was in the hotel coffee shop next door exchanging documents with the Filipino crew for their own departure from Spain as their mission was now over. Mesias had confirmed that the next batch of shore leave was just after ten when the main morning restaurant shift was over. The “replacement” crew could slip on board during the second disembarking rush hour. Despite several rehearsals in the past, Badi insisted on going over the details yet again.

‘You’ve got one hour before boarding. We have time, brothers… and patience. Once again, brothers… review time.’

Each terrorist had distributed over a hundred grams of PETN, a powerful compound of nitroglycerine used by military outfits around the world, in their underwear and vests. Being one of the most common-used explosives it is also difficult to detect on a human without proper sophisticated screening. Airports throughout the world were able to invest in the cost of such equipment but cruise ships had not yet reached the same technical level of scrutiny.

‘Once we enter the ship, we’re to go straight to cabin 347 in “Lower B” deck’, said Domingo, ‘and wait until the ship departs at 18:00.’

Badi looked at Jacinto. ‘And then?’

The second suicide bomber went through the steps of discreetly making their way, exactly one hour later, to the large dining hall when the first dinner session was about to commence. Domingo picked up the thread.

‘Jacinto and I will position ourselves at either end of the hall, and once we see that most passengers are being served…’

‘OK. How many times have you studied the layout of the ship?’

‘A hundred times, brother,’ the suicide bombers said in unison.

‘Good.’

Badi looked at his watch; it was nine forty-five. At that moment, and as planned, Habib returned with Desiderio and Mesias. He discretely handed the two ship’s ID cards and the cabin passkey to Badi, who looked them over and then at the two suicide bombers.

‘Pretty good resemblance.’

‘These two have now got their own papers,’ said Habib. A sudden last minute detail had slipped Badi’s mind.

‘Who’s at the gangway?’

The sailors looked bewildered.

‘I mean, could the duty crew recognise the difference?’

Mesias soon put Badi at ease. ‘We’re over 900 crew and about a hundred Filipinos. No, I doubt it. Besides we’d just joined the ship this trip, too recent to be known.’

Fifteen minutes later, Badi and Habib hugged Domingo and Jacinto as Mesias and Desiderio looked on. Badi whispered, ‘Goodbye brothers. Allah will be waiting.’

The two suicide bombers began their walk towards the docks whilst Badi, Habib and the other two made their way to the car park opposite the hotel.

Captain Rogers, as the maximum responsible authority over the control and safety of his ship, decided to report the incident back to his HQ in Southampton.

‘I’m not sure how all this has come about, but it’s not the first time I’ve had a member of the crew jump ship. It’s quite common.’

Stan and the other officer didn’t respond. Sergio immediately sensed the sudden danger of dropping the whole affair without any further checks. He’d been sitting on one of the bunks whilst the officer searched every nook and cranny of the cabin looking for any item that may have been left behind by the missing sailors.

‘This is an al-Qaeda plot, Captain…’

Before he could finish, Captain Rogers angrily butted in.

‘Lieutenant, if so, why the hell haven’t I been given better warning?’

Stan could see the captain’s reasoning. He also realised that Sergio was beginning to lose his patience. He looked at the lieutenant as he raised a finger to his lips asking him to keep cool.

‘Captain, the Lieutenant and his outfit have been following the steps, well undercover, of an al-Qaeda cell in Galicia for months. When they’d obtained sufficient information for a major operation to be conducted from Madrid, Lieutenant Quiroga’s superior was murdered.’

He explained that everything came to a grinding halt, until recent evidence surfaced that pointed in the direction of an imminent attack on the
Prince of Waves
after she docked in Vigo.

‘In other words, today, Captain.’

Sergio was flabbergasted at Stan’s eloquent and calm dissertation of the events that led to the present impasse that they were all momentarily faced with.

‘Captain, we believe that the disembarking of this sailor… maybe even the two of them, is just the first phase. I forgot to mention, Captain, this Mesias Silvestre has had a Swiss bank account opened in his name with a deposit of one million dollars. That’s terrorist money.’ Stan picked up the thread.

‘May I make a suggestion, Captain?’

Captain Rogers nodded.

‘Nothing has happened so far for you to report this back to the UK, agree?’

‘Right.’

‘You’re not due to leave until this afternoon,’ looking at Sergio, ‘our hunch is that the sailors or perhaps two others in their place will board the ship. At this stage we’re obviously unaware of what they intend to do… that is if anything.’

Sergio butted in, ‘Suppose I stay here in the cabin whilst you, sir, post a couple of discreet sentries at the gangway looking out for the IDs and just wait for them to arrive.’

Captain Rogers was caught in a fix.
Damned if I do, damned if I don’t
, he thought. If his ship was really in danger as these two people implied and he advised the authorities or his HQ it would probably scare off the perpetrators from whatever plot was being planned. On the other hand, if he agreed to Sergio’s suggestion goodness knows what would happen.

‘OK, Lieutenant. You’ve got up till midday and if nothing happens we’ll call the whole thing off.’

‘Agreed. Whoever they are make sure no one stops them, Captain. Just follow them. Hopefully they’ll head for their cabin. I’ll be waiting.’

‘Don’t forget we’ve got some unfinished business, Stan,’ said the Captain. Mr Fairchild’s body was still lying in the ship’s morgue.

As Sergio settled into one of the chairs facing the entrance, and the rest were about to leave, somebody outside the cabin inserted a card into the lock and clicked open the door.

The two “genuine” crew off the
Prince of Waves
had never met Badi or Habib although they were fully aware that the two Arabs would be waiting for them once they left the ship as it was all part of the deal. At the hotel, when they met up with the other two Filipinos and handed over their credentials, Badi and Habib finalised the second part of the bargain. The crew was given their airline tickets for a flight from Oporto to Panama via Santo Domingo and 5,000 Euros each as “pocket money” until they reached their destination. The idea was for Desiderio and Mesias to sort out their own affairs and organise their banking arrangements with their newly acquired Swiss bank account once they arrived at their destination. Desiderio had already planned to bring his family once he was settled.

As the suicide bombers parted company and made their way towards the ship, the rest of the party walked out of the hotel and across the road to the car park. They were all due to depart from the Iberian Peninsula from the same airport. Badi and Habib were returning to Morocco on a separate flight, or so they had told the Filipinos. It was Desiderio, in the front passenger seat, that soon noticed that they were heading in the wrong direction.