Jaws of the Tiger Page 16

  “Good afternoon, Sir Adrian. Sir Hays begs your pardon, but he’s busy on an urgent call. He asked me to show you to the East Salon. How was your trip?”

  “Fine, Humphreys, fine.”

  Humphreys shuffled back up the wide limestone stairs and led Bolding past the hallway, adorned with traditional, unsmiling portraits of Hays’s ancestors, onwards to the East Salon.

  “Tea? Coffee, Sir Adrian? Or perhaps something a little stronger?” A wry look illuminated Humphreys’ small, bird-like eyes.

  “Black coffee will do.”

  “Please.” The butler motioned towards the large, dark green sofa. He bowed slightly, then turned and shuffled out of the room.

  Bolding walked about the room, trying to work off his anxiety. The walls were covered with light beige velour, decorated with gilt-framed paintings of hunting scenes. A half-sized bronze statue of a plump, Rubensesque nude, holding the forbidden fruit stood in one of the corners, the biblical snake wound around her thick, muscular calves.

  He sensed someone behind him and turned to see Hays entering the room.

  “Ah, Adrian. Sorry. Had a conference call I couldn’t get out of. Pamela is at the hair salon. She’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Good of you to see me, Terry.”

  “Please.” Hays offered Bolding the sofa and sat down in the causeuse across from him. “Now then, what is this about?”

  Bolding cleared his throat and took out a folded letter from his breast pocket. “I received this in the mail today.” He handed Hays the letter.

  Hays reclined in the causeuse and crossed his legs as he read. A frown etched itself onto his forehead.

  “Lloyd’s called the cross-default and sent a copy to our bankers, Berkeley’s Trust. Berkeley’s putting P & W into default for not keeping up the insurance. I have 48 hours to come up with 68 million pounds. They’re completely insane.”

  “Obviously you’ve had your lawyers look at this,” said Hays.

  “I saw Toombs earlier this afternoon. He says we have a valid case on the cross-default but that I have to buy time. If the banks start putting liens on the ships, the news will spread like wildfire. And the news is spreading already.”

  “What do you mean?” said Hays.

  “I’ll get to that. Terry, I just don’t have the 68 million. I need the government’s help. Surely it is in the interests of Her Majesty’s government not to have one of the premier flag bearers of the British cruise fleet—”

  “Adrian, we’ve already paid $60 million for the ransom. Unofficially, of couse.”

  “I’m very grateful, but that was then. This is now.”

  Hays shuffled uncomfortably in the causeuse. “Paying out a ransom is one thing, but the government injecting the taxpayers’ money for a bailout is quite a different kettle of fish.”

  “Governments do it all the time! If it weren’t for the French government’s intercession, the French cruise ships would be rusting in dry-docks at St. Nazaire as we speak.”

  Hays got up and walked to the window. He turned and faced Bolding. “Times are hard at Downing, very hard. I don’t know. I have to think about this before I even bring this to Cabinet. You know these things take time, Adrian. Surely you can get some kind of temporary financing.”

  “That’s the best you can do?”

  “Under the circumstances, yes.”

  “I see.”

  “I wish I could be more encouraging but you must understand my position.”

  “Can you at least promise to bring it up before Cabinet?”

  Hays drew in a deep breath.” I suppose I can put it on tomorrow’s agenda. We have an emergency meeting on the Iran nuclear situation. I’ll have to see how that goes. You can well imagine this might not be the best time to bring up your problem.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Obviously I’ll be available if you need me to—”

  “We’ll see, Adrian, we’ll see.”

  “Much appreciated. That brings me to another subject. There’s an Interpol inspector. The one that was on the Caravan Star.”

  “You mean Dulac?” said Hays.

  “He’s been poking around at P & W’s offices. He even knows about my problem with the insurers. He’s asking for our personnel records, financial statements. He’s going on a fishing expedition. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Get him out of here. Get him off my back.”

  “That’s a bit delicate, don’t you think? I can’t very well be seen interfering with any investigation. Particularly not an Interpol investigation.”

  “Yes I know, but at least your chaps at the Yard could slow him down a little. Maybe call him into a few meetings in London. That sort of thing. It does no good whatsoever to company morale for employees to see a police inspector poking about the office.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Hays stood next to the window, pushed aside one of the burgundy-colored velour curtains and looked outside. A silver Rolls came to a sedate stop in front of the porch.

  “Ah, here’s Pamela,” he said.

  Chapter 45

  P & W Headquarters, the next morning

  Bolding’s secretary stepped into his office. “Mr. Dulac to see you, Mr. Bolding.”

  “Not him again. He was here yesterday. Now what does he want?”

  “He says you promised him some documents. I—”

  “Show him in,” said Bolding wearily.

  Bolding didn’t bother to rise from his seat when Dulac entered. “I haven’t had time to get the documents. I have more urgent matters to deal with at the moment. Besides, Scotland Yard has already requisitioned the security officers’ files.”

  “What about the rest of the documents?”

  “I’m telling you, Dulac, I simply don’t have time.”

  “There are other ways, more formal ways. They’re called search warrants, I believe.”

  Bolding bolted from his chair and stepped up to Dulac, within inches of his chin.“Listen to me. No threats.” He pointed a forefinger menacingly. “I’m really not in the mood. You’re going on a fishing expedition, Dulac, and I don’t like it. Not one damn bit.”

  Dulac backed away, putting up his palms.“Whoa, Easy. I’m just trying to connect the dots. Which I will do, with or without your cooperation and approval.”

  “Do you have one shred of evidence of a conspiracy?”

  “You mean other than your missing security officer going conveniently absent two weeks before the hijacking and his hiring of fellow Pakistanis?”

  “Until you find him, you’re shooting in the dark with a blindfold on.”

  Bolding went back to his chair, sat down and opened a file. “Now if there is nothing else, I have work to do.”

  Dulac was unfazed and unimpressed. “Surely you agree that it takes more than one man to get those weapons on board and bypass the security systems of your ship. Besides, how did those hijackers know precisely when to take over and which areas of the ship they had to control? How did they coordinate the ship hitting the reef exactly when they had a jet waiting at Corvo? Without help from inside your company, those hijackers would’ve had to have a lot of dumb luck, don’t you think?”

  Bolding looked up. “Fine and dandy. I just haven’t had the time to analyze the logistics of the hijack, which you’ve seemingly thought about in great detail.”

  “It’s my job.”

  Dulac had obtained precisely the right amount of reaction he wanted from Bolding. For the present, he was satisfied with that. Without a search warrant, he was skating on thin ice, and he knew the last thing Bolding wanted was an out-and-out investigation. Both men knew the difference between Bolding’s sharing of information however reluctantly and, if push came to shove, the disruptive effects of a formal investigation. He thought of bringing up the sale of Bolding’s shares but resisted the temptation. He’d destabilized Bolding enough. Dulac switched tactics: “For starters, let’s
keep it simple, shall we? You keep copies here of the ships’ video feeds. Any problem in my taking a look?”

  Bolding pursed his lips. “See Emma Watson downstairs, first underground level.” Bolding pointed outside the door.

  “Fine. I’ll do just that.” Dulac closed his computer and put it in his satchel. “Thanks for your cooperation.” He smiled and walked out.

  * * *

  Dulac went to the first underground level. He followed the signs to Archives , an open room containing large gray metal cabinets. When he entered, he saw a petite woman with curly grey hair behind a desk, busy at her computer . The sign on the desk read Emma Watson, Archivist.

  “I’m Thierry Dulac, from Interpol. I’m here to see the videos from the Caravan Star during—”

  “Yes I know. Mr. Bolding called me.” She pulled three CDs from the side drawer of her desk. “The audios cover three day periods of incoming and outgoing transmissions of the Inmarsat system. The videos are taken from the various monitors aboard ship.”

  “CDs eh?”

  “We’re in the process of modernizing the equipment aboard the ships.”

  “I see. So there are some blanks on those recordings?”

  “Yes. During the time the hijackers closed down the Immarsat system.”

  “What about on-board audio transmissions?”

  “You mean by VHF?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Those aren’t recorded.” She handed him the CD s. “You can view them over there.” She pointed to a desk with a computer on it.

  Dulac bent over slightly and smiled at Watson. “This is going to take a lot of time. It would be a lot simpler and faster if you were to make me copies so I could look at them on my own. I’d really appreciate it.”

  “I couldn’t do that without proper authorization. I’d have to call Mr. Mills.”

  “Could you do that?”

  Watson dialed and moments later put down the receiver. “He’s not in. He’s—”

  “Listen, I guarantee you these won’t leave my sight. An Interpol inspector is bound by the same confidentiality rules as any other police officer.” Dulac could see her resistance starting to melt. “I’ll take full responsibility. You have my word.”

  “Well, I guess you’ll obtain them sooner or later anyway.” She looked at her watch. “Besides, I’ve got to lock up in 10 minutes.”

  “This way, I won’t have to come back and waste a lot of your precious time.”

  After a long moment’s hesitation, she finally gave him a look of acquiescence and went to the central computer. Minutes later, she came back and handed the copies to Dulac.

  “You had better keep your word. I could get fired for this.”

  Dulac gave her another comforting smile. “Thanks. I’ll make sure you won’t.”

  * * *

  Dulac was on his way back upstairs to see Bolding, CDs safely in his satchel, when his cell phone rang.

  “Dulac.”

  “Wade here. We’re meeting in the Major Incident Room this afternoon. It would be in your interest to attend.”

  “I still have business to finish here. Plus I—”

  “Shall we say 3 pm.?”

  Puzzled, Dulac looked at his watch.” I guess I could make the 1.00 pm. train to London.”

  After a steak and potatoes washed down by a glass of red wine at Southampton Central station, Dulac took the express to London, arriving an hour and a half later at Waterloo Station. He grabbed a cab to the Yard, rushed up the steps to the entrance, and flashed his Interpol card at the security guards. Moments later, Wade’s secretary entered her card into the MRI safety slot and let Dulac enter the room. Except for a woman sitting next to him concentrating on her computer screen, Wade was alone.

  “Ah, Dulac, glad you could make it,” said Wade. “Meet my assistant Wendy Lord.”

  Dulac nodded.

  “Sorry to be interfering with your schedule, but we have some information you should be aware of,” said Wade.

  “Must be important.”

  “This may or may not have a bearing on our investigation, but I feel it’s my duty to inform you. Due to the confidential nature of this information, I couldn’t disclose it over the phone.”

  Dulac put his computer down beside the foam-backed chair and sat down.

  “As guardians of the public interest, the Yard does occasional spot checks on the market transactions of the Cabinet members.”

  “Don’t they have to put their assets into trusts?” said Dulac.

  “Only the Prime Minister. The other cabinet ministers are not bound to do so.”

  “I see.”

  Wade nodded to his assistant, who turned on the projector. A picture showing reams of financial transactions came into focus on one of the large video screens across the room. A line was highlighted in yellow. “STH 60,000 class A shares P and W. Sold—(date) @ 3.75 pounds per share.”

  “I gather that STH means Sir Terence Hays?” said Dulac.

  “Correct.”

  “That’s exactly a week before the hijack.”

  “Correct also.” Wade’s face had turned pinker than usual. “Perhaps purely coincidental. As you can see, Sir Terence Hays bought and sold other stocks during that week.”

  “Or it could be an attempt to mask dubious transactions. Trouble is we know at Interpol that Bolding sold 20,000 shares the week prior,” said Dulac. “Both Hays and Bolding must be prescient, or…”

  “Of course the fact that P & W seems to be in financial difficulty doesn’t make the picture any rosier.”

  “The term insider-trading comes readily to mind,” said Dulac.

  “If Hays, who happens to sit on P & W’s board, or anyone in a position of authority had wind of the company’s financial difficulty before it became public and traded shares based on that knowledge, yes.”

  “Most difficult to prove in court. But thanks for the heads up.”

  “We heard you obtained copies of the Caravan Star’s onboard videos. See anything of interest?”

  “Don’t tell me. The archives clerk at P & W panicked and phoned you. Or was it Bolding?”

  “We have a set. We can compare notes.”

  “We’ll see.”

  A triple ridge frown started to form on Wade’s forehead.

  “Mr. Dulac, we seem to be at cross purposes here. I think I have been more than forthright in supplying information to you and I expect the same in return. I want your complete cooperation in this file.”

  “Fine. Tell you what. When you hand me the personnel files on the Caravan Star’s officers you took from their offices without advising me or sharing with me, we’ll talk about cooperation.”

  Wade’s complexion went one shade darker pink. “We were going to inform you as soon as we had them analyzed.”

  “Sure you were.”

  Wade stiffened in his chair. “I don’t have to justify our methods of investigation to you, Mr. Dulac. Since we’re on that subject, I would appreciate you giving us a detailed and comprehensive plan of your investigation. I—”

  “Can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “Suit yourself. But I won’t have you jeopardizing the legality of our investigation by contaminating evidence—”

  “Such as taking copies of CDs handed over voluntarily by P & W’s officers? I don’t think so. With all due respect, this is my ninth investigation under British law. I think I’ve gotten the hang of it by now. But thanks for the heads-up. I’ll let you know about the CD’s as soon as I’ve looked at them.”

  * * *

  London, Bristol Hotel

  Sitting at the desk of his room, bleary-eyed and tired, Dulac opened his laptop and inserted the fourth Video CD. As the screen came to life, he read the inscription at the bottom right-hand corner. Video camera two, bridge, eight – from – to –.

  Finally, data on the hijack. As the video of the hijackers taking over the bridge played, Dulac looked
attentively at the expressions on the faces of every officer as they stood, hands in the air before the terrorists.

  Nothing suspect. They all look genuinely scared. He closed his computer, changed his shirt, and took the elevator down to the restaurant for a quick sandwich.

  He started on another CD when he returned, viewing CDs from all over the ship to see if he’d missed anything. The on-deck videos of the hijackers disguised as safety officers herding passengers for the amphitheater played in front of him. For a brief moment, he saw himself, Karen and Hank making the dash down the corridor and entering the closet. Lucky for us they weren’t looking at the monitors. Dulac got up, went to the minibar, poured himself a Scotch and water, then reviewed the last of the CDs. He tried to focus on the hijackers as they appeared in turn on the screen, and the images became fuzzy. Not enough resolution with my computer. I’ll get Gina to look at this. He put in the second last CD and watched the hijackers making their demands at the Luxor amphitheater. Tariq was pointing at the other hijacker, who had just finished putting up an easel when the computer screen went blank. He tried removing and re-inserting the CD. Same result. He put in the last CD which recorded a gun battle between the hijackers and Navy SEALs. Finally the Caravan Star came to a jarring stop on Torrais Reef. Dulac took out that CD, reinserted the previous one and tried scanning the CD again. He looked at the elapsed time on the right hand corner. There was a jump in the time line between the previous scene and the last one.

  Someone has erased part of that scene.

  His cell rang. It was a text message from Arlberg. Imperative meet my office Lescop and Gina tomorrow 1.00 pm. Be there. A.

  Chapter 46

  London, Piccadilly Circus

  A man with a dark, pockmarked complexion stopped his car next to the public pay phone, turned up the collar of his raincoat and stepped out into the rain. He entered the phone booth, inserted the cash pay card and dialed. A voice came on the line after the third ring,.