Rip Tide

‘I mean the black-market value of the drugs and equipment on board was unusually high. And what’s more, the last two cargoes included a good deal of cash – for emergencies.’ He avoided Fane’s questioning look. ‘We’ve had half a dozen other shipments go right through the same shipping lanes unscathed, but none of them was worth nearly as much.’

‘Hmm,’ said Fane. ‘What are you saying? That you think the pirates know which ships to target?’

Blakey didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m beginning to think they must. It beggars belief that it’s simply coincidence that the three ships with the richest pickings were the only ones they’ve gone for.’

Fane uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. ‘What about the cash?’ he asked. ‘What sort of sums are we talking about?’

‘High thousands, not millions. In dollar bills usually, but this last time it was gold.’

‘I see what you’re getting at,’ said Fane. ‘But how could the pirates know what’s on board? Are the manifests published? Is there some way they could tell from the appearance of the ships?’ Fane’s maritime experience was confined to a day’s sailing with friends each year during Cowes Week.

Blakey shook his head. ‘We keep the detailed manifests in our Athens office. And for published accounts the cargo is described in broad terms as “aid supplies”; there’s no mention anywhere of the cash, and nothing to distinguish one of our shipments from another. No more than I could tell whether the wallet in your jacket held fifty pounds or five thousand.’

‘So therefore…?’

Blakey shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘This is where it seems to be getting ridiculous. I’m almost embarrassed to say this, but I’m wondering if information about the cargoes could be getting to the pirates from inside UCSO.’

He looked straight at Fane, who said nothing for a moment. He was surprised; this was more interesting than he’d expected. His mind was working rapidly. If what Blakey was thinking was true and there was a thread leading from UCSO into a pirate group, it was a thread well worth tugging.

‘Let me be quite clear what you’re saying. You think there might be some connection between UCSO and Somalia.’

‘I know it sounds ridiculous when you put it like that. But, yes, that’s what I’m worried about. It’s not necessarily from here,’ said Blakey, waving his arm vaguely at the office outside. ‘The Athens office handles all the logistics, and leases the ships. The cargo is assembled and loaded in Greece as well.’

‘Who runs your Athens office?’

‘Chap named Berger. He’s American.’

‘What’s his background?’

‘A bit of this, a bit of that – journalism, import/export. He’s worked all over the world. It was his idea that there might be a leak.’

‘And the staff?’

Blakey shrugged. ‘Usual mix of local recruits – an accountant, secretaries – and a couple of people from other countries. Ten or eleven employees in all. Berger runs a tight operation; I’m sure he keeps a pretty sharp eye on what goes on.’

Even if he does, thought Fane, you’d need a professional to unravel something as sophisticated as the connection Blakey was proposing. He started to say, ‘I have a thought-’ when suddenly the door to the open-plan floor opened, and a voice said excitedly, ‘David, the bastards have done it again! I can’t believe those wretched people -’

The door was now fully open, revealing a woman standing in the doorway, clutching some papers. The look on her face showed she was as startled to find Fane sitting there as he was by her interruption. She was forty-ish, elegantly dressed in a smart, dark grey suit, sheer tights and shiny maroon high-heeled shoes. This was not Blakey’s PA, Fane concluded without much difficulty.

‘I’m so sorry, David,’ she said. ‘I thought you were alone.’

‘Let me introduce you. This is Geoffrey Fane,’ said Blakey. ‘An old friend.’

‘Katherine Ball,’ the woman said, offering her hand.

‘Katherine’s my deputy,’ said Blakey. ‘The place wouldn’t function without her. She’s got a desk in Athens too – I know they’d say the same about her.’

‘It’s kind of you to say so,’ she said with a laugh. ‘But I’m not sure it’s true.’ She had a deep smoky voice. ‘But don’t let me interrupt,’ she continued.

‘Anything urgent?’ asked Blakey.

‘More annoying than urgent,’ she said. ‘I’ll catch you later.’ She looked at Fane appraisingly. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said, and left the room.

‘You were saying?’ Blakey reminded him.

‘I was wondering how we could help you. I might ask the Athens Station if they have anyone on their books that we could put into your office there to do a bit of quiet investigation. We have a new Head of Station and I could ring him this afternoon. What do you think?’

‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ Blakey said, looking relieved that Fane was willing to help.

‘I take it this man Berger can be trusted? An American, you say?’

‘I trust him absolutely. As I said, he’s the one who first pointed out that we might have a problem.’

‘Good. Tell him someone will be in touch. They can talk over a cover story.’

‘What should I do about the London end?’