chief was worried about something by the way in which he had asked for some of Deveraux’s time. They often spoke about common links within their remit in the United Kingdom, but there was one area in which they were both involved that was rarely discussed, and that was the covert organisation within The Chapter. And it was because of the CIA chief’s look of concern that Deveraux knew their meeting would not bring good news.
He waited for Hudson to make himself comfortable before asking him why he wanted a meeting. Randy Hudson was in his fifties and beginning to show the ravages of time versus exercise. With fewer and fewer field operations and more desk work, Hudson looked his age.
‘There was an incident at Grebo’s house the other night,’ he told Deveraux. ‘Grebo was in the middle of discussing the weekend shipment with one of his men. He’d gone into the kitchen to get some drinks; noticed this guy’s reflection in a mirror. He went back to his visitor and kept him talking while he got hold of a shotgun, then went out and faced the guy. Unfortunately the guy got away. Grebo chased him out into the woods at the back of the house, but the local cops were on the scene mighty quick; Grebo had to back off.’
‘Has the operation been compromised?’ Deveraux asked him.
Hudson shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, but I think we should call a halt to the operation for a while.’
‘Why is that?’
‘There was something that didn’t ring quite true with what happened. Grebo couldn’t figure out how the local boys got to the scene so quick. He said there was no phone call made, no alarms ringing off. The house is fairly secluded too. Grebo had chased the guy into the forest. Said he would have despatched him there if he had caught him. But the guy stumbled into the main road and into a policeman’s arms.’
Deveraux considered the implications of what he had been told. It certainly sounded like some kind of connivance with the local force.
‘There’s a shipment due in this weekend, right?’ Hudson nodded. Deveraux went on. ‘And one due out in a couple of days?’
‘We’ll hold that,’ Hudson told him. ‘It’s in a bonded warehouse. It should be ok.’
‘How long do you want to hold off for?’ Deveraux asked him.
‘Couple of weeks. No activity until then.’
‘Will you tell Grebo?’
The CIA chief nodded. ‘I’ll tell him to close everything down.’
Deveraux whistled through his teeth. ‘That’s a long time; our client will think we’re reneging on the deal.’
‘Our client will do as he’s told,’ Hudson remarked angrily. ‘He’s getting a good deal out of us, and we’re an easy market for his goods.’
Deveraux put his hand out. ‘Be that as it may, Randy, it’s always a tricky operation shipping those arms out; we don’t always have a smooth run.’
‘I know, John, but Cavendish is getting too close for comfort, and I can’t afford to throw caution to the wind just because some fucking raghead in Afghanistan is getting impatient.’
‘So why is Cavendish still around to worry the life out of you?’ Deveraux put to him. ‘What happened to the hit?’
Hudson shook his head. ‘They fucked up. I don’t know why. All I know is that Grebo’s man waited for the full two minutes in the road, but the guys didn’t come out. He left.’ Hudson lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘That was the agreed plan. I know Cavendish put a team in and cleaned the building totally. We lost one guy and the other is probably on his way to The Intelligence Bureau in Pakistan.’ It was there that the alleged questioning of MI6 suspects was carried out in order to bypass the interrogation laws in Great Britain. ‘No doubt they’ll get the truth from him.’
‘How will that affect us?’ Deveraux showed a little concern.
Hudson shook his head. ‘It won’t; the guys were hit-men. They only know their own names. The Brits will get nothing out of the one who survived.’
He sounded supremely confident, which made Deveraux feel a little more comfortable.
‘So what are we going to do about Cavendish?’ he asked the CIA man.
‘We’re going to leave it. It might be a good idea to let him have his head for a while. We’ll just have to be extra vigilant and extremely careful.’ He stood up, ready to leave. ‘We’ve got a good operation here, John, and we’ve got to keep the lid screwed down tight. We have to be patient. The Chapter has to keep running for the sake of all those poor kids out there,’ he said cynically.
Deveraux chuckled and stood up. ‘And for the sake of the twenty million bucks you put in you offshore account last year.’ He reached across the desk and shook Hudson’s hand. ‘Keep me informed, Randy.’
Hudson nodded. ‘You bet.’
He walked out of the office and left Deveraux wondering if the operation was becoming too unwieldy, too big and with too many fingers in the pie. But he had also put twenty million dollars into an offshore account and decided you don’t earn that kind of money without taking a few risks.
The M.V. Odessa inched its way towards the quayside as two dockers stood waiting for the heaving lines to be tossed over to them. Once this was done, they pulled out the large ropes that would tether the ship and dropped the loops over their respective bollards. Their job now done they waited while two crewmen on the deck of the ship, one fore and one aft, waited for the captain’s signals from the bridge before taking up the slack on the capstan winches.
The ship stopped and the capstan winches groaned beneath the deck lights as the slack in the hawsers was taken up. When all was secure, the ship’s captain moved the bridge telegraph to ‘stop engines’ and handed over control of the bridge to the duty officer. He then went down to his cabin and waited the arrival of the local Customs Officer who would inspect the ship’s manifest and then do a physical check of the ship’s cargo holds.
Marcus watched the arrival of the M.V. Odessa with a growing feeling of excitement, tinged with anticipation. He was concealed in the dark recesses of some timber stacks that were waiting to be loaded on to lorries during daylight hours. He didn’t know what cargo the Odessa was carrying beneath her decks, but he suspected that she was carrying something else that was worth a great deal more than the cargo that would be declared on her manifest.
Marcus had been sent up to Kings Lynn by Cavendish. He had even been furnished with a British Ports Authority Pass and a reason for visiting the docks. But all Marcus had been asked to do was observe and do nothing else. He had been given the name of three ships; two of which had already docked and unloaded an enormous quantity of timber on to the quayside and departed. The third ship on Marcus’s list, the Odessa was not due to dock until midnight because of the tide. And it was the unearthly hour of its expected arrival that intrigued Marcus.
He glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost midnight. He had no idea how long it would be until the crew bedded down for the night, but he had decided to chance his luck and get on board for a look in the cargo holds.
Marcus had got over his wounds from his previous escapade. His ankle hadn’t given him any trouble and his shoulder had suffered only a minor peppering; nothing much at all. He was quite confident he no longer had to worry about them.
He saw a single gangway hauled up to the ship and a man in uniform immediately hurried up on to the deck. Someone was waiting for him and the two of them disappeared into the accommodation block at the stern end of the Odessa.
Marcus walked out from the timber pile, crossed the quayside and clambered up the gangway on the ship’s deck. Without stopping to think of what he should do next, he opened one of the doors set into the bulkhead and stepped inside.
Marcus had chosen that moment to go on board because it was time least likely that anyone would have any suspicion of strangers going on to the ship, so long as it was done with a sense of purpose. All Marcus had to do now was to learn as much as he could about the cargo and get himself off the ship while most of the crew were sleeping.
He made his way down to the lower decks by following a common sense approach and using stairs, or ladders as they were known on ships, which went down until he came to a long alleyway that ran forward.
Although it was the middle of the night, the bulkhead lights were on and he could see a closed, watertight door at the far end of the alleyway. He made his way to this and swung the handles down, pulled the door open and
