The Second Son Page 7

  The big man looked at the merchandise and smiled. With a quick nod of his head, someone from the shadows stepped forward and placed four large plastic bags wrapped in black tape next to the merchandise. Tom quickly took two of the packages and handed them to Grenville and he took the other two, and smiled at the man and said, “Nice doing business with you.” Tom was about to turn and walked back toward the open door when the large man said, “You not going to check it, you trust me?” and laughed; this brought on a laugh from the rest of the room. After the laughter, had died down but before the large man had stopped, Tom leaned over and looked at the man and softly said, “If it’s not right, I will be back.” The man stopped laughing as something in Tom’s eyes and manner made him realise this was a very dangerous individual who one didn’t cross.

  Tom turned and nodded at Grenville to follow. Just then, one of the men grabbed Grenville’s arm and bringing his face close to Grenville’s, he said, “You sure we not met before?” to which Grenville leaned in and with the fiercest face he could muster said, “Don’t think so, and I suggest you try mints,” which the man looked puzzled at, but before he had time for a reply Grenville grabbed his hand and twisted it off, and he followed Tom from the building.

  Both Tom and Grenville walked quickly, but not appearing to rush back to the boat, closely followed by the two men from the bar. At the boat, Tom jumped aboard and quickly started the engine and Grenville cast off. Grenville did not breathe until he was sure the gap between the boat and the jetty was too big for anyone to jump into the boat.

  Once back in the river, Tom asked Grenville, “What was that about?” and Grenville answered, “One of the men from the darts match.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Tom, and was still laughing an hour later.

  After a hassle-free trip, back to the warehouse, both Tom and Grenville felt exhausted, and both decided once they had dropped off the packages they would have a few weeks’ rest. A few days later, while Tom and Grenville were lazing under a big tree not far from the warehouse, Grenville asked, “How do you know you have a job on?” to which Tom replied, “Follow me.”

  Tom led Grenville up the trail, to the road. Tom stopped short of the opening to the road, and pointed across the road at a tree, and explained, “When there is a coloured ribbon around that tree, we have a message, so you only need to wander up until you can see the tree, so as not to arouse any suspicion from passing traffic.”

  “Neat,” said Grenville and they both turned back towards the warehouse. Grenville and Tom took it in turns twice a day to check the tree, and after a month a blue ribbon was fluttering on the cool breeze late one afternoon.

  Driving into town the next day, Grenville asked Tom, “Don’t you ever get curious at what you are transporting?” to which Tom replied, “No, I told you curious people are dead people. As long as I get paid I don’t care, it’s just business.”

  At the same run-down building, Tom parked the Jeep and they both entered and went up one flight of stairs to a door at the far end of a corridor, knocking once on the door, and after a minute or so the door was opened slightly with the chain still across, and a face appeared and studied them both for a few seconds. The door closed and then re-opened fully to allow them to enter.

  Sitting at a table with a cigar stub hanging from the corner of his mouth sat a man who Grenville thought looked like every picture he ever imagined of a Mexican bandit. He smiled and stood and held out his hand and said, “Mr Tom, welcome.”

  Tom shook his hand and said, “Max, this is Duke, my friend,” to which Max smiled at Grenville and held out his hand and said, “Welcome Mr Duke, a friend of Mr Tom’s is always welcome in my home.” Grenville shook Max by the hand, before both being offered the chairs opposite Max.

  Max asked if they both wanted some refreshments; both declined. Max smiled and said, “Mr Tom, always business with you.” Max said something to Tom in a language that Grenville did not recognise, but Tom spoke it back to Max like a natural. After some ten minutes of dialogue, Max stood and went into a side room and returned with a large brown envelope and placed it on the table. Max and Tom spoke some more, and Grenville could tell by Max’s voice, as he sounded more stressed as he went on, that he was not happy about this.

  Eventually Tom and Max stood and shook hands. Grenville stood also and shook the offered hand from Max. As they both turned to leave, Max said to Grenville, “Please make sure Mr Tom is careful, I can tell you are a good friend of his, tell him not to take risks.” Grenville nodded and followed Tom from the building and back to the Jeep.

  After a silent drive, back, Grenville noticed Tom was deep in thought and did not want to bother him; he knew he would explain once he was ready.

  Next day when Grenville woke, he was surprised to find Tom missing. After checking the control room monitors, he was nowhere to be seen; everything else looked all in place, the boat, the Jeep, the perimeter. Just then he spotted on one of the monitors a few boxes being moved at the very end of the warehouse, so Grenville went to investigate. Tom was moving boxes, looking for something.

  Grenville asked, “Can I help?” to which Tom replied, “I got it covered,” so Grenville shrugged and went to make some coffee. After a time, while Grenville was sitting drinking his coffee, Tom returned carrying a crate which, by the way he moved, looked heavy.

  Tom placed the heavy crate on the table and sat down. “OK, I know you are dying to know what’s going on,” to which Grenville replied, “I was wondering.”

  Tom explained he had known Max since he had arrived from Russia and was not only his contact but was family. They were speaking Russian yesterday. Tom explained that Max did not only get import/export contracts for him, he also tracked people down and the new name was making Max nervous, as the man with his contacts was extremely dangerous. So, he tried to persuade Tom to forget it. Tom said, “How hard can it be, only dropping in for a chat?” Grenville wondered what form of a chat Tom had in mind.

  Next day, Tom said, “We are going on a field trip.”

  “Excellent,” replied Grenville. Tom and Grenville took the boat towards the busy City Marina to fill the boat with fuel. Also, Tom filled several jerry cans, paying in cash. Tom and Grenville were once again heading for the open sea.

  During the trip down coast, the large crate that Tom & Grenville had manhandled on board was sitting in the middle. Every time Grenville went past he either caught his toe or knee, which always brought a laugh from Tom after Grenville’s profanities, and Tom would always say the same thing: “Language, my Lord,” which made him laugh more and Grenville swear more.

  After two days of keeping to the coastline, Tom finally turned the boat towards the coast. Grenville noticed he was heading towards a small tributary. Cutting the engine, Tom allowed the boat to drift into the small river mouth and once out of sight of the sea, Tom let the boat ground on the shore. Tom smiled at Grenville and said, “We will camp here,” to which Grenville nodded and went to put the kettle on.

  Later that night, Tom explained to Grenville that they were meeting a container ship and the man he wanted to talk to was on it. Still smiling, Tom said, “Nice and easy,” which still gave Grenville a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  While Tom was getting some sleep, Grenville decided to look in the large crate they had manhandled on board. Slipping the locks Grenville opened the crate, and using the light of the moon, looked inside. Grenville was astonished to see it full of weapons and assorted battle-ready equipment, enough to start a small war. Grenville quickly closed the lid and went to lie down. Grenville wondered why Tom would want so much firepower.

  Tom watched Grenville open the crate and smiled; he’s getting good, I must admit, thought Tom as he closed his eyes again. Next morning over a cup of coffee, Tom was scanning the horizon with a pair of binoculars when he said, “Find what you were looking for last night?”

  “Sorry?” said Grenville.

  “Last night,” said Tom, “in the crate.”


  “I see,” said Grenville, “sorry old man, could not resist. Apologies and all that,” looking rather sheepish.

  “You only had to ask,” said Tom, smiling.

  Just as Tom was about to speak again the radio squawked, and Grenville was sure it was Russian being spoken. Tom quickly answered, in the same language, and smiled at Grenville. “On for tonight.”

  “Deep joy,” said Grenville, still feeling uncomfortable.

  “So,” said Grenville, looking serious, “what do you want me to do?”

  Tom said, “Just pilot the boat out to the cargo ship. Wait for me to return.”

  “And if you don’t?” said Grenville with his most serious face, which Tom replied, “Well, Duke, my old flower, you got a bitch of a trip back home without me,” and laughed. Grenville laughed as well, but did not see anything funny in it.

  Once it had got dark, Tom dressed all in black with his face also covered with black camouflage, opened the crate and put on a combat style vest; also, a double pistol holster, which he placed after checking two hand guns; two thigh holsters with two more checked hand guns in; two short snub machine guns which Tom slung over each shoulder; and finally, he picked up a single short barrel pump action shot gun. “How do I look?” said Tom, smiling.

  “Deadly,” said Grenville, only seeing Tom’s flashing teeth in the moonlight.

  “OK,” said Tom, “this is what I want you to do. When the cargo ship anchors off the coast, motor out to it, but before you get there, cut the engine, and drift into the ship; you will be watched from the ship. They should lower a ladder down to you, so drift towards it, but take your time. As by then I will have slipped over the side and up the anchor chain onto the ship.”

  After midnight, Tom and Grenville were watching the ocean for the ship. Eventually a large black object came slowly into view, not more than a mile from their position; they both heard the screw of the ship, and eventually they heard the anchor being slipped and falling into the sea. Tom slapped Grenville on the back and said, “Ready?”

  “Not really,” said Grenville.

  “Don’t worry,” said Tom, “do your part and all will be fine.”

  “OK,” said Grenville, before switching on the engine and pushing the throttle to forward and slowly manoeuvring the boat towards the large black object stationary at sea.

  As Grenville steered the boat towards the cargo ship, Tom was crouched down in the boat. Grenville headed toward the ship, passing under its great arched front. Once level with the ship’s anchor chain, Grenville put the boat into idle and let if drift down the side of the ship. Grenville did not hear Tom leave the boat; he was concentrating too much on not hitting the ship with the boat to worry about anything else.

  The boat finally came to a halt halfway down the starboard side of the ship, gently kissing the side of the ship with the boat. Grenville felt pleased with himself; he was more than apprehensive about his ability to do what Tom had asked of him, but now he was in position, he felt so relieved.

  As Tom, had said, the ship lowered its side ladder; Grenville slowly drifted the boat towards the ladder. As Grenville waited, he tried to see the name of the ship but from where he was it was too dark to make out; as the minutes ticked past, the tension mounted and became anxious. Grenville was sure he heard a soft muffled explosion and gun fire, but was not sure. After thirty minutes while waiting in the dark under the looming ship, Grenville’s mind started to ask questions he knew he should not be asking at a time like this. Finally, Grenville said out loud, “Stop it now, you are being stupid, get a grip,” to which a voice behind him said, “Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.”

  Grenville must have jumped about three feet in the air, as standing there was Tom with a smiling face. “Bloody hell old man, talk about give a poor chap a heart attack.”

  “Sorry,” said Tom.

  “Everything alright?” asked Grenville.

  “Perfect,” said Tom, “let’s go home,” which Grenville acknowledged with an, “Aye aye captain,” and a mock salute, before turning on the engine and pushing the throttle to full and heading back towards Belize City and home. As they were moving away, the cargo ship had already started to pull up its anchor and the ladder and start its engines again.

  On the way, back, Grenville asked Tom what happened on the ship.

  “Well,” said Tom, “first I had a chat with my uncle Ivor, the captain of the ship which is called the Red Star, then a chat with the man in cabin four, who told me everything I needed to know before I killed him.”

  “You killed him? You said you were going to just chat,” was all Grenville could say.

  Tom smiled. “Did I? Well, sometimes we start out chatting and then they stop, so they must die. Uncle Ivor will dump the bodies once he is out at sea.”

  “Bodies?” said Grenville.

  “Well, this particular gentleman had three bodyguards, who would have objected to me chatting to their employer.”

  “So, you killed them and only chatted to one man before you killed him,” asked Grenville.

  “Yes,” was all Tom said.

  Grenville nodded and said, “Blimey,” whilst staring out of the boat’s window pretending to steer the boat, all the time realising that what Tom had just told him was not really a shock anymore, knowing Tom as well as he did now. He saw Tom in a new light and respected him more, but still had a thousand burning questions.

  Once they had docked and everything had been stored away and they were back in the warehouse, Grenville was making a coffee and Tom shouted over, “We will go and see Max tomorrow and check the mail box,” to which Grenville replied, “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Oh yes, got us a present,” said Tom, throwing Grenville the large over-stuffed backpack.

  “Splendid, love presents,” said Grenville. Grenville caught the large backpack, and was surprised at how heavy it was. Slowly Grenville opened it and looked in. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked up from the backpack towards Tom, who was laughing.

  “See, not a total lost trip, was it?”

  Grenville could not believe his eyes as he tipped the entire contents of the backpack on the table. Both stared at the pile of money on the table. “How much you think is there?” asked Grenville.

  “Not sure,” said Tom, “it’s all in difference currencies, so hard to judge.”

  Grenville just sorted out the English and American, as he recognised the dollars. After a time, he whistled. “500,000 English pounds, and 300,000 US dollars, and if the rest are the same amounts, depending where you exchange them, this is a small fortune,” said Grenville, smiling.

  Grenville then spotted a large brown pouch that was hidden in the pile of money; taking the pouch, he opened it and for the second time that day was speechless. Tipping the contents of the pouch on the table as well, it formed a heap of pure cut diamonds which sparkled in the sunlight. Grenville just stared at the diamonds, and finally said, “I don’t think I have ever seen so many diamonds in one place, not even the queen of England owns this many.” Tom laughed, and finally Grenville raised his head and howled, which made Tom laugh even louder.

  Tom extracted Max’s commission from the money, and placed them in a small backpack. The rest Tom placed in an old battered safe in the Communications Room.

  On the drive into Belize City, Grenville turned to Tom and said, “This killing lark is quite lucrative,” which made Tom smile.

  “I am not in it for the money,” said Tom, which made Grenville’s brain turn somersaults with theories.

  After leaving Max, Tom and Grenville drove to the post office to collect the mail from the PO Box; also, Tom paid the rent for the next six months on the box while they were there.

  Once back at the warehouse, Tom was flicking through the pile of mail, when he stopped and said, “Oh this is for you, Duke.”

  Grenville looked puzzled. “Me, how strange.”

  Grenville did not recognise the writing on the envelope, whi
ch made the mystery even greater. Grenville opened the letter and then stood and went outside.

  The Duke and Duchess of Hampshire were sitting in the reading room. “I’ve been a bloody fool” said the Duke to his wife.

  The Duchess took his hand and said, “It was not you my darling, he is our son.”

  “I know, my love, but I cannot understand why he is acting in this manner,” said the Duke.

  “I cannot either,” smiled the Duchess.

  “Why does he hate us so?” asked the Duke.

  “You know Stephan, he marches to the beat of his own drum,” said the Duchess.

  “We have given him everything and he is still hell bent on destroying the family,” said the Duke, putting his head in his hands. The Duchess felt so sorry from her husband; for the life of her she could not understand her son’s attitude and why he was so determined to destroy his own family. This, she knew, was the thing that hurt her husband the most, knowing his own son was going to destroy the family name after countless generations.

  Sofia could not understand why her eldest son had no feeling for the family name as if it meant absolutely nothing to him, and this was making her husband ill, which was more of a concern to her. She had tried so many times to engage and make her son understand what he was doing to his father and the estate, but last time he sat and laughed at her and for the first time in her life she felt like slapping him hard across the face.

  Just then Preston knocked and opened the door. “Yes, Preston,” said the Duchess, smiling.

  Preston bowed and said, “The Chief Constable, your Grace.”

  Still smiling, the Duchess said, “Please show him in, Preston.”

  The Duke and Duchess both stood. The Duke said, “Wonder what Giles could want.” As the Chief Constable entered, the Duke approached with his hand out and said, “Giles nice to see you again, how are things?”