Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

 

Five minutes past the appointed time, I sat on the end of the clean bed and waited.  The single chair didn’t look very comfortable.

It didn’t worry me she was late, she had not specifically stated how long she would be, but to be there in an hour.  If she had business with dark glasses, then she might be a while.  Giving me the key to her room suggested she was not bringing him back with her.

There was a light rapping on the door, hinting at a sense of urgency.  Without looking,. I opened the door, and she slid through and I closed it quickly and quietly.

“I thought you might not be coming?”

I went to switch on the light, but heard her say, “No lights.”

My eyes were already adjusted to the light, or lack of light, and I could see her standing by the door to the bathroom.  Everything about her manner suggested she was ill at ease, or perhaps frightened of something or someone.

Or waiting for Vince, and had to string me along until he arrived.

“Why?”

“No one knows I’m here.”

“Not even Vince?”

“No.  Especially him.”

“He was here about twenty minutes ago, went into the office and came out with a briefcase.”

“I suggest you forget you ever saw that.”

Drugs then, or protection money, or…  OK forgotten.  “Duly forgotten as requested.”

“Is this pace one of the Cossatino’s places?”

“If you saw Vince, then it is.  It never used to be.  The Benderby’s used to bring their clients here, back in the day.  Vince had some of the rooms wired, you know, blackmail, that kind of stuff.”

I could imagine.  I’m sure the ‘clients’ never brought their wives here to have a good time.

“Why are you staying here?”

“Can’t stay at home.  Things have changed.  I’m not interested in working with the family business.  It’s why I left in the first place.”

Imagination running wild, I think I began feeling sorry for her.  Beautiful girl, stupid men, caught in a seedy hotel.  My respect for old man Cossatino just took a dive.

“Why come back then?”

“Alex.  He’s a bastard, just like his father.  All those Benderby’s are the same.  You say you’ve got a plan that might help get him off my back?”

She took off her coat and threw it on the bed with the other clothes.  It wasn’t that dark I couldn’t see her outline and had to look away.

“A possible plan.  One that might kill two birds with one stone.  I have to look out for Boggs because he had got himself into a mess that he doesn’t realise the full potential of yet.”

“The treasure map?”

“I wish people would stop calling it that.  It’s just a piece of paper with a drawing on it.  I’m sure the whole myth was concocted by Boggs’ father as another one of his schemes.”

Everyone knew Boggs father was a touch crazy and had come up with a number of schemes, some even calling the ‘get rich quick’ schemes, and one had landed him in jail.  He never quite understood the nature of the schemes he’d bought off other people in the hope of getting rich himself.  The treasure map, that was a new one for him, but one of his previous customers had caught up with him, and he’d not lived long enough to play this one out.

Boggs unfortunately, was doing it for him.

“You don’t think it’s real?”

“What I think is irrelevant.”

She moved closer and sat on the side of the bed, not far from me.

“So what is this plan?”

“I get you a copy of the map, you give it to Alex, see what he says.  You know you can’t trust him, or anything he says.”

She was too close, so I moved, trying to look like I was not moving.  But at the same moment, I had no idea what it was about her that scared me.  It was apparent she hadn’t told Vince about this meeting.

“It’s a chance I have to take, and you are right, I don’t want to cosy up to Rico.  I have had previous dealings with him, and he is not nice.  But, if you are willing to do this for me, what do you want in return?”

The inevitable question and I think I could guess what she thought I might want.  And that thought did cross my mind.

“Nothing.”

“That is not possible.  All men want something.”

“I’m not all men.  I owe Alex a little payback and this will be a small cog in a big wheel.  If it helps you, good, but I know the Benderby’s and nothing is easy with them.”

“This plan…”

“The less you know the better.”  I stood, and then moved to the door.  “I’m only going to be able to see you in the early hours of the morning.  I’m working an afternoon shift till midnight, and I don’t want to come here in the daylight.”

She stood and came over to join me.

“You are going to have to do something about Rico because Alex will ask him.”

It was something that also occurred to me just before she raised it.  I knew there was going to be a problem, I just hadn’t realised it at the time.  Now, it seemed like another of those insurmountable things.

“I’ll think of something.”

“Then soon.”  She put a piece of paper in my hand.  “My cell number.  Send me a text before you come.”  

Our hands touched briefly and it sent a shiver down my spine.

“I will.”

There was a moment, looking into her eyes where I didn’t want to leave, but fortunately, common sense kicked in, I opened the door and slipped out in the cold night air.  As it shut behind me I shivered.

It had nothing to do with the cold.

 

© Charles Heath 2019

Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.

The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.

Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.

 

An hour later we were stopped by the side of the road, at a point where another road, or, rather, a track headed to the left into the forest.

A short distance before that I noticed a sign, battered and faded, advertising an airport, a sign I thought had been put there as a joke.

Of course, when I remembered the conversation I had with Monroe back on the plane and the fact we had a specialist pilot in our group, it all began to make sense.

Our exit strategy.

I only wished I had internet coverage so I could check the presence of an airport in what looked to be the middle of nowhere.

Only Davies seemed unperturbed.

I had to ask.  “Did you know there was an airport here?”

“Of one, used by fly-ins for the Garamba National Park.  Not much of an airstrip though, and we don’t exactly have up to the minute details on its surface, but as recently as a week ago a small plane had landed there.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“All you had to do was ask the right question.”

It seems I didn’t know what the right questions were, what might be called an occupational hazard on a job like this.

Everyone had got out of their cars to stretch their legs and prepare for the next phase of the operation, which was to meet with the kidnappers.  I expected Jacobi would be on the sat phone talking to their leader, advising we had arrived.

I went back to Mobley, standing with the Ugandan soldier that had been assigned as his driver, smoking a cigarette.  I was surprised he hadn’t joined the others who had gathered ahead of the lead vehicle.

“Nice shooting back there,” I said.  It was for a man under pressure to make the shots, and give the rest of us a chance to take care of the others.  That no one else got shot was a miracle.

“Just another day at the office.”

“Well, it hasn’t ended yet.  I want you to go to the airstrip and get it under surveillance.  There is supposed to be an aircraft there, whether for our use or just there so we can steal it I’m not quite sure.  But if there’s a plane there, I want you to make sure it doesn’t leave, but as quietly as possible.  We should be along later with the packages.  I’m going up to tell the Colonel he’ll be joining you.  He might not want to, but he’s done enough for us.  I don’t want him to make enemies unnecessarily.”

“As you wish.  I’ll be along shortly.”

“Good.  Make sure your radio is working and on.  I need to know if anything goes sideways.”

“It won’t.”

I wish I had his confidence.

A minute later I reached the front of the convoy and saw why there seemed little animation among the group.  Monroe had Jacobi on his knees and a gun on the back of his neck.

“This is an interesting development Lieutenant.  Is there a problem I should know about?”

“I reckon the weasel sold us out back there.  Maybe even called them in to shake us down for one reason or another.  Didn’t try too hard to negotiate with the commander.”

No, he hadn’t.  And the thought had crossed my mind too.  A bit of cash on the side, split with the commander.  There didn’t seem to be any intent of the commander’s part to shoot us, so it was a pity we had to kill them all.  If they were part of the kidnapper’s operations, things might get a little dangerous.

“Before you kill him,” I said, “Did he tell you how the call to the kidnappers went?”

“Didn’t ask.”

“Perhaps you should.”

Mobley picked that moment to drive up alongside Jacobi and the Lieutenant.

“Problem?” he asked through the window.

“No.  We’re practicing our run at the kidnappers.”

He shrugged.  I looked over at the Colonel.  “Time for you to be moving on.  You don’t need to be in on the next part, for plausible deniability.  I suspect if the leader of this group sees you, and makes any connection back to the Ugandans, it could cause trouble.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Better if you didn’t have to.  My man needs help at the airstrip and a man of your authority might just smooth over problems if he needs it.”

“You’re having a plane sent in?”

“I’d like to think so, might even get you home in time for a late supper.”  I glared at Jacobi.  “How does he get to the airstrip?”

“Normally, through the town, but there’s a track about 200 yards up the road.  Go left, follow the road, then turn right at the first fork.”

He stood staring at the ground for a minute, hopefully considering doing as I asked.  I was not sure what I was going to do if he didn’t.  It was preferable he didn’t come with us.

“OK.  You have a point.  No need stirring up my Congo friends any more than I already have.”

He went over to Mobley’s car and got in, replacing the Ugandan soldier as a driver.

“See you when we see you,” Mobley said, and the Colonel drove off after a wave.

Back to my other problem.

“You’ve had time to think about your answer, Jacobi, so tell us.”

“An eight-mile drive along the next track, then instead of taking the fork to the airstrip, go left, and drive to you reach the checkpoint.”

“The meeting is on.”

“They’re waiting for us.”

“In more ways than one, I’d say,” Monroe muttered.  “He’s outlived his usefulness in my book.”

Ordinarily, I would agree with her, but we still needed him.  There might have been an initial negotiation, but it was far from what the end deal would be, and he had to be there to complete it.  And if he was leading us into a trap, well, we’d just have to wait and see.

“We still need him, so ease up on the aggression.  If he has double-crossed us, you can shoot him.  Until then, play nice.  But, just as a precaution, you and Stark can bring up the rear, stop about a mile short, and do some recon between there and the checkpoint.  If anyone is thinking of sneaking up behind us, I want to know about it.”

Monroe shook her head, then eased the gun away from him.  A nod to me.

“He can go with you in the lead car.  Davies can come with me and keep driving the car.  They’ll be expecting four vehicles.”

“Fair enough.”  I turned to Baines, the first time I’d addressed him since getting on the plane at the black site.  “You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s a portable rocket launcher among that film equipment, would you?”

“And half a dozen shells.  Don’t know how they managed it, but it’s there.”

“Easy to get at?”

“If need be.”

“Good.”  I looked around at the rest of the team.  “Everyone had time to calm their nerves.”

I’d watched Jacobi drag himself to his feet and try to brush the dust of his clothes.  It didn’t help restore what was once quite clean and crisp linen.  No one helped him, in fact, if I gave the order to shoot, all of them would.  Monroe’s accusation struck a chord with the others.

“We’d better get going,” she said, heading for the last vehicle after being joined by Davies.  Out of earshot, she said something to her, and I heard them laughing.

I was not sure what it was about, but as long as it eased the tension in her.  She had discovered which car was carrying the diamonds, co-incidentally the car I’d been driving, so we needed a situation so that we could remove the diamonds from the equation when we arrived at the checkpoint.  There was no way the kidnappers were going to let us retrieve the package once we got there, and I had no doubt we would be separated from the cars, and the equipment, so that, if possible, the kidnappers could gain the upper hand.

Or that was how I suspected it would go down.  It was only a matter of time before I was proved right or wrong.

Everyone else got back into the cars, and with Jacobi sitting in the front with me, I started moving forward.

I wasn’t prepared, not mentally anyway.  I never was when going into battle.

 

© Charles Heath 2019-2020

It’s the obvious items in the photograph that you see first, or that your eyes go to first.

The ocean, the beach, the buildings. You can see a shopping mall with MacDonald’s sign above it.

Yes, it’s late afternoon, and you can see long shadows of the buildings.

So, if I asked you what did you see in this photo, what would your reply be?

From a thriller writer or murder mystery writer’s point of view, it’s what you don’t necessarily see.

So, for the purposes of the story, the opening line for the world-weary detective, handing the photo to his partner, “What’s is it you can’t see in this photo?”

A partner that hadn’t been on the job very long, in from the suburbs, and had seen little more than break and enters car theft, and school kids hi-jinks.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?”

“You want to be a detective, or be looking for old ladies cats?”

His partner takes the photo in hand and looks at it again.  There has to be a reason why the old man had given it to him, or perhaps there wasn’t and he was just playing with him again.

No, he thought, there has to be something…

And then he saw it, quite by accident.  A hand, a gun, and following the line of fire, at the end, what looked like someone in the bushes.

In a photo taken from a higher floor of the building over the road, looking down on what was supposed to be a rooftop recreational area.

Only there had been no report of a missing person or a gunshot wound in the last seven days.

“When was it taken?”

“Two days ago?”

“And no reports of a shooting, or a body?”

“No.  And yet the person who took this swears he saw a body, but by the time he came back, there was nothing.”

The detective handed his partner a second photo.  Time-stamped five minutes later.  With no gun and no body.

What will happen next?

Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.

The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.

Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.

 

An hour later we were stopped by the side of the road, at a point where another road, or, rather, a track headed to the left into the forest.

A short distance before that I noticed a sign, battered and faded, advertising an airport, a sign I thought had been put there as a joke.

Of course, when I remembered the conversation I had with Monroe back on the plane and the fact we had a specialist pilot in our group, it all began to make sense.

Our exit strategy.

I only wished I had internet coverage so I could check the presence of an airport in what looked to be the middle of nowhere.

Only Davies seemed unperturbed.

I had to ask.  “Did you know there was an airport here?”

“Of one, used by fly-ins for the Garamba National Park.  Not much of an airstrip though, and we don’t exactly have up to the minute details on its surface, but as recently as a week ago a small plane had landed there.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“All you had to do was ask the right question.”

It seems I didn’t know what the right questions were, what might be called an occupational hazard on a job like this.

Everyone had got out of their cars to stretch their legs and prepare for the next phase of the operation, which was to meet with the kidnappers.  I expected Jacobi would be on the sat phone talking to their leader, advising we had arrived.

I went back to Mobley, standing with the Ugandan soldier that had been assigned as his driver, smoking a cigarette.  I was surprised he hadn’t joined the others who had gathered ahead of the lead vehicle.

“Nice shooting back there,” I said.  It was for a man under pressure to make the shots, and give the rest of us a chance to take care of the others.  That no one else got shot was a miracle.

“Just another day at the office.”

“Well, it hasn’t ended yet.  I want you to go to the airstrip and get it under surveillance.  There is supposed to be an aircraft there, whether for our use or just there so we can steal it I’m not quite sure.  But if there’s a plane there, I want you to make sure it doesn’t leave, but as quietly as possible.  We should be along later with the packages.  I’m going up to tell the Colonel he’ll be joining you.  He might not want to, but he’s done enough for us.  I don’t want him to make enemies unnecessarily.”

“As you wish.  I’ll be along shortly.”

“Good.  Make sure your radio is working and on.  I need to know if anything goes sideways.”

“It won’t.”

I wish I had his confidence.

A minute later I reached the front of the convoy and saw why there seemed little animation among the group.  Monroe had Jacobi on his knees and a gun on the back of his neck.

“This is an interesting development Lieutenant.  Is there a problem I should know about?”

“I reckon the weasel sold us out back there.  Maybe even called them in to shake us down for one reason or another.  Didn’t try too hard to negotiate with the commander.”

No, he hadn’t.  And the thought had crossed my mind too.  A bit of cash on the side, split with the commander.  There didn’t seem to be any intent of the commander’s part to shoot us, so it was a pity we had to kill them all.  If they were part of the kidnapper’s operations, things might get a little dangerous.

“Before you kill him,” I said, “Did he tell you how the call to the kidnappers went?”

“Didn’t ask.”

“Perhaps you should.”

Mobley picked that moment to drive up alongside Jacobi and the Lieutenant.

“Problem?” he asked through the window.

“No.  We’re practicing our run at the kidnappers.”

He shrugged.  I looked over at the Colonel.  “Time for you to be moving on.  You don’t need to be in on the next part, for plausible deniability.  I suspect if the leader of this group sees you, and makes any connection back to the Ugandans, it could cause trouble.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Better if you didn’t have to.  My man needs help at the airstrip and a man of your authority might just smooth over problems if he needs it.”

“You’re having a plane sent in?”

“I’d like to think so, might even get you home in time for a late supper.”  I glared at Jacobi.  “How does he get to the airstrip?”

“Normally, through the town, but there’s a track about 200 yards up the road.  Go left, follow the road, then turn right at the first fork.”

He stood staring at the ground for a minute, hopefully considering doing as I asked.  I was not sure what I was going to do if he didn’t.  It was preferable he didn’t come with us.

“OK.  You have a point.  No need stirring up my Congo friends any more than I already have.”

He went over to Mobley’s car and got in, replacing the Ugandan soldier as a driver.

“See you when we see you,” Mobley said, and the Colonel drove off after a wave.

Back to my other problem.

“You’ve had time to think about your answer, Jacobi, so tell us.”

“An eight-mile drive along the next track, then instead of taking the fork to the airstrip, go left, and drive to you reach the checkpoint.”

“The meeting is on.”

“They’re waiting for us.”

“In more ways than one, I’d say,” Monroe muttered.  “He’s outlived his usefulness in my book.”

Ordinarily, I would agree with her, but we still needed him.  There might have been an initial negotiation, but it was far from what the end deal would be, and he had to be there to complete it.  And if he was leading us into a trap, well, we’d just have to wait and see.

“We still need him, so ease up on the aggression.  If he has double-crossed us, you can shoot him.  Until then, play nice.  But, just as a precaution, you and Stark can bring up the rear, stop about a mile short, and do some recon between there and the checkpoint.  If anyone is thinking of sneaking up behind us, I want to know about it.”

Monroe shook her head, then eased the gun away from him.  A nod to me.

“He can go with you in the lead car.  Davies can come with me and keep driving the car.  They’ll be expecting four vehicles.”

“Fair enough.”  I turned to Baines, the first time I’d addressed him since getting on the plane at the black site.  “You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s a portable rocket launcher among that film equipment, would you?”

“And half a dozen shells.  Don’t know how they managed it, but it’s there.”

“Easy to get at?”

“If need be.”

“Good.”  I looked around at the rest of the team.  “Everyone had time to calm their nerves.”

I’d watched Jacobi drag himself to his feet and try to brush the dust of his clothes.  It didn’t help restore what was once quite clean and crisp linen.  No one helped him, in fact, if I gave the order to shoot, all of them would.  Monroe’s accusation struck a chord with the others.

“We’d better get going,” she said, heading for the last vehicle after being joined by Davies.  Out of earshot, she said something to her, and I heard them laughing.

I was not sure what it was about, but as long as it eased the tension in her.  She had discovered which car was carrying the diamonds, co-incidentally the car I’d been driving, so we needed a situation so that we could remove the diamonds from the equation when we arrived at the checkpoint.  There was no way the kidnappers were going to let us retrieve the package once we got there, and I had no doubt we would be separated from the cars, and the equipment, so that, if possible, the kidnappers could gain the upper hand.

Or that was how I suspected it would go down.  It was only a matter of time before I was proved right or wrong.

Everyone else got back into the cars, and with Jacobi sitting in the front with me, I started moving forward.

I wasn’t prepared, not mentally anyway.  I never was when going into battle.

 

© Charles Heath 2019-2020

It’s the obvious items in the photograph that you see first, or that your eyes go to first.

The ocean, the beach, the buildings. You can see a shopping mall with MacDonald’s sign above it.

Yes, it’s late afternoon, and you can see long shadows of the buildings.

So, if I asked you what did you see in this photo, what would your reply be?

From a thriller writer or murder mystery writer’s point of view, it’s what you don’t necessarily see.

So, for the purposes of the story, the opening line for the world-weary detective, handing the photo to his partner, “What’s is it you can’t see in this photo?”

A partner that hadn’t been on the job very long, in from the suburbs, and had seen little more than break and enters car theft, and school kids hi-jinks.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?”

“You want to be a detective, or be looking for old ladies cats?”

His partner takes the photo in hand and looks at it again.  There has to be a reason why the old man had given it to him, or perhaps there wasn’t and he was just playing with him again.

No, he thought, there has to be something…

And then he saw it, quite by accident.  A hand, a gun, and following the line of fire, at the end, what looked like someone in the bushes.

In a photo taken from a higher floor of the building over the road, looking down on what was supposed to be a rooftop recreational area.

Only there had been no report of a missing person or a gunshot wound in the last seven days.

“When was it taken?”

“Two days ago?”

“And no reports of a shooting, or a body?”

“No.  And yet the person who took this swears he saw a body, but by the time he came back, there was nothing.”

The detective handed his partner a second photo.  Time-stamped five minutes later.  With no gun and no body.

What will happen next?