Gold Sharks (6 page)

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Authors: Albert Able

Tags: #Action/Adventure

BOOK: Gold Sharks
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“You don't have to sound so guilty Remi,” Marion comforted him. “That terrible war was over long ago.” Her gentle voice was infectious and soothing.

Remi relaxed.

“Sorry Mother, I don't know why but I suddenly felt that funny old sense of guilt, but I'm OK now,” he smiled sadly.

“I didn't mean to cause any embarrassment,” Greg raised his hands in apology.

Marion looked across at Greg who was clearly uncomfortable with his unwitting insensitivity.

“My father was in the Imperial Japanese Army stationed here. He was killed in action in the very last days of their occupation of the islands.”

She looked down at her hands then lifted her head proudly.

“He met an English woman prisoner who was working in his officer's house. You see my father been unusually well educated for a common man in those days and had also learned to speak a little bit of English. Secretly and at great risk to himself, he frequently engaged the woman in conversation and quickly improved his English. Well, to cut a long story short, they became lovers and the woman fell pregnant. That, friends, is how I came to be!” She looked around proudly. “I was born soon after the islands were liberated. Sadly I never knew my father but my mother insisted that I learn Japanese in his honour. We moved back to Singapore where Mother had lived with her husband before the war.” She looked sad “I'm afraid that her husband could not accept the little Oriental baby mother returned with. So we were left to our own devices. Anyway here we are; I just wanted to take a little pilgrimage to find my father's grave if possible.”

Oscar looked towards Marion.

“Maybe I could be of assistance I know the region quite well and after all, I am also Japanese” he offered gently in Japanese.

She smiled.

“I thought somehow that you were - and thank you, that would be nice,” she replied in the same language.

Marion looked at her son and smiled.

“You see, you have every reason to be proud of your family.”

She sat back; the distant music and the sea were the only other sounds. Remi reached across and lovingly held his mother's hand.

3

Alex Scott left his meeting with The Boss and walked briskly to Bank tube station. The surprise call from his old friend Hans meant that he had another appointment to keep, so took the underground to Lancaster Gate. Hans de Wolf established an exclusive security business, after his distinguished career in the diamond market was brought to an early end through his determined stand against the Syndicate. He had been lucky really, for not only had he survived the booby-trap bomb at his offices but he had been mistakenly reported “tragically killed” in the blast, in an over enthusiastic press report, leaving the Syndicate believing that their mission to kill him had succeeded.

The train stopped at the station and Alex took the lift to the surface. Not exactly sure where they were supposed to meet, he bought a newspaper as instructed and walked onto the street. The sunlight dazzled him briefly, causing him to shade his eyes with the paper to scan the busy thoroughfare. “Walk to the Serpentine.” He'd been instructed. “I'll catch up with you en-route.” He crossed the road and walked towards the imposing entrance to Hyde Park. Dozens of colourful paintings adorned the railings in front of him as hopeful artists displayed their different skills. He walked past promising himself to buy some ‘original art' one day. He entered the park and continued walking until he came to the Serpentine. The lake and its surrounding banks were busy with hundreds of people enjoying the various activities in the area. He crossed to the kiosk selling teas and coffee, bought a cup of coffee and settled himself at the only vacant table by the water.

“Well wouldn't you know, I'm invited for tea but it looks as though I have to buy my own?” The voice announced the presence of a bearded man, wearing a shabby raincoat.

Alex looked up.

“I thought you would manage with a glass of tap water.”

He sipped from the paper cup wincing at the taste of the bitter liquid.

“In fact, I'm certain you'd be making the best choice!” he smiled.

“Thanks all the same but I have a taxi waiting by the path. We should move away from here; it's not guaranteed to be secure. Follow me please,” the tramp replied brusquely.

“Christ, you're as paranoid as the Boss!” Alex muttered, walking obediently just behind the tramp to the waiting cab. They travelled in silence to Park Lane and across into Curzon Street. As the taxi stopped in Shepherds Market the tramp indicated to Alex with his thumb.

“This is it.”

They left the cab and crossed into a cobbled alley. Alex noted that the driver hadn't waited to be paid. At the end of the narrow alley, the tramp opened a tatty-looking door and beckoned Alex inside. The dimly lit lobby revealed a second, equally battered looking door but when it was opened a completely different scene appeared.

“In here I guarantee we are safe and free of all types of bugging devices.”

“Hans you old scoundrel! Just what have you got in here?” Alex replied, agog with genuine amazement.

“It's a long story but you have to hear it. Fancy a cup of genuine coffee?” He poured a handful of fresh coffee beans into an antique coffee grinder. “Won't seem as good as your instant stuff I don't suppose. But it suits me.” He gave an exaggerated wink as he expertly cranked the little handle.

Hans de Wolf had telephoned Alex in Alaska, inviting him to the meeting in London. The call had come just minutes after the Boss had persuaded him to consider taking on the latest contract. Alex confirmed that had been speculative about the sudden coincidental contact from his old friend.

Hans had served in the Royal Navy with Alex and lost his leg in a terrorist attack on a popular café, where they had stopped to watch the world go by and enjoy a morning drink. The bomb had killed several of the sailors as well as some civilians. Alex had undoubtedly saved Hans's life by controlling the flow of blood from the shattered stump of his leg.

Following the incident they were invalided out of the navy. Alex used the opportunity to join the Boss and SONIC while Hans had gone on to further his true calling as a diamond specialist and was eventually to become the only gentile member of the exclusive International Diamond Council.

It was after the Syndicate's failed attempt on his life that Hans decided to team up with another old ex navy friend, Kurt Finley, a specialist in hi-tech security. The partnership blossomed and now they were able to offer selected clients the most advanced and sophisticated security systems available in Europe.

It was the Boss who gave them their first big break when he supported their proposed contract to set up a more effective security screen at SONIC's offices. In addition they were contracted to provide support, wherever practical, for outside missions.

Alex had always secretly hoped that his old friend would end up safely somewhere. He was delighted therefore when the Boss had briefly explained Hans's new security procedures. It had all sounded like the stuff of science fiction at the time; now, as he stood in Hans's lair, he gazed in wonder at the installation.

“I don't know how much the Boss has told you, but after Antwerp, Kurt and I moved over here and set up a secret security business.”

He waved his hand around the room, indicating the battery of screens and illuminated technical equipment.

“I knew that the Boss was always paranoid about security and the constant fear of infiltration. I too am paranoid about the Syndicate and decided to dedicate the rest of my useful life to destroying them and any other organisation like them. Did you know that they very nearly destroyed SONIC, as well as me?”

Alex looked surprised.

“I had no idea”

“No - well that's another story but we have them by the balls now!” He grinned with unusual satisfaction.

“When I sold the diamonds for those earthquake survivors of yours, I used the agreed commission and my life insurance money to set this all up. We do have some of the most sophisticated equipment in existence. We have a thriving commercial side, operated by Kurt, but I spend all my time trying to track Syndicate activities.” He paused for breath and sipped his almost cold coffee. He put the cup back on its saucer. “I have acted as a watch dog on several SONIC operations over the last couple of years - including a couple of yours!”

“The hospital in Athens!” Alex interrupted, suddenly remembering. “It had to be you?”

“Yes it was. Also Antwerp - when you evacuated the safe house, remember?”

“Thank God you were there. Looks as though I owe you for real!” Alex was serious.

“You don't owe me anything Alex. After all I wouldn't be here but for you!” he replied and paused, changing his tone. “Anyway the purpose of blowing my cover to you is because you are going to need lots of day-to-day assistance with this Syndicate arms smuggling operation.”

He picked up a small hand set from the table.

“ Here.” He handed Alex the instrument. “This is a special mobile telephone.”

It looked exactly like any other mobile phone to Alex.

“This one has a few improved features,” he smiled. “Telephone and Internet are standard; the next model will have visual. However, this one is also a GPS receiver and will transmit a unique signal of your location, which can only be picked up by our receiver here!”

He pointed to the array of winking lights on the panels before them.

“If by any chance it is taken from you, the receiver will know because it recognised your specific body signature and will report the change!” he smiled triumphantly. “Good yes?”

Alex took the tiny instrument and wondered at modern technology. “I've only just stopped using the quill pen Hans. Is it difficult to operate?”

“You'll be given some lessons, don't worry,” Hans assured him.

Alex delayed his return for twenty-four hours. He and Hans had a lot of ground to cover. The following day Alex flew back to Alaska. He had to ‘tidy his desk' there before travelling on to the Far East where he intended to intercept and destroy the Syndicate weapon smuggling trail.

Rosie his wife and their energetic nine-month-old son met him at the airport. They drove, Alex holding the boy on his lap.

“You wouldn't do anything to spoil his fishing and sailing lessons in the future?” Rosie asked quietly.

It was rare for her to question Alex's activities; she knew from personal experience just how dangerous his missions could be. Alex looked across at the beautiful woman he was so proud to share his life with; he knew how hard this was going to be for her.

“This time my darling it's little more than a milk run, so don't you go worrying your beautiful head over it please. As for you Tiger,” he squeezed his son lovingly, “we are definitely going to teach you all the masculine things to do in this life!”

“We'll have to see about that. I don't want my son corrupted with all his fathers habits!” Rosie laughed lightly, her eyes watering slightly with emotion; she knew he was bluffing.

That night as they lay in bed, Rosie's head snuggled onto his shoulder; the passion of their loving had left them relaxed and calm.

“Will it be a long mission?” she whispered, snuggling even closer.

He hugged her and kissed her shiny black hair. Despite the mission's danger, his only real apprehension was of leaving them both alone.

“I assure you it's a relatively easy job and I promise to be careful. The Boss has promised to call occasionally, so you don't have to worry,” he lied; it was never simple and always dangerous.

Rosie also knew the truth but they preferred to play out their little charade, seeking a strange kind of comfort from it.

Early the next morning, Alex caught a flight from Anchorage direct to Tokyo. He stopped there to exchange information with his old friend, Rosie's distant uncle, Tokyo's Chief of Police. The meeting was brief but friendly.

“The list of contacts should be enough but if you need anything you must call at once, yes?” the ageing officer insisted. “I wish I was going with you!”

He gripped Alex's hand firmly, the merest twinkle of excitement in the eyes of the otherwise deadpan expression.

f

The sample shipment of arms and equipment had been approved; now the balance of the huge order could be shipped to the eager customers in the Philippines. It was essential that they arrive, before the contingent of US Special Forces established themselves in the islands. Their mission was to train the Filipino army in the art of weeding out and destroying terrorists; the best defence against their often-suicidal methods.

The cargo included thirty tripod-mounted SAM (surface to air) missiles, fifty hand-held missile launchers with various capabilities, hundreds of anti-tank grenades, over two thousand automatic rifles and a selection of other modern weapons. All this materiel was accompanied by millions of rounds of ammunition, hundreds of kilos of different explosives with a selection of fused timing devices and, to complete the package, a vast quantity of the very latest body armour, night vision and communications equipment.

In the wrong hands, such an arsenal of ordnance would inevitably create a dangerously powerful enemy. Large enough hold to ransom a country as small as the Philippines with relative ease.

w

Based in Darwin. Northern Australia, the Deep Blue Oil Exploration Diving Company specialised in repairing damaged underwater oil well equipment. The work was invariably dangerous but because they only ever handled the complicated tasks in their own way and in their own time and never allowing themselves to be coerced by oil rig owners, who always want to be back in action ‘quickly and cheaply', the company enjoyed an unblemished safety record. “You either do it our way and pay the rate, or it don't get fixed by us!” Big J, the owner of the Diving Company, would insist.

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