The Spear of Destiny (20 page)

  “Good evening sir. That package was delivered by an inspector De Luca of the Vatican police. He dropped it off a couple of hours ago.”

  “Oh De Luca. Thank you.”

Dennis made his way over to Natalie. The brunette was watching him. She saw Natalie looking at her and she pouted her lips as she concentrated on tidying up some papers behind reception.

  “It’s from De Luca,” he said. He waited until they were in the elevator heading for the fourth floor before opening it. There was a police complimentary slip and he read it.

  “Dear Mr Dennis,” it said, “I thought you might find these interesting. If there is anything else that you can think of please let me know. Cesare.”

  Underneath were some photographs. Dennis flicked through them briefly. There were four in total.

  “What are they?” Natalie asked.

  “Blown up copies of the tail of that Hercules I saw.”

The death’s head, though blurred at this size, was unmistakable.

  “Would you say that is identical to the one painted on the side of the wave crest?”

  “I would say so. It certainly looks to be the same.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

There was nothing else in the envelope. Just four photos and the complimentary slip. The elevator stopped on their floor. As they got out there was a commotion at the end of the corridor. Whoever it was, they disappeared around the corner a moment later.

  “What was that about?” Natalie asked.

  “Don’t know. Listen I’m just going to show these to Jim.”

  “Peter not tonight. It’s late. He may be sleeping. Leave him until tomorrow.”

He took her hand off his arm.

  “I’m just going to show him these. I’ll be very quick. I’ll knock gently. If there’s no answer I’ll leave it until the morning.”

  “Don’t be long,” Natalie said putting their key in the lock.

Dennis put his knuckles against Hutchinson’s door and was surprised to find it move a fraction. He rapped on it and pushed it open an inch.

  “Jim? Jim?” he called.

There was no answer so Dennis pushed the door open and stepped in. He instantly smelt trouble.

  “Jim? Jim?” he called again. Still no answer. Dennis checked the bathroom. Then he went back to the room. The bed was made. Dennis took his phone out of his pocket and was about to ring Hutchinson’s when he noticed the tall lamp by the window had been knocked over. He rang Hutchinson’s number and it went straight to answer phone. Puzzled, he was about to ring reception when he realised Hutchinson’s lap top appeared to be missing. The power cable for it still plugged into the mains. Then he saw the spots of blood on the table and floor and he was rushing for the door. He barged into his room. Natalie was still in her black mini-dress and heels.

  “Peter! What the.…?”

  “Something’s happened to Jim. That commotion in the corridor! Ring De Luca!”

  He rushed out of the room, ran to the elevators and pressed the lift call button. He looked up at the digital display telling him which floors they were on. One was at the lobby. The other on the first floor. He slammed the palm of his hand against the button panel with irritation, briefly looked at the displays once more and ran for the stairs. He burst through the door and looked down. He could see the ground four floors below and could hear heavy footsteps and shouting.

  Was that Hutchinson’s voice?

Dennis bolted down the stairs three at a time. He swung the corner and raced down the next steps, always gaining on his opponents. The fact that they might have guns didn’t even cross his mind.

  At the ground floor a bruised and panting Hutchinson clung onto the hand rail in desperation and groaned in pain as the butt of a handgun smashed down onto his already battered knuckles forcing him to release his grip.

  Dennis could see more spots of blood on the white marble stairs and he jumped down the last flight of steps, landing heavily. He landed harder than he’d intended to and his muscles and tendons screamed at him. His feet were stinging. He gritted his teeth and carried on, slow at first until the numbness wore off. He rounded the last corner and descended the last flight of stairs. Ahead was the already open door that led to the alley outside. It could only be opened from inside and Dennis charged through it. There were some wheelie bins here and a large dumpster. Ahead where the alley ended he could see the men half dragging, half carrying Hutchinson. A dark 4x4 was waiting and they bundled their captive inside. It roared away as Dennis reached the end of the alley at a sprint. It was a dark, possibly black or navy blue BMW X5.

  “Damn these Italian registration numbers,” he said out loud, cursing the small numbers that couldn’t be read from very far.

  Nearby was a street vendor selling hamburgers and doner kebabs from a window of his fast food venue and Dennis noticed people queuing for a late night snack. There was a scrambler motorcycle parked next to two motor scooters at the kerb. One of the mopeds had a full face helmet on its seat and

Dennis wandered over to the bikes. He was amazed to see the scrambler’s keys were in the ignition. He checked the queue of people and saw the man at the front now being served had a crash helmet in his hand. Dennis picked up the helmet on the moped and put it on. He swung his leg over the saddle of the scrambler, gently leaned his weight until the bike was upright off its parking stand. Then as quietly as he could his foot brought the stand up with a click. Not once taking his eyes of the unsuspecting rider Dennis turned the ignition key and stood up in the saddle and jumped down with all his might onto the kick starter. The engine roared into life and Dennis selected first gear, twisted the accelerator while holding the brake, spun the back wheel round in a semi-circle accompanied with a cloud of black smoke and raced off down the street as the motorbikes owner turned in astonishment with tomato ketchup oozing out of the bottle he was squeezing and dripping onto his clothes.

Peter Dennis kept a big distance from the BMW X5 as it turned into the docks at Naples. He followed slowly and as the X5 turned through a gate with stop barriers he had no choice but to continue straight on. The security guards on the gate watching him as he rode past. He knew he must look out of place riding a scrambler dirt bike with a full faced crash helmet and a dinner suit and he hoped they wouldn’t get suspicious. He’d followed the BMW for the 140 miles from Rome and had managed to remain undetected. The BMW had kept to the 125km speed limit which the little Honda motorcycle had at times struggled with. In his thin suit at that speed Dennis had been freezing.

  He continued going straight for a distance then took the next right. There was a barrier here also but it was unattended and down and he was able to squeeze the bike past it. He rode along this stretch of road which was lined with containers. In the gaps between them he caught glimpses of the BMW X5 running parrallel to him. Beyond the BMW was a large container ship moored at the dock. As he passed the next gap Dennis realised the BMW had stopped. He shut off the engine of the very noisy scrambler dirt bike and got off it and wheeled it between two containers and propped it against one. He crept along the rows. At the end was a chain link fence at least ten feet high with razor wire atop it. Dennis kept in the shadows when he got to the fence. The BMW was a couple of hundred metres away and Dennis watched as all the doors opened and men got out. They half dragged, half carried Hutchinson whose hands were tied. A hood was placed over his head. They bundled him to a metal gangway and pushed and prodded him up it. Twice he tripped and stumbled and was yanked roughly back to his feet and forced on.

  “Bastards!” Dennis said out loud.

He watched until they’d disappeared inside the ship and then took his phone out. The battery was almost dead. He selected Natalie from his contacts list and rang her and she answered almost instantly.

  “Peter is that you?”

  “Yes….”

  “Where the bloody hell have you been?” she cut him off, “I’ve been worried sick.”

  “I haven’t got long. My battery is almost dead. I’ve followed the kidnappers to Naples….”

  “Naples?”

  “Yes. Listen don’t interrupt I don’t have much time. They’ve taken Hutchinson onto a ship. I can’t see what it’s called but it’s a large container ship. I need you to get hold of De Luca….”

  “He’s here now.”

De Luca looked up from the notes he was taking. He and his men were going over Hutchinson’s hotel room for clues.

  “Is that him?” he called out to Natalie, who nodded.

De Luca clicked his fingers at Ferrara.

  “Get forensics up here.”

He took the phone from Natalie.

  “Mr Dennis it’s De Luca.”

  “Cesare my battery is almost dead. I’ve followed Hutchinson’s kidnappers to Naples port. They’ve taken him onto a container ship, I don’t know its name, I can’t see it, sorry. I’m going to try and get on board….”

  “No Mr Dennis. That is precisely what you’re not going to do. I will give you the address of the nearest police station once this call is finished and you will report to them and wait for me to call you again. Understood?”

  “Understood,” Dennis said.

The phone bleeped and he took it away from his ear to look at the screen. The battery symbol was now flashing. The display said ’insert charger’

  “My phone is almost dead.”

  “Okay Peter. So we don’t have much time. We’ve received a demand from the kidnappers. They want something called the Von Brest journal. Natalie has told us all about it but she doesn’t know where it is. We’re assuming Hutchinson doesn’t have it, though they’ve turned his room over looking for it.”

  “It’s in the safe in our room, my room.”

  “Natalie will look. Where is the key she’s just asked.”

  “In the pocket of my red and white check shirt.”

  “She’s got the key. She’s just going to look.”

  “Cesare I stole a motorbike to follow them.”

  “Don’t worry about that Peter. I’ll get my men to sort it out. Right we’ve got the journal, thank you. Now Peter I need you to….Hello….Hello….”

  The phone was dead. De Luca clicked his fingers at Ferrara again.

  “I need you to get hold of the port authorities in Naples. I want the name of whoever is in charge there. Find out the name of a large container ship moored there. There can’t be that many and find out who is head of the police in Naples. I want to speak to him as soon as possible. Once you’ve done that get the car. We’re taking a trip to Naples.”

  Dennis looked at the blank screen. He pressed the power button on the side of the phone. Nothing. He put the phone back in his pocket. The wind was getting up. Strong gusts had begun blowing. He looked up at the sky, the clouds were scudding across rapidly. A few spots of rain hit his face. Dennis looked down at himself, he took his bow tie off and shoved it in his trouser pocket. The rain began now, coming down hard.

  Dennis looked up at the razor wire.

  ‘There must be a way over it’

He moved along the containers and saw that the fence ran the entire length of the docks and extended over the water. Then on his way back he noticed a container that was on its own near the fence. The doors were open on it and he peered inside. There was just a pile of smelly rubbish and some pages of a newspaper blowing about within. Dennis tested the bars of the door lock. He was sure they would take his weight  and he began to climb up them. It was difficult with the wet and he slipped frequently but finally he made it to the top. He pulled himself up and knelt on the roof of the container. He rubbed the palms of his hands together. The cold wet metal had been painful to them.

The fence was eight feet from the container and two feet above it. He took his jacket off. In seconds his white shirt was soaked from the rain. Bunching the sleeves of the jacket in his fists he stepped back to the edge of the container, checked his grip on the steel roof by sliding his foot backwards and forwards over the surface, took a few deep breaths and started his very short run. He launched himself across the gap and slammed into the chain link fence. The jacket caught on the razor wire and he both heard and felt it ripping. He held on with all his strength and pulled himself up. Dennis felt the razor wire begin to cut through the material and he felt his palms being sliced by the wire. He scrabbled over the top and felt a sharp pain over his ribs as he kicked his legs over and dropped to the ground. In the dark he held his palms up to his face and saw the fresh blood. He looked down at his shirt. There was a slash in it, over his ribs. He put his fingertips inside the tear. There was fresh blood on them when he pulled them out. He felt along the cut, though it was stinging it didn’t feel serious. He looked up at his jacket hanging in shreds on top of the fence.

  “Oh well there goes three hundred quid,” he said out loud, “Nat’s going to be pissed!” He looked over at the vessel, “Now I just need to get on that ship.”

  Keeping close to the fence which he hoped was keeping him in the shadows Dennis moved along the dock looking for a way onto the ship. It towered above him, containers stacked five and six high on its deck. The bridge was near the stern and Dennis could see people moving about in the lights. At the stern he could see the rotor blades of a helicopter on the heli-pad. There was no way onto the ship that he could see. He looked at the thick ropes, as thick as a man’s thigh that went from the docks cleats to the stern of the ship. Now he could see her name painted in large white letters.

  ‘Meeresbrise’ Hamburg.

Dennis’ German was very limited but he translated the ship’s name into ‘Ocean Breeze’ home port Hamburg, Germany. Then he saw the death’s head next to the last ‘e’ of Meeresbrise.

  ‘Now there’s a surprise’ he said to himself.

Dennis grabbed hold of the ropes and leaned out over the water as far as he could, turned upside down and wrapped his feet around the ropes and began to climb up hand over fist. It was difficult in the wind and rain and the further he climbed the harder it got. His strength was ebbing fast, his muscles in his arms, legs, neck and back screaming for relief. Dennis stopped and leaned his neck back to see how much further he had to go. He was almost at the ship and he glanced down at the water seventy feet below. Another six feet and he could clamber over the stern and onto the ship. Summoning the last reserves of his strength he made to move the last few feet when he froze. He could hear voices approaching and then he saw the tops of the heads of two men. Dennis waited with muscles straining. He knew at any moment that they would look over the stern and see him. He gritted his teeth against the pain and then a strong gust of wind blew at him and his feet slipped. Now he was dangling above the water. He tried to swing his legs up. Four times he failed. Then his fingers began to slip. In desperation he swung his legs up again and wrapped them around the rope just as his right hand slipped. He hung on for dear life but for the moment he was safe.  His grip wasn’t slipping any more. He flexed the fingers of his right hand to get the circulation flowing again. Then the two men finished their conversation and he heard one of them leave. The other one hawked and spat over the stern and Dennis saw the thick gob pass his head by a whisper. Then not knowing if the man was still there or not Dennis adjusted his grip on the rope and began climbing again.