“Hallo Julio,” he said the surprise evident in his voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Hallo Marsh,” Batista replied. He turned slightly and gestured towards the giant standing beside him. “Allow me to introduce my friend, Malik.”
Marsh looked up at him. “Malik, just that?” The big man nodded. “So what do you want Julio?”
“May we come in?”
Marsh knew from their body language that this was not going to be a social call. He tried to put them off.
“I’m afraid it isn’t convenient,” he told them.
Batista shrugged. “No matter, I can tell you what I want just as easy standing out here.”
“So what do you want?” Marsh asked, the irritation clear in his voice.
“Someone wishes to meet you.” He gestured. “We have a car. It’s only a short drive and we will not take up too much of your time.”
The warning bells began to sound clearly in Marsh’s head, but there was nothing in Batista’s manner that was threatening. Perhaps that last statement was meant to put him at ease.
“Who wants to see me?”
“My employer, Hakeem Khan,” Batista told him.
Marsh looked at Malik and felt just a slight shiver of apprehension slither down his spine. “I have already told you, Julio; I don’t want a job. I’m sure Mister Khan will find somebody else suitable for whatever it is”.
“He wants you,” Batista insisted. “And he would prefer to hear your refusal himself.”
“And what makes Mister Khan think I want a job?” Marsh wondered how far this would go before Malik was brought into the discussion, because he was quite certain that was the reason he was there. “I have plenty to do here.”
Batista shrugged. “Well of course, that’s your choice. But you’re a businessman and this is business.”
“What kind of business?”
Batista shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to tell you, Marsh; I am just the messenger.”
Marsh pointed at Malik. “So what’s he doing here?”
“Why don’t you ask him, Marsh? He speaks English.”
Marsh didn’t have to; he knew why Malik was there. Marsh either went willingly or he would be encouraged by Malik.
He shrugged, deciding that discretion might just be the better part of valour, providing he could let Helen know. A kind of insurance he reasoned.
“What the hell, Julio. OK then. But give me a couple of minutes.”
Batista face broke out into a little smile as though he was relieved that force would not be necessary. “Fine, we’ll wait here,” he told Marsh.
Marsh went back inside and phoned Helen. The phone continued to ring until her answering service came on. He left a message and rang again, just in case she was away from the phone, but there was no reply; just the answering service. He put the phone down and frowned. It wasn’t like Helen not to have her cell phone with her, or close at hand anyway. He picked up his own cell phone and went out to the waiting car.
Very little was said as Malik drove. Marsh was content to wait and consider the implications. He knew there was nothing to be gained by asking Batista what was going on, and any other conversation would just be small talk anyway.
Malik drove into the Lucayan Beach Hotel forecourt and swung smoothly into a vacant parking lot. They climbed out of the car and Marsh followed Batista into the lobby. Malik remained in the foyer as Marsh and Batista went straight over to the lifts.
Two minutes later, Marsh came face to face with Hakeem Khan.
Helen knew how a lot of people reacted to being burgled by saying it made them feel unclean for some reason. Now she was feeling traumatised by the shock of what she felt was almost like a physical violation, although the burglary was unlike others. Helen assumed that whoever had been in her villa were professionals and they were looking for something specific, although she had no idea what it might be. But she was determined to remain philosophical and try to get things back on an even keel. So it was for that reason that she believed she should carry on as though nothing had happened. Put it to the back of her mind. She decided to have something to eat but she didn’t feel like cooking, so a take away meal seemed to be the answer.
Helen drove down town to a Pizza restaurant that served take-away meals. She ordered a pizza and climbed back into the pick-up. There was a lot on her mind as she drove back to her villa and wasn’t aware that a red Buick had been following her for a while.
She turned in to her road and swung into the driveway, bringing the pick-up to a halt beneath the carport. As she stepped out of the truck, she saw the Buick turn into the driveway. It raced up the short drive, tyres squealing and stopped.
A tall, rangy black man got out of the passenger door of the Buick and before Helen could say anything, he walked up to her, clamped his hand over her mouth and threw his arm round her waist. It was so sudden that Helen didn’t take it in for a second or two. Then as the realisation of what was happening hit her, she began to struggle violently, but the man was so strong she had no effect on him.
He lifted her off the ground as the driver of the Buick got out of the car and opened the rear door. Helen was flung into the back and her captor threw himself on top of her. She tried to cry out but the force of his full weight on her just caused her to grunt, and he still had his hand clamped over her mouth. She heard the doors slam shut and felt the Buick reverse out of the drive and roar off up the road. Everything had happened so quickly that not even sixty seconds had passed.
Helen’s pick-up truck still had its driver’s door open and on the seat lay her handbag and the takeaway pizza still warm beside it.
“Can I get you a drink Marsh?”
Hakeem Khan had welcomed him almost like an old friend. He shook his hand warmly and guided him to a chair, then went over to sideboard where a couple of bottles stood with glasses beside them. There was also a bucket of ice and sliced lemons and limes. Marsh refused the drink. Khan seemed unperturbed by that and left the empty glasses where they were. As he took a seat opposite Marsh, he fluttered a hand at Batista who left the room.
Marsh looked around the hotel room. It was elegant and obviously expensive, but to a man of Khan’s wealth it was something he would have been quite used to.
Khan looked the epitome of a man at ease with himself. He had the complexion of someone who had spent most of his working life at sea, which added to the aura of composure. He was wearing cream slacks, a simple cotton shirt and leather, slip-on shoes. Although his hair was grey, it was well groomed and he still had plenty there. His smile revealed a full set of white teeth. On his wrist was a gold Rolex watch, and on the finger of one hand a ring of enormous size. Marsh doubted that Khan wore anything like that when he was at sea.
“Now Marsh,” he began. “First I must say I was appalled to hear of your partner’s death, such a sad loss; not only to his wife, but to yourself and the business. And you were so lucky not to have been killed as well. Tell me, what happened?”
Marsh wondered how much of the affectation Khan would put on before they got down to the real reason for his visit.
“I remember very little about it,” Marsh lied. “One minute we were afloat, next thing I know is I wake up on someone’s boat. Even now I have a great deal of trouble recalling the moments leading up to the accident. I think we struck something submerged.” It was enough. He doubted if Khan would want to probe deeper.
“Still, it is so sad. And we are happy that you survived.” He brought the palms of his hands together in a soft, clapping motion. “Now, the reason I have asked you here is to offer you a job. I want you to pilot the Challenger.”