Dennis waited, still clinging on. The muscles in his legs and fingers hurting from the effort. He heard the engine cut out and the sound of feet hitting the ground as the driver jumped down and slammed the cab door closed. Dennis slowly lowered his feet and let go but remained crouched. The relief in his muscles was instant. He instinctively moved back as far as he could when he heard voices and the sound of footsteps getting closer. Two pairs of feet passed him and turned and stopped at the rear of the trailer. He heard the heavy handles of the container doors opening. Then the beam of a torch was on the ground. The feet disappeared and Dennis realised that the two men had climbed up inside. He paused at the edge of the trailer, right by the back wheel and checked the coast was clear. He dashed out from under the articulated lorry and under the next one, repeated this again and got himself into a safe position in the shadows. A fork lift truck raced past and the air was heavy with the smell of its gas exhaust. Dennis felt himself go light headed for a moment or two from what he inhaled. He wafted his hand in front of his face to disperse the pollution. The fork lift swung in hard at the rear of the trailer, its spotlights blinding. Dennis recoiled from the brightness in case he was spotted. He made his way quickly down an avenue of containers, stopped once when rats crossed his path and came out near the water. The ‘Wavecrest’ was to his left. Lights were shining on board and reflecting off the water. In front of Dennis were wooden crates of all sizes and he now moved in and out of them and got himself into position directly opposite the ship. He reached into his trouser pocket and took out his mobile phone, selected camera, then video and began to record. At first in the dark the camera struggled to focus. He selected ’flash on permanent’ and though the light was bright the subject was too far away and it made no difference. He turned the flash off and filmed as before. He put his mouth close to the phone and began talking quietly, narrating about the ship. He zoomed in on the Lynx helicopter and noticed that it was armed.
“Air to air missiles,” he said.
He filmed the entire length of the ’Wavecrest.’ It was bigger than the ’Volante’. He tried to guess at what such a vessel would cost.
“One hundred million dollars? Two hundred,” he said into his phone, “I have no idea and where did they get that helicopter?”
He moved the phone up and captured the various radar and satellite dishes and stopped as he heard footsteps approaching. He cupped his hand over the phone in case its light gave him away. It was two guards in black combat fatigues and radio headsets. They passed only feet away and Dennis was relieved they didn’t have dogs. From somewhere he heard a voice call and they moved towards it. Dennis stole a look. There was someone, a big man by the look of it, standing in a pool of light from the streetlights overhead. Dennis closed his phone quietly which cancelled the video recording. He recoiled in horror as it bleeped loudly four times. He turned it towards his face, the display reading ’Text message received’.
He silently cursed whoever had sent it and put the phone in his pocket. He stole another peek. The three men were looking his way. Then at an order from the big man they snapped torches from their belts, flicked them on and advanced quickly on his position. Across their chests he now noticed Heckler and Koch MP5 machine guns. The torchlight’s came closer. He squeezed himself into a gap between containers and torchlight flashed briefly over him. He went undetected and the two men moved on. He waited until he was sure he was safe before deciding to move. He cautiously took a step forward. The sharp blade of a large knife across his throat stopped him. He couldn’t at first see who was holding it. Then the blade was lifting his head up, forcing it up. Had he resisted it would have cut his throat. It was still too dark to see anything. Then the person holding the blade called out loudly in Russian. There was a crackle from a headset and a voice responded also in Russian. The knife was slowly removed once Dennis was covered by the two sub-machine guns. The big Russian moved away and spoke quietly into his headset. Moments later on the ship a door opened and Dennis saw the man in the white suit descending the stairs. He then came along the deck and walked down the gantry. It took him only seconds to cover the distance between them. In the meantime Dennis had quickly been searched. His wallet and mobile phone were taken from his jacket pocket. He looked at the phone.
’Strange’
He had put it in the waistband of his trousers. The big Russian put the knife away. He tossed the wallet to the white suited man who so far hadn’t spoken. He flipped the wallet open and took out the driving licence and some bank cards. He held the driver’s licence between thumb and forefinger and turned it into the glow from the streetlight to read it.
“White. Thomas David. 16-02-79. London.”
‘Thomas White. Tom? That’s not my driving licence’ Dennis was thinking, ’How did Tom’s wallet….?’ Then he realised. Just before leaving the restaurant Dennis had popped to the toilet. The others had waited for him in the entrance and Natalie had given him his jacket. It had been on the back of his chair.
’She must have got the jackets mixed up’
“Tom White?”
Dennis had no choice but to go along with it.
“Yes.”
The white suited man continued to read the other cards. Dennis decided to try his luck.
“Might I know your name?”
The man looked up from the cards for a second. Light was glittering off his spectacles.
“No,” he said abruptly.
Dennis was trying to work out his accent. It was different to the big man’s who he was convinced was Russian. This man sounded more like South African.
’No more like German.’
“Oceanic archaeology institute.”
Dennis nodded. All the while the guns remained trained on him.
“You are an archaeologist?”
“Yes.”
The man in the white suit leafed through the rest of the wallet. There were some Tunisian dinars and some American dollars. He put the cards back and threw the wallet back to Dennis.
“This area is off limits. Did you not see the ’No trespassing’ signs?”
“Forgive me. No.”
The big Russian handed the German the mobile phone and said something quietly. The German nodded.
“You should when you are snooping about in other peoples affairs put your phone on silent.”
“Thank you. I’ll take your advice in future.”
The white suited man’s mood darkened.
“Do not be smart with me.”
The German quickly checked the phone and noted that the video and picture files were empty. He checked the message inbox but there was nothing of importance. He then went through the contacts list. There were over one hundred and fifty names and numbers. He snapped the phone shut and threw it back to Dennis.
“And now may I ask what you were doing here?”
“I’m a ship spotter,”
“A ship spotter?” The man in the white suit didn’t understand. He looked at the big Russian who shrugged. Dennis looked at him too. He was bald headed, easily six feet seven or eight. 280lbs Dennis guessed at.
“What is a ship spotter?”
“A ship spotter,” Dennis repeated, “You know. Like a train spotter, an anorak, someone who watches trains and writes the numbers down. Only I do it with ships.”