Beirut - An Explosive Thriller (25 page)

She ducked
into the cabin and shut the door quickly. She turned the lock,
pausing to listen at the door to the heavy sliding sounds of
Boutros dragging her sacking-filled doppelganger down the corridor.
The aft bulkhead banged. She strained to hear more.

Elli was in a
stranger’s cabin on a ship wearing little more than a greatcoat, a
crazy notion which made her grin briefly. She scanned the room,
similar to hers, a functional space with a single bed and a locker,
a small desk squeezed between the bed and the wall. A metal-lined
hatchway set into the carpeted floor glittered in the halogen
lighting. She supposed the doorway opposite the bed led to a
bathroom, the same as her cabin. She pulled the coat tight and sat
on the bed to wait.

The silence
was oppressive. Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, breaking
into her reverie. She tensed at the knock on the door. Two taps.
She tried not to breathe. It was wrong. He had said three taps. Two
taps again, a confident double rap.
Efficient. A confident knock. Can you knock a door
confidently?
She shook her head, banishing
the silly thoughts. Thank God for her pills. The key snicked in the
lock and she bit her lip to stop herself crying out. Dread seized
her and she tried desperately not to move back from the danger in
case she made a sound. A violent ague shook her. She was sweating.
Her hands trembled. She held her breath. Her throat ached from
locking the screams in. The darkness crept back, satanic laughter
in her ears as the door started to open.

Boutros
staggered on the moonlit aft deck, hands on hips, panting. The
foaming wake stretched into the dark expanse. The bundle bobbed
once before it disappeared into the foam, the anchor he had tied to
it taking it deep down to the seabed below.

Not a
religious man, Boutros nevertheless crossed himself. He smiled at
the gesture given he had consigned some sacking and women’s
clothing to the deeps. He turned away, striking out along the aft
deck to the rear door, stepping over the bulkhead into the corridor
serving the crew quarters. He froze. Gonsalves stood at his cabin
door with a key in the lock. His heart hammering, he pushed the
door shut behind him and forced himself to walk as normally as he
could up the corridor.

‘
Skip?’

‘
Done?’

Boutros swept
his hand back through his hair. ‘Yes. Done.’

‘
Good. Good
job, Magdy. Clear out her cabin, then. Get rid of all the
Fentanyl.’

‘
Yes, Skip.
Leave it with me. Something you wanted?’

Gonsalves
looked down at his hand and pulled his master key from the door. He
shook his head. ‘No, no. Nothing. Just thought you were in there
and hadn’t heard me knocking.’

Gonsalves
smiled, nodded and strode up the corridor. Boutros turned to his
cabin. The door swung open in the swell to reveal Elli on his bed.
She was holding the duvet to her as protection, her legs pedalling
on the bed, trying to push herself into the wall. Her face reddened
and crumpled. He moved quickly, signalling her to silence and
whipping the cabin door shut behind him. Squatting by the bed, his
finger held to his lips, Boutros waited for her to calm.

Her voice
quivered. She wiped at her eyes. ‘It was him, wasn’t it? He knocked
wrong. I felt him in my head. He’s evil.’

‘
It’s okay,
it’s okay. You’re safe now. Just keep very, very quiet. I need to
get you some clothes from the laundry. We dock at Valetta in the
early hours of the morning. We need to get you off this tub while
it’s still dark. Can you swim?’

She was
wide-eyed. ‘Yes, yes I can. Did you keep the pills from my bag like
I ask?’

‘
Sure. Here.
What are they for?’

‘
It doesn’t
matter. Do you have some water? I’m thirsty.’

He fetched
her a glass of water and she drank. He paused by the door.
‘Remember, no noise. And three taps, right?’

She nodded.
‘Right.’

Boutros crept
down the corridor to the guest cabin, where he gathered up the
syringes and ampoules, and scanned the room for any other trace of
Elli’s stay there. He added a bloodied flannel to his collection
and took the staircase up to the pantry on the main deck, where he
placed the kidney dish and unused syringes in the medical store. He
wrapped the rest in a plastic bag, weighted it down with a tin of
beans and pushed it out of the porthole, the cool night air filled
with the splashing of the big boat’s progress through the calm sea.
He took the companionway down to the crew quarters and stepped into
the laundry room, thankful one of the washing machines was still
on, its noise masking his movements. Boutros rooted through the
unironed clothes, hoping to find some of little Panamides’ clothes.
The dark, silent man from Bogota hadn’t been teased about his tiny
stature by the other crewmembers, perhaps on account of the knife
he was always sharpening.

Boutros
pulled out two t-shirts and two pairs of pants. Rolling them up
tight and tucking them under his arm he stole out of the laundry,
passing the silent crew’s mess.

Boutros stole
past the other crew rooms and gave three gentle taps on his cabin
door before pushing it open. He stepped into the room and let the
door close behind him.

She stood
behind the door, the heavy-based table lamp clutched in her hand.
Boutros’ puzzlement gave way to a grin and he took it from her
gently, noting her touch had left moisture on the ceramic. ‘Relax.
It’s going to be okay. Everyone’s asleep apart from Gonsalves up on
the bridge. Here, I brought some clothes. You’ll have to wear socks
until we can get you to a shop or something.’

Boutros
waited by her as she slept, looking down at her fragile form curled
up on the bed. There was something about her made you want to
protect her, he mused, noting the dark shadows around her eyes. He
thought back to the journey from the hotel to the boat, holding her
down and giving her the first dose of the Fentanyl Gonsalves
believed Boutros had used to kill her. Now Boutros’ life was in
danger, too. He reached down and shook her gently, his hand poised
over her face in case she screamed. She woke slowly. She opened her
mouth, peeling her dry lips apart. ‘Water. Why I am so
thirsty?’

‘
It’s a side
effect of the anaesthetic. Sorry.’

She sat up as
he filled the glass, took it from him with a smile and drank. Her
voice was croaky. ‘Why you decided to help me, Magdy?’

Why, indeed?
Because I’m sweet on you? Because I’m perhaps not as big a bastard
as I thought I was? Because.
‘I don’t
know. There’s no time for talking about it right now, though. We’re
coming into Valetta. We’ve only got a few minutes before we dock at
Marsamxett. You’ll need to strip down to your underwear.’ He handed
her a plastic bag. ‘We’ll put your clothes in this and tape it up.
Hopefully they’ll stay dry.’

‘
Where do I
go? To the police?’

Alarmed,
Boutros almost cried out. ‘No, God no. Gonsalves would kill me. I’m
not joking, I mean it. Please no. We’ll find somewhere you can go
until the
Princess
has moved on. I’ll come ashore and join you as soon as I
can.’

‘
It all seems
crazy.’

‘
Do you have
a better idea?’ Boutros’ voice was soft, but she
flinched.

She shook her
head, her lip trembling and her hands clasped. ‘No.’

‘
Let’s move,
then.’

‘
Actually,
yes.’ She was smiling as if touched by angels and Boutros felt his
heart could break. ‘Yes, I have the better idea. My father has a
friend in Valetta. We can call him.’

‘
Elli, listen
to me. I know this is difficult, but you are here because of your
father. You can’t go near him.’

‘
No, no you
have not understood. Joseph Scerri is an old man, he is nothing to
do with all of this. He will help me, I know. We can call
him.’

Her voice had
risen in her excitement and Boutros held her shoulder, his finger
to his lips. ‘Hush, for God’s sake. Okay, we’ll call him, but keep
your voice down.’

She nodded
and he dropped his hand. ‘Do you know his number?’

She opened
the laptop on the little desk. ‘No, but we can look for him. What
is your password, please?’

‘
It doesn’t
matter. The Inmarsat’s down. We can’t get Internet.’

She frowned.
‘Okay, doesn’t matter. Give me the password anyway.’

He reached
across her and keyed it in. She waited, then tapped on the
keyboard, her pretty face screwed up in concentration. ‘Here. Can I
borrow the mobile?’

Boutros
marvelled at the change in her. ‘Here. What are you
doing?’

She
flourished it at him. ‘A signal, see? Vodaphone. I can get
online.’

Boutros gave
up trying to understand and watched her frowning concentration as
she stabbed at the keyboard and thumbed away at the mobile’s
keypad. Eventually she sat back with a triumphant look on her face.
‘There. Now I can call him.’

‘
Yes, but you
have to be quiet.’

‘
So I talk
under the bedclothes like a little girl, then.’ She flashed a grin
at him, and took the handset, keying in the number from the
laptop’s screen. She dived under the duvet. After a few seconds,
her muffled voice apologised for waking whoever it was she was
talking to.

Boutros ran
the shower to cover any sound she made. He stared out of the
porthole in his bathroom at the lights of Valetta twinkling in the
grey morning half-light as they slid past.

She emerged
triumphantly. ‘You see? I knew he would help. My father has a
reservation at the Excelsior Hotel. Mister Scerri is making another
in my name. We can go there and hide.’

‘
Please,
hush. We need to move now, we are about to dock. There is no
time.’

She handed
the mobile to him. ‘Good. What do we do?’

‘
You need to
take your clothes off now. So you can swim.’

She stopped
smiling and stared at him, a long silent weighing up that pressed
in on Boutros, who felt the colour rising to his cheeks. She
reached down and pulled the t-shirt over her head, her full breasts
held by her bra, the shadows of her dark nipples showing through
the sheer material, pushing against it. The cold had hardened them.
Boutros turned away in confusion. The plastic bag rustled. He
helped her to press the air out and tape it up with masking tape,
then taped it firmly to her warm upper leg.

He handed her
the dark greatcoat. ‘Here, put this on until you get into the
water, it’s better in the dark. Ready?’

She scanned
his face uncertainly. ‘Yes. Ready.’

They made it
to the aft deck and its swimming platform as the big boat bumped
against the wharf. When the lines were thrown, they made their
move. Crouching low, Elli slipped into the water. Her pale skin
flashed as she wriggled free of the greatcoat’s dark embrace,
twisting as she dived. He was surprised at how strong a swimmer she
was, the long dive took her at least twenty-five metres from the
yacht and Boutros could barely make out when she broke the surface
to head around the rear of a smaller boat moored several empty
berths over.

Boutros
watched for a second more before he turned and hurried along the
right hand gangway. He climbed to the bridge deck, waving at Blanc
and Panamides standing on the wharf. Gonsalves was smoking and
gazing at the lights of Valetta as dawn broke over
Malta.

‘
Magdy. You
did well last night.’

‘
Thanks,
Skip. It was my ... you know, the first ...’

‘
You said. I
appreciate that.’ He blew smoke and smiled, clapping Boutros on the
shoulder. ‘Good man, Magdy.’

‘
Is it okay
to go ashore later, Skip? I sort of need to. You know. Let off
steam.’

Gonsalves’
face clouded. He regarded the tip of his cigarette. ‘Sure, why not?
We’re sailing before lunchtime though, so you can’t go too crazy
out there. Not that there’s much to do in Valetta, you understand?
You can pick up a mobile SIM for me while you’re there.’

Boutros
nodded fervently. ‘Aye, Skip. It’s good to breathe in the land air
sometimes. To get a taste of it, you know?’

‘
You’re a
romantic, Magdy. It’ll get you in trouble one day, that big heart
of yours. Be back by eleven, you hear? You don’t tell anyone a word
about this boat. Not a word.’

‘
Sure, Skip.
Thanks.’ Boutros grinned. He slid down the stairwell and spent an
hour pacing in his berth, marking time so he didn’t appear too
eager to get ashore.

Boutros took
a long shower, splashed on aftershave, slicked back his hair, and
took care to dress well. Finally, he strode down the gangplank past
surly little Panamides leaning on the railing and smoking. Boutros’
heart felt like a kettle drum, the blood rushed in his ears, every
second an eternity expecting to hear a shout behind him. The early
morning sunlight was on his back.

He struck out
down the wharf and rounded the corner towards the main road leading
off Manoel Island. He had arranged to meet Elli at the Excelsior,
and he looked forward to being with her in safety.