The Galician Parallax (14 page)

‘Lot of people,’ said Jerry Fulton. ‘You say Mr Billson already has an outline of the plan?’

‘Correct.’

The plan was complicated. To start with, apart from the special design and manufacture of the fenders, complete sets had to be kept at Falmouth and Vigo in order to transfer the goods by replacing the set on each return voyage with secret warehouses and several “confidants” at both ends. The design itself was brilliant. Each cylindrical fender was seventy-four cms long by twenty-five wide and hollow inside. A screwed polystyrene top at one end allowed access. The size of a kilo pack of cocaine was exactly eighteen cms by ten; this meant that each fender could accommodate eight packs of the white stuff. As the yacht carried the same number of fenders the total for each voyage was as Mr Billson had explained to his partners, “around seventy kilos per voyage.” The polystyrene blocks would be used outward bound and the packs of cocaine on the return.

Three hours later, Mr Billson was busily fixing a gin and tonic from the mini-bar.

‘Why they can’t keep the ice tray full is beyond me; typical of cheap English hotels.’

Donald had gone over all the details and was waiting for a final go-ahead from the head man.

‘Let’s see if I can sum up and reconfirm the deal,’ said Mr Billson. ‘
Pollyanna
leaves Falmouth as usual with two or three passengers, and on the return voyage the swap is carried out in Vigo.’

Donald nodded.

Mr Billson sipped his gin, picked up a paper napkin and wiped his lips, then put down the glass on the side table next to the bed. He reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a pocket diary. ‘Old fashioned I’m afraid; can’t get used to the digital ones.’

Jerry Fulton, still sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, had kept quiet throughout the meeting.

‘We’ve got five months to sort the whole thing out before the first voyage next year. Pretty tight, don’t you think?’

Donald nodded silently.

‘First problem is arranging the manufacture of these special fenders, but I’ll deal with it. Then, we’ve got storage arrangements to think of.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I’ll take care of the Falmouth end.’ He looked at Jerry, who was still silent. ‘You’ve made the initial contact at Vigo. Good. But you realise we’ve got to get at least one batch to them before you even start the run. Otherwise, how’re you going to do the first switch?’

Nobody had thought of it.

‘That in itself is a risk.’ Mr Billson got up and collected all Donald’s papers and placed them in his briefcase. He began to leave the room. ‘By the way, you haven’t said anything about this sleeping partner of yours, Glen Richards.’

Donald was quick to respond, ‘When the time comes, I’ll take care of him.’

Mr Billson reached the room door but before he left he said as he smiled back, ‘You know the saying, gentlemen, “don’t call me, I’ll call you”. Good evening.’

Juan Jose had gone out of his way to obtain permission from the Archbishop of Tui to hold both a wedding and a baptism on the same day. Although Stan and Yolanda had been legally married in a civil ceremony in Falmouth, Juan Jose was of the old, staunch Catholic brigade. He insisted on the full-blown works of a church wedding. Both his sons had gone through a similar ritual and he was going to make sure that his only daughter received the same treatment. He hadn’t counted on a grandson, but it didn’t matter.
This is the twenty-first century and all is possible
, he thought. He pulled all the strings as far as church dates were concerned and his office staff arranged the catering and confirmed that the large dining hall of the Coruxo Country Club was available for the dinner-party reception after the wedding.

‘You’ll have to check with Tui,’ said Father Rodrigo of the Colegiata, the main church in Vigo. ‘If they give the go-ahead, then it’s OK by me.’

A healthy donation for the continuing restoration of the cathedral by the Mauro Shipping Agency did the trick.

Over 300 guests and many other onlookers attended the hour-long mass that followed the Bullock wedding and the baptism of month-old Gabriel Jose. Yolanda wore a beautiful satin white dress with a craftily knitted “Camariñas” veil that covered her head and flowed down to the floor. With bare shoulders opulently displaying her grandmother’s single-pearled string necklace, she slowly entered the church to the sound of a Galician piper murmuring a traditional chant of the sea. Stan stood almost to attention alongside one of his sisters-in-law and Father Rodrigo as he stared down the isle at his future “official” bride, arm in arm with her father. A proud Juan Jose and a smiling Yolanda finally made it to the foot of the main altar.

Baby Gabriel was purposefully kept out of sight for the first part of the show. As soon as the bride and groom were confirmed as man and wife, Danny Wilton and Stan’s other sister-in-law marched on to the religious stage holding a hollering baby who was more concerned with a mid-afternoon suckle than receiving God’s future blessing. The murmurings from the audience were inevitable. Most were invited to a wedding; the baptism was a “surprise” aftermath. Two hours later, dozens of waiters, some carrying trays laden with all sorts of canapés and others with an array of drinks, intermingled with the guests at the country club. In true Galician tradition they waited for the late arrival of the newlyweds to continue the wedding and baptism party into the early hours of the morning.

‘What you’re asking for can be done, but it’ll take time and cost you,’ said one of the factory superintendents of the “marine supplies” company as he looked over the rough fender drawings. ‘The ones we produce will need jerry rigging, if you know what I mean.’

Skimming through one of the company’s catalogues Mr Billson’s “advisor” replied, ‘OK, but how much and how long?’

The superintendent continued to browse over the drawings. He placed them back on the conference table and went back to the computer. ‘A hundred quid a piece… that’s twenty thousand and complete order in five months’ time.’

‘That’s double the market price.’

Mr Billson’s staff were brainwashed into bargaining on any transaction carried out by the firm. In this case the “advisor” had no idea why special yacht fenders were being ordered.

‘Can you better the delivery? It’s too long.’ He added, ‘We need the first batch of a hundred by early next year.’

The superintendent continued to work on the order. ‘Can’t drop the price… but…’ Looking at his screen, ‘Late February OK?’

Jerry Fulton had rented a warehouse very near the Penryn railway station back in November and in three months had accumulated dozens of assorted yachting materials to act as a cover-up for the transfer of drugs brought in via the fenders. Mr Billson had also told the yachtsmen that the premises had to be large enough to accommodate, if necessary, at least a fifty-foot yacht. They still had one pending chore; Glen Richards.

‘Bit snobbish but he’s been superb at handling the tourist lot,’ said Jerry. ‘How are we going to sort him out on the “real” runs?’

Donald was looking over all the different material stocked around the warehouse. In September, once the Atlantic yachting season had ended, the partners had formed a new company called Maiden Voyages.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said how are we going to deal with Glen?’

‘He’s signed off on all the papers, right?’ Pointing at all the material, Jerry nodded. ‘When the time comes he’ll be so deep in it with all of us, he’ll have no choice.’

Before Jerry could answer, Donald changed the subject. ‘By the way, there’s been a change in plans. Sr Perez wants us to go straight into the public marina at Cangas, across the Vigo Bay.’ Donald saw the look on Jerry’s face. ‘It’s much safer. They’ve got it all set up to exchange fenders right at the dockside.’

‘What? Are they nuts?’

Donald explained that there would be two people who actually worked on the quay dealing with foreign yachts on a daily basis. One more vessel with a British flag would go unnoticed. ‘Routine maintenance, Jerry, it’s as simple as that. The guys will get their cut.’

At that moment the doorbell rang. It was a large DHL delivery van. ‘Two crates from Manchester, Guv… put them inside?’ said the driver pointing at the shed.

Mr Billson had also arranged for a single lot of eight fenders to be sent to Materiales Marinos, SL, San Fernando s/n, Domaio, Pontevedra, care of Sr Perez. The Galician maritime supply company was used to deliveries from the European Union, especially the United Kingdom. Their warehouse was around seven miles from the Cangas wharf.

Although Ahmed was busy sipping his tea, he was all ears listening to Rashid, known as the “Master”, the al-Qaeda international “plotting” coordinator. The congregation consisting of a dozen or so “planners” had just ended the last praying session of the day after an exhaustive work session.

‘I confirm: our brothers in America will soon be rising and the Mujahidin are ready in Europe, yet… I still have one concern,’ said Rashid, ‘ETA, the Spanish liberation fighters.’

Faisal, Osama bin Laden’s European commander responded, ‘We’ve been over all the information and details of the plan, Master, why is there still doubt?’

Rashid was silent for a few seconds, rubbing the back of his hand up and down along the side of his beard. ‘I’m still wary of the number of infidels. Copying their tactics is not enough. Then there is the problem of a strike before us. Timing, brothers, timing is the essence. Our jihad must not be jeopardised by petty European terrorists.’

Christmas and New Year festivities over and done with, Yolanda was finally back at work. The Bullocks were still staying at Juan Jose’s mansion out in Nigrán and although they enjoyed all the luxury of maidservants and chauffeurs alike, Stan was already feeling the pressure of “living with in-laws” and was ready to take up residence elsewhere. Yolanda agreed in principle; the problem was when, where and how to broach the subject to her father who had grown used to his children and grandson’s company. She was also eager to take up the workload from where she had left off that more or less mirrored her father’s activities at the time. Since giving birth to young Gabriel, by law she had to stay home and nurse her offspring yet she knew that she was presently the only descendant that could legally take over from her father when the time came.

On her first day back to the office and after travelling in with her husband and father she was greeted by the staff as a long-lost friend. Her past sentimental problem and her English studying venture had kept her away from her father’s firm long enough for her to lose track of the business. On the other hand, Stan had struck a very strong working relationship with Juan Jose and the latter was slowly handing over much of the company’s decision making, particularly in handling the cruise-ship business. Stan’s Spanish was strong enough to tackle day-to-day meetings and other conversational tasks with the authorities and entities. He had already been introduced and began a working relationship with the Vigo port authorities, the town council and the head of both the police and civil guards in the area. Juan Jose still dealt with cargo shipping from container vessels to bulk carriers and like a good Galician kept a stronghold on the financial side.
What to do with Yolanda?
he thought,
It’s been two years
.

The last thing Juan Jose needed was any friction requiring mutual condescendence since the “honeymoon” was over and the dust had settled. Honorary consular activity was another matter. Except for the odd contact with a distressed Brit, it was still firmly in Juan Jose’s hands. He soon found the answer.

Danny Wilton was again on one of his trips to Galicia. He had a full agenda including the six-monthly prison visits. A list of British interns in all four prisons was kept up to date at the consulate in Madrid. Their offences varied from short term such as attempted manslaughter in a pub brawl to drug dealing on the open market. A routine visit as laid out by the Foreign Office to make sure that the Brits were receiving fair treatment and there were no human rights violations was one of Danny’s mandates. There was also an upcoming European Football Championship match between Liverpool and Deportivo Corunna that usually attracted a few hundred or even thousands of British soccer fans. Making sure that any misdemeanours caused by the hooligans before, during or after the match were attended to was all part of consular work.

‘Seem to be spending a lot of time up here lately, Juan Jose,’ said Danny as he was greeted at the shipping agency offices. He noticed Yolanda at one of the large desks busily typing away on a computer, a phone mike clipped around her head. ‘See you’ve got her back to work.’

Juan Jose took Danny to one side. ‘She’s taken over the travel agency sector.’ Chuckling he added, ‘I’ve told her it’s her “toy” and that I’ll disinherit her if she doesn’t turn a profit.’

‘Thought she was…’

Juan Jose interrupted, ‘Don’t want any family feuds jamming up the works.’

Danny was still bemused.

‘Rivalry, Danny, rivalry, Stan’s turning out OK and I think Yolanda’s jealous.’

Changing the subject he asked about the forthcoming football match.

Prior to any European cup match, the visiting English club, a representative of the European Football Association, the appointed referee and a member of Scotland Yard would visit the host club a couple of weeks before the match. They had to finalise all the details including stadium security, crowd control and minor issues such as choice of team colours. Danny confirmed the dates to make sure that Juan Jose was available during the match.

‘Shouldn’t be any trouble… you know the usual routine. Check on police and hospitals for any casualties and ready with emergency passports just in case. There’s always some drunken sod that’s lost everything and thinks he’s still in Heathrow.’