The Dead Sea Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  All of the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Events and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the express permission of the author.

  The right of Andrew Jackson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Copyright © 2018 Andrew Jackson

  All rights reserved.

  Our planet is still full of wonders. As we explore them, so we gain not only understanding, but power. It's not just the future of the whale that today lies in our hands: it's the survival of the natural world in all parts of the living planet. We can now destroy or we can cherish. The choice is ours.

  David Attenborough

  CHAPTER ONE

  The sea stretched out flat and calm as Heather Walsh and her small team of volunteers raced across its glassy surface. They were speeding north to the Pedra da Risca do Meio Marine Reserve. Local fishermen had reported a pirate ship working illegally in the reserve for several days now, sailing deep within its boundaries under the cover of darkness to scoop up the healthy stocks of fish that lived inside the 3,320 hectare exclusion zone, and laying waste to all else that got caught up in the huge drag net trailing behind it.

  In the few months that Heather had been working in these waters she had already witnessed the aftermath of what the pirate ships left behind. It was almost certain death for any creature caught up in the drag nets - at the hands of the pirates on the deck of the ship or a slow agonising death in the water, wrapped up so tightly that the pirates were forced to cut it loose, unable to swim, feed or sometimes even breathe. Rare turtles, dolphins, sharks and whales all suffered the same fate, as the unlicensed and illegal vessels eagerly hunted for fish that would fetch a premium at the markets.

  To the west, a dull orange sun sat low in the sky, threatening to plunge her small team into darkness at any moment as it dipped behind the mass of skyscrapers and high rise buildings that made up the Brazilian coastal city of Fortaleza. Darkness would mask the activities of the pirates and aid their escape across the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. That was something Heather was determined would not happen. If she could just identify the ships, the crew, what they were fishing for, what they had taken, what they had killed... The list was endless, and the chance of success was slim - but she must try. All over the world marine life was under threat from illegal and unlicensed fishing, and here in the south Atlantic, in the rich coastal waters of Brazil, dozens of species were being driven to the edge of extinction. She had to do something.

  Heather nudged the throttle forward until it could go no further, clamping both hands fast to the steering wheel and holding on tightly as the twin engines roared in response and the small rib in which they travelled increased its speed. Her two passengers clung nervously to the edge of their seats, all eyes peeled for the hulking shadow of the pirate ship, described by the men who reported it, as an ugly metal monster.

  Her heart pounded with excitement and adrenaline surged through her body when they rounded the headland and caught sight of not one, but three lumbering giants. They formed a line along the horizon, uniformly spaced apart, systematically scouring the water with weighted nets that trailed along the seabed in search of their quarry.

  It was what the ships left in their wake that frightened Heather the most. The bodies of creatures not meant for food, would float on the surface tangled in ropes or net. Some would be dead, other more unfortunate ones would twist and turn, unable to escape their bonds, to eventually die exhausted or drowned inside the confines of a marine reserve created to serve as a sanctuary from the dangerously over-fished waters of the open sea.

  As she angled the rib to intercept the line of ships, Heather felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder and Isaac Garcia, the owner of Fortaleza Sea Tours, a small business set up for tourists to watch the many species of migrating whales that passed through the area, stepped up beside her. He was American - smooth, confident and rich. He was also proving to be very distracting, and had shown more than just a business interest in Heather's activities.

  "Be careful. These men are dangerous. They will not listen to reason, and we have no-one here to back us up. There is no police or coastguard to watch over us. We must keep our distance."

  Heather glanced over to Isaac. He was a tall, slim man with lightly coloured skin and dark brown eyes. He was handsome and smart, but Heather felt he was somewhat disappointed at the appearance of a woman to investigate activities at the reserve.

  It was because of his concerns that the South Atlantic Sea Life Cooperative had taken an interest. They were a joint initiative set up by countries bordering the South Atlantic, with the objective of recovering the plummeting whale populations. Heather had received the call and, having recently quit her job with the Wildlife Investigation Agency in London, under a somewhat dark cloud, she jumped at the chance to work again. Heather had been briefed to investigate the alarming decline in sea life in the Pedra da Risca do Meio Marine Reserve, an area used by migratory whales to rest and breed on their long journey north. It was supposedly protected by law, but she had yet to find any sign of local or government authority anywhere in the area.

  She pulled back on the throttle and slowed the rib to a more sedate cruising speed so they could talk.

  "How can we keep our distance, Isaac? Do you want to find out who is responsible or not?"

  They had been over this particular topic several times already and Heather was frustrated at Isaac's unwillingness to confront the pirates. His business was suffering badly and she couldn't understand his hesitation.

  "Of course we must, but these men they..."

  As she turned on Isaac to argue her point she caught him glancing to the left. She followed his eyes and found them resting on Miguel, her only other passenger. Miguel looked away when he found her staring.

  Isaac continued.

  "...they are dangerous. That's all I am saying. We just need to keep our distance until we get the proper backing."

  "Take the wheel."

  Heather handed the controls to Isaac and moved to the back of the rib where she'd stored her bag. From inside, she removed an SLR camera with a huge zoom lens. Smugly, she returned to the front of the rib and pointed towards the largest of the three ships.

  "We can keep distance, Isaac. Just get me close enough to get some good shots of the ship. And hurry, it'll be dark soon."

  With another sly flick of his eyes towards the silent Miguel, a captain on one of his whale watching cruisers and Isaac's constant shadow, he gently pushed the throttle forward. Heather noted that it wasn't as far forward as the lever would go and hoped that it was simply cautious seamanship that prevented Isaac from racing to the ships and not someth
ing more sinister.

  # # #

  "Cut the net you lazy bastards! Hurry!"

  Lucas Machado paced the deck of his beloved ship, La Mujer Codiciosa, cursing under his breath. He'd only just dropped the nets and already there was a problem. Looking over to her sister ships on the starboard side he watched as they hauled on nets heavy with fish. Then he cursed some more.

  Angry and frustrated, Lucas stormed down to the lower deck where three men struggled at the edge of the rail.

  "Put your backs into it!"

  He grabbed a handful of the thick rough rope that made up the net and pulled with all his strength to help them. Below, just over the rail, a whale calf lashed and squirmed. It was small for a humpback, born very recently, Lucas thought, but still it was large enough to destroy the net and delay a good day's fishing.

  "Hold the winch!"

  The net stopped moving, but for the thrashing of the whale, and from a sheath at his side Lucas pulled out a long, wide knife. It was honed to a razor sharp edge and made short work of the netting as he expertly cut and sawed to remove the beast. The delay would cost him dearly.

  With a final sweep of the knife, the whale fell with a mighty splash into the sea, taking a massive swathe of netting with it. Lucas stalked back to the upper deck.

  The men were well versed in what to do next, and from above he watched them work swiftly, retrieving what was left of the catch before swapping the rig for another.

  Lucas rested his head on huge weather beaten hands and sighed to himself. He was thankful the whale had only been a calf; it was well tangled and, if it had been much larger, accompanied with an already impressive catch of fish, the combined weight could have sunk them.

  It was a risk worth taking though. The market in Fortaleza would pay well for what they already had in their holds and each of them would return home with a healthy pay for their troubles - minus what the Terceiro Commandos collected, of course.

  Tomorrow, Lucas would dismiss the crew and send them home for a few days. Then, he would visit the city with the profits from the market and meet with Antonio Correia. It was a journey that filled him with dread. He loathed the big city gangsters, who paraded around in expensive clothes, driving flashy cars and waving cash like they'd earned it. But Lucas had no choice in the matter. He must pay or he and all the crew would be out of work. Correia would see his ship sunk and his home burned to the ground. Lucas had witness it before, to the captain and crew that he had replaced. A whole fishing ship, from captain to cook, that dared to defy the Terceiro Commando were slaughtered.

  "Captain! There's a boat approaching!"

  Lucas swung his head to his first mate, Erico, who stood proudly at the wheel. He followed the direction Erico was pointing. Lucas had to squint his eyes into the setting sun and focus for a moment before he could make out the small shadow of a rib speeding towards them. His heart sank. This was yet another problem he must deal with - the whale woman from England.

  He watched as the rib began circling them, far enough out to be safe, but worryingly close all the same. He could make out the unmistakable silhouette of the woman. She stood on the prow, tall and strong, with a streaming mass of long red hair that fell across her shoulders.

  The men of his village had talked about her often since her arrival. She was making waves in Fortaleza, dividing the people with notions of work and money - the whales and turtles could save them, she said. Lucas was still undecided. He knew what Correia thought of her. He had made that quite clear on Lucas' last visit.

  "We will wait and see what happens, Lucas. The people will do as I say, not some tree hugging do-gooder. Will the whales put food in the people's mouths? Will the turtles send their children to school? I don't think so."

  "She says that people will come to see them. People will pay to swim in the reef and take pictures with the creatures that live there. Crews could do that instead of fishing. Then there will be more business for the hotels, restaurants and..."

  "You agree with her then?"

  "I didn't say that, Antonio. I'm only telling you what she is saying. Isaac Garcia, the one who owns Fortaleza Sea Tours, he is helping her. They..."

  "Do you think I don't already know these things? You are not the only person the Terceiro Commandos own. We will wait and see what trouble she causes, if any. Then I will deal with her. Now get out! The stink of fish from you offends me."

  With a shiver at the thought of what Antonio Correia might do to any of them, Lucas reached for a pair of binoculars. He focused them on the rib and watched as the woman raised a camera with a long lens attached and pointed it towards his ship. He pursed his lips, deep in thought. The sun was dropping fast and darkness was on his side, but the woman would have time to take photos that could cause trouble.

  He searched the water for the body of the whale calf, but already it was out of sight behind them. Then his eyes rested on the open deck of the ship. The bodies of nine turtles and what was left of several dolphins and sharks, after the men had cut them from the nets, lay dead in watery pools of blood. It made for a gruesome sight, to one unaccustomed to such a thing, and an image, if caught on camera, that could ruin their ventures into the reserve.

  "Erico, get rid of that mess. Overboard. On the port side. Now!"

  Lucas raced to his cabin, fumbling in his pockets for the key to his safe as he went. He returned to the lower deck with his rifle, where he found the rib close to starboard and the woman shouting up to the crew.

  "Can I board your ship? I am working for the South Atlantic Sea Life Cooperative. I would like to inspect your catch."

  Lucas had no intention of shooting anyone - never had in his life. But he must get rid of her somehow and inform Correia of what had happened. He brought the rifle to his shoulder and fired three shots over the heads of those on the rib.

  The bullets splashed harmlessly into the sea and without hesitation, Isaac Garcia, the man he recognised at the wheel, turned away and sped for the shore as fast as the little rib could carry them.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It was early, and the sun had only just risen when Dan Harpur sat down to his first coffee of the day. He was dog-tired. Dan had travelled by sea on a freight ship from Durban to Santos. It had taken twenty one days. Twenty one days of back-breaking labour, sharing a tiny cramped cabin with five other men of dubious backgrounds, in exchange for anonymity. Then a further nine days of hitching rides as he made his way across the Brazilian countryside to his final destination.

  He looked down at the blisters on the palms of his hands. All the scrubbing and cleaning, and the lifting and hauling of cargo on board the ship had taken its toll on his body. He was no longer the young, fit soldier he used to be. More than once he had been woken in the night with pain in his back and legs. A man in his thirties should not feel this bad, he thought, but then not every man in his thirties had been through what Dan Harpur had.

  He rolled his neck and rubbed at its base to ease away the tension he felt building there, then sipped slowly on the strong black coffee, thinking back to better days and a time when the weight of the world lay less heavy on his shoulders. There was hope. A small flicker of light at the end of the tunnel that kept him slogging on.

  The sound of laughter drifted across the water towards him and Dan looked out over the huge harbour of Fortaleza, towards ships and crews that had been busy at their work long before Dan arrived along with the rising sun. He'd had little experience of the crews' activities when they docked in a harbour, instead finding himself working on lower decks, as arranged with the captain, avoiding any customs officers or government officials who might ask questions of a one-eyed white man, crewing a ship bound from Africa to Brazil, with no papers or passport to show.

  Travelling under the radar was his only option. It had taken time and a momentous effort, of course. But after what he had done, there was no other way to make it out of Africa undetected, chasing that tiny chink of light at the end of his tunnel to reunite with the wo
man who occupied his mind almost entirely.

  He had little else to look forward to. No family anxiously waited for him in some quaint suburban household. No wife or girlfriend was keeping a bed warm or a candle lit for his safe return. Why would they? Dan Harpur was a killer, a murderer; a wanted man on as many as three different continents. After losing an eye in a fight with Chinese Triads, Dan had fought and killed his way from Ireland to Asia and all over Africa. He'd killed for justice, revenge and even love. Where had any of it gotten him? He'd gained a disfigured face, warrants for his arrest and made enemies of some of the most notorious warlords and deadly crime gangs in the world.

  Before he had a chance to order breakfast, Dan heard a familiar voice from the far side of the street and his heart skipped a beat. He turned away from the ships and faced the entrance to Fortaleza Sea Tours, a small glass fronted building situated amongst other similar tourist attractions on the edge of the harbour, making the most of what the poster displayed in the window described as "...some of the most stunning wildlife displays that nature has to offer." He'd read up on the subject during his long journey across the Atlantic, gaining what knowledge he could of what brought Heather Walsh, his tiny glimmer of hope, half way across the world.

  Two figures, a man and a woman, walked towards the front doors of the property. The man, probably in his late forties, tall, dark and handsome, carried a large bunch of keys in one hand, which jingled as he searched for the correct one to open the doors, while he balanced a cup and a bag in the other. Occasionally, he would glance over to the woman who now stood barring his way, hands on hips and voice rising steadily as she demanded his attention.

  The sight of Heather brought a rare smile to Dan's face. It was exactly as he remembered her. Tall, strong, focused and utterly relentless until she got her way.

  Right now, the sun bathed her in hues of yellow and gold and Dan thought she looked glorious. Her hair fell across her face, unruly as always, and as the man eventually found the correct key and opened the door, she pulled the long loose strands back, tied them in a ponytail and followed him inside. She never stopped talking all the while.