Do you know what the weird thing is? I still expect him to just walk through the door with that big grin on his face. ‘What did I tell you? Isn’t this the best?’
And he would be right. Kefallinia is beautiful. I just wish he were here to show me around his favourite places. The village where he grew up with his sister. His school. Church. The white beach where he kissed his first girlfriend.
It’s breaking my heart just thinking about it.
Andreas won’t talk about him anymore. Won’t talk about anything.
He wants rid of me now.
I’m the link. The link back to what happened on the boat that day.
When it all went so wrong.
***
Sunday 14th June; Thailand
Harnessed into the bucket seat of an inflatable bouncy castle laughingly called a military hovercraft, her head banging against the struts in rhythm with the choppy sea of a busy shipping lane, Anna Pefanis had a revelation.
A life on the ocean waves was starting to lose its appeal.
She had spent most of her adult life in or around the roughest surf in the world enjoying a passion for open water, few people alive could truly appreciate. She had even made a good living out of it for a few years.
One person against the ocean. That’s how she liked it.
It was hard to hand that control over to a pilot she had met only a few minutes before boarding. To leave her fate to the skill of a stranger who was invisible inside a military uniform, his face almost concealed under an armoured helmet and dark sunglasses.
His name was on a need to know basis. And as far as the Thai police were concerned, she didn’t need to know.
A heavy wave from the chop of a tugboat caught her side of the hovercraft, and bounced it three feet into the air before it crashed back down. Her stomach followed. So much for the smooth ride! She felt like a cork on open water.
According to the mission commander, the hovercraft was the only sure way to reach the thin isthmus of land stretching out into the eastern edge of the Gulf of Thailand. No more than a sand bank held together with local trees, with a narrow strip of tarmac to the mainland, any early morning traffic would immediately alert the targets.
Maybe Bernie was right. She could have sent in a local specialist to take her place on the raid. Instead, she had insisted on being the second observer for the mission. After all, wasn’t this what her clients were paying for? Bernie had not been fooled for a minute, and there had been some vague references during dinner the previous evening to the excellent psychiatric help available in London these days.
She closed her eyes. Thinking about food was a bad idea.
Right on cue, a voice sounded in her headset.
"Still there and in one piece? Excellent. So I said to her. Sharon. Darling. There is absolutely no point wearing lilac lingerie under a Kevlar jacket! None! Trust me on this. The boys are going to be too busy focusing on the job!"
There was a slight chuckle and snort before her business partner continued with the gossip. Anna never ceased to be amazed that Bernie Abner still sounded like the gayest thing in gay land, even through the earpiece of a military helmet.
"Besides, under-wired bras do not work with ceramic plates, no matter what Tom says. I mean, you will have chafing in places that a girl does not want to have chafing! And after all that, guess what I saw in her suitcase at the security check yesterday? I was standing right next to her! Well she will get zero sympathy from me. Anyway, that’s her personal problem. Having a nice trip? It all looks cosy from here."
Anna stifled a grin, as she leaned back against the reinforced polycarbonate windows, and tried to ignore the vibration and pain, as each bounce stretched her body harness against the armour under her jacket.
Sharon Chen was the intellectual property chief for the largest sportswear manufacturer in Taiwan. And Sharon had definitely been wearing a bullet-proof vest when she boarded the second hovercraft almost an hour ago. Not that anyone could blame her.
Anna had chosen to wear her own light body armour, rather than the heavy plated jackets used by the Economic Crime Division of the Thai police force, which were running this mission. They needed sniper protection, Anna didn’t.
A trickle of sweat ran between her shoulder blades in the oppressive heat and humidity of the Pattaya dawn. No wonder that Bernie Abner had established his base in the air-conditioned office of the local police chief.
"A1. Target is in sight Bernie. And it is definitely your turn next time."
"I’ll get back to you on that one. Quick update. All units are in position."
"Roger that." Anna whispered. "We are in the zone. Five minutes to target. How’s the visual?"
"Still optimal, and recording. That beach seems to be coming up fast. Be safe."
"Thanks Bernie. Out."
It had been Anna’s idea to use two tiny micro cameras clipped to her helmet to record the sweep team operation from the ground. Her international clients liked to know that their money was being well spent, and this was the proof. The special ops commander had agreed on condition that they shared the live feed, and it had taken Bernie only a few minutes to load the software onto their desktops. The same video stream would be transmitted to Anna’s company network in London for archiving and any prosecutions.
Sudden movement drew her attention to the pair of team leaders at the helm.
She knew enough of their reputations to trust their judgement. Each member of the two eight men teams had been hand picked. Anna had seen enough corruption in south east Asia to know how tempting it would be for poorly paid security forces to tip off the targets. These officers would seize tens of thousands of dollars worth of counterfeit sports clothing in the next few hours.
Anna’s job was not so risky. She was the link back to the consortium of global manufacturers producing famous name sports brands, who had selected her security company to investigate the growing number of internet sites selling fake versions of their top price goods.
Abner, Connor and Pavlou were not the only specialists in intellectual property theft, but they had the edge when it came to the high tech world of Internet piracy. Most of these crooks were well educated and technically savvy, but like the pirates of old, clung to the idea that they had secret hideaways where they could never be traced.
Anna had proved them wrong.
Nevertheless, it had taken them almost six months to trace and monitor the addresses and bank accounts of the six people responsible for specific Internet web sites operating out of Pattaya, Thailand.
The search warrants had been granted during the night, with a go at four that morning.
As she watched the beach race towards her at a terrifying rate, she felt the pilot throttle back. Five seconds later the hovercraft drifted in a controlled slide out of the water and onto the narrow strip of sand.
At a signal from her team leader, the heavily armed men lifted themselves out of their seats as one, whilst the hovercraft skirt deflated. Only seconds before it shuddered to a halt, the portside door slid open, and the armed men leapt down from the side platform and landed with muffled crunches onto the loose sand. The other hovercraft came to rest ten metres to the left.
As the two teams fanned out and ran across the narrow tarmac road separating the beach from a cluster of Thai houses, she could hear the sound of crashing doors, glass being smashed, and a woman screaming in anger. Anna crouched down behind a low wall with the officer she was shadowing, shuffling forward only when she saw the hand signal from the team leader to her left.
A moment later she was showered with glass fragments as a short, heavily built figure jumped through the window and out into the garden. Anna barely had time to roll swiftly onto her side and out of the way, before he was followed by two slim, lithe and obviously fitter Thai officers who brought the heavy European down with an impressive joint rugby tackle.
She swallowed bile, as her twisted knee took her weight of her roll.
Luckily for him the troops did not understand exactly what he was calling their mothers, as they snatched his hands behind his back, or he would take a lot more bruises before he reached the police station.
As the man was hauled to his feet, Anna had a clear view of his face for a few seconds, and recognised him instantly. He was the Ukrainian national whom the police suspected of having connections to the Russian Mafia, and a key player in this local network for counterfeit goods. She had already seen his Interpol warrants for clothing, pharmaceutical and automotive rip-offs. In fact anything which could be traded with high margins and at low risk.
The team leader came around the corner of the low house, and gave a nod to his two officers, before reaching down and offering his hand to help Anna.
She clasped her fingers around his wrist just long enough to stand.
"Ma’am. You want to see this?"
A minute later, Anna was inside the squalid wood and tile shack. Sharon Chen was already standing, stunned and bemused, as the officer pulled the clothing to one side, to reveal a hidden room in complete contrast to the rest of the squalid house.
This home office was fully equipped with high-tech devices, including a top of the range computer, with a wireless network, satellite internet access and a mini-photo studio with a professional quality lighting rig and two digital cameras. Computer printout and invoices covered the low desk; with loose sheets of paper spilling onto the floor. Two walls of the room were covered with metal shelving, packed ceiling high with at least 500 wrapped football jerseys from Premiership clubs in Britain. She already knew that each jersey had been produced for about three dollars and would be sold for at least sixty.
"Bernie – are you getting this?"
"Are you kidding? We’ve opened the champagne, but the lawyers and accountants have their heads in their hands. If this is anything like representative, they estimate that 70% of the jerseys coming out of Thailand must be fake. That’s serious money. Remind me to thank you sometime for negotiating that percentage revenue bonus into the contract. Can you pan around for a few seconds and hold the shot on a few of the packets on each shelf? Then the invoices? Brilliant. The police can handle the rest. We are finished here young lady. My car is ready and loaded outside. Give me a minute to call your ride and I’ll see you at the airport. Well done."
It was exactly what they had been looking for. Anna gingerly retraced her steps back into the garden, just in time to see the handcuffed Ukrainian and two Thai men being manhandled onto the nearest hovercraft. The sweep had been too quick for any of their thugs to come looking to rescue them, and this time there had been no need to use the assault rifles.
Anna stood back and let the police team do their work, as the official government observer walked over to watch as the craft headed back out into open water.
"Congratulations Dr Pefanis. The team leader tells me it was a clean operation, with only minor injuries to his officers. Your intelligence information proved very valuable."
Anna turned briefly to shake the hand of the older man, taking time to steady her voice before replying.
"My clients are happy to support the work of the special joint investigation units. I have already briefed our lawyers to fast track prosecutions for the trademark infringements, as well as following up on freezing the bank accounts and seizure of assets. Our money laundering team will be contacting you about the off-shore accounts."
"Yes, yes of course. I have already spoken to the Internet service provider. The web sites will be disabled today. It is a good start I think."
Anna gave a short bow.
"I am grateful for your assistance, sir. I’m sure my clients will increase their investment program in the Pattaya area in recognition of your swift and effective action against the counterfeiters."
"I am sorry you are not staying longer with us, ma’am. Perhaps I could persuade you to take a tour of the islands? The Bangkok business parks? I would be happy to act as your personal guide."
"That’s very kind, but I have a personal appointment in Athens tomorrow, and my London flight is waiting for me at the airport."
Any further conversation was drowned out by the sound of fast approaching rotor blades as a small civilian helicopter sped across the water towards them, hovering only seconds later on a wider stretch of the tarmac road fifty metres from where Anna was standing. Curious local bystanders and stray animals ran back into their houses as the blades sent dirt and leaves whipping up in all directions.
"Ah. I think my ride to the airport has just arrived. Miss Chen will close out the documentation. Thank you again for your help. Good morning sir."
Five minutes later she was strapped in and airborne, the houses and coastline growing smaller and more distant as she left the shore behind.
The government official was naïve on two counts. What they had achieved today was just a drop in the ocean in a business worth at least 300 billion dollars worldwide to counterfeiters.
She had seen it on the faces of so many officials who thought that this trade in fakes was trivial, and meant nothing to the international sports brand companies who were being ripped off. After all, the trade did provide jobs for local people – for a while, and the international companies still made their millions. But it was always personal.
She knew what it was like to spend months of your life working on designs for your own clothing company, only to see fakes of those same designs on sale only days after you proudly revealed them at the trade fairs. Counterfeiting had almost ruined her own water-sports company, NicKites, forcing her to return to London from Hawaii. It had also very nearly cost her life.
Secondly. She did not date security officers. Ever.
