Page 275 of Never
If this afternoon went according to plan, Abdul’s mission would be over by nightfall.
After that he could no longer pretend, to his employers or to himself. He would have to face the fact that he did not want to go home. But he had enough money for several months of idleness, and he was not sure the human race had that much time left.
When he looked at Kiah and Naji, he felt sure of one thing: he was not going to leave them. He had found a quiet contentment in his life with them, and he would never give it up. He knew what was happening in Korea, and however much time he had left – sixty years or sixty hours or sixty seconds – all he cared about was spending it with them.
He saw two small vessels enter the marina, a speedboat and a fast dinghy, both white with red and blue stripes and the wordPOLICEin large letters. They belonged to the Police Judiciaire, which was the national serious crime force, a bit like the FBI.
A moment later he heard sirens, and several police cars entered the marina from the road. Ignoring theNo Entrysigns, they drove along the quay dangerously fast. Kiah said: ‘I’m glad we’re not in their way!’
Both cars and boats approachedMi Amore.
The police jumped out of the cars. They were heavily armed. They all had pistols in holsters at their belts, and some of them were carrying rifles. They moved rapidly. Some spread out along the quayside while others crossed the gangway quickly and boarded the yacht. This had been planned and rehearsed, Abdul was glad to see.
Kiah said: ‘I don’t like those guns. They might go off by accident.’
‘Let’s stay here in the café. It’s probably the safest place.’
The white-uniformed crew of theMi Amoreall raised their hands in the air.
Several of the cops went below decks.
One with a rifle went up to the sun deck. The big man spoke to him, waving his arms angrily. The cop seemed unconcerned, holding his rifle and shaking his head.
Then a big muscular cop came up on deck hefting a large sack made of heavy-duty polythene imprinted with the words:Caution – Dangerous Chemicalsin several languages.
Abdul recalled a night-time scene on a dockside in Guinea-Bissau, and men unloading sacks like that by lamplight while a limousine waited, its engine turning over. ‘Bingo,’ he said softly to himself.
Kiah heard and looked at him with curiosity, but she did not ask for an explanation.
The crew were handcuffed, led off the yacht, and pushed into the back of a van. The big man and his girls got similar treatment, despite the man’s outrage. A few more people emerged from below decks and they, too, were handcuffed and put into vehicles.
The last person to be brought up from below looked familiar.
He was a podgy young North African man wearing a green sweatshirt and grubby white shorts. Around his neck was a string of beads and stones that Abdul had seen before.
Kiah said: ‘It can’t be Hakim, can it?’
‘Looks like him,’ said Abdul. In fact, he knew. The men running the enterprise had decided, for some reason, that Hakim should accompany the consignment all the way to France, and here he was.
Abdul got up and stepped outside to see better. Kiah stayed inside with Naji.
A cop took hold of Hakim’s grigri necklace and yanked it hard. The chain broke and the stones fell to the quay. Hakim let out a cry of grief: his magical protection was gone.
The cops laughed as the ornaments bounced on the concrete.
While they were distracted, Hakim dived off the quay into the water and began swimming strongly.
Abdul was surprised that Hakim could swim so well. Not many desert folk could swim at all. Hakim may have learned in Lake Chad.
All the same, his escape bid was hopeless. Where could he go? If he came out of the water onto the quay or the beach he would just be seized again. If he swam out of the harbour he would probably drown in the open sea.
In any case, he was not going to get that far. The two cops in the dinghy went after him. One steered the inflatable boat while the other took out a telescopic steel baton and extended it to its full length. They caught up with Hakim easily, and the cop with the baton lifted it high then hit Hakim’s head with full force.
Hakim’s head went underwater and he changed direction, still swimming fast, but the dinghy followed and the cop hit him again, missing his head but striking his elbow. Blood appeared in the sea water.
Hakim kept struggling, swimming with one arm and trying to keep his head under the surface, but the cop held the baton ready, and as soon as Hakim came up for air the cop hit him again. The officers on the quay cheered and clapped.
Abdul was reminded of a child’s game called Whack-a-Mole.
