Three Steps to Hell by Mike Holman Page B

can’t believe we got bad gear, Carlos.”
    “Three cases, all quite large, heavy and welded shut. Go now and get them shifted out of my Jeep and moved to the high cave out of harm’s way. I packed and cased it all myself. If you or one of your dick-heads drops one they’ll be swimming the channel tonight. Understand?”
    Carlos looked at his watch.
    “Just before you go Rashid, I’m told you had someone snooping around after dark yesterday.”
    “Yeah, he did have a reason to be here. He’s an agency driver I’ve been using for deliveries, antiques and the like. He came back with the lorry to load up for the next day. We were busy sorting a couple of things out in the upper cave. We’d locked the gate! He obviously started snooping around and climbed the fence beside the gate. He’d started to walk down the path towards the cave when my two lads spotted him, caught him and took him back. They took him to the van but apparently he was being mouthy. Stroppy little shit apparently. I told them to get him off the premises and tell him his services were no longer required. He was kicking up a right fuss. They took him off in the van and later told me that everything was sound because they’d taught him a lesson.”
    “What sort of lesson, Rashid?”
    “I don’t know the full details yet I haven’t had a chance to ask them.”
    “Well fucking well find out Rashid, before I lose all confidence in you. We can’t afford to have attention drawn to us. I will not tolerate shoddiness, where are these two men of yours?”
    “They’ve walked down to the caves to unlock and wait for the boat.”
    “Speak to them, find out what happened and get me the name and address of this agency driver.”
    “I will speak to them when I go down there in a while. I’ll have to get his details from the agency.”
    “No don’t do that, I’ll find out myself.”
    “You had better get on with unloading the three crates from the Jeep ready for the boat, then move my Jeep up to the old cottage. Be careful with them, they’re heavy.”
    “How come they are steel crates, Carlos?”
    “Since when do I have to answer to you Rashid, do what you’re told, you know what happens to people with over inquisitive minds.”
    “Okay, none of my business, it’s just that if we’re going into gun running as well I would like to be aware.”
    Carlos gave him a look that very immediately told him to ask nothing further and just get on with the job in hand. Carlos left the office in the darkness, buttoned up his black overcoat and put on a black ski mask. He let himself through the security gate and made his way down the winding path which led towards two caves, one at a higher level than the other. In places both caves had been heavily gated for security and signs put up near the entrances saying ‘Danger Insecure Rockface. Do Not Enter’. The lower cave filled to a considerable depth with seawater at high tide. Carlos endeavoured to find a perfect vantage point from which to observe the procedures at the boat. It was important that he be close enough to also hear conversations.
    Rashid and his men eventually appeared. He watched intently as they worked with torchlights at the water’s edge to help guide the small fishing boat out of the darkness towards the cave. Rashid was in touch with the skipper by mobile phone.
    Only two men would be on the boat, both very trusted employees of Maria Peterson and personally selected and groomed by Carlos and Maria for the work they were doing. Joint owners of the boat, they had watched their earnings diminish over the years due to the collapse of the fishing industry and through a mutual contact Carlos had coaxed them into the highly rewarding enterprise of running cocaine and other substances between the UK and French and Spanish coasts. The guise of the fishing boat, all its equipment, the disgusting smell of fish and the hold space met their needs perfectly. Both knew the danger of the business they