When Dreams Converge

When Dreams Converge

Stephen Massie

© Stephen Massie 2010, 2013

All rights reserved

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner

The right of Stephen Massie to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

First Edition published 2010

This E-Book Edition Published by Stanhope Books 2013

www.stanhopebooks.com

Cover design and format by Lloyd Bonson & Barbara Owczarek © 2013

ISBN-13: 9781909893160

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to all those free spirits that yearn for adventure at sea

GLOSSARY

Bow –

Front of a vessel.

Stern –

Rear of a vessel.

Starboard –

Right hand side of a vessel when standing on the vessel facing the bow.

Port-

Left hand side of a vessel when standing on the vessel facing the bow.

Cockpit-

Refers to the area towards the stern of a vessel where the rubber control resides.

Pushpit-

Guard rail at the stern of a vessel.

Pulpit-

Guard rail at the bow of a vessel.

Beam-

The width or sides of a vessel.

Stanchion-

Upright post supporting the guardrails along the side of a vessel.

Boom-

Horizontal pole along which the base of the mainsail runs.

CHAPTER 1

In darkness the sides of the ambulance crashed against tropical vegetation and its suspension bounced along a broken road. Siren wailing and blue lights flashing. On board, strapped to a stretcher, Luke Feakin tried to curl up. Restraining straps about his torso and legs kept his body straight. The pain in his stomach was intense; he wanted to roll into a ball. He retched onto the floor, barely making out the face of the paramedic. He felt his wife’s hand touch his hair, not aware of the pair of suitcases on the floor next to him. Luke’s grip in the conscious world was slipping. How would Tina get home from here? Not feeling frightened he felt like letting go. He could feel the pain stabbing at his stomach, but that was in the background. His mind was at peace, almost relaxed; in contrast his whole body was shaking in a rampant fever.

The ambulance stopped abruptly, the doors slammed open and with a gentle slide he felt he was floating across the ground through the hospital doors and down the brightly lit corridor.

Life for Luke was very direct and straightforward based on hard work and driving ambition. Now as he lay in the emergency ward in this foreign land what had seemed important no longer mattered. He had no regrets but felt in a strange way that if he got through this, his attitude to life would change forever. Behind all the drive and ambition he had experienced there had been one force, that of adventure. To grab life and shake it by the neck. He was content, with a fantastic wife and family. He had everything he had ever wanted. Not a rich man, but wealthy enough to pursue his dream.

He imagined his boat moored in a river far away. Gently rising and falling, small wavelets lapping about her bow. He dreamed of hoisting her sails and venturing out of the cluttered moorings in the Mersea quarters, past the Nass beacon and out into the open sea, away into unknown waters. He drifted above the yacht looking down. He and his wife Tina on board ‘Ria’, their 26’ Macwester Bermuda sloop setting out to discover the world.

Tina, though slight in stature, was strong willed and quite tough. Her large blue eyes, blonde hair and smooth skin made her appear younger than her years. Tina had sat in the ambulance just in front of Luke, her right hand softly stroking his hair. How on earth could this have happened? One minute they were talking about things to be done when they arrived home. The next, the next she thought, she just didn’t know what would be next. There was only the present. His grey coloured eyes were closed, his face twisted in pain. She looked down at the blood which still covered the length of his lower right arm, she remembered the paramedic trying to insert a needle whilst his body violently shook, tearing into his skin causing it to bleed profusely. His grey hair and ash grey face made him appear a lot older than his 52 years.

When the ambulance arrived at the hospital Luke was wheeled into the accident and emergency room, with Tina struggling behind with their luggage. She was confronted by a hospital administration woman who demanded, You must pay for the ambulance now. Tina looked into the black face. There was no sign of compassion. She was just doing her job.

I am afraid I can’t do that. We were about to board the flight home, all our things are packed and we have spent most of our cash. Tina wondered if Luke’s treatment depended on cash. She added, He has travel insurance; I will give you the details.

Tina, though worried, was not fazed by the sudden turn of events. The holiday had gone very well up until now. Like most holidays they took, it had been a last minute decision. A chance chat about holidays with a friend had resulted in booking a week’s cruise around the Caribbean, just two weeks before the liner sailed. Tina had a strong sense of adventure and enjoyed discovering new places. Having visited several islands including Grenada, Dominica and St Lucia they had finally come to the Dominican Republic to catch their flight home to England. It was while queuing for the flight that Luke had started to grip his stomach in pain. Tina was recounting the moment in her mind when she realised the hospital administrator had relented and was now asking her for details of her insurance.

~ ~ ~ ~

Philippe, cried out an unshaven bar tender in a grubby white vest there is a call for you. The bar was dimly lit and from one corner emerged a youthful looking man, though on closer examination of the lines on his face it was his bone structure which gave the illusion of youth. He was closer to 65 than 30. He picked up the receiver and took a sharp breath anticipating what he was about to hear. In a strong French accent he said,

Hello this is Philippe, what news do you have for me?

The voice on the other end sounded nervous but his Latin American pronunciation of English was clear to hear. I have done everything you have asked of me. He paused to gain some composure. Your boat engine has been repaired, but it has cost extra to ensure silence.

So no one will talk? enquired Philippe.

No one will ever know you were here.

Good, and what of the package, do you have it?

Yes, I do. I will hand it to you at midnight tonight on board your boat.

The receiver went dead.

~ ~ ~ ~

The scar above his right eye gave the impression of a permanent stern expression. He knew people feared him, which he liked. Looking across the poker table, his opponent opposite was keeping a blank face. He had an almost perfect poker face, apart from the small pearl of sweat just starting to appear from the side of his forehead.

I’ll raise you $50,000. the scar faced man barked.

The man with the sweat bead looked into his opponent’s eyes. He was very worried. This was a man who didn’t like to lose. He knew only too well the consequences of winning. It could be a beating or even death, depending on how Henry Storm, that was his name, felt. Was he in a good mood? There was no way of telling.

Sitting around the room were eight of Henry Storm’s associates, as he liked to call them. Beyond the room drifted the sound of a jazz band playing, ‘Oh when the saints come marching in’. Outside the room people were partying, having a great time, totally oblivious to the drama being played out just a few yards away.

Well? enquired Storm.

Looking down at his hand he almost smiled to himself. At any other time this was a very good hand, the perfect hand, but right now he was wishing it was something else other than a full house. There was a voice inside his head saying, To hell with Henry Storm, raise the bet and see him squirm.

I, he paused, looked into the cold blue eyes of his opponent, then his nerves kicked in, I, er, I fold, he whispered, at once feeling relief from the tension.

Pardon, I didn’t quite hear that? Storm was enjoying the moment.

I fold, repeated Storm’s opponent, this time in a much louder and certain tone. The room went silent.

The door to the room opened, through which a smartly dressed man with an articulated voice spoke in a southern drawl that could only come from growing up in Georgia. Henry it is time we spoke. Everyone else out of the room, now please.

Without a word the room was cleared of people, only Henry Storm and the southerner remained.

I didn’t realise you had arrived sir, began Storm.

There is no need for formalities tonight Henry. I know because of security reasons you cannot know my name, but for the sake of polite conversation call me Crusader.

Storm stood up, Crusader sat in Storm’s vacant chair then signalled to Storm to sit down in the chair opposite where only moments ago a relieved poker player had folded.

The reason I am here is to hand to you personally this gold and diamond medallion. It is worth a lot of money. However the technology it holds inside is priceless to our cause.

Storm looked at the medallion now hanging from the long fingers of this bald headed southern man calling himself Crusader. The four large diamonds were surrounded by wave like gold leaves. The fine engravings were the work of a skilled craftsman.

Crusader continued, As you know, we are continually threatened by Muslim extremists, shaking the very foundations of our society. We must show them we can be as ruthless as they are. Since 9/11 our leaders have been weak and nowhere near as brutal as these so called religious fundamentals.

So that leaves us to change things, Storm interrupted.

Precisely Henry. There is a passive transponder contained within the medallion; when it is within 10 metres from the nuclear device the terrorists are preparing in their secret lab in Morocco, it will detonate their bomb.

It’s about time we gave them a taste of their own medicine. It will not only kill the terrorists, it will also wipe out a million Muslims. That’s the icing on the cake, Storm smirked.

I will not give you the precise location of the lab in Morocco until nearer the time and you are away from here in the Dominican Republic. It could endanger our organisation’s security.

~ ~ ~ ~

The wind was picking up in the marina Cofresi, Purto Plata, as Philippe walked along the pontoon towards his boat. A strong breeze whistled between the masts of the yachts and the boats’ fenders were creaking against the pontoon fingers on which they were moored.

Philippe’s boat, the Aviander was a thirty-seven foot aluminium Bermuda sloop. Standing on the pontoon finger next to Aviander was a shadowy figure. His face lit up as he struck a match to light a cigar, sheltering the match from the wind by turning towards the boat.

Let’s get on board, Philippe said.

Stepping from the finger onto Aviander’s deck was a little tricky. One could easily lose one’s footing. Philippe grabbed part of the mast’s rigging and swung his leg over the side rails. The deck felt firm. He put out his arm and steadied his visitor aboard. They both stepped into the cockpit. Philippe unlocked the main hatch, bent down and switched the cabin lights on. When they were both sat round the lounge table Philippe asked, So Jose, where is the package?

Jose reached inside his coat and produced a white envelope; he placed the envelope onto the table without opening it. Then looking up at Philippe he declared, Getting this information was extremely difficult and dangerous. Philippe was not really listening, he was trying to remember why he trusted this rather short broad shouldered Mexican. There was no reason, just a feeling of friendship. Jose pushed the envelope towards Philippe and gestured for him to open it.

You know Jose once we start this thing there will be no turning back, Henry Storm will try to hunt us down.

He might try Philippe, but he will never catch us, he won’t be able to follow us across the Atlantic, will he?

Let’s hope not, right let’s look at what you have. Unfolding the paper contained within the envelope there in front of him were the layout plans of Henry Storm’s mansion plus the location of his wall safe.

You did well to get this, let’s toast our success with a whisky and then get started.

Their drink glasses clicked together,

To success!

~ ~ ~ ~

Henry Storm was feeling quite tired, it had been a very busy night. The last of his guests were leaving and the jazz band were packing away their instruments. Soon the large house would be quiet, except for the distant chatter of servants and security guards.

Storm walked into his oak panelled study. The painting hanging behind his green leather covered desk depicted Ira Hayes and his comrades raising the stars and stripes. He moved towards the painting, pressing a notch in its frame to automatically slide a wooden panel below the painting to one side, exposing the front door of a safe. Placing his thumb onto a scanner on the safe produced a click from within and the safe door opened. There inside were many jewels worth millions of dollars. Storm put his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out the medallion by its gold chain. Holding it up in front of his face he stared at the four diamonds sparkling in the sharp glare of the room lights. It was hard to believe this beautiful object concealed such a deadly secret. He placed the medallion into the safe and closed the door. As he walked away he could hear the rollers and bars inside the safe locking into position ensuring the contents’ security. The wooden panel slid silently shut.

~ ~ ~ ~

Jose looked up at the night sky. The wind was now quite strong. He could see the outline of white feathered clouds as they sped past a bright full moon. Not a good night for what they were about to do. However, he knew it would be pointless to try to persuade Philippe to postpone their break in tonight. Philippe had been preparing for this moment for over a year. Like everyone else who had heard of Henry Storm’s reputation, Philippe was afraid. There was no real proof, just rumours, very frightening rumours. There was the case of the owner of a building company who tried to bill Storm for work his company had carried out to his indoor swimming pool. It was said Storm was bad at paying his debts and takes a dim point of view to those who, as he sees it, hassle him for money. The builder’s body was found a few weeks later in the sea, close to the shore, with swimming armbands attached to his arms, a life belt around his waist and two very heavy steel chains wrapped around his feet. Storm made it known the builder had annoyed him, however due to his local ‘civic work’ no action was taken against him. It was said he virtually owned the island and everyone on it.

Philippe’s fear of Storm was no competition for his greed. It drove him to endure this fear and even overcome it in his pursuit of his personal wealth. He would steal from anybody given the chance. His other great love was the sea. He considered himself romantically as a modern day pirate, though his victims thought of him as just a thief. He never considered the aftermath of his actions; other people’s problems never concerned him, even if he had created them.

Jose threw a grappling iron attached to a rope over the outer wall of Storm’s estate. They had brought a blanket with them to cover the razor blade wire which ran along the top of the wall. They quickly scaled the wall, Jose first and then Philippe. Once on top they both jumped together over the side onto the soft earth below. The clouds had momentarily covered the moon. Taking advantage of the darkness they ran across the large lawn in front of the house. They had an accomplice within the building who had left a basement window open for them and had also disabled the house security system. With only a fifteen minute window of opportunity they had to act fast before the security system override would automatically refresh disable codes and they would almost certainly be spotted by the guards.

They slipped soft covers over their shoes so as not to make any noise whilst walking about the mansion. Carefully they made their way to the stairs. In the guard room the monitors showed no sign of the break in.

I am just going to the toilet, one of the guards told his two companions in the room.

Philippe and Jose had made it to the study. According to their information the safe was behind one of the panels, but which one? They had already used seven of their fifteen precious minutes.

Don’t move, whispered Philippe. Outside the study they could hear the footsteps of the guard. What was he up to? Perhaps the security system had come on early. There was no sound of alarms or running feet. They both took a deep breath as the footsteps drew near. The handle to the study started to turn, and then stopped. There was the sound of a two way transmitter.

Base to Arvin, base to Arvin, over.

This is Arvin, over.

We seem to have a technical problem, we could not detect you walking to the toilet, have you seen anything suspicious? Over.

No, nothing, over.

What is your location? Over?

Just outside the study, over.

Ok, proceed to the building perimeter, we will initiate a routine scan of the area. In the meantime I will try to get the system back on line, out.

The footsteps faded down the hallway.

Quick, let’s have a look at the map Jose,

Philippe, let’s get out of here while we can.

Jose, we have come too far to turn back now.

The oak panel slid open as soon as Philippe pressed against the painting frame. From his pocket he produced a thin membrane of plastic on which was Henry Storm’s thumb print, acquired by their insider from a drink glass Storm had previously held. The safe door opened and Philippe quickly grabbed everything that was in there and hastily stuffed it into a black bag Jose had handed to him.

Suddenly the whole of the mansion lit up and sirens sounded from every hallway and room. Jose and Philippe looked at each other and then at the study door as several feet were heard running towards it. It was the only way out and they were on the second floor. In desperation they looked round the room; there was nowhere to hide, there was no way out. Henry Storm would certainly kill them, straight away if they were lucky. Was that the best they could wish for, thought Philippe. This cannot be the end. No, he said to himself, there must be a way out. The sound of feet was much closer now, just outside the door. Jose jammed a chair against the door handle as it began to turn, then he grabbed Philippe and the two of them crashed through the study window, hitting the ground below with such a force that Jose’s leg bone shattered and Philippe’s shoulder was dislocated. They lay on the path below the broken window in immense pain. They could hear the study door being broken and the chair thrust out of the way. Philippe got to his feet, his arm dangling at his side. Jose was curled up on the floor in pain. There was no escape.

Pull him in here. Quickly!

The rear door to the garage was flung open and there inside stood their accomplice. Having had to lose to Henry Storm earlier in the evening at poker, he had no desire in being shot for aiding Philippe and Jose. He knew if they were caught so was he. With one hand, Philippe dragged Jose through the garage door. Jose screamed out. Bullets from shots being fired from the study were hitting the ground very close to Jose’s feet. You idiots, get into the car! I should have let them kill you.

We got the jewels, Alberto! cried Philippe.

Great, now they really want to get us!

Even though in great pain from his broken bleeding leg, Jose was aware of the many fast and luxurious cars inside the garage. Philippe and Alberto were half carrying and half dragging him to the nearest; a dark green Ford Shelby GT500 Mustang. Alberto produced a key, then switched on the V8 engine of the Mustang. It roared into life. The guards appeared at the front of the open garage door, they aimed their automatic weapons. The Mustang leapt forward hitting one guard with its bumper. He flew over the vehicle’s roof as it screeched down the estate drive. With the sound of shots ringing in their ears the three thieves felt the Mustang take the full force of the steel gates as it crashed through and spun round onto the open road before them. The windscreen cracked in half and the hood top crumpled up, but the car somehow kept going.

Drive straight to the marina, my boat is ready to sail, we will be safe once at sea, Philippe said, trying to sound positive, but he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Standing on the lawn facing his mansion which looked almost ghostly, shrouded by bright security floodlights, a stern faced Henry Storm did not move. He clenched his fists.

Sir.

There was no reply. The guard cautiously repeated, this time a little louder, Sir.

What! snapped Storm.

I found this on the path amongst the debris from the broken study window.

He held out a card, Storm took it off him and read it to himself carefully, then glancing up said, Well done. Now we know who our thief is. Monsieur Philippe Kersapian has left his Marina club card.

~ ~ ~ ~

Luke was staring out across the hospital grounds from his room’s balcony. The tropical gardens looked like paradise. He still had an intravenous drip attached to his left hand. Sitting in a chair with the warm Caribbean sun in his face it was easy to forget he was in hospital and not on holiday. Tina walked onto the balcony and sat beside him.

It’s a pity you are on a strict diet; I have just booked us into an all-inclusive resort while we wait for the next flight home.

Great, just my luck, I am sure you will eat and drink enough for both of us.

Well, you shouldn’t have got food poisoning.

Oh, I see, it is all my fault.

The taxi ride to the resort was very bumpy but not as uncomfortable as the ambulance ride, thought Luke. The villages they passed were fairly basic corrugated roofs on wooden walled shacks, painted bright in various shades of greens, yellows and reds. Even the bright colours did not hide the stark reality