Dead Centre - Andy McNab [41]
‘So piracy is seasonal?’
‘Yes. And because we can predict winds and tides, we can have a good idea of where and when they’re going to strike.’
I looked at the pictures. The yellow dots on the Google Earth map showed the 44 per cent of ships that had been approached. The green ones showed that only 18 per cent of those were actually attacked. They must have decided the others were too big or too fast, or maybe painted grey, with big guns. A bar chart showed activity by days of the week. I pointed to Friday and Saturday. ‘Hardly anything happening there. These lads like their weekends, like everyone else.’
He chuckled politely. ‘The British Navy takes the lead on anti-piracy at the moment. They use this to try and predict where the strikes might happen, so they can concentrate their resources. As I said, there’s a lot of sea out there. If they don’t get out a mayday, nobody knows what’s happening.
‘But what we do is put on an overlay that shows the information we’re gaining from dealing with the clans and the kidnappers, to see which groups are active, who’s done the lifting. So let’s have a look at what’s been going on around the Seychelles.’
Every time there was a dot, there was now an overlay and a number between 1 and 19 that represented different groups. The numbers were random in all the areas for March. It looked like a free-for-all.
‘Sorry, Nick. Sometimes the clans designate areas for their own. But it’s open season out there in March. Prime time. If only the yacht crew had had access to information like this, they’d have known where to steer clear of. It’s stupid going into those areas at the best of times. What was going on?’
‘I haven’t got a clue.’ I sat back in the chair. He could see the worry on my face.
‘Someone, somewhere, will know. If they’re alive, the Somalis will have contacted somebody.’ He pursed his lips. ‘You know these three, don’t you?’
‘Yeah. One’s a guy who used to be in B Squadron. The other is the widow of a dead mate. The child’s from her new marriage.’
I got to my feet and picked up my black parka. I needn’t have brought it with me. It was a lot warmer in London than where I’d come from.
‘Tell you what, mate, as soon as this is over, and Anna’s back, why not come over for a week?’
He stood up, and we shook hands again. ‘Any help you need, Nick, you know where I am.’
‘One more thing. Al-Shabab – they still active?’
He nodded. ‘Don’t even think about it. Go find your contact.’
I sat back down and couldn’t do anything but think about it.
Al-Shabab, the hard-line Islamist movement, was Somalia’s Taliban, even down to the suicide bombing and severed heads. They’d been bolstered by experienced fighters from Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Afghanistan and Pakistan, and now controlled most of the southern part of the country. If those fuckers discovered my three were high value, they’d be coming to lift them from the clans. Tracy, Stefan and BB would die in captivity, or be executed, because … Well, just because.
Jules was looking for something. ‘The Gents. You know where?’
‘Yes, mate.’ I pointed. ‘Let me have a look at that chart again, will you?’
He got it online and headed left of the counter.
4
Green Dragon Hotel, Hereford
15.00 hrs
THE GREEN DRAGON on Broad Street felt like it had been around as long as Hereford had been. It was the kind of ye olde tourist hotel where the Rotary Club met every Friday and Saga coach tours stopped for scones and tea.
The TV wasn’t tuned in to RT, so I sat on the big flowery eiderdown and tapped Anna’s number on the iPhone screen instead. It was a lot earlier than I normally called her, but I was going to have a pretty full day. I needed to catch up with Crazy Dave and then trawl the bars for Jan.
I’d already tried the last address I had for her, a flat in a three-storey pebble-dashed housing association joint on the Ross Road at the edge of town. She’d taken it over from her mum years ago. It was almost opposite where the old Regiment