A Silent Death by Peter May (top books to read .txt) 📗

and used it to open the sim drawer in his phone. Miraculously, the card appeared to have escaped any damage. He snapped his fingers at the duty officer. ‘Come on, give me your phone.’

Very reluctantly and with a deep sigh, the duty officer handed it over. Mackenzie extracted the sim card and replaced it with his own, then rebooted the phone. Almost immediately an alert sounded to signal a phone message. Mackenzie put it on speaker and tapped play. Cristina’s voice was clear and unambiguous, and Mackenzie could hear the fear in it.

Señor, they want to exchange me for Ana. The Gibraltar Skywalk at first light. If you get this, know that I have no choice but to do what they want.

‘Jesus!’ Mackenzie’s eyes flickered involuntarily towards the street outside. It was still dark, but daylight wasn’t far away.

The duty officer’s eyes were wide with both alarm and astonishment.

Mackenzie said, ‘What’s the fucking Skywalk?’

‘It’s a glass platform near the summit of the Rock of Gibraltar, señor. Built around an old fortified lookout post. A tourist attraction. I took my own kids to see it just last week, but it was closed for maintenance.’ He shook his head. ‘I wish they’d advertised that in advance. It would have saved me a journey.’ Then he paused to think about it. ‘But Cristina wouldn’t have gone to Gibraltar, señor. The Spanish police have no jurisdiction there.’

Mackenzie cocked a despairing eyebrow. ‘She hasn’t gone as a police officer. How long will it take me to get there?’

The duty officer shrugged. ‘This time of day? Probably no more than about thirty-five minutes.’

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Large silver letters affixed to the wall reflected the light of his headlamps as Mackenzie swung his car through the roundabout. La Paloma. He knew the name at once. It was here that it had all begun, the night Cristina and her colleague went to investigate a reported break-in at what turned out to be Cleland’s villa.

He accelerated along the cliffs, the Mediterranean washing phosphorescence upon the beach below, and fumbled with his borrowed iPhone to autodial the number of the NCA in London. It would not yet be 6 am in England. He put it on speaker and dropped it on to the passenger seat. The voice of the night duty officer filled the car. ‘National Crime Agency, how can I help you?’

‘Investigator John Mackenzie. This is an emergency.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I am on deployment in Spain and I urgently need a name and contact number in the Royal Gibraltar Police. There is a major drugs deal going down on the Rock, and the lives of two women are at risk.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. I’ll need to confirm your identity and clear this with a higher authority.’

Mackenzie drew a long slow breath to contain his exasperation and fumbled in his back pocket for his wallet and ID. He flicked on the dash light and squinted to read the number off his card and keep an eye on the road at the same time. Then he said, ‘Contact Director Beard for authorization and call me back.’

He had no sooner hung up than the phone began to ring. Too fast to be the NCA. He glanced sideways to hit the answer icon. ‘Mackenzie.’

‘Señor, this is Detective Gil from GRECO in Marbella. I’m sorry to get you out of your bed at this hour, but it is a matter of some urgency.’

Mackenzie was not about to explain why he was not in bed. He said, ‘Go ahead.’

‘As we discussed a couple of days ago, my boss agreed to resume surveillance on Delgado and Rafa, along with the other principals on our list. One of our teams arrived to install themselves at Puerto Banus early this morning. Delgado’s yacht was missing from its berth. The port authority confirmed that it left harbour just after five. So the team conducted a routine check of CCTV footage.’ He paused. ‘Señor, a truck entered the marina and parked at the Pantalán where the yacht was berthed a little after three o’clock. Four men unloaded somewhere in the region of thirty bales, which were then stowed aboard the yacht before it set sail. One of those men was identified as Vasquez. When the yacht left it was confirmed that Delgado was on board.’ Mackenzie heard him sighing. ‘Unfortunately, we have no idea where it was headed.’

Mackenzie said, ‘I do. It’s going to Gibraltar. I’m halfway there right now.’ He didn’t wait for Gil to register surprise. ‘I know that the Spanish and the Gibraltarians don’t really talk to each other, detective, but if you don’t start right now Cleland and the rest are going to get away.’

There was a brief hiatus. ‘You’re sure about this?’

‘Yes. Cleland has taken Officer Sánchez Pradell’s aunt hostage and she is meeting him in Gibraltar to try to secure her release. But you and I both know he’s going to kill her.’

Another pause. ‘We have contacts in HM Customs in Gibraltar. I’ll alert them.’

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

From here the bay of Gibraltar seemed circled by lights. Strings of them like luminous pearls followed the curve of the coastline. Black waters dotted with tankers and freighters sending shimmering spears of light to pierce the depths. Long, illuminated wharves reached out like protective arms from docks and container terminals, providing safe haven in calmer waters for giant ships. At the far side of the bay, tucked in beneath the mountains, lay the Spanish port of Algeciras, and beyond that the ferry terminal at Tarifa where cars and passengers trafficked back and forth between Spain and Morocco. Immediately below, the lights of Gibraltar town cast their pollution into a sky still dark.

Cristina sat in numbed silence in the back of her taxi, trying to ignore the ramblings of the driver, a man more used, so he told her, to conducting circuits of the Rock with a car full of tourists.

The one-way road to the peak was overhung by dark trees and rose steeply through hairpin