A Silent Death

Chapter Seventeen

The excitement occasioned by a flare exploding high above Puerto de la Condesa and seen for miles along the coast had long since subsided.

Mackenzie sat on the concrete box that supplied power and water to Cleland’s Princess 52 from the pantalán, and winced as a medic in dark green and yellow uniform applied antiseptic to his damaged face. The medic had previously removed Mackenzie’s T-shirt and felt carefully around the bruising on his ribs. He didn’t believe there was anything broken, but suggested an x-ray and support-strapped it in the meantime.

A forensics team from Estepona had arrived, sweltering beneath plastic jumpsuits as they worked their way systematically from one end of Cleland’s boat to the other, taking fingerprints, scrapings from a bloodstain found on the carpet, hair, nail clippings from one of the toilets, a razor, a toothbrush.

The Jefe stepped off the boat on to the quay and glared at Mackenzie. ‘You couldn’t have called for back-up? We’d have caught him red-handed.’

Mackenzie winced as the medic applied fresh antiseptic. ‘I was about to,’ he said. ‘Then this girl unlocked the gate and I thought I’d just take a look.’

‘What girl?’

Mackenzie flicked his head towards the far end of the pantalán where Sally was giving a statement to a couple of Policía Local. ‘She cleans boats.’

‘Not Cleland’s, apparently,’ the Jefe said. ‘It’s filthy. A treasure trove of forensic evidence. Unfortunately, there’s just one thing missing. Cleland himself.’ He paused. ‘What possessed you to fire off a flare?’

Mackenzie shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I was going to try to shoot him with it. But there were too many people around. I just fired it in frustration.’

‘You’d have been in big trouble if you’d hit him.’

Mackenzie nodded his acknowledgement. ‘I know.’

The Jefe sighed and hooked his thumbs into his belt. ‘I don’t know that he’s been here much. None of the beds have been slept in. There’s some dirty laundry tossed on to one of them. Looks like maybe he just came for a change of clothes, something to eat and a coffee. There’s a half-drunk cup in the kitchen and the remains of a sandwich on the counter top. Seems you disturbed him before he could finish it. There might also have been some cash on board. He’s very probably running out.’ He glanced along the quay to where a phalanx of police vehicles, blue lights flashing, clustered around the open gate to the pantalán. An ambulance stood on the other side of the access road, engine idling. A large crowd of onlookers, managed by a couple of uniformed Guardia, waned and waxed in turns, holidaymakers and locals exercising their curiosity. ‘You know what really hacks me off?’

Mackenzie squinted up at him in the sunlight. The chief was silhouetted against the sky, and Mackenzie couldn’t see the expression on his face. ‘No,’ he said.

‘That none of our people thought to check if the bastard had a boat here.’ He turned a disapproving gaze on the Scotsman. ‘It was a good thought, señor. Just a poor execution.’

Mackenzie could not disagree. His eye was caught by the movement of a diminutive figure pushing through the crowd. It was Cristina. Mackenzie’s heart sank. He could only imagine what she would say. She strode along the pantalán adjusting her hair in the band that gathered it at the back of her head. She nodded to the Jefe and glared at Mackenzie. ‘Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?’

Mackenzie attempted a smile. ‘Apparently not.’

The Jefe said to her, ‘Get him out of my hair. Take him for something to eat. Tell him we don’t operate like cowboys here. There’s a meeting at the station called for five this afternoon. We’ll go over everything we know then. Just make sure he’s back in time.’

‘I am here, you know,’ Mackenzie said. ‘I can hear you.’

The Jefe glowered at him. ‘Not sure I feel like talking to you right now.’

As they walked back along the access road to the port, Cristina said, without looking at him, ‘That was a smart piece of work.’

He kept his eyes on the tables and chairs outside the cafes and restaurants that flanked the harbour ahead of them. ‘Thank you.’

‘The first part. Not the second.’

‘I think the Jefe already made that clear.’

‘You’re lucky he didn’t throw you into the harbour.’

Mackenzie pressed his lips into a grim line.

‘I think he likes you,’ she said, and Mackenzie turned a look of surprise in her direction. She flicked him a glance. ‘God knows why.’

The Nissan SUV was parked at the top of the steps which had been Cleland’s escape route from the port. As she opened the driver’s door Cristina said, ‘Are you hungry?’

Mackenzie nodded.

‘Well, you’ll have to wait. I have to go into Estepona first and call in on my aunt. We can grab something to eat afterwards.’