But Paul could not take revenge on a failing bank. He had already seen the queues of people standing outside BCCI branches, hoping their saving were not lost.
Then he thought of Erick Elgberg.. He had wasted enough time. It was time to act.
* * *
As soon as he was inside his flat Paul phoned Bradley. After handing over £800, that same evening he possessed a gun and ammunition.
Next day he phoned work and explained he was sick. Instead of going in to St. James’s he went by train to the New Forest and practised. The noise was incredible, but at least he learned how to load and unload the gun.
He usually telephoned Ann once a week, but had not so far returned to Mallorca to see her. On his next call he said casually, ‘I’ve decided to buy a flat. The mortgage company need your signature on some papers. Is it OK for me to come at the end of next week?’
‘Actually, Paul,’ she said, ‘Erick, Andrea and I will be having a party that Saturday on the yacht. We will be sailing at four in the afternoon and be back late. Bring a dinner jacket.’
This was a stroke of luck! He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice as he answered, ‘That’s terrific. I’ll phone you before I leave.’
In the meantime Paul wrote down every detail he had found out about Erick Elgberg, the Invisible Company, the man in France, the Purcell‑Jensen ownership, the companies which invested on Erick’s demand, Malcolm Fox’s murder and his own connection to the recent cheque fraud scandal.
That evening he typed it out as neatly as he could. There were 28 pages altogether, the information backed up with enough facts to satisfy the most pedantic of investigators. The next morning he found a print shop which would let him copy and bind the report himself and bought six large envelopes. Back in his flat he addressed them to DCI Sarah Wilson, Morris Green his solicitor, and one each for the Sunday Times, the Telegraph and the Financial Times. The sixth he addressed to Erick Elgberg and placed it in his holdall..
Paul worked as normal throughout the week until Friday. On his way to work that morning he posted all the reports.
That evening, Bradley and he were on a plane en route to Palma. Neither of them was stopped in Customs. In Palma airport’s toilet Bradley removed with a tool the metal plug he had placed in the gun barrel, to be able to argue that it was just an innocent toy, which could be bought anywhere in London. He had brought a catalogue with him as proof.
Outside the airport Bradley looked at Paul and held the gun back from him wanting to argue with him, but seeing his friend’s expression he handed it over. Later the same evening Bradley was on a plane out of Palma. He did not like what Paul might be up to. Anyway, he had done what Paul had paid him for.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
_________________________
Palma, Saturday, 6th July 1991
Captain Pedro, L’Acquisition’s skipper recognised Paul and welcomed him aboard, leading him to the aft deck.
Elgberg, in his customary white tracksuit, was sitting in a lounger. Ann and Andrea sat at a table nearby under a large blue sun umbrella.
It was two o’clock in the afternoon. Two hours before the other guests were expected. Paul had not been told who else was coming, and it made little difference to him anyway.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ Erick told him in a laidback way. ‘It is a very hot day. Shall I get the steward to take your things to a cabin? Do you want to change?’
Paul noticed the emphasis on ‘a cabin’ and glanced at Ann who did not meet his eyes. Obviously he was not intended to share hers – not that it had been on Paul’s agenda, but was this Erick’s, Ann’s or Andrea’s idea?’
‘I’m fine,’ he answered. ‘I’ll take my things myself in a minute. Thanks for inviting me.’
‘We’ll be cruising north this evening, past Puerto de Valldemosa, a beautiful village. As the tourists can’t get to it, since there is only one tiny road leading there, it is still very much an original fishing village.’
‘Interesting,’ mumbled Paul. Elgberg was just showing off. Showing who was in control, or so he thought.
‘From there we will sail slowly on to Puerto de Soller,’ Erick continued. ‘It’s a natural circular harbour. With the light and mountains behind, it’s a magnificent sight. I take it you haven’t been there?’
‘No. No, I haven’t. Sounds great.’ Paul wished he would just shut up. ‘I think I will go and leave my things in a cabin.’
‘Good idea,’ Erick agreed. ‘Maybe take a nap for an hour or so.’
Paul nodded. He was in no hurry. Now the time had come it would be even more satisfying with an audience.
* * *
At nine o’clock, fourteen people were seated around the dining table, which was beautifully decorated with a pink tablecloth, long pink roses and fine Limoges porcelain. After sundowners followed by champagne, the party was in a light‑hearted mood. The men were wearing dinner jackets, women wore their best evening dresses. A lobster and calamares salad had just been served.
Paul had not drunk anything other than sparkling water.
To his right sat Ann. To his left, Dorothy Purcell. Randolph Purcell had not even said hello to him. James Fisher, the new managing director of the Purcell‑Jensen group, he knew from the newspaper coverage. He’d been far too lowly to come into direct contact with him in the St James’s office. Erick and Andrea were sitting at either end of the table. Paul recognised George von Fritzenberg, even if he had not met him or his wife before. The company solicitor and his barrister wife he had been introduced to previously.
But the person who interested him most was the Frenchman, Bernard Boucher. He was accompanied by a stunning tall blonde in her thirties. He understood from the conversation she was a respected professor of psychology from Paris.
Was this man Boucher, the real boss? It was too late for him to find out. The police would have plenty of time by investigating after this evening.
The main dish of roasted suckling pig was served. Paul looked down at the glazed and shining carcass so undignified in death, its mouth set in a rictus of a grin around the apple that filled it... If only Erick Elgberg could be brought so low.
Now or never, he told himself. There was no way back. It would all start happening if he just got up...
Before he realised it he had pushed back his chair and stood up, sliding an envelope out of his breast pocket.
Conversation gradually died down. The stewards had left them to serve themselves. All the guests looked at him. He coughed, as if he was preparing to make a speech.
‘I’ve come to give you this.’ He pushed the brown envelope across the table towards Elgberg, feeling more at ease now he had set the wheels in motion.
‘What’s this, Paul?’ Erick got up and reached out, turning it over in his hands.
‘Open it.’
Erick tore it open and took out the report. As he read the first page, then flicked the others, his eyes narrowed. A vein started to throb in his temple.
‘Who wrote this?’
All conversation had stopped. Only the engine could be heard together with the water churning against the sides of the slowly moving yacht.
‘I did.’
Every eye was on Erick, registering his reaction to what was written in the report. He said quietly, ‘What do you want, Paul? Money? Is that what this is about?’
‘What I want,’ he said with an oscillating voice, ‘is for the captain to sail close to the shore.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Erick smiled, an icy, humourless expression.
Paul slipped his hand into his trouser pocket and brought out the gun, pointing it directly at Elgberg. ‘Now what do you think?’ He noted with satisfaction that everyone round the table was starring at him, paralysed in horror.
Ann rose, her eyes like saucers. ‘Please, Paul...’
He took a step back.
‘Sit down,’ he commanded. ‘Now you,’ waving the gun from Erick to Andrea, ‘do as I say or I??
?ll kill that fucking cow.’
‘Tell us what you want, Paul. We can set you off at Puerto de Soller or more or less anywhere if you use one of the smaller boats we have onboard. How can we help you if you don’t say what you want?’
The two men faced each other across the table.
‘Sit!’ Paul shouted as loud as he could. A bullet struck the table with a thundering blast that deafened them.
Erick sat down, horrified. He could tell Paul was serious. And undoubtedly mad.
Bertrand put his arm round his companion. Dorothy Purcell started crying quietly. No one dared make a move to comfort her as Paul continued to address Erick.
‘This morning I posted various copies to newspapers in London. You can guess what’s in it. The Invisible Company will die a quick death. You’ll all be arrested and spend years in prison. Just like I did.’
‘Whatever it is you want, this is the wrong way to go about it.’ Erick broke in. ‘I know you are serious, but Paul, I thought we were friends...’
He snorted. ‘Friends? A friend doesn’t do what you did to me. You were involved with Aaron Nicholstein and that fraud at BCCI, weren’t you? I spent more than four years locked away in a stinking prison, because of you and your greed.’
‘I swear I had nothing to do with that. But I certainly helped you once I knew of your predicament.’
‘Oh, yes, you helped. You were more than friendly with Ann. You and your wife.’
He had rattled Erick at last. ‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded.
‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve seen police photographs.’ He let this information sink in, watching Ann out of the corner of his eye. She had gone deathly white and sat quite still.
‘A relationship did develop between us,’ Erick said carefully. ‘But when you came back we put an end to it. Don’t blame Ann. It wasn’t her fault.’
Paul shrugged. ‘I’m going to take her with me,’ he said. ‘I want her off this ship, and I want to deal with you personally.’
‘Nothing can possibly be gained...’ Andrea tried.
‘Just shut up, you lesbian cow! Yes, if you all want to know,’ Paul swivelled his head so as to include the other guests in the conversation, ‘both our hosts have entertained themselves here on the deck with my wife. If you don’t believe it, I’m sure the photos I’ve seen will be all over the front pages once the police leak them.’
He steadied his hand and pointed the gun straight at Andrea again.
‘We can arrange whatever you want,’ Bertrand Boucher told him in a calm, steady voice.
‘Are you going to kill us all?’ challenged Erick. ‘And drag Ann off against her will? You’ll never get away with it.’
‘She has no choice,’ Paul snarled. ‘She’s been hypnotised by you and your bitch of a wife. I want her off this yacht so I can tell her the truth about you and this whole stinking set‑up.’ He waved the gun towards Erick. ‘Stand up and turn around.’ When he obeyed. Paul walked round the table and pressed the gun hard into the small of his back. ‘One wrong move and I’ll kill you.’
He waved the others towards the gangway. ‘Don’t try anything, any of you. Go up to the bridge.’
Ann was making small mewing noises of pure fear. It annoyed him. ‘Shut up and lead the way.’
As Andrea passed, following Ann up to the bridge, she threw Paul a cold, hate‑filled glance.
‘You bloody Danish dyke,’ he said to her, ‘tell the captain not to do anything stupid or your husband’s dead.’
‘This won’t get you anywhere,’ she started, but Paul pulled Erick’s head back and rammed the gun to his forehead.
‘All right! All right! I’ll do as you say.’
Ann opened the door to the bridge and entered, followed by Andrea and the other guests with Paul and Erick at the rear. There were only two people on the bridge, thank God, the captain and the helmsman.
‘Stand against the wall. Do as I say and nobody will get hurt. But you, Mr Erick bloody Elgberg, are going to pay for what you’ve done.’ Paul waved the gun at Captain Pedro, who was gazing at him in astonishment. ‘Tell your captain to take the yacht closer to the shore so Ann and I can get off. Do it. No arguing.’
The captain looked helplessly at Erick. ‘If I take her closer, we’ll run aground. There are rocks everywhere.’
‘So what?’ Paul yelled. ‘Who cares what happens to your bloody boat? Just take us closer so we can jump. Ann, get out on deck.’
The Captain closed his eyes and gave his crewman the order to get closer to shore as Paul instructed.
‘Jesus, Dockett!’ Erick tried to straighten up, but Paul had bent his arm behind his back. ‘What are you trying to prove? She doesn’t want to go with you.’
Paul glanced out over the side. They were nearing the shore. Jagged cliffs loomed up before them. ‘Closer!’ he ordered.
‘We’ll be holed...’ the captain began to protest, but Paul waved the gun towards him, for a moment taking his eyes off Erick.
Andrea threw herself at him, clutching at his wrist. He fought her off cursing and trying to regain control. Suddenly a shot rang out, followed by two more. Andrea fell backwards, and then Paul was grabbed from behind and swung round to face the captain. Two more shots were fired and Captain Pedro stumbled back, blood pulsing out of his chest.
Paul staggered forward, panting. He saw his wife slumped against the wall, blood trickling down her face. ‘Ann!’ he shouted, then Erick sprang at him and Paul dodged through the door and jumped for the shore.
He heard shouting behind him as he hit the water.
Back on board, there was chaos. Erick held Andrea, who had been shot in the leg. Captain Pedro was lying on his stomach, blood widening in a pool round him.
Suddenly they were all thrown sideways and there was a deafening sound of metal scraping against rock.
‘Take care of your wife, Erick.’ Bertrand Boucher struggled to keep on his feet. ‘Listen everyone. Get off now, while there’s still time. Purcell, try to get the captain to the shore. I’m going to take care of Dockett.’
Erick turned back to his wife. There was blood trickling down her left leg. He took off his shirt and tore it into strips, tying them round the wound. Andrea moaned, clinging to him. Lifting her gently, he carried her out on deck where the crew were trying to free the lifeboats. The towering cliffs were near enough to touch, and treacherous rocks all around.
One of the crew spoke over the loudspeaker. ‘Abandon ship now! Abandon ship!’
Erick held Andrea against his chest and jumped over the rail. He narrowly missed a rock as he plunged into the water. Andrea, who had fainted, slipped from his grasp. Desperately he clutched at the rock while he regained his breath, then dived down after her. He felt he was falling through space and time reaching out for Andrea, but unable to touch her. He surfaced for air, and dived again.
Then he saw her. He grasped her arms and pulled. Blood poured from the wound in her leg. Erick’s lungs were bursting. A moment later he was holding her and kicking for the surface, dimly lit by the moon. He swam strongly towing her towards the rock, praying the tide would not hurl him against them. Gasping for air, Erick pressed his mouth over hers, forcing breath into her lungs. After what seemed an eternity she gave a cough, rolled over and vomited sea water.
He fell back gazing at the dark sky, oblivious to the cries of distress and alarm all around him.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
_________________________
Palma de Mallorca, Sunday, 7th July 1991
‘How’s my wife?’ Erick asked the doctor as soon as he reached the hospital. Andrea had been taken there by helicopter, together with Ann and the Captain. Erick had followed by ambulance.
‘She’s in theatre. They’re going to operate any minute now.’
‘What about Mrs Dockett?’
The doctor shook his head. ‘I’m very sorry. She and Captain Pedro were dead on arrival.’
‘And Paul
Dockett?’
The doctor frowned ‘I’m sorry we’ve admitted no one of that name tonight. Everything is rather chaotic here.’
Erick waited all night for news of Andrea. It was seven in the morning when the same doctor reappeared, looking exhausted. He pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Erick.
‘Your wife will be all right, but we’ve have had to amputate her left leg under the knee. She would have died otherwise. The high‑velocity bullet pulverised the bone and I believe she hurt the leg further when both of you jumped from the yacht.’
‘Then you did the right thing.’ Erick closed his eyes, unable to hold back his tears.
Late that day he was allowed to see her. Andrea looked fragile and tiny in the hospital bed.
‘What happened to Ann?’ she murmured, after he had sat beside her and taken her hand.
‘Dead.’
Andrea closed her eyes wearily.
‘Captain Pedro too,’ Erick told her in a broken voice.
‘How will we survive?’
‘We just have to.’
For a long moment they just clung together.
‘I wish I were dead. Do you know what they’ve done?’
‘Yes.’
‘How will I manage? Never to walk again, to dance, to ski...’
He was determined not to give way to despair. ‘At least you’re alive, Andrea. And you have me to help. We’ll face every problem together, I promise. Do whatever it takes. Don’t you know how much you mean to me? When I think I could have lost you...’
Tears streamed from her eyes. She started to shake.
‘Andrea,’ he continued urgently, ‘I love you and we’ll always be together. You’ve always supported me. Now it’s my turn.’
She closed her eyes and fell asleep. Erick sat holding her hand.
* * *
Later that day he called the Cave where they had heard about the disaster from a special news bulletin.
‘Hello, Karen. Det er mig.’
‘Thank God! We heard on the news you were alright, but I wasn’t sure if I should come or stay here. What happened...’
‘Are you alone?’ he interrupted her.