Half-awake Davy and Ghashide departed Marbella as the morning sun peeked over the horizon.

Their flight circled London a few times before beginning its descent.

On leaving arrivals, Davy met Angie.

Ghashide smiled, said hello, and walked on. Hand in hand, they strolled to the car park and drove home.

***

Brushing her long blonde hair to frame her face, Janice smoothed her skirt, took one last look in the mirror. Henry Chapman, her boss, wanted to see her in his office. Usually, Henry would telephone or drop into her office if he was passing.

Rather than use the lift, Janice climbed the stairs. Once there, she paused. Out of respect for his position, Janice knocked and entered. Henry sat behind his colossal grey desk, glanced up as she came in.

"Janice, grab a chair and park your bum."

She gave him her best smile, removed a pile of old newspapers from the only chair, and sat with her legs crossed.

Henry finished his doodling, placed his pen on its rack, smiled and looked straight at her.

Janice, my love, how long have we known each other? No, don't tell me. It makes me feel old. This paper gives you a free hand to search out stories, and we have both benefited. The trouble is, you often find a conspiracy at a vicar's tea party."

She knew without any doubt that this quiet man of the world was avoiding the issue. "Henry, get on with it."

He grimaced whilst rubbing his hands together. "A Mr Ronald Harman-Smith telephoned and told me. You're treading on thin ice."

She hesitated. "What else did that horrid man say?"

The fingers of his right hand drummed on the desktop. "Is this project of yours worth the hassle and expense? I know you don't need the money, and your hunches in the past have made it worthwhile, but the paper has its reputation to think of." He paused as if thinking what he should say next. "Purely out of editorial interest, have you any evidence to back your story?

She told him an edited version of her findings.

Henry whistled softly. "It would be better if we handed over your information to the police and let them deal with it."

The telephone rang. Henry lifted the handset. "Not available," he snapped.

"I don't like that idea," Janice objected. "The SAS have rules, but Harman-Smith's outfit makes them up as they go along. They'll slam the door shut and bury whatever. How about, officially, I no longer work on this story, and any time I take off is a holiday? God knows you owe me enough."

"No." Henry's voice was firm. "For Christ's sake, Janice, these guys don't fuck about, for once in your life, leave it alone.

She jumped at the tone of Henry's voice. "They've got to you, haven't they? What did they threaten? Your family, your job, or both?" Her voice became louder as she spoke. "Can't you see that these people are first-rate bastards? They'll stop at nothing to silence you."

Henry visibly stiffened. "How the hell would I know? It's all right for you; I'm 57. A few more years and I'm out to grass: I need this job and the pension that goes with it."

"Okay, I quit." he was right, and, as a friend, she would not place him in jeopardy. She respected this man who had given her so much when she needed it, and now it was her turn.

Henry raised his eyes to heaven. " For once in your life, can't you take a walk in the park and smell the roses?"

Standing, she ran her hands over her skirt. "I'll clear my desk this afternoon."

"That's your choice. Anyway, I'll hold your job open for six months. I can't do more than that."

She turned away, hiding a grin. "Thanks." As she left Henry's office. She heard him say, "When the shit starts flying, keep your head below the parapet.."

She needed time to gather her thoughts. While walking out of the entrance, a familiar voice stopped her. "I told you I didn't threaten. I suppose that boss of yours slapped you on the wrist and told you to be a good little girl."

Glaring at Harman-Smith in his immaculate suit, she sneered. "Thanks to you, I'm unemployed."

"You should have kept your nose out of other peoples business. Pity you don't need the money."

"Everything has a silver lining. I'll take a nice long holiday with my husband, and forget about bastards like you. Now, please fuck off before I call the police and have you charged with molesting me. And that's a fucking promise."

Harman-Smith laughed and returned to his car. Inside the black Vauxhall, he lowered the window and waved at her when he passed. Her two fingers pointing in the air needed no explanation.

***

It had been an age since William had involved himself in the minutia. After Ghashide and Davy left, he had struck a lucrative deal with his Spanish associates. Putting it into action, however, would take time and money.

William left his house early and began the six-hundred-and-thirty-mile drive to Vigo, in northern Spain. He drove alone and was thankful there was little traffic on the roads at that time of the morning. Without any holdups, it would be a fourteen-hour drive. To make life easier, he arranged an overnight stay with a colleague who had a villa to the north of Lisbon. He travelled light, taking a holdall and an attaché case filled with cash.

William stopped at the gated entrance to Charlie Wells's villa. Sounding the horn, he waited. A white-haired old man in a worn woollen suit came out waving his hands in the air. William got out and towered over him. "Charlie's expecting me."

"Mr Kent?"

William nodded.

"The governor is in the house. I'll give him a ring and tell him you're on your way."

The gates opened and. William drove along the meandering drive, turned sharply left and pulled up in front of the house. Charlie stood, hands-on-hips, at the top of the steps. He wore a pair of white tennis shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, his beer belly filling out both to capacity. These days Charlie was the respectable owner of a large estate, and everybody loved him for bringing work to the area. Underneath his charm and gentle character remained a formidable villain.

"Lovely to see you, my friend."

They strolled through the white marbled hall and onto the back terrace. Irish lead crystal glasses sparkled in the light on a polished marble table, and solid silver cutlery gleamed.

"Charlie, all I need is a sandwich and a soft bed."

"Tell the staff, and they'll make you a sandwich, but please, old friend, enjoy my hospitality. Later, after a chat and a few glasses of wine, you can enjoy a soft bed."

Leaving the villa early the following day, he saw the sun peek over the mountains, and a beautiful day began, crisp and cool with the slightest of breezes coming off the Atlantic. He checked his watch as he drove through the Portuguese border and into Spain. He was ahead of time, and with only twenty miles to go, he reduced his speed. No longer a young man, he was tired after driving for two days, although in the comfort of his BMW six series, the journey was not arduous. Mentally prepared for what lay ahead, he went into a large, open car park, stopped and switched off the engine. While waiting, he listened to the radio. After a few minutes, there was a tap on his window. William smiled at the tall, middle-aged man standing by the car. He wore a lightweight bespoke blue suit. Turning the radio off, William picked up his attaché case, got out, and the doors locked automatically.

"Good morning, Señor Kent. I am Tony Gonzalez." The man's relaxed smile gave no clue to his character. "Would you please come with me?"

They chatted and walked for a short distance, passing through a stone arch leading into a cobbled yard. When they entered the building, Tony swore in Spanish on finding the lift wasn't working. After five flights of stairs, both men breathed heavily. Tony knocked on a door, and another well-dressed man let them into a large, almost unfurnished apartment. The air was thick with tobacco smoke, and the five men who sat around a circular table stared, unblinking. William set his briefcase on the floor. He knew from previous experience that these men were senior members of the Basque separatist organisation, ETA. This group required substantial funds to continue their activities towards an independent Basque state; so, the collaboration between different factions became acceptable.

Fernando Chaco, a large, heavily built, ruddy-faced man with dark eyes, met him. He chain-smoked, lighting one cigarette from another but greeted William with a firm handshake and, as the leader, made the introductions.

"Señor William, would you please, for the benefit of my associates, outline your plan."

William sat, leant forward, and placed his elbows on the table, "Señor Chaco, I am asking for your assistance in this project for several reasons. First, as a group, you can organise things. Second, if needs must, you are ruthless and uncompromising."

Little by little, he outlined his requirements, building a picture in their minds. When he finished, he stressed, "The men who will be directly involved with this must be trustworthy to the point that, if ever discovered, they'll keep their mouths shut."

Tony replied, "Señor Kent, we have been fighting our war for as long as my father and I can remember. In Vigo, the fishing industry is a mess. Families are impoverished, and boats are floundering in our harbour for many seasons. You do not have to worry. The men for this project will be our own. Anyway, your plan is so straightforward. What can go wrong?"

William smiled. "If something should go wrong, and this venture blows up in our faces, our lives will not be worth a penny. I don't see any problems. However, the unexpected can happen, so let's make sure it doesn't. "

"Chaco, my friend, I have two questions. One, when would you expect to complete the alterations to our vessel? And two, why is ETA helping? I understand the fishermen need the money, but-."

Chaco interrupted. "That's simple, and our leaders are busy talking to the Spanish Government. They long for peace, and we crave freedom as an independent country. As for your boat, when you give us the money, we will start work. When finished, I will tell you."

William chuckled, picked up his attaché case and moved it across the table towards Tony.

Tony stayed calm, grabbed it with both hands and pushed it back. "It would be preferable if you opened it. Some of our associates have left this world after opening such cases."

William smiled, placed the case on his knees, flicked the locks and handed it to Tony.

"Thank you." Tony counted every bundle of notes.

Showing no emotion, he checked each bundle. Satisfied, he tossed it all into a leather holdall, closed the empty case and returned it to William.

The meeting was over, and happy with the outcome, William returned to his car. The Excelsior Hotel, which overlooked the town's harbour, was the best in Vigo and a short drive away. With the mandatory registration form completed, William followed the porter to his suite. Opening the wine bar, he poured himself a large Scotch and walked over to the window. There, spread out below, was row upon row of fishing boats, far too many to count. Which one? he wondered. Which one? Tired, he lay on the bed and was soon asleep.