Crash Course by Derek Fee (pdf to ebook reader .txt) 📕

of which was already loaded with men while Pedro sat in the rear seat of the first vehicle.

“You will travel with me, Mark.” Safardi opened the passenger door while Jaime took his place beside his friend.

“Thanks,” Kane said as he took his place in the passenger seat. As soon as he was settled, he looked over his shoulder and found himself looking directly into Pedro’s dead black eyes. He felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine. The sooner that Safardi was out of business and Jaime, Pedro and the rest of the gang were in prison, the safer he would sleep at night. Being the individual who would rat on these people wouldn’t be the healthiest occupation in town.

“Have you ever visited the south of Spain?” Safardi said, starting up the engine.

“I’ve never visited any part of Spain,” Kane replied.

“It is quite a beautiful country.” Safardi let out the clutch and the car rolled smoothly along the drive and onto the small road leading to Marbella. “My people, the Arabs, dominated this part of Spain for over two centuries,” Safardi said as they passed through the centre of Marbella.

Tourists sat in cafés or wandered aimlessly past souvenir shops totally unaware of the little cavalcade.

“Most of the cities in the south were founded by the Muslims,” he continued. “The classical Arab features can still be seen in many of the Andalusians. What a pity that my forebears had given up title to this land before the British and German tourists had arrived to buy it up. The poor tribesmen of Morocco had been sitting on a fortune in real estate but hadn’t realised it. Maybe if they’d known what was in the future, they might have fought harder to hold on to it. We’ll be travelling around the coast, past Gibraltar and then along the Costa de la Luz towards Cadiz. Our destination lies beyond Cadiz and I assure you it will be well worth the visit.”

Kane glanced into the rear of the car and noticed a faint flicker of life in Pedro’s eyes.

Safardi eased the car onto the busy highway which ran parallel to the coast of the Costa del Sol following the signs for Estepona.

“Sit back and enjoy the trip. The scenery is wonderful.”

Kane observed that the coastline to the west of Marbella was noticeably less developed than that which they had travelled through on the way from Malaga airport. The apartments, hotels, and villas fizzled out beyond the town of Estepona to be replaced by nature in the raw. Brown sun-parched hills descended towards the rocky coastline which in its turn overhung long sandy beaches. As soon as they passed Algeciras, the apartments became non-existent and the distance between cantina type establishments offering tourist accommodation became greater. Beyond Tarifa, traffic fell off dramatically and the road suddenly cut inland skipping between sets of low hills. When the sea was visible, Kane could see the brightly coloured sails of yachts and windsurfers in the distance. Looking out over the scene of holidaymakers and sun-drenched beaches it might be easy to forget that he was travelling in a Range Rover with three ruthless men, one of whom was a self-confessed drug baron. But he wasn’t worried so much by Safardi. Jaime and Pedro and the men that he had seen piled into the second Range Rover were a totally different matter. Kane was in the hands of some of the most violent men on earth. No matter how lulling the scene of tranquillity outside the windows might have been, he realised that he could not afford to either antagonise these men or indeed drop his guard for even one second.

The two cars travelled west in tandem at a sedate pace along the Costa de la Luz towards the town of Cadiz. They skirted Cadiz to the north taking the Autopista del Sur in the direction of Seville. Kane sat back as the two vehicles joined the stream of traffic heading towards the capital of Andalucía. He knew better than to ask where they were going and why. He closed his eyes and thought about Morweena, wondering what she was doing at that precise moment. Probably trying to torture his whereabouts out of poor Tom or Doc. He pitied them having to deal with her in that kind of mood. They travelled along the eastern side of the Guadalquivir valley through flat lands scorched by the summer sun. Twenty kilometres from Seville, Safardi turned off the highway at a sign indicating ‘Los Palacios y Villafranca’. After travelling a further two kilometres on a spur road, they turned off onto a barely discernible track.

“We’ll be there soon,” Safardi said as their vehicle bumped along the rough track.

Kane didn’t have to look behind to know that the second car was on their tail. The area they were entering was desolate. He noticed a large yellow sign on the side of the road with a red arrow pointing directly ahead and the words ‘Las Marismas’ beneath it. They had been driving for an hour and Kane still had no idea of the purpose of the journey although he was certain that there was a very definite objective. “What does Las Marismas mean?” he asked.

“The swamps,” Jaime said.

“Not really the swamps but more the marshlands,” Safardi added. “You are about to enter one of the few remaining wildernesses in Europe.” Safardi controlled the Range Rover as it hit a bump and skewed to the right, brushing against a clump of tall weeds. “The only area which compares is the Camargue in France.”

“The wilderness has never been my big thing,” Kane replied. “Although I do seem to have spent the best part of my life either living in one or tramping around one.”

“This wilderness is called the Coto Doñana.” Safardi glanced at the low marshlands. “At the moment it is a protected area but the developers and their bulldozers are waiting for any lack of resolve on the part of the Spanish government to keep