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

“You remember the destination of our little excursion yesterday?”

Safardi smiled. “Of course,” he said. The Doñana was the perfect place.

“At the pine glade at eight o’clock tonight.”

“Are you sure you can remember your way there?”

“Yes. It made an indelible impression on my mind.”

“Until tonight then. In the interim, I suggest you take good care of my merchandise.”

Kane cut the call.

Safardi and Hackett, they were quite a pair. It looked like his past was rushing to find his future.

Chapter Fifty-Three

The light was fading as the powerful headlights of the BMW picked out the sign for Los Palacios y Villafranca and Kane swung the car off the highway and onto the secondary road which led into the Doñana. The potholes littering the road proved a severe test for the suspension of the saloon car which bounced from side to side along the narrow, rutted track. The beams of the headlights picked out the sign for the Marismas as the car ground in first gear towards the point where the barred gate led into the restricted area containing the glade where the exchange would take place.

Kane pulled up before the gate with the headlights illuminating the two high sections of meshed iron, joined in the centre by a thick padlocked chain. The night was full of the sounds of the creatures of the Doñana. The chirping of the crickets vied with the screaming of birds to create a primeval cacophony of sound reminiscent of the jungle.

The chain which held the gates was old and rusted but nevertheless presented a formidable obstruction. Kane shot the lock and it disintegrated. He turned in the direction of a noise beyond the fence in time to see the antlers of a deer disappearing into the foliage. He was getting damn jumpy. He opened the links and unwound the chain. As soon as he was beyond the gate, he returned and rewound the chain around the two gate posts. Clusters of mosquitoes buzzed around him as he closed the gap. The insects were attracted to his sweat as he endeavoured to close the fracture as fully as possible. When the two edges of the fracture were touching, Kane bent and picked up a pinch of the dry brown soil. He spat on the earth and turned it into a paste before spreading it into what remained of the fissure in the metal link. Safardi’s men would not notice that he had already passed through and surprise might be the only ally he would have against them. He returned to the car and continued to grind his way forward, the headlights the only illumination in an otherwise darkening night. The beams of light lit up the dark shape of a tree, birds’ nests hanging in the upper branches. He peered through the dark searching for the glade which had been the scene of the execution. Was it only yesterday that he had been here? In the meantime, he had travelled the length of Spain twice and picked up ten million dollars of cocaine. Not a bad day’s work. The car crawled forward bumping over the rutted track. It lurched as he hit a dry bank at the side of the track. The beams of the headlights swung crazily through the foliage illuminating for a split second a lynx holding its prey, a dead rabbit, in its mouth. The lynx disappeared back into the undergrowth as he wrestled with the wheel and the beams of light swung right, casting their light on the glade he had been seeking. He stopped the car beside the birdwatcher’s hut he had noticed on his first visit then removed a torch from the boot of the car. The glade appeared eerie in the combined light of the car’s headlights and the torch. Slivers of silver light were reflected from the grey waters of the lagoon. Kane walked to the hut and illuminated the interior. He half expected to find Safardi there already. However, he didn’t have much time. Safardi and his men were close. The dusty bare earthen floor and rush walls stared back at him. He returned to the car and drove further along the track until he found a flat area beneath an overhanging tree which would suit his purpose ideally. He drove into the cave-like opening created by the tree’s branches. He had made a quick pitstop in Seville where he had found a hardware shop. He’d purchased a heavy screwdriver, a small capacitor, a mechanical relay, a length of electrical flex, a can of lighter fuel, a pound of household putty, and a dark blue overall. In the dim light cast by the single bulb of the car’s boot, he proceeded to connect the relay and the capacitor with electrical flex to the car’s alarm system which ran along the open edge of the trunk and led back ultimately to the battery. With the boot door closed the capacitor would sit inactive but as soon as the door was opened the relay would close and the capacitor would be connected to the car’s battery. After making the connections, he closed and then opened the boot door. He heard the relay close with a soft click and waited while the charge on the capacitor gradually increased until after a minute a spark shot across the terminals. So far so good, he thought. At least everything was in working order. He discharged the capacitor with a length of electrical flex and reset the mechanism. He picked up the can of lighter fuel and working carefully removed the cap and set the terminals of the capacitor into the neck of the can securing the whole arrangement with a lump of white putty. He took the can and placed it behind the packages of cocaine. Then he took the heavy screwdriver and using it as a hammer punched a hole in the fuel tank. The pungent smell of petrol invaded the trunk. Safardi’s surprise package was ready and with a bit