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He arose early on the morning of the twenty-first. Although the train did not leave until ten thirty, he was eager to be away. He had not felt so excited in a long time. His mind kept imagining different scenarios. He still could not figure why he felt so hyped up about it. He knew nothing about the job on offer, or indeed anything about the company. Maybe that's why it is so intriguing.
He took extra care in his preparations. Carefully ironing his one good white shirt, and putting on his light grey slacks and black blazer. He had spent more than he could really afford in putting them into the dry cleaners, but he hoped it was money well spent. For once, he felt well dressed. ‘It makes a change from jeans and trainers.’ He told his reflection in the flyspecked mirror, as he carefully knotted his regimental tie. The one remaining relic of his time in the paras.
The sun was baking the pavement as Liam walked through Liverpool City centre.
He could feel the sweat starting to run between his shoulder blades.
'Shit,' he said talking to himself. 'So much for my nicely ironed shirt. At this rate I'll look like a wet rag by the time of my interview.'
Looking down at his once highly polished shoes, he saw that they were liberally coated in a film of dust from the dirty city streets.
I will have to find somewhere to wash and brush up before I get there, he decided.
As he was an hour early for his appointment, he decided to find the office first, and then go for a coffee, and hopefully a clean up.
He located the building he wanted, and luckily, it was around the corner from it, a small cafe. Entering the cafe he ordered a coffee, and then proceeded to the men’s room. Thankfully, there was ample hot water plus a clean towel. He stripped his shirt off then washed and dried himself. Finally using the toilet tissue to restore the shine to his shoes then returned to the café. He collected his drink from the counter, paid, and took a seat by the window.
He was sitting deep in thought, when a man asked. 'Do you mind if I sit here?'
Liam looked up at the speaker. He was a man apparently in his early forties, with a definite military bearing.
'Be my guest,' Liam replied, smiling up at the man. The man took the seat opposite to him.
‘The only other seat vacant, is by that chap with the foul smelling pipe, and it’s little early in the day to suffer that.’
Liam grinned. 'I know what you mean, and I think I can guess what he is smoking, but I'm damned if I know how he dries it. It must be against some sort of pollution control.'
The stranger smiled, then gestured to Liam’s cup asking if he would like a refill.
‘Thanks all the same, but if I have any more coffee my teeth will float.'
The stranger leaned over the table, offering his hand. 'Allow me to introduce myself, the name is Joe. It's nice to see a friendly face in a strange city. Although you don't sound very much like a local yourself.’ ‘Actually I was born here. I served an apprenticeship as a lift engineer, and just after I qualified I left and joined the army to see the world.’
He paused for a moment. ‘I’m presently living in Preston, if you can call it living. I've come here for a job interview, that with any luck will get me away from a very drab grey town.'
They sat and made the usual small talk of strangers killing time.
Liam suddenly realised that he was opening to this man, as he had never done to anyone before. His whole life story, wart’s and all, even the period in Ireland and his dishonourable discharge.
He realised, that he was trying to explain his feelings, not of guilt at killing the terrorist, but the basic justice of the act, as he saw it.
Joe sat in silence, listening to his confession. It was as if Liam was trying to exorcise the ghosts of Belfast.
Without making comment on Liam’s story, he changed the subject.
‘You didn’t mention the name of the company you have the interview with.’
‘It’s called Overseas Securities Ltd. I honestly don’t know what they do, but it has to be better than being on the dole’.
Joe gave a strange smile, as if confirming something to himself.
‘Strange as it may seem, I’m going there myself,’ he said. So we can keep each other company.’ After paying their bill’s they left the cafe.
They walked together to an old style Victorian office block, situated in the business section of the city.
The names of firms occupying the building were listed on an old fashioned, well-polished brass plate on the vestibule wall. Part way down the list, sandwiched between a matrimonial bureau, and an insurance agency, was the legend, Overseas Security Ltd.
They entered. Taking one look at the very ancient looking lift, they decided to take the stairs to their forth floor destination.
The stairs were as old fashioned as the building, consisting of an open stairwell with a very fancy wrought iron staircase.
'I feel as if we have stepped into the past in this place.' Liam remarked, as they climbed the stairs.
'I know exactly what you mean, although it does have lots of character.’ Joe replied.
They made their way along a corridor. It smelt musty with age, and old account books. Liam could imagine ink-stained clerks sitting on high stools, using quill pens to keep the daily accounts.
Reaching a door marked OVERSEAS SECURITIES LTD; they opened the door and went in.
Surprisingly, the outer office was very modern, and tastefully decorated. With soft music playing in the background.
Liam thumbed a bell marked enquiries. After short delay, an attractive female, somewhere in her mid-twenties, with obviously dyed blond hair, came to the window.
Giving a practised smile, she asked, 'Can I help you.’ Liam took his time in answering. She was a typical clone of most women in offices, wherever you went. Still, not one to kick out of bed, he thought, and it showed in his eyes.
The receptionist blushed slightly. Liam grinned.
'We have come for an interview as arranged. My name is Liam Casey, and this gentleman is Joseph.’ Liam stopped dead, suddenly realising that he did not know Joe’s' surname.
He turned to Joe feeling somewhat embarrassed. Joe was smiling.
‘It is quite all right Liam. The name is McKay. The same as on the letter we sent you.’
‘What the hell.’ Liam began.
'Whoa a minute, come through to my office.’ Joe said, as he walked through a door marked J McKAY, MANAGING DIRECTOR.
Liam followed. His mind totally in a whirl wondering just what was going on? The office smelt of money.
'Take a seat, and I'll explain.’ Liam sat.
The chair seemed to envelop him. Whatever this operation is about, it’s at the top end of the market if this layout is anything to go on, he thought.
Joe was sitting studying Liam; he had a thoughtful look on his face.
'Lets get down to business. That apparent charade in the cafe was quite by accident. Totally a spur of the moment thing. I’d gone there for a coffee, and when I saw you I figured that you were probably coming here for the interview, and of course when we got talking I realised that I was right.’
Liam started to speak. ‘But.’ He got no further. Joe held up his hands.
‘Will you let me finish. Then you can ask all the questions you want.'
He opened a folder that was on his desk. Liam recognised it. It was his C.V. Joe looked up.
‘First let me say that I’m glad things went as they did at the cafe, because I think that you told me things that otherwise you would have kept secret. Further more, while I'm not a father confessor, and I certainly can't give you absolution. As far as I'm concerned, you did the right thing. It is a pity there are not more like you. It confirms my opinion that we have selected the right man for the job.'
Joe settled himself in his chair.
‘I will begin with a brief outline of the job, and if you are still interested I will ask you to sign a form of non-disclosure. Which means, that if for any reason you refuse the offer, or later leave the company, you are still legally bound to keep secret any knowledge you will have gained of our operation? Shall I go on?’ 'Please do.'
‘In your C.V., you have listed sport diving as one of your hobbies. How much have you actually done? And have you done any serious underwater work?' Liam thought for a moment.
'In the army I did quite a lot, in fact we had our own dive club, and I used to instruct for most of the time. With regard to working, we did quite a lot of recovery work for the regiment, including unexploded shells and the like.
I've dived in most parts of the world, and on quite a few occasions we have helped the locals by finding, and recovering small fishing boats, and outboard motors that had sunk.’
Joe reached into a desk drawer, pulled out a bottle of Glenfiddich, and two glasses.
'Drink?’ He inquired. Liam hesitated.
'Don’t worry, I won't hold it against you. As long as you don't drink when your working.'
‘That is something I never do.’ Liam replied. ‘And yes, I would like a drink. In fact, it's my favourite scotch.’
Joe proceeded to pour two large measures. ‘Anything with it?’
‘No thanks, I don’t want to spoil it.’ Liam took his glass. Joe reached over, and they touched glasses.
'To old times, and absent friends.’ Joe toasted.
‘And to new friends, places and faces.’ Liam replied. They both paused; as separately they remembered the other times, and the other places, that that same toast had been made.
Joe dragged his mind back to the present. ‘I remember a lot of good men that have gone since I first heard that toast,’ he remarked.
‘You and me both.’
‘Right let’s get on with it.’ Joe became all business. ‘My company, of which I am the managing director and principal shareholder, has recently been granted a licence to search for, and salvage, wrecks in the waters of an island in the Caribbean.
For the moment, you do not need to know the whereabouts. The main thrust of the operation is centred on a Spanish galleon; it went down in fifteen sixty-four. She was a part of a Spanish plate fleet. She was caught in a hurricane, then was swept onto a reef, where she foundered.
We have had one of our researchers going through the archives in Spain, and he was lucky enough to find the ships manifest. It lists her complete cargo. The bulk of which was silver ingots, with a large amount of precious stones, mostly emeralds. The value is estimated by Sotheby’s, at a conservative, one hundred million pounds sterling. Therefore, you can see the need for complete secrecy.’
Liam sat dumbfounded.
‘Your mouth is hanging open,’ Joe said with a smile. Liam shut his mouth.
‘It sounds like something out of a boys own adventure comic. Who do I have to kill for my share,’ he asked, half in jest.
Joe looked at him seriously. ‘Nobody, I hope, but with this sort of money to be had, we expect all sorts of villains to come crawling out of the woodwork; once the news gets out.’
Liam looked questioningly at him.
‘Just where do I fit into the operation?’
‘Your job.’ Joe explained. ‘Will be to take complete charge of the security, both on board the ship, and also in any shore base that we set up. It is a big job, but it has big rewards. If you do it right, you will never have to work again.’
Joe paused. ‘I will level with you, on operations such as this, there is a great element of danger, and I do not mean just from sharks and the like. With this sort of money, you will get people who are quite willing to kill to take it away from us. That is where you come in. Simply put, you have the job of stopping them. Whatever it takes. From what you have told me, I do not think you will have a problem with that. Do you?’
‘Not in the slightest’. Liam answered, grim faced.
Joe continued. ‘If you take the job, you will be expected to stay on site in the Caribbean for about six months. Then you will be entitled to a months leave. The company will fly you wherever you wish to spend it.’
He gave Liam a few minutes to digest all that he had been told.
‘Well?’ Joe looked questioningly. ‘Do you want time to think it over?’
Liam grinned. ‘You have me hook line and sinker, I'm your man.’
Joe smiled. ‘You haven't even asked about pay and conditions.’
Liam laughed. ‘I came here thinking it would be a job for night watchman, or factory gate security. Then you offer me the chance of a lifetime. The one thing I hate in life is boredom, and this sounds anything but. Still, I suppose that I should ask, so go ahead, what is the salary and conditions?’
‘Well your salary will be two thousand five hundred a month, sterling, but paid in US. Dollars, and that's all found.
It will be paid from America, into whatever account you wish. That way you can make your own arrangements concerning tax. As the company is registered in America, and if you stay out of this country for at least twelve months, the British government will have nothing to do with it. The holiday arrangements I have already told you about. We will take care of the personal insurance. All of the executive personal will carry a million-dollar cover.’
Joe paused to sip his drink.
‘Your duties will be pretty varied. Primarily, you will be responsible for total security of both the vessel and crew. We will be working in a very violent part of the world. There have been quite a few cases of piracy, with yachts boarded, and the people on board being butchered, and for considerably less than we hope to be carrying.
As I said before, once word gets out of what we are doing, we can expect all sorts of trouble.
You will of course have staff to assist you, in fact that is going to be your first job, to interview and select them. I will leave it to you because I figure that you know better than I do the men for the job.
You can also select the weapons that you will need. We have full permission from the government of the island to carry arms, so an end user certificate will be no problem.
You will of course have a budget to work within, it is not unlimited, but we think it is more than ample. From our experience, Belgium seems to be about the most reasonable, concerning price, and they do have a great selection.
The salvage vessel is a converted stern trawler. She is called the Orange Maiden. At the moment, she is berthed here in Liverpool, at Canada dock. It is very well suited for the work; we have even fitted it with a moon pool, so the weather should not bother us too much.
You can go down tomorrow and introduce yourself to the skipper. Then start to make your plans for security. Any questions?’
Liam had a thousand questions whirling around in his head. Where to begin.
‘Well, as I have already said, I accept the job without any reservations. It is the chance of a lifetime, and any man would jump at it. One thing that I did not put in my CV., and did not tell you, is that I was also in the Falklands. I know it wasn't classed as a war, but nonetheless, a lot of men died. Some were close friends of mine.
I was also a small arms instructor, not only NATO weapons, but also the other sides. Therefore, you can gather that I am very qualified for the job. You know about Belfast, so although I don't like to take life, I will if I have to, and I wont loose any sleep over it either. That's about it I guess.’
Joe reached over the desk to offer Liam his hand. ‘You have just talked yourself into a job, congratulations. Let’s get down to details.’
While Liam had been talking, Joe had picked up a sheet of paper off his desk. He handed it to Liam.
Here is a list of the personal we have at the moment. I would like you to meet them as soon as possible. Then you can give me a written assessment of them.
Some of them, like the skipper and chief engineer, have been with us for some time, as have several of the crew, but most of the divers are new to us. That is why I would like your comments'.
'I'll get onto it first thing in the morning.’ Liam promised.
‘Fine, and if I may make a suggestion. I realise that Preston is only a few miles away, but I think it would be better all round if you were to move onto the ship as soon as possible. There is a cabin already arranged for whoever became security chief, and I am more than pleased that it is you.
I think that we will get along very well.’ Joe poured two more drinks. They again touched glasses. ‘To the Caribbean,’ Joe toasted.
‘Oh a couple of other things. Firstly, welcome aboard. Secondly, we sail in four weeks. We need to miss the hurricane season; it wouldn't do to become another wreck on the seabed for divers to pick over.’
Joe stood up. ‘One other thing, I suppose you should sign this non-disclosure form’. Liam happily signed.
Liam travelled back to Preston later that afternoon. On reaching his bed-sit, he hurriedly threw his few belongings into a suitcase.
After settling his rent with his landlady, he strolled along to the Black Lion pub. He intended to say a quick farewell to Jean, before taking the train again for Liverpool, and his new life.
As he entered, Jean looked up from behind the bar, her smile seemed to light up the whole room.
‘Liam’. She cried. ‘Oh thank the lord your back, I've missed you’.
She ran from behind the bar, and to cheers from the few other customers, threw her arms about him and proceeded to plant a resounding kiss on his lips.
‘Balls’, he thought. ‘So much for a quick fond farewell’.
Jean commenced to pour a Guinness for him.
‘How did the interview go? No, don't tell me now; let’s wait until I get off. Mums away again, so we can have the place to ourselves tonight, if you know what I mean’.
Liam knew only to well what she meant. However, he did consider himself to be a gentleman, and as gentleman, he decided the decent thing to do would be to oblige her one last time.
The evening was more or less a repeat of their last time together, only more frenzied.
Afterwards Liam lit two cigarettes, passing one to Jean. He started to tell her about the job he had taken, and the fact that it was goodbye. Half way through his story, the tears began.
Rapidly the tears gave way to rage. Jean used language that Liam had only heard in the army, finishing by ordering him out of the house. She was shocked when he collected his suitcase and walked out of the door. Her feminine whiles had failed her.
Liam caught the last train to Liverpool, found a cheap hotel, climbed into bed and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
Early next morning he was up dressed and out, looking for a taxi.
‘Where’ to boss?’ The cab driver asked.
‘Canada dock please, a ship called the Orange Maiden’, Liam replied.
‘Been here before boss?’ inquired the driver. Liam was thinking of the ship, as he answered no.
‘Tourist’, thought the driver. Then proceeded to take Liam on an unasked for tour of the city.
At first, Liam did not pay much attention to where the driver was taking him, being so deep in thought. Suddenly he realised what the taxi driver was up to.
‘If you try going around the one way system one more time, you had better like hospital food. I was born and raised in Huyton, (a well known rougher district of Liverpool), and I don't like being taken for a ride’. Liam said in a conversational tone.
‘Sorry boss thought you was a tourist, no 'ard feelins we all make mistakes’.
The taxi stopped at the dock gates, and Liam got out and paid the driver what he thought the fare should be. The driver did not argue; there was something about Liam that made him glad to be on his way.
When he announced his destination, to the policeman on duty, he received a decidedly strange look.
He pondered the name of the ship as he made his way through the dock estate. Turning the corner of a large dock shed, he stopped dead in his tracks.
‘Mary Mother of God’. He exclaimed aloud. There in front of him, moored to the quay was the Orange Maiden, and he realised the reason for her name. The ship was painted in what appeared to be day-glow orange.
‘It's a sight to giv ya sore eyes ini't la’, said a voice behind him.
Liam turned, to see a man leaning in the doorway of the dock shed, smoking a cigarette.
‘Surely it's only the undercoat’, Liam said.
‘No chance la, I was on da shore gang what painted er’, the man replied.
‘As a marrera fact, we asked the gaffer ta giv us dark glasses, but the gaffer wasen avin any of dat. We didn't even nick any paint, cos nobody gonnna paint nottin dat colour’.
Liam, although born and bred on Merseyside, was not too sure of what the man was saying. Nonetheless, he did not think it a good idea to ask for a translation, taking into account the size and appearance of the erstwhile painter.
‘Stands out like a black moggy in da snow dunit’, Stated the dockworker.
Liam declined to comment, gave a half-hearted wave, and proceeded to climb the gangway of the Orange Maiden.
As he gained deck level, a rather large pleasant faced young man greeted him.
‘May I help you?’ he inquired.
‘Is the Captain aboard?’ Liam asked.
‘Yes, the skippers in his cabin, I'll take you there’.
The seaman led the way into the ship. Stopping at a door marked Captain, he knocked.
A voice bellowed come in. Opening the door, the seaman announced Liam.
‘Someone to see you skip’ Then held the door open for Liam.
Standing over a table apparently studying a chart of some kind, was a large, bearded man. He was wearing a white roll neck sweater and black slacks. He looked inquiringly at Liam.
‘Hello’, I'm Liam Casey and I have been asked to report to you. I am the new head of security for the boat. Liam held out his hand. It was ignored.
‘I am Captain Hunter, and this is a ship. The boats are kept on the boat deck. Please remember that simple fact in future. I hope that you know more about security than you obviously know about ships’.
Liam was momentarily at a loss for words, so taken aback with the captain’s rudeness. Then he retaliated.
‘I was hoping to get of to a good start with all on board your ship, but obviously not. Let me first explain, that I am not a seaman, but I am, or rather was, a soldier, and now, as I said I am head security. I understand that you are the Captain, and that this is your ship. However, I do not think it gives you the right to be so bloody objectionable.
Captain Hunter studied Liam for a long minute; then a huge grin came over his face. His hand came out to Liam. ‘Good for you Liam my boy, just wanted to see what you were made of, can't stand wimps or yes men on my ship. Thought I'd see if you had any balls, and I can see that you have. Welcome aboard’.
Liam was astounded by the sudden change in the skipper’s attitude.
‘Take a seat’. The captain pushed a chair across to him. ‘The name is James, but my friends call me Jock, so I hope you will call me Jock. I run a tight ship, but hopefully, a friendly one. If you do your job right, we will get along fine.
Joe McKay warned me that you were a might quick tempered, and wouldn't take shit. It seems he was right. I wanted to find out for myself, and I did. Thought you were going to land me one for a minute. You do get a mean look in your eyes, don't you’.
Liam Laughed. ‘I nearly did, but I thought I might lose my job before I started it’.
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