Spider Shepherd 11 - White Lies Read Free Page B

to get his bag, a Nike holdall. He slammed the boot shut.
    The Frenchman had opened the van doors and the refugees climbed out and gathered together in a tight group like worried sheep.
    ‘Right, get them on to the boats, now,’ said Coatsworth. He waved goodbye to the Frenchman, who climbed into the van and drove off.
    There was a gap in the sea wall leading to a flight of stone steps. At the bottom of the steps was a wooden jetty where two high-performance rigid inflatable boats were bobbing in the swell. Rainey and Mercier ushered the men, women and children down the stone stairs to the waiting ribs. Each was about twenty feet long with a solid hull surrounded by a flexible inflatable collar that allowed the vessel to stay afloat even if swamped in rough seas. Each had a single massive Yamaha engine at the stern. There were few faster boats around, and these were certainly faster than anything owned by the UK’s Border Force or HM Revenue and Customs. The boats were also virtually invisible to radar, making them the perfect smuggler’s boat. Each had dual controls at the bow and a double bench seat in the centre with spaces for eight people and nylon seat belts to keep them securely in place.
    Mercier and Rainey dumped their bags in the bow and helped the refugees into the boats.
    ‘You didn’t say anything about guns,’ Bell muttered to Coatsworth.
    ‘What, you think I’m gonna be wandering around in the dark with thirty grand in my bag without some way of protecting myself?’ sneered Coatsworth. He pointed down at the Somalians who were fastening their seat belts. ‘For all we know they could be bloody pirates. You think I’m going out to sea with people I don’t know without a gun?’ He gestured at the group, who were giving him anxious looks and muttering among themselves. ‘Look, mate, the meek don’t inherit the earth and they sure as hell don’t get out of shitholes like Iraq and Afghanistan or those African countries where they chop off each other’s arms. Anyone who has made it this far has had to lie, cheat, steal and probably done a lot worse. Thieves, warlords and murderers, the odd torturer or two, they’re the ones who get this far.’
    ‘She’s a teacher, the wife of that guy you sent packing,’ said Bell.
    ‘Yeah, well, she’s the exception,’ said Coatsworth. ‘And how do we know she’s telling the truth? For all we know her husband could have been Saddam Hussein’s torturer-in-chief. Do you think teachers and farmers and bus drivers can get the money to escape from Iraq and get here? Do you think nice smiley people with a song in their hearts claw their way out?’ He shook his head. ‘No, mate. The bastards are the ones who make it out and they do it by climbing over everybody else. They do what it takes to survive.’
    ‘You can’t blame them for that,’ said Bell.
    ‘No, you can’t. But the sort of ruthlessness that got them this far is the sort of ruthlessness that could lead to them knifing me when we’re out at sea and throwing me overboard so that they get my money and my boat. That’s why we search them before we put them on board and why I carry a big gun. Got it?’
    ‘Got it,’ said Bell.
    ‘It’s for protection.’
    Bell held up his hands. ‘I hear you, Ally. It’s not a problem.’
    ‘Good man. Now let’s get this cargo delivered.’
    ‘When are you going to tell me where we’re going?’ said Bell.
    ‘I’ve given the GPS coordinates to Frankie,’ said Coatsworth. ‘Don’t take it personal, mate. I’m the only one who knows the drop-off point.’
    ‘Keeping your cards close to your chest? I can understand that.’
    Coatsworth slapped him on the back. ‘I’ve been doing this for a while and never come close to being caught,’ he said. ‘I want to keep it that way. Look, you’ll see it on the GPS anyway. We’re heading north, up to the Suffolk coast. Near a place called Southwold. It’s a quiet beach. I’ve used it