The Albatros And The Pirates Of Galguduud. Supervielle Federico
Alicante of birth, or anywhere else in the world.
Reyes took advantage of the taxi ride from the airport to Zurich to mentally go over the information he had compiled the previous day. The three Swiss ship hijackings had all been similar. The pirates had attacked by night managing to get close to the sides of the enormous oil tankers with various skiffs which were supposedly launched from a mother vessel that had not yet been identified. It wasn’t even known if it had been the same organization that had perpetrated all the attacks.
As soon as they had control of the tanker the pirates had set a course for Somali waters, specifically the south of the country, the zone that the government had no control over. In two of the instances the war ships that patrolled the zone had no time to react before the supertanker reached Somali waters. And in the other instance, the pirates had managed to take the ship without the crew even noticing until the next day when they revealed themselves. Either way, when the pirates took an oil tanker they would send a warning message on channel 16, the international marine emergency channel, threatening to shoot one of the hostages if any other ships approached the tanker.
In the first of the hijackings, which happened almost two years ago, a French frigate had approached the tanker to try to use the special operations team on board. Then the pirates had contacted them by radio and shot a hostage. When the French heard the shot and the screams over the radio they immediately aborted the operation. Luckily, they had shot the hostage in the leg and he was treated the next day without too many complications after the ransom was paid. However, since then no one had attempted to take a captured ship back by force.
The standard pirate procedure was to anchor the ship on some protected beach and wait for the ransom to be paid while they kept the hostages constantly at gunpoint to make sure no one tried to free them by force. In other cases, the pirates had made a mistake, and either an American, English, or French special operations team had taken advantage of it. But not in Mr. Gotthelf’s case.
After getting paid, the pirates would flee leaving the hostages on board and threatening to blow up the ship if someone followed them. Shortly after, they would disappear in the chaos of the southern part of the African country. The bomb threats were not always true but no one was about to gamble with the lives of the hostages, and much less after having paid the ransom.
It was clear the pirates knew what they were doing. There had to be someone behind all the planning. He was sure of that. The improvement of their means came from the ransom money. But money means nothing unless you know where and how to spend it. What’s more, their techniques were becoming increasingly refined. A few years ago no one would imagine a group of drugged Somalis taking a ship without alerting the crew, as if they were American Navy Seals. It was clear they were receiving more or less specific training, and that at least some of them were leaving their khat behind.
Another detail that the consultant had noticed was the speed with which Gotthelf would pay the ransoms. It was usually the next day. For a split second a crazy idea crossed his mind. Illegal associations between Swiss magnates and pirates to swindle insurance companies? But he quickly rejected the thought. The little he knew about Gotthelf was enough to think he wouldn’t make alliances with pirates. Or so he thought.
Gotthelf was a man used to winning, but it was precisely because of that fact that he would also know perfectly well when he had lost and probably preferred to get rid of it immediately thus avoiding bigger troubles. However, three times in twenty months was too many and that’s why he had decided to hire a consultant in the field of security and defense even though Reyes still hadn’t been able to figure out what for.
Three times in twenty months. That was the other thing that had caught his attention. He had reviewed the rest of the hijackings in Somali waters and no other company had such great losses. In the instance of the only other supertanker that had been captured it had been a combination of the attackers’ luck and the crew’s incompetence. No one could figure out how the pirates, completely drugged, had managed to board the ship. Then, when they got to the bridge they had found the officer alone and asleep. He had sent the helmsman to bed. Reyes remembered how, completely bewildered, he had asked a friend from the Merchant Marine about the behavior of the officer and he had replied that even though it wasn’t common, it wasn’t the first time it’s been heard of an officer sending his helmsman to bed and then falling asleep himself on the bridge. On that occasion the pirates had been so careless that they had beached the ship before anchoring it. The pirates, fishermen after all, who were used to seeing twenty-something foot long dugout canoes probably never imagined there were supertankers with a sixty-five foot draft.
And there had barely been captures of tankers that size. His curiosity piqued, Reyes had looked up the characteristics of Swiss ships, more than 980 feet in length and a beam of almost 165. He had also verified how the latest work on the Suez Canal allowed for the passage of these giants. It was clear that not everyone can pilot a ship with those characteristics. The pirates had to have someone with at least some basic training.
It was also true that Alps Tankers had the most ships fitting those characteristics in that area but still the ratio didn’t quite make sense.
What was it about the Swiss shipping company that attracted efficient pirates? Was it just a fluke?
As he got out of the taxi Reyes was hoping the meeting with Mr. Gotthelf would shed some light on the matter.
#
Two hours later, cleaned up and changed, he was entering the elevator of Alps Tankers building and was pressing the button the receptionist had indicated. He was wearing a dark gray suit made by his tailor in Madrid, blue shirt with a red tie with white stripes and gleaming black Fratelli Rosetti shoes. Had it been a social occasion he would have worn a green tie to go with his eyes. He knew his eyes had charmed many a young woman when he was in his prime and even now they caught the attention of more than a few. As for the rest of his body, he thought dispirited, it had changed much more. Everyone noticed his age and he himself was no exception. Twenty or thirty pounds more made it so he didn’t feel as confident at the beach, and wrinkles are not forgiving to anyone. He knew that if he didn’t have his mother’s eyes he wouldn’t attract any attention. Fortyish man belly, medium stature, facial features common in Mediterranean Spain and dark hair. Of course, he took good care of himself, always clean shaven, hair combed and a touch of cologne, but he wasn’t the same anymore.
In any case, Reyes thought, I’m not here to pick up girls. I’m here to do what I like and no one does it like I do.
As he exited the elevator there was a young woman waiting for him.
“Good morning Mr. Reyes,” she greeted him. “Welcome. This way please.”
Twenty-something, tall and thin, although he noticed thankfully as Marianne turned to go, not as thin as some women like to be. Blonde, blue eyes, clear skin and delicate features. She had on cute glasses, the kind that some call “sexy secretary glasses”. She could have probably been a model if she had wanted to. She was the stereotypical Nordic woman many Latin men dream about. She was wearing a skirt, blouse and heels that said: I’m working, I’m a professional, but I still like to look good.
Reyes followed her through a wide hallway that was decorated with good taste and class. It was obvious Mr. Gotthelf liked taking care of himself and enjoyed the good things in life. Reyes thought he recognized the style of a famous painter in one of the paintings on the walls.
At the end of the hallway just after a desk with two computers and a number of telephones that must belong to Marianne there was a mahogany door at which the secretary called before entering. She announced in German, “Herr Reyes.”
After that she stepped aside and let the Spaniard in. The office had the same style as the hallway. Reyes was sure it was worth more than his entire chalet on the outskirts of Madrid. And he also liked taking good care of himself.
At the back of the room behind an oak desk and sitting on a leather chair Gotthelf watched him collected. When he rose to greet him Reyes noticed the chair was custom made. He had heard about those but had never seen one. They would take the customer’s measurements to get the shape of the body and then would make a chair to fit. For the