The Iranian Blockade by Stephen Makk

Author:Stephen Makk [Makk, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: submarine war fiction, gulf conflict fiction, MI6 fiction
Publisher: Stephen Makk
Published: 2018-08-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Davao City. South Philippines.

THEY’D CHOSEN TO MEET at a small estate on the slopes of Mount Apo around twelve miles west of the city. It was quiet, secluded, away from any population centres.

The two men sat at a table under the shade of the trees in a forest glade. They’d been driven there by two separate Toyota vehicles, each carried three aides with them. One of the aides poured out glasses of fruit juice from ice filled jars.

One of the men had the almond eyed oriental look, he could be Japanese, Korean or Chinese. The other looked Arabic Middle Eastern, Egyptian or Saudi perhaps.

“I saw the report from the Production group, all seem to be complete,” said the oriental.

“Yes, my friend, it’s cleaned up now apparently,” said the Arab. “How is your side progressing?”

The oriental took a draft of the cold fruit juice.

“I don’t know how they can live in this humidity. Manufacturing and processing are underway. Some are ready, others will be soon. How are the consignments you are supplying?”

“Ready, we’ve arranged the transport by two separate third parties.”

“Can you trust them?” The Arab nodded.

“Yes, they were discrete with transport to your, let’s say neighbour.”

“Then we have concluded phase one. It was always going to be the most difficult. Any undue problems?”

“No, loading licences can be obtained. The shipping business needs the cash.” The oriental smiled.

“Yes, we found the same. So, we’ll dispatch the first items when we receive your first consignment. Then we switch, we dispatch first and you ship on receipt of our goods.”

“Yes,” said the Arab, “we alternate. Our dispatch first. Then you, and so on.”

The two men shook hands. “Then we are ready to make the first payments?”

“Yes, we’ll pay the first five hundred million dollars into your account in the Cayman Islands,” said the Arab, “and you pay ours into Bahrain.” The oriental stood.

“Then let’s authorise the payments.”

The two men walked off in separate directions, each was around thirty yards away from the table and spoke on their cell phones for a few minutes. They returned and sat.

The oriental smiled.

“Let’s drink to our agreement.” He gestured to one of the aides.

The man poured out more fruit juice.

Two other aides approached holding machetes behind their backs. The Arab and the oriental had their heads pulled roughly back by the hair.

“What the...” The two long blades were pulled quickly across the two men’s necks. Blood spurted over the table and their outstretched arms clawing in vain at the blades. The blood spurts ebbed away, and blood gushed over their jerking bodies. The aides produced hot spoons from the barbeque and burned away the men’s fingerprints. Their heads were completely severed and placed on the barbeque. The lid was pulled down. The aides cleaned up after themselves. After twenty minutes or so the barbeque lid was lifted. There where just two blacken baked heads lying there. Both were more skull than head. It was a job well done. One of them patted his pocket and the large wad of dollars it contained.

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