The Ocean Dove by Carlos Luxul

Author:Carlos Luxul [Luxul, Carlos]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PublishNation
Published: 2020-04-26T22:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

The Ocean Dove was nestling at a berth in Jebil Ali, Dubai, closing its hatch after the cranes had placed the last bulldozer on the bed of a waiting trailer. Umm Qasr had come and gone without incident and, as a bonus, the ship had fixed some construction equipment being demobilised from a contract in Iraq. It was only half a cargo and it had paid badly, but it was better than nothing.

It was Saturday, 12 March. Just before noon Choukri took the Metro into Dubai, where the line ended, before hailing a cab to complete the journey to Sharjah. Saturday was a normal working day, the first of the week. Everyone was at work.

In Bulent’s office, Choukri pressed his hands flat on the meeting table. They were still dirty from supervising the unloading, a fingernail torn at an ugly angle, the bandage around it stained.

‘Gabon? No fucking way!’ he said. ‘Don’t even think it.’

Jawad, Bulent and Rashid looked at each other, then at Choukri.

‘So we’ll take the feedering,’ Bulent said.

‘Exactly.’

Bulent had two employment options for the ship. One of them was a cargo to Gabon. The voyage would take them south around the Cape and up the coast of West Africa. The schedule would be tight, without any hitches. Choukri was not prepared to risk languishing in Africa while they tried to find a suitable cargo to reposition the ship back in the Indian Ocean, in Pakistan, where nothing was going to stop him from keeping his appointment with Khan.

There was also some feeder work, but it was only for thirty days.

‘A month’s work. Then we find a cargo to India or Pakistan,’ Choukri said, turning to Rashid and making sure his irritation was clear in his voice.

Rashid had backed Bulent’s argument for the Gabon cargo, pointing out it paid better – acting the role of the astute businessman. Choukri could accept Bulent’s default position would always be to do what was best for the ship. But Rashid, what did he know about ships and why should he care? He just wanted to hear his own voice and find some higher ground to look down from. Jawad, Choukri noted, kept his own counsel until asked and didn’t hesitate to back the feedering.

‘Okay. We do the feeder work,’ Rashid said, as though he was chairing the meeting.

‘Of course we do,’ Choukri said. ‘What are you thinking – or not thinking? We’re so close now I can almost smell it and you’re pissing about over a few dollars. And yeah, I’ve got the date from the Emir. It’s all approved.’

Choukri leant back. The reaction around the table was clear. They sat in silence, knowing what it meant – that the Network’s planners and strategists had completed their studies, their modelling of the human and financial costs, the impact on the victims’ and nation’s psyche, and the long-term prospects on the long and tortuous road to recovery.

‘And what does it look like?’ Jawad said after a while.

‘Like everything we can dream of,’ Choukri said, nodding to himself.

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