Maltese Steel

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Steel showered and changed. He slipped on the black suit and the black polo shirt he had packed. The refreshing shower had done the trick, but he feared the air-conditioned room gave his body false hope for what awaited outside. Reaching into his jacket pocket, Steel pulled out the cabbie’s business card and phoned the number. There was something about Stan that intrigued Steel. It was one of those feelings he would have but could not quite put his finger on it. So, Steel decided to keep the man close. It was probably nothing, but he had to be sure.

‘Be there in twenty minutes was the promise. Steel went down to the bar and had a quick double Jonnie Walker Blue. Steel looked out through the panoramic windows. The sparkling lights of the town across the water offered a hypnotic sight.

Steel checked his watch, then finished his drink before heading for the hotel entrance.

As the British cabbie pulled the minibus up in front of the hotel, Steel smiled. The guy was there with five minutes to spare.

Not bad.

‘I hope you didn’t run any red lights to get to me?’ Steel joked, but Stan just rocked his hand from side to side, as if to say ‘maybe.’ The cabbie laughed as Steel climbed into the cab and clicked on his seat belt. The cabbie started the engine, then put his foot down. The engine screamed like a small, wounded animal as the vehicle took off, leaving a cloud of black, oily smoke.

‘Where too, guvnor?’ Stan asked, his mouth still full of whatever foul-smelling thing he was having for his supper.

‘This address,’ Steel said, passing the address to Stan. ‘Also, I need to pick up wine and flowers on the way.’ Foster lived in a town called Attard which was to the north, which Steel had discovered using the map search, was also close to the American Embassy.

Stan grumbled to himself before putting the destination into his navigation system.

Extended by the shopping trip, the journey through small villages, open country roads gave Steel time to think.

Why was he really here? What was the purpose of Foster’s invitation after all these years? The guy worked for the CIA if they were hunting down terrorists. He had unlimited resources without Steel.

No, whatever it was, either off the books or personal – or worse – both.

It was five-fifty-five when they arrived. ‘Five minutes before a parade,’ Steel could hear his old drill sergeant scream.

Sometimes that five minutes made all the difference.

It did back then.

Two things Steel learnt from his days in the British Army.

One; never volunteer for anything.

Two; Five minutes before a parade, that way you’ll never be late.

Words to live by.

Steel took in the scenery as Stan wound through the small towns, often getting stuck behind a tourist who had a rental car and had no idea where they were going. Just outside, Attard Stan pulled up next to a*****e he knew so Steel could get the flowers and wine. While Steel paid, he noticed that Stan was on his cell phone texting again. The man had been texting with someone almost the entire trip. Steel put it down as nothing to be concerned about, just a guy who liked to keep in touch, maybe a girlfriend or something?

Steel got back in the minibus cab and closed the door, all the while wondering what Foster’s invitation was really about.

The cab wound through the dusty streets full of mixed looking houses before pulling up to a long driveway between two buildings.

‘Here you go, sir. If you need me to pick you up…’ Stan said, making a telephone gesture.

‘Yeah… I know, just call,’ Steel smiled and gave the cabbie twenty-five euros before getting out and taking his shopping bags with him. He shut the door and moved out of the way before Stan took off at speed, spitting loose gravel and pebbles everywhere. Steel paused for a moment, looking up both sides of the street as if he was unsure about what he was about to do and was weighing up an escape strategy. But Steel was checking for anything he considered strange – out of place. Just like the shiny blue mini down the road with a person sitting in it. Steel had seen it on the way down. He had seen the person had a paper map and a navigation system out. They could have been lost, a tourist who did not know their way around. Possible. Steel added it to memory, just in case.

Steel began to walk down the path. The houses on either side did not have much in plants and no lawn in the back gardens. He could tell the island was on some water allowance that did not cater to greenery. Some houses had pools for those who could afford to fill them.

Foster’s house was large but humble, not the fancy white picket fence and big garden he had always dreamt of having. The house was three stories, with off-white walls and a terracotta tiled roof.

Steel found the Mediterranean look pleasant – quaint even. Out front, there were two cars parked. One was a large black Range Rover, and the other a massive white Mitsubishi four-by-four. Steel noticed the adjacent garage had been converted into an extra room.

Steel took a moment as he walked up to check the place out. Motion-activated cameras covered the front door and driveway. As he stood at the door, he looked across to the window to his right. The inner framework had a three-centimetre strip of aluminium next to the glass. A piece of obsolete metal to some, but Steel recognised it as laser meshing. A calibrated net of beams connected to an alarm, which sounded when the window was struck. The glass was probably bulletproof.

Why?

Steel did not understand.

As far as Steel knew, Foster was a section chief in charge of monitor watchers. They were the eyes for the Navy and passport control.

Maybe Foster thought his past might catch up with him. In all the years they served in teams, Steel never knew Foster to be paranoid.

Careful, yes – but never like this.

The door swung open, and a fifteen-year-old girl stood in the doorway. She was a cute kid who had her mother’s looks. She wore jeans and a band T-shirt, her long brown hair fell straight down. Steel was shocked. The last time he’d last seen Abby, she was knee-high.

‘Yes,’ asked the girl with an unfriendly attitude.

‘Abby? I suppose you don’t remember me. My name is John, and I used to work with your father,’ Steel said. Hoping for some reaction apart from a shoulder shrug.

‘No,’ she replied before slamming the door, followed by a loud sorrowful cry.

Steel smiled and shook his head. He remembered when she was a little girl, all freckles and braces. Now she was grown up. Cute innocence replaced by an angry teenager.

‘Why’s the door shut? Didn’t you ask him in?’

Steel heard his friend yell out after his kid.

The door opened, and Foster stood there. He still stood tall, but his black hair had been replaced by a silver –Steel thought it suited him. The years of good food and desk work had added a couple of pounds. Despite that, Foster still looked in good shape.

Foster’s eyes widened with relief at the sight of his old friend.

‘I don’t think much of your maid service,’ Steel joked.

‘Probably thought you were a beggar in those rags,’ Foster shot back, pointing to Steel’s thousand-dollar suit. The two men laughed and embraced like brothers.

‘How you doing?’ Steel asked. He saw the look of dismay on Foster’s face. His were red from too much crying.

‘Better… I guess. Hasn’t really sunk in yet.’

Steel nodded; he knew that pain all too well.

‘Good to see you, buddy,’ Foster said.

At first, Steel said nothing; he just hung in the large man’s vice-like grip. Steel just stood there, trying not to lose hold of the wine or the flowers.

‘Come on, let’s get you inside,’ Foster said and led Steel inside.

Steel followed Foster through the house to a large kitchen and then to the backyard. There was a small, dried grass patch at the bottom of the square-shaped grounds, only a wall of high hedges enclosed space with a large pool and a patio. Between the house and the pool stood a long metal table with a marble effect plastic top, surrounded by eight wicker chairs.

Several small trees in terracotta pots lined the garden and other potted plants that had blossomed into various blues, reds, and yellows.

This added some life to the otherwise dry garden.

A black and white cat walked along the poolside before finding a shady spot in the corner of the back yard.

Martha Foster was a stunning woman. She had been then and even more so now. He remembered long golden locks that used to flow over her shoulders. But now, she wore her hair short. It suited her – but then everything looked good on her.

Even with the loose-fitting white dress, her figure was still that of a model ‒ a career she had given up, to be with Foster. She may have given up the catwalk, but boy, could she still turn heads.

Martha was busy putting wine glasses on the long table, ready for his visit. Her movements were slow and laboured, like she had no energy.

Steel stood silently in the kitchen doorway and just looked at the vision before him. Waiting to see her reaction.

It seemed like a lifetime since their last meeting.

Foster coughed subtlety as if to get her attention.

Martha Foster turned with a broken smile to look at her husband. As she looked up, her gaze fell upon a familiar sight.

‘Hello Martha,’ Steel simply said.

Martha cried as she rushed forwards. Martha threw her arms around him and held him tight. ‘Thank you for coming. It means a lot,’ Martha said. Her voice was soft, but something about her tone made Steel uneasy.

‘These are for you,’ Steel said, handing her the flowers. Martha smiled and thanked him. Taking the flowers, Martha searched for a vase, and Marcus took the wine.

Steel watched Marcus and Martha as they busied themselves with opening wine and arranging the flowers. But all the while, Steel got the feeling there was more to his being there than just helping to morn poor Lucy. Steel had seen the redness of Martha’s eyes, the drawn look in her face. She had been crying. Abby was angry, and Foster was attempting to put on a brave face for his family.