Martin Stein sat in his car, impatiently waiting for some movement. Eventually he heard the metallic sound signifying the release of the hydraulic rams holding the ferry doors closed then accompanied by creaks and whines he saw a crack appear in the bow bulkhead before him. He watched the bow open and the ramp lower and extend into place, he then had to wait his turn to drive onto dry land, then the long trail through customs before he could honestly say he was back in England.
He pulled into the customs area and wound down his window, the cold night air slapping him around the face.
"Anything to declare?" Asked the uniformed man, as he took Martins Passport.
"I've got some fags and booze." Martin replied. "But I've only been to Holland, bought it there."
"Could you pull over to that spot there Mr Stein, we would like to examine your vehicle." The customs officer pointed at an empty bay as he spoke.
Martin Stein couldn't believe it, he had made the trip many times, and never been stopped before. Annoyed at the inconvenience, grumbling to himself he pulled over to the designated bay, closed his window and waited.
Almost fifteen minutes went by as Martin pondered his wisdom of using the ferry and road system as opposed to the much quicker and easier option of flying. Booze and Fags, simply that. He could make money from the booze and fags, but if customs appropriated this load then that wiped his profit for the last three months.
"Bugger." he mumbled to himself. "Bugger, bugger, bugger."
His personal admonishments were interrupted by a tap on his window.
"Mr Stein, would you follow me." A tall man in a slightly wrinkled brown suit spoke. Martin knew it wasn't a request. He got out of his car, locked it and turned to follow the man.
He was led inside a large building, and through some corridors and up two flights of stairs before eventually he was shown into a room.
"Would you mind waiting here for a moment sir." Again, not a question. Martin entered the room. It was furnished with a metal framed table, its Formica covered top showing scars from years of abuse. Two chairs of matching framework stood, one either side, Martin sat in the one furthest from, and facing the door.
Eventually the door opened and the man that had led him there returned. He carried with him a large file and a laptop case.
"Mr Stein, may I call you Martin?" before Martin could answer he said "Good. You have just returned from Holland, have you not?" Again not waiting for an answer he continued. " There you travelled to Amsterdam, where you met with Mr Eric van der Zwart, to whom you delivered two million pounds worth of blood diamonds." He watched Martin intently as he spoke, the colour had started draining from him at the mention of Amsterdam, his face was completely ashen at the precise mention of the diamonds.
Martin kept quiet, trying to work out what was going on. He knew he had been doing something dodgy, he had always assumed that he could say he had been unaware he was a courier for illegal diamonds. Although now it was spelled out for him, it couldn't really have been anything else. He would have had to have been stupid to not know what he was carrying. He had suspected that first time, it was the second that he first cracked the combination lock on the case he had carried. He did it every time after that, mostly to keep him occupied on the long ferry crossings, dreaming of the day he would have the balls to cut and run.
He dismissed that for now, and weighed up his current situation. He hadn't been arrested, he hadn't been cautioned and this bloke in the suit hadn't given his name. Martin had enough nous to understand something was not normal about this, so he just sat and waited for the other man to speak again.
As the colour was returning to Martin Stein, Inspector Grey watched him.
"Now Mr Stein, Martin. I think we are in a position to help one another." He stared at Martin, measuring the bewilderment that appeared on his face.
"As you may have guessed by now, I am investigating your employer, and no, before you make yourself look ridiculous. I do not mean Charles and Curtis Chiswick for whom you work as an accountant. I of course Mean Mr Francois Grimard, dear old Mr Grimm himself. The one that you run errands for, the one whom your employers farm you out to."
Martin had regained his former white complexion and now his head drooped in defeat.
"If you are, as I expect, able to enlighten me and help me with my enquiries, I have been authorised to give you an out."
Martin raised his head and looked at the inspector, and was surprised to see concern on his face.
"I am offering you witness protection, if you turn Queens evidence."
"Yeah like you did to Derek Bennet, that did him a lot of good didn't it?" Spat out Martin, the first time he had spoken since he got inside the building. Why don't you just beat me to a pulp and chop me up for the pigs yourself?"
"We were actually thinking of blowing you up." Offered the policeman.
If Martin had looked bewildered before, then now his visage could only be called dumbfounded.
"Of course if you refuse, we will pick you up on your next trip, on your way to Amsterdam of course, or even worse for you, ehm, your replacement."
Martin physically shuddered at the thought. He knew he was in trouble. If he said nothing the best thing he had to look forward to was being picked up and done for smuggling, then when the next shipment went over and was intercepted, word would be out he was a grass. If he went to Grimm, he would probably just "silence" him, and again when the next guy was picked up, who would blame Grimm for offing him? That left two choices, take their offer or run. Running would be difficult. He would have to convince Angie to run with him. They would need new identities. That was do-able he had done enough for the Grimm to know who the documents could be purchased from, but what would be the point. Grimm could easily find out from those that supplied the ID his new name. Martin slumped in his chair, he had no room to move, no escape. He was deep up the proverbial shit creek and no paddle to be seen.
Seeing his defeat the Inspector continued. He outlined the procedure of witness protection and Martin listened carefully. Martin asked a few questions and was disappointed with the answers, he was not convinced things would go the way he was being told, but every question he threw out, the Inspector had an answer for, then Martin asked the question that changed his attitude to the whole experience.
"So where would Angie and I be going?" he asked innocently.
The Inspector looked at him in surprise.
"Before I agree to this I have to talk it over with her, and we will have to agree as to where we will go. I know you said we could have no knowledge of where we could go, but still I have to make sure she is okay with it." Martin spoke carefully.
"You can't be serious, she is the last person you need to know where you are." exclaimed Grey.
Martin looked at him incredulously.
"You don't know?" The inspector asked.
Martin looked at him slowly shaking his head.
"Wait here." said Grey as he left the room. He returned carrying some printed sheets of paper, he handed them to Martin.
"Sign these and then I will show you something."
Martin carefully read through the documents, signed one and passed the other back without signing.
"The dates wrong, by over three months, it's dated last January." he explained.
The inspector looked annoyed. "Just fucking sign it will you."
Martin made no move to comply.
"Listen up, we have got court orders for phone taps and bugs on nearly every house, building and business that Mr Francois fucking Grimard has anything to do with. In all of these, we have been unable to get any information of any value. In fact everything we find out from these, shows him to be a fine upstanding citizen. I know he's paying off someone to keep him informed about the investigation."
Martin said nothing.
"We became aware that he was using you to do more than keep books, and I had just started to fill in the paperwork to request a court order to bug your house. When I realised that I needed another way to get information." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I broke the law, I got a shady P.I. to bug your house from the date on the form. I thought if he didn't know it was bugged he might say something. I was right, he is all but running his illicit business dealings from yours, and two other stupid bitches houses."
Martin became both interested and fearful about what he was going to hear. "Go on."
"I need you to sign this contract, it just about makes things legal." Grey said, sliding the papers over to him.
Martin made no move to sign them.
"We, or rather I have found out many things, things about Francois, his business, your wife and of course you Martin."
Martins face had turned scarlet, he was both angry and ashamed. Angry because of the intrusion into his personal life, ashamed as he knew what had happened over the last six months in his marriage.
"When was the last time you made love with your wife Martin?"
"It seems you already know. He replied indignantly. A week last Monday, the last time I returned from a trip abroad."
"You made love, or you went down on her and she gave you a handjob?"
Martin said nothing and squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.
"In fact, that has been the norm for your lovelife since we have been monitoring your house. You return home, eat your wife out, and sometimes get a handjob in return. Why is that do you think?"
