a doctor?”
They both nodded.
Sonnenburg gestured towards the large screen on the wall.
“You’ll be interested to know that we have received correspondence from the British military intelligence service. You will probably better know it as MI6.…”
Dennis nodded.
“We are no longer working with Interpol but with respective military authorities on this matter. This means that progress may become a little slower regarding the warrant for Von Werner and his group. His acts have now been classified as terrorism and therefore will merit military intervention. I can tell you that his container ship, the one you were on, the ‘Ocean breeze’ was boarded by Interpol agents accompanied by Italian navy seals. Von Werner had already left the ship. It was found to only contain crew members and none of his mercenaries. Six crew members were arrested, two released and four detained. The ship itself was allowed to continue on schedule because of the itinery of its cargo. It will be docking in Agadir in Morocco in one week.”
Sonnenburg brought up images on the screen.
“Thanks to British intelligence we now have known acquaintances on five more of Von Werner’s associates. For instance, this man.”
“Anatoly Petrov,” Hutchinson read the name on Sonnenburg’s screen.
“Yes. Former Russian agent, ex-military. First gulf war. Served in Afghanistan, Kosovo, virtually anywhere the Russians have been involved in in the last twenty five years, Petrov has been a part of it. Rose to the rank of colonel. In charge of a task force in Iraq he began working for the other side, supplying weapons to various terrorist factions. Has disappeared until now.”
“Sounds like a real nasty piece of work,” Hutchinson said.
Dennis leaned in closer to the screen.
“Mr Dennis, do you have something you wish to add?” Sonnenburg asked.
Dennis studied the face casting his mind back to the sniper on the Ocean breeze.
“I think he was on the ship.”
“You are sure?”
“It was raining hard. It was dark and the ship was rolling and pitching but I did get a good glimpse of him for a split second. I think it was him.”
Sonnenburg clicked on the next picture. This name Dennis did know.
“Gennady Borodinoff,” Sonnenburg began, “Served under Petrov in Iraq. Wanted for war crimes against humanity….”
Dennis raised his hand.
“Yes.”
“He was crushed by a container on the ship.”
“Crushed?”
“Yes. There was a container that come adrift. It killed him.”
Sonnenburg began typing on his laptop.
“We’ll need confirmation of course.”
The next picture showed Sergei Danilov. A red banner across the image read ‘deceased’. Natalie looked into the eyes and shuddered. The next image was of a man with oriental features with very scarred cheeks. Possibly caused by acne as a child.
“This we believe is Kim Li Choi. He’s North Korean, a former North Korean army lieutenant. His father is a colonel in the North Korean army. Kim was court-martialled from the army in disgrace. His father disowned him and he was believed to have moved to Russia, became involved in drug dealing and is wanted in connection with the murders of two policemen in St Petersburg, Russia. Has a taste for fast cars, could possibly be one of our Hummer drivers.”
“He was on the ship,” Dennis said, “He handed a briefcase to her,” Dennis added as the image of the redhead appeared next.
“We’re not sure about her. Her name and details are unknown.”
“She was on the ship. She left in the Dolphin helicopter with the Korean,” Dennis said moving closer to the screen. He looked at the picture of the beautiful redhead getting into a black car. She was wearing dark sunglasses but Dennis was sure it was her.
“You are sure?” Sonnenburg asked the journalist.
“Definitely. She took the briefcase and left just before they took me hostage.”
“Have you any idea of what was in the briefcase?”
“Sorry.”
“Where did all this intelligence originate. I mean why weren’t we shown these before?” Hutchinson asked.
“I already told you we got this information from MI6. The man you captured in London Mr Dennis has decided to talk,” Sonnenburg brought the man’s image up on the screen. “His name is Ireneusz Stancyk. He is a Polish national. Not much is known about his background as yet. It seems the British offered him 15 years off a prison sentence if he was willing to talk, and he did.”
“Ah well, I’m pleased to see that my evening of getting my arse grilled by the metropolitan police paid off.”
“Where does Von Werner get his people from?” Hutchinson asked quietly.
“Physco’s-r-us,” Dennis offered to a stern look from Sonnenburg.
“Sorry,” he said, he grimaced at Natalie who was