Chapter 47

The Islander was only an hour away from the approach to the Solent, the channel between the Isle of Wight and the mainland. The Captain had requested the standard tug escorts and the two smaller, powerful boats were to be with the freighter in a few minutes.

It was a fresh day with a clean autumnal wind blowing across the decks; enough to fly the flag from the mizzen mast.

Natalia was a mixture of emotion. Externally she was holding her feelings together, she had to, whilst internally her inner turmoil at losing her brothers and the responsibility that now weighed upon her was crushing, like an ever tightening vice. She was determined to lose the noose from around her neck, to shake off the shackles of what had happened, but it would take time as everything had occurred so suddenly.

Bournemouth had fallen into view and the freighter would soon be passing between Hurst Spit, the long sweep of pebbles which make up this intriguing coastal feature lying opposite the dramatic rock splinters of The Needles off the North Western shore of the Isle of Wight.

The crew were preparing the mooring lines and ensuring that the ship was ready for docking and unloading. The forty foot sea-containers were then designed to be removed extremely quickly prior to any loose items within the hold being packaged up and taken to the temporary storage warehouses in the port.

Natalia’s cargo was a mixture of sea containers destined for homes further inland and smaller loose items which would be held in the storage warehouses. There was one particular container it was imperative she see with her own eyes.

Tucked away in the main hold was a non-descript cargo box, with few markings on the outside. It was registered to the port of Lima in Peru and its paperwork indicated that it consisted of a classic car and tribal craftwork. The tribal wares were a mixture of treated leather goods and woollens. The clothing and bedding material was to be distributed onwards across the UK and the classic car was to be low loaded to a specific address. This address was not anywhere within the freighter’s paperwork and the addressee would protect his anonymity. Once the cargo had safely arrived Natalia had her precise instructions to follow. She had memorised the details in order that she could track the vehicle to its ultimate destination.

The freighter continued to make good progress past Fawley power station and the lights of Ryde with its prominent church spire jutting into view in the distance. The clearest landmark at this point was the Millennium Tower, completed four years after the Millennium in the shape of a huge spinnaker sail. The sail rose to an impressive height on the Portsmouth sea front overlooking the historic ships, the dockyard and the entire Southsea seafront.

Within the upper viewing deck of the Millennium Tower sail stood a non-descript middle-aged couple. Their view stretched along the entire Solent, across Gosport to the West and to the Downs of Hampshire. The couple had a wonderful view of the myriad of small craft and, as they were keen to take in all the comings and goings of the boats below them, they both wore high powered binoculars around their necks.

To all the other tourists on the viewing platform, they were just another everyday couple, possibly on holiday and, by their laughing and joking, definitely enjoying themselves.

As The Islander was identified by the lady, she gave a small nod to her companion, who raised a smile in return. Their boat and cargo were on track. Not needing to see anymore, the couple proceeded to the lower viewing deck and, having viewed the Solent, turned their attention to Old Portsmouth and the historic terraced streets beyond.