Free The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6) by Ron Sewell

service out of these hours it can be brought to your room.”
                  Bear rubbed his chin. “Half a dozen roast beef sandwiches, some English mustard and a large pot of fresh coffee. Petros, want anything?”
                  “Yes please. One ham salad and more coffee.”
                  “I’ll inform the kitchen.” She smiled. “Your rooms are on the second floor.” She pointed to the stairs. “The porter will bring your bags. Enjoy your stay.”             
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    As the two men ascended the stairs Petros remarked, “Most unusual, she possessed the most gorgeous blue eyes.”
                  Bear smiled. “No, it’s not. I read that some researchers found a genetic mutation which stopped the eyes changing from blue to brown. When we are born, everyone has blue eyes and in time they change colour. Eons ago, Mother Nature got it wrong and some eyes stay blue.”
                  “She still has beautiful eyes.” Petros stopped. “Which room do you want?”
                  Bear grabbed a key and opened the door. “Large bed and a sea view. I’ll take it.”
                  Petros strolled along the corridor to the next, unlocked the door and entered. The doors to the balcony were open allowing the warm breeze into the room. With his hands behind his back he stared at the Atlantic Ocean.
                  Ten minutes later a waiter arrived with his salad and a pot of coffee. He placed them on the table nearest the window. Petros signed the chit and the man left.
                  From his briefcase he removed the transcript of the Goliath’s hijacking. Perched on the corner of the bed he scanned the pages until the end. At no point did it mention the possibility of a crew member being involved. He replaced the folder, poured a cup of coffee and nibbled at his salad.
                  Weary from travelling, he unpacked and hung his few clothes in the wardrobe. To defeat jet lag he took a long shower, at first alternating the water from hot to cold. Refreshed, he dressed and opened the door adjoining the next room. “Bear, wake up,” he shouted. “We’re going to the docks.”
                  Bear rolled off the bed and rubbed his eyes before stretching. “May I ask why it can’t wait until tomorrow?”
                  “No.”
                  Bear slipped his shoes on and stood. “No peace for the wicked.”
                  At reception they ordered a taxi and waited on the steps outside. A red Toyota Corolla arrived within a few minutes.
                  Petros sat in the front passenger seat while Bear stretched out in the back.
                  “Sturrocks Dock, please,” said Petros, “and you’ll have to wait.”
                  The driver, an unshaven, thick-set man, shrugged. “The meter’s running so take your time.”
                  In ten minutes they circuited the Cape Town Yacht Club and the car stopped halfway along the dock next to a wire mesh fence. Petros and Bear alighted.
                  Bear studied the ship in dry dock. “Her sides are upright walls of steel. Hard to believe when loaded most of her is underwater.”
                  Petros shook his head. “A man-made iceberg. At first glance it appears, if you shut the doors, impregnable. But when you look again it’s an open door with a welcome sign on the mat.”
                  “Plenty of razor wire along the guardrails.”
                  “It gives the illusion of defence but you and any fit young man could clamber over. As Charles said, they have been lulled into believing the pirates are finished when all that’s happened is they’ve changed the rules of battle.”
                  Bear scratched his backside. “Any