Frank Bowen Conspiracy Thriller Series

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Flight BA377 touched down at Goa airport at 4.20pm local time. Frank strained to see what he could out of the small window but gave up. The man next to him was just too large and had obscured his view for the whole journey. Reflecting on the difficult and emotional past few weeks Frank still wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing.

Moving all his remaining possessions into storage and saying goodbye to Jodie after four years together was a sad time and their parting had been far from amicable.

Maybe he deserved every scream and shout that had been directed at him, followed by the tears. She had looked forward to some kind of future between them and being five years older had anticipated having a family with him. At twenty-six Frank just felt he was too young. There were things he wanted to do with his life. Experiences to be had. Maybe someday he’d be ready for kids but not yet. Jodie had screamed that he was refusing to grow up. Maybe he wasn’t ready to grow up. Had she considered that?

Frank felt drained and tired, mixed with a rising sense of excitement as he stared out at the deep blue sky through the windows opposite. He had been yearning to do this for so long. Every time he had walked past a travel agent, with their posters of beaches in paradise, he had stopped in his tracks and stared longingly at the flight prices.

The heat hit Frank like a wall as he stepped off the Boeing 757 and he immediately broke into a sweat. The air-conditioned arrivals hall provided some relief as well as a scene of chaos, as hordes of passengers stumbled around looking for their salvation. An Indian soldier chatted to customs officers, his weapon slung over his shoulder, plastic and shiny. The uniform he wore had a newly pressed and ironed look, reminding Frank of a life-sized action man.

His first destination was Anjuna beach. According to his hastily purchased travel book, it was a vibrant place to start. The plan was to find a beach and settle in for a month or so of relaxation and fun. Frank felt he deserved it. After all, he had been working non-stop for the last few years and it had felt like a hard slog. Pleasant in parts, but ultimately a humdrum period of his life.

As he stepped out of the airport doors, a posse of Indians, holding up pictures of their rental houses, swamped him and the other travellers. He felt like a monkey in the zoo and waved them away.

“No huts, thanks. I want a taxi.”

A small, skinny Indian man grinned at Frank with yellow teeth, “I have great bungalow, cheap prices.”

“No bungalows, thank you.” The man nodded his head from side to side. “OK, mister. Taxi is no problem; I have one just up there.”

Frank followed him across the dusty road to an old yellow Bristol car from the bygone British Empire. People were bustled into other vehicles, which kicked up clouds of dust as they drove off. Frank bundled into the back of the vehicle with three other travellers whom the driver had rounded up. He nodded a greeting to them.

“Where you from, mate?” asked a shabby haired, blond Australian man in the middle of the back seat. On the other side of the Aussie was a smart looking woman with a pierced nose. Her long, blonde, curly hair was pulled back into a ponytail; her face was soft and understated, yet classically beautiful. She turned and smiled at Frank.

“Just in from England; same as him,” Frank gestured to the large man who’d been next to him on the flight, now welded into the front seat. He tried to turn around to acknowledge Frank for the first time, but couldn’t quite manage it and gave up. The car occupants made small talk as the driver drove like a man possessed, swerving around potholes in the road, sometimes failing to avoid them at all. An occasional bump and shudder caused the passengers to grab onto anything remotely stable as they sped past Portuguese-style villas lining the roads.

Everyone in the car smiled despite the concern in their eyes and tried to talk over the noise. At last, the journey ended and Frank left the others to find a quiet spot, eventually finding what he wanted. It was a small beach house, set away from the crowded drop off point, yet close enough to the bars that adorned the beachfront.

He dumped his gear and immediately ventured out to his new surroundings. The air was sweet with the scent of jasmine and the deep blue sky opened up endlessly overhead. Closer to the beach, sun-kissed travellers milled around the bars, taking in the late afternoon sun and generally hanging out. There were characters that looked like they had been here for years, encrusted with the elements and destined never to leave. Everyone seemed to have beads hanging around their necks, sporting heavy tans, their movements slow in the heat.

An old Indian man in bright red football shorts played some kind of instrument that sounded like bagpipes and was paid to move on by a couple of sunbathing women. Dogs ran around wild, scavenging for food, and were consistently waved away.

Frank clocked a lively bamboo hub of activity called ‘The Brazil Bar’ and mooched up the wooden steps. Dub beats boomed from the stereo, spilling onto the beach. He ordered food and beer before sitting down to take in the scene.

“Hey, how’s it going?” an American voice interrupted his thoughts. A young guy with shoulder-length blond hair sat down, uninvited, and slurped his Kingfisher beer.

“I’m good, just came in today,” Frank said.

“Yeah, I thought so. You look a bit pasty if you don’t mind me saying. You’ll love it here though, this place really rocks. I’ve been here for two months. I was supposed to be headed to Thailand but haven’t managed to leave here just yet,” he gave Frank a broad smile.

“I could think of worse places to get stuck.”

The American saw someone he knew and called over: “Theo, hey! Over here!”

A tall, middle-aged, Indo-Chinese figure moved over towards them, dressed in a white, short sleeve shirt, slacks and leather sandals, his jet-black hair tied back into a ponytail, eyes razor sharp, blue and piercing. He made for an impressive figure. Frank shook hands with him.

“Hi, I’m Frank.”

“Theo.” The man fixed Frank with a direct look and smiled warmly.

The American grinned. “Yeah, I’m Claude by the way.” He shook hands with Frank as well, almost as an afterthought.

Theo talked slowly and deliberately, in direct contrast to Claude who seemed to race through his lines, as if speaking through a panicky oral exam.

“Here in Goa, life is about enjoying yourself and nothing else. You leave your worries at home and that’s it.”

Theo rolled up a joint as he spoke; piecing the papers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Frank thought his accent was a strange mix of mid-Atlantic, but more British than American, and he reminded him of a Colombian villain from a T.V. series.

“If there is anything you want, I can get it for you. But be careful of the Takkas; the cops. They usually dress in plain clothes, but you will see them a mile off. You will learn this. I know some of them, so if you get into trouble, let me know.”

“Good guy to know, huh?” Claude thumbed towards Theo.

Frank nodded, “Great. I’m not planning to get into any trouble though.”

After a few minutes, Claude left to chat to a couple of women on another table and Frank talked with Theo for an hour or so. Theo told him he had been the only son of a Vietnamese mother and an Indian father. He hadn’t settled and took off at every opportunity, travelling widely in Asia, but he had not yet visited any Western countries.

They touched on their lives and aspirations and Frank decided he liked Theo. He had a calm demeanour about him as if he regretted nothing and rolled with life like a leaf on a wave.

Frank decided not to go wild that night and hit the sack about ten.

Early the next morning, he awoke to the sun beaming in through the window blinds. It felt fantastic to smell the first morning abroad. Frank found a place to get breakfast and then walked along the beach towards a quieter part and sat watching the waves crashing onto the golden shore for a while. He wondered why he had never appreciated it like this before on all those trips to the seaside in England.

England. It seemed a million miles away now and a new life beckoned.

A figure approached from the market end of the beach, stopping occasionally to gaze out to the blue horizon. Frank watched the figure move closer and realised it was a woman dressed in an Indian style one piece dress. She stared toward Frank and he saw it was the curly haired blonde woman from the taxi. They hadn’t really communicated in the cab, due to the Australian dude stuck between them.

She waved and walked over to Frank.

“Hello there. How are you finding it so far?’ she smiled, her hand playing with a seashell. Frank noticed she had a necklace around her neck made from small coloured stones and sported a native look of a red dot on her forehead, just above the middle of her eyebrows. The third eye.

“So far, so good!” Frank gestured to her to sit down. “I’m just enjoying the sea,” he said.

“It’s beautiful, I love watching it,” she agreed, parking in the sand next to him and brushing back her hair. Frank immediately noticed a delicate grace about her, as he had the day before.

“It’s very therapeutic. It concentrates the mind,” Frank said.

“A lot of the beauty is spoilt throughout India though. There’s crap dumped everywhere. People have no idea what they’re doing to the environment.”

She gestured towards a mound of plastic bottles that had congregated nearby. “This is exactly what I’m talking about,” she said, with contempt.

“Yeah, that is pretty bad. People are just here to party I guess. I’m Frank by the way,” he held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Frank. I’m Maria.”

They gazed out to sea and he noticed her painted toenails and jewellery. It suited her well, Frank thought.

“You’ve travelled around India quite a bit then?” he asked.

“Yes, I love it. I flew to Mumbai and went to Matheran and the Sahyadri hills. It’s much cooler there and a really great place to relax. Then I came down to Goa on the train.”

“That sounds great. I’m going to stay here for a while, and then I plan to move onto Thailand.”

“Yes, I have to go there at some point, I won’t stay long. I’d like to go to Indonesia then back to Hong Kong,” Maria said.

“You live in Hong Kong?”

“My Father is based there. He’s English and works for the Legislative Council of Hong Kong. They’re all very busy preparing for the 1997 handover to China at the moment. Although it’s still six years away you wouldn’t believe the panic behind the scenes.”

“Oh? What’s going on?” Frank was intrigued.

Maria momentarily held her hands above her eyes to shield them from a glare of sunlight as she looked at him.

“Well, you remember the killings on Tiananmen Square a few years ago?” He nodded. The footage of the student standing in front of a line of tanks had become a powerful iconic image the world over. “It certainly hasn’t helped put minds at rest,” she said. “Then there’s the power struggles as groups jostle for position. I also heard the triad gangs have done a deal with Beijing not to interfere.”

“Hmm, really? Yes, there’s probably a lot at stake,” he said.

She gave him a broad smile. “I hear all about it from my Dad. All the, what’s the English word? Gossip? I hear it all.”

She looked serious again. “But there are a lot of worried people in Hong Kong right now.”

“Do you think there’ll be trouble?” he asked.

She leaned back; her elbows wedged into the sand and narrowed her eyes at a distant ship on the horizon. Frank couldn’t help but cast his eyes over the contours of her body. She was beautiful and clearly relaxing into a favourite topic of hers.

“When there are governments fighting over land, with their agencies of limitless power, there’s bound to be trouble.”