Run to the Sun by PN Johnson

Run to the Sun

A Tess Anderson Mystery

PN Johnson

“The Sun had risen now and set the fibres burning. We got the feeling of riding the waves.”

Steve Harley (Cockney Rebel) Riding the Waves

1. Trizonia

My heart was bursting with love. My life seemed complete. The sun was shining, the heat was rising, and the sparsely shrubbed hillsides on either side of the gulf of Patras were almost empty. No people, no buildings. The view seemed unchanged since ancient times. I was lying on the deck of a beautiful boat sailing across a glistening, graceful sea under a perfect blue sky. Sea Biscuit was cutting through the water, the wind in her crip white sails.

Jason L’amour, my new lover, the former singer songwriter of Wreckless Lovers was at the helm of the yacht. I’d plotted a course with the two of us for the future voyages of my life, but what was I missing? Jason, with his stunning, smiling eyes and still taught body, had navigated a path through the excesses of rock and roll and survived largely intact. Older, wiser and, I thought, as in love with me as I was with him, but we’d barely spoken in recent days. I knew he was hiding something as we passed under the majestic, Rion bridge spanning the Gulf.

For the last two weeks we’d finally be able to relax, although when you’re a reporter you’re rarely away from work. DCI Ted Green, my Police contact back in London, had promised me a juicy tip about a story in the island of Poros, but frustratingly he’d given nothing else away, and I was keen to know more. We were heading for the Corinth Canal and the Aegean Sea beyond.

It had been a fortnight since the threat of the Leans had been lifted. One of the brothers was dead, and the other was rotting in a Greek jail, waiting for his come-uppance in Court. The Leans’ crime empire was now gone, thanks to my secret filming which had exposed their crimes. Sven, my husband, had slunk into the shadows, a broken man. He’d narrowly avoided charges for his links to his lover Suzanna Heffle, the former government minister, now awaiting trial too. She’d not only accepted money from the Leans to help hide their activities, she’d even laughed at their killing of residents in a Care Home they ran, after they’d extorted money by changing their Wills. She’d also paid someone to kill us on Paxos, and they very nearly succeeded. Her trial was a case I was keen to report on back home in London when I resumed my job as a reporter on TV. My news editor, Steve, had given me extended leave. It was what I needed after numerous attempts to kill me. Besides, I wanted to be with Jason who’d saved my life many times and given me a reason to love again.

We’d had a wonderful week in Parga, Two Rock Bay and on the island of Meganissi. Day after day in different bays, in the sun, in the sea…and in bed. The sights, sounds and smells of the Ionian islands had been the backdrop of our making memories and love that would live with me forever. The beautiful little Port Kioni on Ithaka. Swimming naked in the quiet of small bays on Kastos which we’d had to ourselves. And the emptiness of the green watered Patelas lagoon, with its sinister hill and birds of prey circling above like nature’s drones, watching us sway at anchor in a gentle breeze. The Dolphins which had swum with us as we passed Oxia island and entered the Gulf, seemed to be escorting us like the guardians of the sea, giving us their blessing. How could I not be hopelessly in love for a lifetime?

We’d spent a few nights at a little marina in Messalonghi. Reached by a long channel through salt marshes while watching white Egrets searching the mud, and great, green grey turtles surfacing around us as we stopped, their salt crusted shells and graceful movements enchanting us as they danced back under the waves. But despite these beauties, despite the love, since we began to move south his mood had dimmed, and seemed to be growing dimmer every day.

Whispered phone calls and secret texts; something was happening, something had changed. He’d ended a call abruptly when I’d walked into the cabin. I’d caught a glimpse but couldn’t make out the name on his phone when he rejected an incoming call. While he was at the helm, lost in his thoughts, I went inside the boat and sat in the front cabin, my phone in my hand. I had to call Jane, my best friend back home. I dialled her number and hoped she was there, at work on the Guardian newspaper. I missed the wind in my hair as I sat below listening to the waves bubbling beneath our bow.

“Tess!” came the familiar voice I needed to hear. “Nice of you to fit me into the schedule of your busy love fest.” She laughed. “Only jealous. You are sleeping with Jason L’amour, after all!” Jane was still in awe of my having landed her student crush from her favourite band. Wreckless Lovers had broken up years ago but they were planning a comeback tour, after of course, our own little tour of the magical Greek islands.

“More like a grump fest right now,” I said, looking around to make sure Jason was still in the cockpit and out of ear shot.

“Bet there’s still plenty of l’amour though.” She giggled like a schoolgirl.

“There was,” I said softly, “but I’m worried there’s not so much now.” I was feeling distant from him, even though we were sharing a bed.

“Hey? What do you mean? Don’t tell me you’re getting bored playing with your new toy already?” she teased.

“Not me, Jane, I’ve fallen headlong for him, but he’s just acting oddly. Very weird.”

“In what way?” she asked. I clutched the phone as if it would somehow bring her nearer to me.

“He’s just not himself.” I looked up again to check he was still outside, steering the boat.

“Have you asked him what’s wrong?” She probed.

“No.” I replied, knowing what she’d ask next.

“Why not?” She whispered. “Sorry, I’m at work, busy newsroom. Prying ears and all that.”

“I haven’t asked because I’m scared of what I’ll hear. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m imagining it…but”

“But what?”. She probed.

“But, he’s sending messages to someone, I don’t know who, and he’s making calls, quietly.”

“Have you looked at his phone?”

“No, of course not! And I won’t,” I insisted, “I’ve got no right to pry.” Was I being naïve, though? After all, when I’d looked at my former husband Sven’s emails, I’d uncovered a viper’s nest of treachery and crime.

“But, if he’s being unfaithful, or planning to be…”

“Well, he hasn’t been anywhere I haven’t been in the last few days, so the only woman he’s been in bed with is me.”

“Hmm, lucky you…”

“Talking of lovers,” I said, trying to change the subject, “how’s yours, how’s Dave?”

“He’s a husband, not a lover… To be honest, it’s, not looking good.” Her tone shifted to sadness.

“Really? But you forgave him, didn’t you?” I knew it would be difficult, but I wanted her to forgive him for not telling the police about his being leaned on, literally, by the Leans and betraying me by telling them where I was. “Yes. It was difficult but, yes, he’s a pain in the arse sometimes but yeah, I couldn’t not forgive him.”

“And?” I asked.

“And he’s just not being very easy.” She replied.

“Oh? In what way?” I pushed, keen to know more.

“Long story, tell you later, busy office.” She clearly didn’t want to be overheard by her colleagues.

“Maybe he’ll come round,” I offered.

“Maybe I don’t want him to,” she said quietly. “Maybe it’s over.”

“Oh, come on, I know you don’t mean that.” Jane and Dave had been together for ages. “Surely you can work it out?” I hoped she could too.

“Hey, it’s meant to be your love life we’re talking about, not mine. You get lover boy Jason back on track, do you hear? I’m sure you can think of something to cheer him up!”

“I’m trying, but…”

“Still got that pretty top?” She giggled provocatively. “Hey, time’s moving on and I’ve a headline to write and half a page to lay out. Must go. Hugs.” We ended the call and I went back into the cockpit. Seeing me come up, Jason smiled briefly and pointed to a little island close to the mainland. It had a small hill at its centre, dwarfed by the rising mountains on the mainland.

“That’s Trizonia, we’ll stay there tonight,” he said, turning the wheel slightly to adjust our course.

“Jason, what’s wrong?” I asked him, remembering Jane’s advice. But he steered away from answering.

“Well, it’s getting windy, it’s building far quicker than they forecast. We’re going to reef the mainsail soon.” The boat started to tip and lean to the left, pushed by the wind which was dramatically increasing in speed all the time, it was like some giant fan had burst into action.

“No, I meant with you?” I pushed, but he ignored it.

“That’s interesting,” he said, “that fishing boat behind us.”

“What about it?” I asked.

“It’s been with us since we left Messalonghi several hours ago.”

I shrugged. “It’s fishing.”

“It’s going too fast to be towing nets, though, and it’s not dropping lobster pots in these depths either. It’s also just changed course to match ours.” I turned and looked at the small red and white boat about half a mile behind us, but the waves and the motion of the yacht forced me to look ahead instead to avoid sea sickness.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about right now.” I said, and held on to the little wooden handle beside the steps leading down to the cabin below. The conditions were getting rougher. The next half an hour was the least comfortable I’d experienced on the boat. The once friendly sea was now throwing us around as if we’d upset it. The wind was buffeting the small yacht and my balance was difficult to maintain. Sickness was creeping over me, from the depth of my stomach to the front of my head. Dizziness and nausea built within me. This was no time to have a chat about our love life or our future. I needed to lie down. I looked around to see if anything was going to fall from the shelves either side of the cabin, but everything was neatly stowed away, then I lay on the side seats of the cabin, hoping it would soon be over. I knew Jason would keep the boat as straight and as level as possible, but the wind was gusting more and more, and Sea Biscuit was a small ship in a big sea. Both Sea Biscuit, Jason and me were sailing deep into troubled waters. Somehow, I fell asleep, if may have been for just ten minutes, but when I next heard his voice, my nausea was going.

“It should be getting better,” he called down to me. He could obviously tell I was starting to worry and feeling ill. “We’re turning around the bottom of the island, that will give us some shelter. Hang on in there Tess.” Easier said than done I thought but before I could answer, I heard my phone ringing. It was up in the cockpit. I struggled to climb the steps to answer it. Leaning over and laying down on the cockpit seat I pulled it from the little cubby hole at the side.

“You don’t look great.” Said Jason concerned.

“I’m not.” I replied, looking at the incoming number. It was DCI Ted Green, my contact in the Met. We’d worked together on the Lean case and others. He’d given me a tip off for a story on the island of Poros, which is where we were heading.

“Ted, hi!” I shouted, above the noise of the blustery blow around me. “Sorry, it’s a bit rough out here on the high seas. Can you hear me okay?”

“Just about. Tess, how close are you to Poros?” I could hear the anxiety in his voice.

“Quite a way to go yet, Ted, we’re in the Gulf of Patras heading for Corinth. Why?”

“I have to warn you, Tess…” But at that moment, the signal went. I immediately tried to call him back but no luck.

“What was that about?” Asked Jason.

“Just Ted Green asking for our ETA in Poros.” But what did he mean? What did he know? What did I need to be warned about?

We turned at the bottom of the small island to head into the little port where we could tie up for the night, safe alongside a sheltered concrete quay. The sails rustled and flapped wildly. Jason wound in the front sail and then undid a rope and let the large main sail fall down the mast to land on the deck. My balance had returned and the nausea had gone. I watched Jason as he pulled the last of the sails down to depower the boat. The engine was running, pushing us slowly against the wind. I could feel the strength of the warming sun as the wind dropped at last. As we got closer to the safety of the island’s port, the hills protected us from the force of the gusts and calmness descended around the boat. I could see a few other boats sitting peacefully alongside the concrete quayside, their inhabitants perhaps enjoying the island or sleeping below.

Jason was still not himself; he only managed a brief smile and a gentle touch on my shoulder as we neared the quay. A fellow boater stood ready to grab Sea Biscuit’s ropes. I smiled and threw them towards him, as Jason brought the yacht to a standstill beside the concrete quayside. The boat’s white plastic fenders hung down on short ropes, protecting us from rough edges where the concrete had crumbled and worn away.

“There’s a little hotel over there on the hill which does laundry,” he said.

“Don’t worry about that now, we need to talk.” I said.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll take it over, it’ll be done by tonight.” After tying our mooring ropes, he was soon jumping off the boat with a bag of washing and following the quayside towards the town. I watched him disappearing into the distance clamping his phone to his ear.

I had to find out who he was calling and what was going on. If he was deliberately avoiding talking to me, maybe I should look at his phone, but I instinctively thought that was wrong, and I had to trust him. I turned to go down into the cabin to clear away lunch things from a small meal we’d had en route, when my own phone went again.

“Ted. Hi. Sorry about earlier, we went out of range a while back. I could barely hear you anyway, the wind. I was feeling sea sick too. Not great. But we’re sheltered now so it’s calm and safe. What did you want to warn me about?” I asked anxiously.

“Poros. When will you be there?” He asked.

“It’s where we’re heading but it’ll take another few days, I think. Yachts like Sea Biscuit don’t travel that fast. Why? What’s the story, you never told me.” Putting the plates in to soak, I sat down on one of the side seats.

“When I first mentioned a story in Poros the likely outcome of the Heffle trial seemed obvious. She was going to plea bargain and plead guilty to a number of charges and spill the beans on some of her Government colleagues in order to get a lesser sentence.”

“That’s what I expected too.” I replied. “You mean she isn’t?” I was surprised.

“Apparently not. She’s now pleading not guilty. I have to warn you this is now very dangerous for you Tess, and I can’t ask you to put yourself at more risk chasing a story for me in Poros.”

“But risk is what I do Ted. It’s my job. I’ve ruffled a few feathers reporting on things that powerful people don’t want exposed.” I said.

“Don’t underestimate Suzanna Heffle. If you testify then she’s finished. If you can’t, she might have a chance of convincing a jury she’s innocent of most charges. Her friends will try to persuade you not to testify against her. Her freedom depends on you not talking. With you being the star witness, her only chance of avoiding prison for life, is by ending yours.”