The Collectors Book Two: Full Circle (The Collectors Series 2) Read Online Free PDF

clambered onto the small motor-driven lifeboat that bobbed in the Atlantic rollers.
    Bob Hinchcliffe waited until both men sat safely in the stern before casting off the bow line and heading for shore. The fibreglass bow of the eight metre craft carved a path through the swell, rolling and climbing before sliding into the next trough. He chuckled to himself as they closed the harbour entrance.
    “What’s so funny?” asked Petros.
    Bob checked his direction before speaking.
    “Nothing, except not so long ago this harbour transported slaves to Brazil. Today it’s one of the busiest in Africa. You can wait days to unload and if you miss your slot you’re in deep shit with your owners.”
    With care, he avoided the port water traffic and gently nudged the craft alongside stone steps leading to the main quay. “Here you are, guys. Watch your footing. Those steps look dodgy.”
    Petros and Bear stepped ashore and waved farewell. Bob manoeuvred the craft and pointed it towards the open sea. Its bow rose and fell as the unforgiving Atlantic clutched the hull.
    A sign for the Port Authority indicated the way. Dredgers moved as snails across the harbour removing the silt deposited by the river. Forklift trucks loaded with crates danced back and forth, in and out of an endless line of warehouses. Cranes stood like storks and pecked at the vast holds of ships. Boats, ships and barges gave this busy port life.
    A car horn sounded. “About time,” came a voice from behind them.
    Both men turned and smiled at the white-haired, slender-built Jacob Van Tonder as he leant against the side of a highly polished 2009 Range Rover. His lightweight beige suit, light blue shirt and straw fedora presented the perfect image of a colonial. They greeted as long lost friends.
    “Looks like your new life agrees with you,” said Petros.
    “Thanks to you and Bear.” Jacob turned and shouted, “Samuel.”
    A light-skinned young man stopped talking to four dockworkers and strolled towards them. “Are these your associates, Jacob?”
    “Samuel, meet Petros and Bear.”
    He held out his hand and both men shook it warmly.
    “I am, for my sins, the principle customs officer of this port. Follow me and we’ll complete the paperwork.”
    They left Jacob and walked towards the customs office.
    “Your English is perfect,” said Petros. “Where did you learn it?”
    “Five years at Oxford. I received a first in English literature after which I spent three years at the London School of Economics. I returned home and had to speak Portuguese. Here we are.” He pushed open a white-painted door and led them along a passage to an office at the end. “Moses, give these men a two day pass, and stamp their passports.”
    A black man in his late fifties lifted his head and studied Petros and Bear and then looked at Samuel. “Yes, Sir. If they would care to wait outside my office I’ll deal with them in due time.”
    Petros and Bear gazed at each other and started to walk away when Samuel’s fist slammed the top of the desk.
    “You’ll do it as a favour to me, your superior.”
    Moses smiled. “Precisely my intention, sir. I merely wanted them to wait outside for a minute or two while I complete the paperwork you wanted. Please, gentlemen, your passports.”
    After a cursory check, Moses stamped them. Inside the back page of each, he inserted a pink coloured pass.
    “Enjoy your stay in our country, gentlemen. Any problems, I am always here.”
    “Right, let’s find Jacob and I’ll see you both at dinner tonight,” said Samuel. “I understand he’s killed the fatted calf.”
    “Thanks,” said Jacob. “Your help will not go unrewarded.” He turned to Petros and Bear. “Dump your bags in the back. My farm’s a good hour from here. Relax and enjoy the drive.”
    “Jacob, do you bribe everyone?” asked Bear.
    “Survival is the name of the game. Without money changing hands, my roses might suddenly be left in a wagon that should have arrived