didn’t seem discouraged by the silence and continued.
“The thing is that our neighbors canceled the payments on all three BAMs they had ordered and, I must add, almost finished.”
Suddenly it seemed that time stood still. With that entire preamble, there must be a reason why they called him.
A million possibilities went through his head. BAMs (Maritime Action Ships) or Buques de Acción Marítima were Meteoro-class offshore patrol vessels designed in Spain. After the initial delivery of the first series to the Spanish Navy Portugal had ordered a few units from Navantia. And since the Spanish government benefited if the shipbuilders continued getting contracts, they agreed to sell their technology to those who, after all, were their allies and neighbors.
At just under three hundred and ten feet in length, reduced crew, capability to operate with just about any helicopter and a multitude of light weapons, it was the perfect ship for his project. And that was only what he could remember off the top of his head.
After pausing long enough for Reyes to assimilate the news, Felipe continued.
“After the shock from the news wore off a little I went to the director and told him about our conversation last week. He’s willing to listen to your proposal and, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this but, probably quite eager to get rid of those three ships.”
Reyes couldn’t believe his luck. He tried to calm himself and in doing so he realized that there may still be an obstacle to overcome.
“And what do you think Spain will say when they find out Navantia wants to sell their technology to a private company?”
“I have no idea,” Felipe answered frankly. “But the director seems to think that the government will do anything to save the company. I don’t think they want a bunch of people laid off with the elections right around the corner.”
Reyes was positive he’d never had this much luck in his life.
“Will you tell your boss I’ll be there first thing tomorrow?”
“Certainly.”
#
Five hours later, and definitely feeling more relaxed, Reyes was sitting in his first class seat on the 3:37 PM train to Cadiz. He still couldn’t believe his luck.
After a couple of phone calls to friends he could trust to confirm a few facts, he called Gotthelf in Switzerland and informed him he now had the perfect ship and that it was going to cost him less than one of his supertankers. Thank God BAM ships were relatively inexpensive. Items such as latest technology radars, combat systems (computers and hardware that control the weapons and sensors on board), missiles and sonar equipment, were what drove up the price of ships. But a patrol ship had no need for that kind of equipment. In spite of the price, Gotthelf had not even batted an eyelash. All he did was make sure that Reyes was certain it was the right ship and then all he had said was that, if that was the case, he agreed.
In spite of how much money Reyes knew that Gotthelf had, the ease with which he spent it still impressed him. Nevertheless, he was sure that Gotthelf was not a man who would squander his money. He knew what he wanted, and when he found it he didn’t mind spending whatever it cost.
Reyes had no idea what to expect when he arrived at the Navantia branch in Puerto Real the next morning. But everything seemed to be heading in the right direction. What’s more, with some luck he might even get a good deal if it was true that the shipbuilders were desperate for buyers.
As a way of disconnecting during the more than four hour long trip, Reyes looked around. Seated next to him was a thirty-something man reading the paper. Reyes observed the man discreetly. He wanted to have a pleasant chat to help pass the time. What the hell, even if he’s an uninteresting bore, at least it will help me forget about ships for a while, thought Reyes.
Then he noticed his seatmate had a garment bag with the Navy’s coat of arms. He looked at it again. He probably looked older than what he actually was and he had the permanent dark circles under his eyes of someone who has spent years standing watch. His hair was short and he was meticulously clean shaven, shirt, chinos and boat shoes. Something about his gaze and the way his brow was furrowed gave the impression he was someone used to making decisions. In fact, he exuded self confidence. Everything indicated he was a Navy Officer. All that from just a look? Why, of course. There are things one learns to notice with experience.
“Are you a seaman?”
The man closed his newspaper and looked at him surprised but not upset.
“Huh? Yes.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve always been fascinated by your line of work. Where are you going?”
There’s no better way to strike up a conversation than by complimenting someone.
“Oh, no worries,” he said. “It’s nice to know someone appreciates what we do. Right now I’m the captain of the patrol boat Tabarca.
If he was not mistaken, Tabarca was a small, old patrol boat one of the last in a class where most had been decommissioned. However, the captain was a Navy Lieutenant (which would rank him as an Army Captain) and very few of that rank commanded ships. He must have been very good.
Reyes decided to lighten up the conversation to break the ice.
“What did you lose in Madrid? I doubt you ran your ship into the Manzanares River.”
The Lieutenant smiled.
“No, I’m coming back from a court case.”
Gauging from the way he answered, Reyes could tell the Lieutenant didn’t want to talk about it. If he had to bring his uniform along it was probably official business and more than likely unpleasant. But his smile indicated that he was willing to talk so Reyes decided to continue chatting.
By the time they were passing Cordoba, Reyes found out that Nacho Marzán Febles, was born 34 years before in Cartagena. His father was a retired Rear Admiral and his mother was a housewife. He was the second oldest of five brothers, of which the oldest was also a seaman. He was happily married and had two young daughters. He was going to Cadiz for personal reasons (his ship was in Marin, Pontevedra). To be exact, he was taking advantage that he had gone to Madrid to visit his father who had just had surgery, thank God, successfully.
Nacho turned out to be the perfect seatmate. They were having quite an enjoyable and pleasant conversation. Up until now Reyes had managed to avoid talking about his work. But he knew that wouldn’t last until they reached Cadiz. Finally Nacho asked him, “So, what do you do?”
Reyes wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it but deep down he was curious to get an objective opinion. Besides, he thought, none of what we’re doing is a big secret and, who knows? Maybe he’ll have something useful to contribute.
So he decided to tell Nacho about his project, sparing no details, ending with this trip and the possible reward waiting for him.
When he heard the story Nacho’s eyes opened wide in amazement and he asked Reyes if he was really thinking about getting a BAM and if it was really possible. After Reyes convinced him it was true, but also making sure he highlighted that nothing was sure, Nacho got lost in thought a few minutes.
After he thought in
