James Higham Short Stories

The Problem with Linfield

2009-05-25T06:32:00.000-07:00

Cast

Sir Richard Maven
Lady Marjorie Maven
Arthur Maven
Johnathan Maven
Pete Daveson
Sally Daveson
Cheryl Marrin
Derek Hatton
Paul Eastbourne
James Ingram
Terry Reynolds
Linda West
Rhonda Lewis
Mrs. Thompson
Amanda Greaves
Marie
Meagan

I

‘The thing which distinguishes Linfield from other houses within fifty miles, Derek, is the mania for light which possessed the third Lord Bletchley. He basically had the entire east wing torn out and replaced with a conservatory plus the belvedere we’re now occupying on the second floor.’

‘So, essentially a house in two halves these days, Richard. How can you stand the hoi polloi trampling the rose garden and the upper terraces?’

‘I’m afraid we’ve virtually given over the west side to the clink of coin in donations tins. The children’s playground, the west lake and the mini-railway, they’re all over that way and Helen runs it quite efficiently. I’d have soon not had to have put them in but times change, do they not?’

‘And Marjory?’

‘Ah yes, well she hasn’t come to terms with it to quite the same extent. It was one thing having the annual fair in the 50s and 60s – mother delighted in meeting her community obligations and Marjory took over that role but the thought that half the old house is not really ours any more is a bit hard to stick. Still, quite a view from here, isn’t it? Especially early morning, catches the rising of the sun behind the Cheatham Hills, most picture book. You need a top up there.’

‘Thanks. Tell me a little about the get-together tomorrow – it’s all been quite hush-hush so far.’

‘Well,’ said Richard, ‘we’ll have to remain shtum until then, I’m afraid, as we have a certain amount riding on the outcome of this meeting. Since our family took over the old place in ’55, it’s all been steadily downhill, truth be told, so it’s time to play the family trump card, from the vault below the refectory.’

‘All very mysterious.’

‘There’ve been distinct rumblings from that direction recently so they might as well be exploited.’

‘You intrigue me greatly.’

‘Come Derek, when you’re finished, let’s wander down to the boathouse and meet Marjory and the boys. No hurry.’

The gravel path was damp underfoot on this soggy day. It had rained mid-morning but had now cleared up to the point where the sun had made its first venture out from behind a bank of dark clouds. Derek took in Richard Maven – his height was his redeeming feature, the rest of the imposing body now running to seed but the jaunty manner and the anachronistic garb, right down to the knee breeches, were very Maven indeed.

‘Is that a Henry Moore, over there, Richard?’

‘Ersatz, I’m afraid,’ said his host. ‘there’s not much left of the old place which you could call the genuine article any more. These are hard times we live in.’

What was troubling Derek Hatton though was not so much the easy familiarity of his host, the ready acceptance and the immediate descent to first name terms - the local landowners in this corner of the world had clearly learnt the value of good relations with potential punters.

No, it was that he had so readily accepted the ‘Richard’ from one hardly of his station. Derek had tried the ‘Sir Richard’ the once and straight away, it was, ‘Richard please.’ On the other hand, Derek represented the money and money spoke in these circles in 2009.

At the boathouse, Hatton had observed the two sons messing about out on the lake in the clinker dory and now Marjorie was approaching, tweeds, white blouse and sensible shoes all very much in keeping with her hairstyle. Marvellously well preserved, Marjorie Maven, he couldn’t help but think.

She extended a scrawny hand. ‘Derek, so good of you to come down to see us. We’re planning a little surprise tomorrow, you know.’

‘Mr. Hatton knows this, Marjory. Why don’t you call the boys over and then we’ll go up for tea.’

‘Country life suits you, Lady Mavers. Don’t you miss the cut and thrust of Sackville Street?’

‘Of course not. If I had to read one more manuscript I’d go blind. Cheryl runs that side of the operation now.’

The ‘boys’ were not so much boys. Arthur was fifty if he was a day, also immaculately attired as the country squire, a portly man with a reddened nose but Johnathan, a few years younger, let the side down a bit. Also tending to seed, he was very much the modern man in his polo tee, dark navy denims and Ecco shoes. Hatton had three pairs himself back home. It had been Johnathan who’d been rowing the boat.

There was little doubt though about the aquiline noses and the slightly elongated, straight sided faces of the Mavens and as they all made their way up to the dining room, actually the old anteroom converted, Hatton reflected on the mish-mash of styles he’d seen so far.

The belvedere, for example, sported two chintz settees, a well preserved settle, replete with arrow box beneath, a glass topped table with touches of 50s art deco, a Lloyd Loom Armchair, an Edwardian Double Seat and a marble-topped sideboard almost identical to the one in the anteroom they’d just entered.

A tallish woman of maybe forty appeared from nowhere, mop of hair diminishing the lines in the face, a pleasant face but with a trace of nervousness and this was clearly the one who would serve them tea. Hatton wondered why they weren’t taking this in the conservatory and then also wondered why he was wondering so much. He had no reason to wonder, he’d been invited down for a meeting, ostensibly to finance some new project of the local landowner and all he’d spent his time doing since he’d parked in the east side carpark was wondering.

All would unfold, he was sure of that.

An even taller man of maybe forty-five now came through and helped the woman and here was a chance to play one of his hunches. ‘Richard, they almost seem a married couple the way they understand one another.’

‘That’s because they are. Peter, Sally, join us for a few moments, would you.’

The two dutifully came over, hands folded before them and Mavers did the introductions. ‘Derek, this is Peter Daveson, with an ‘e’ don’t forget, former IT project manager and jack of all trades and his lovely wife Sally, as you’ve already heard. Mr. Hatton is currently scouring the great country houses for their commercial potential and has kindly accepted the invitation to look us over.’

The Davesons nodded, she made the slightest of curtseys and they returned to setting the dishes out on the sideboard.

‘You’ll see a lot of Peter and Sally, Derek. They’re the only staff we’ve retained so they’re run off their feet. If this venture gets up and running, we’ll add to the staff as and when it becomes possible. Let’s eat and then you might care to see the commercial set up on the west side.’

II

The main house was essentially in the shape of an H, divided at the crossbar. The more historic side was on the west – the great hall, the aviary, Linfield’s Folly, a most garish room done out to resemble a grotto. The sweeping staircase then took visitors to the original bedrooms upstairs and the marble bathroom.

What had struck Derek from the moment he’d arrived was the clash of styles, almost as if someone had felt that an 18th century chiffonier would go awfully well with a 1920s replica commode and nobody would notice. This seems to have been the motif throughout the history of the place, from the architecture and from the guidebook, the house was apparently post-Agincourt. Someone had either advised the family badly or else the owners had had the most appallingly gauche tastes.

The gardens now.

The terraces, instead of cascading from the high lawn to the anteroom which the contour of the land certainly lent itself to, were instead forcibly made to resemble the steps leading down from some soviet government office and where the contour had not supported the edge of the terrace, red brickwork had.

All in all, it was dissatisfying.

Well, that wasn’t his concern. He’d seen the last coachload depart before five-thirty so the punters were obviously attracted but to have installed scarlet and yellow tubular climbing frames on the high lawn, plastic representations of Disney characters and a commando ropes course was surely beyond the pale and had Derek wondering – that word again – where were Health & Safety, let alone Heritage, in all of this?

His four poster was more than comfortable though, the ensuite was modern and the plumbing adequate. Sleep overtook him.

It was the sound from below his floor, a dull but repetitive sound, which woke Derek about 4 a.m. That would have been the conservatory, no, the room immediately this side of it, he surmised. The central heating?

Now came the quite distinct sound of the clink of chain on floorboard and lo, at the foot of his bed had materialized the most pathetic of creatures, a gothic-attired old woman, hands manacled and presumably feet also; she gave out the most deliciously low, spooky moan and stared straight through him.

He wasn’t going to miss this for the world, he jumped out of bed onto the tigerskin rug and saw that her eyes had followed him. Striding up to the apparition, he went to pass his arm straight through her but his hand struck metal, she shrieked, spun away a couple of metres towards the wardrobe and dematerialized. He stood, staring, went back to the bed and sat down heavily.

However Maven had managed that, Derek had to concede, he’d done it rather well, it would have knocked the stuffing out of the most ardent of sceptics. His first thought, that it was a hologram, had to be shelved to account for the manacle he’d touched and that had seemed very real indeed.

He’d ask Maven for an explanation on the morrow.

III

Richard Maven did not greet the news with incredulity, nor with conspiratorial silence; he seemed genuinely thoughtful, as if this part of the big secret had been revealed ahead of its time.

The other guests arrived through the morning - Mrs. Thompson of Gillingham Antiques and Furniture, Rhonda Lewis of Appleby and Lewis, architects, James Ingram of nowhere in particular as far as Derek could see, someone he knew – Paul Eastbourne, another of an entrepeneurial bent and then a car arrived with two passengers – she of the true gothic Morticia Adams and he of the Uncle Fester.

Eventually, these latter two were introduced as Linda West and Terry Reynolds of Essex. Uncle Fester sported three earrings in one ear and a bone through the nose, well actually a ring. Derek wanted to ask if she had his leash about her but thought better of it. It appears they were landscape gardeners.

This time lunch was taken in the Boiserie dining room on the west side and it was an impressive room indeed. No expense appeared to have been spared, the long table and chairs were in keeping and the drapes went with the whole. They’d had decorators in for this, of this Derek was in no doubt. Even lunch had been cranked up a notch and the married staff had been supplemented by what was most likely a catering firm.

After a delightful hour of small talk, the reasonable Wolf Blass having been drained to the last drop, they went out onto the hideous western terraces and Rhonda Lewis nodded. This was going to take some doing and the first to go would be the red and yellow plastic children’s climbing frames. The opera house-come-theatre would fit in the space released by the correct arrangement of the cascading terraces – in fact it would be stunning in its multi-tiered effect. Rhonda, Morticia, Fester and Richard Maven were deep in conference for some considerable time, Marjory taking the rest of them up to the lake.

When they reconvened, there was an elevated spirit of high expectations which Derek caught and that boded well for a start. Maven asked if everyone would wait until they returned to the house – would they like to go out on the lake in the meantime for the gates would have to be opened to the public at 2 p.m.

Fester and Derek remained on the bank with Marjory but the rest went out and paddled about. Derek asked Reynolds, ‘So, where are you based, Terry?’ and the reply was extraordinary: ‘Why do you want to know?’

Marjory immediately stepped in. ‘Terry and Linda move about a lot, up and down the country. Up to your necks in work, aren’t you, Terry?’

He nodded but Derek, a bit put out, decided to press this point. ‘No, I mean, where’s your home base?’

Fester was now nonplussed how to respond. ‘I think Marjory’s just told you.’

Something in the tone aggravated Derek who now asked, ‘Do you know who I am or why I’m here?’

The other shrugged, also deeply annoying and Marjory saw a situation developing. She anxiously looked out to the lake, saw her husband and James Ingram tying up at the bank and wished her husband over immediately, he, catching something amiss in the atmosphere, obliging and hurrying to them.

Derek got up and addressed Richard Maven. ‘I find this man,’ he indicated with his head, ‘unnecessarily mysterious over quite basic details and offensive in manner. I don’t propose to invest in your project under these circumstances as I have little confidence in the contractors you’ve brought in. Good day to you, Sir Richard.’

With that, he turned and made for the house, Richard Maven immediately following him, catching up but not attempting to speak until they got to the last terrace. ‘Before you go, Derek, please come round to the dining room, let’s have a farewell drink but allow me ten minutes only to try to persuade you not to do this. Ten minutes is all I ask.’

Derek grunted but acquiesced and thus they found themselves back in the converted anteroom. It was he who opened. ‘Too many mysteries, Sir Richard. A ghost last night unsatisfactorily explained, anomalies in my reception here – not complaints, just anomalies – and now this man being mysterious when there was absolutely no need for him to be so if he’s to be one of the syndicate.’

Maven wasn’t exactly wringing his hands but he wasn’t far off it and his manner was deeply apologetic. ‘I do apologize profusely for Terry. He’s highly eccentric but brilliant too. Frankly, he can do the landscaping for a fraction of the cost of the …’

‘Reputable firms?’

‘No, not a bit of it. They have no central office, work from home and via mobile. I can show you the projects they’ve completed and there’ve been no complaints, quite the opposite. Each owner can be contacted and you can hear it with your own ears. They know the game backwards, he and Linda.’

‘He has an appalling manner.’ What Derek did not ask was how Sir Richard knew Reynolds ‘knew the game backwards’ and on whose authority he’d formed this opinion.

‘He can be difficult, brusque in fact but he gets the job done and on time. That should be a plus for whoever is investing in the project.’

‘You can be sure I’ll be checking on this man and his partner to the nth degree, Sir Richard, before even one penny is transferred.’

‘Of course you will. This has all been a most unfortunate set of misunderstandings which we’ll straighten out. You haven’t allowed me to outline the full plan yet, surely you wish to at least know that. Then you’ll sup with us and if you’re still not satisfied, you’ll go back tomorrow morning. Will you stay your hand that long?’

The man was near to desperate now and Derek asked himself why it was that his particular money was required. Surely a hard-headed businessman would have just said, ‘Sorry you feel that way,’ let him go and got another source of finance up to Linfield.

Sir Richard continued, ‘The others are assembling in the Blue Room if you’d care to join us and the plan will be put.’

IV

The Blue Room was the second fine piece of decoration seen today, the friezes in particular having been delicately inlaid with a number of hues from cobalt to sky. Wainscoting had been used but that could be excused due to the use to which it was put; it was essentially a meeting room.

They got straight down to it and James Ingram introduced himself. ‘My function is that of syndicate coordinator or business manager, if you like. Sir Richard has received you all but his focus is primarily Linfield. My focus is the completion of the task and the coordination of the various parties. You’ll now be given the ways I can be contacted at any hour on any day,’ he waited till Johnathan had distributed the papers, ‘and I bear responsibility for the task being completed. In other words, the buck stops here.’

He smiled a not unpleasant smile. ‘Rhonda, Terry and Linda have mocked up a rough of the proposed outline and I think you might see the reason we’re quite excited about it. Take a look please.’

They perused the plan on the A0 paper and it didn’t look half bad. From the outer gates, the guests would move down the terraces with the house on the right in the distance, the opera/theatre on the left and would be met on the lower terrace in the vestibule, from where they’d move to the foyer and thence to their quarters. There’d be little need to rebuild as the existing walls could be converted to their new purpose. In this, the landscapers and architect had done cunningly well.

Paul Eastbourne asked where the antiques came into it and what was the bait to lure people from London and the coast.

‘It’s a multi-pronged thing,’ explained Ingram. ‘They can come for the weekend or for a few days and there’ll be boating and a small wildlife park at hand during the day. Each night there’ll be some form of entertainment of quality at no charge to guests and at a reasonable rate for visitors. Part of the attraction for guests will be a tour of the mysteries of the house. Lady Maven has done extensive research into the history of the property and one of the delights she uncovered, you’re about to see. Would you all look towards the arched entrance.’

The lights were doused; with the covers drawn and the afternoon sun not quite over the western wall as yet, it was dark enough for the thing to happen. There was a scraping of chains on the floor and then appeared the most pathetic of creatures, a gothic-attired old woman, hands manacled and presumably feet also; she gave out the most deliciously low, spooky moan, everyone was taken aback except for Derek who now strode over to her and put his hand out, straight through the body. Puzzled, he returned to his place, just as the vision dematerialized.

Ingram was delighted with the effect. ‘Now allow me to introduce you to the designer – Pete Daveson. He and his wife have been serving you with refreshments but Pete has this other string to his bow – he can design programmes such as this. Let me get in before you ask – yes, it will be made clear that this is merely a representation of a legend, not the legend itself, the idea being that people will attend, knowing there’s no real danger but enjoying the fright nonetheless. The lure is for the type of people who enjoy murder mystery weekends.

Paul spoke. ‘It’s good but doesn’t it mix the clientele somewhat? The people coming up for the opera are hardly likely to be the same people interested in a mock poltergeist.’

‘We cater for families, of course. If we can offer something for the whole family, some family members might take up this offer and some might concentrate on the house and grounds only in there spare time. Naturally, a guided tour is provided at 10:00, 1:30 and 3:00. We’ve found it an effective strategy at our other three houses so far.’

‘Who’s we?’ asked Derek.

‘Fern Tours, of which I’m the principal. Here is our literature from other projects.’ Johnathan distributed these.

‘May I ask,’ said Derek, ‘whether the homeless Fester here and his charming partner landscaped any of your other projects?’

Reynolds’ eyes narrowed but Ingram replied, with equanimity, ‘See for yourself, Mr. Hatton.’

He could see for himself but all in that room knew that the bad blood between those two and presumably, by extension, between those three could represent a threat to the project. It was Sir Richard who took up the torch. ‘Terry regrets the misunderstanding, Derek and we’d all like to get back to the task in hand, a project which excites both Marjory and myself and one which we’re hopeful you’ll also find rewarding.’

‘I’d like to hear that from Uncle Fester’s lips.’

Reynolds had immense difficulty not springing up and going for Derek Hatton, which had been what he’d wished to find out anyway – just how far the man would eat humble pie and therefore, how integral he was to the project management.

‘I regret any misunderstanding … Mr. Hatton,’ was all Derek was going to get from that quarter, a puzzling climb down after the outrageous Addams Family cracks. It was all getting more interesting.

Paul Eastbourne had been watching the whole thing and knew Derek Hatton to be one of the more protocol-minded people he’d met. He put it to one side for the nonce and asked instead, ‘How do the antiques come into it?’

James Ingram explained, ‘This will be a sideline. The conservatory will become a garden centre for exotic blooms and next door, the old refectory, will be for the selling of antique pieces also used throughout the house. This will be Mrs. Thompson’s side of the venture.

That’s just about the whole project in a nutshell. It will be costed on the estimates of the various parties and put to you two gentlemen by next Thursday afternoon at the place of business you leave the contact details for tomorrow. Will that be satisfactory for now?’

Both men nodded and appreciated the businesslike approach of Ingram. Both would have the man checked out, of course. Richard Maven breathed a sigh of relief and invited them to spend some time by themselves on the east side, if they would and then supper would be served at 7 p.m. A gong would summon them.

Paul and Derek went for a stroll towards the boathouse and each waited for the other to begin. Finally, Paul said, ‘You really went for Reynolds, Derek.’

‘We’ll need to check him out.’ He explained the whole saga to the other and Eastbourne whistled.

‘I see him as largely innocent, that one. An A1 prat, maybe but Ingram’s the one who worries me, he and Daveson.’

‘Brains of the outfit, you think?’

‘It’s a nice plan and it would definitely make money but there’ve been one or two rumblings about the other houses, nothing that’s come to anything as yet but it’s just a bit too slick for mine. The antiques for a start, coming up from London – I’d like to explore that one.’

‘I knew of the other houses. They’re turning over a substantial amount but not nearly enough to pay for the whole kaboodle. Ask to examine the accounts and you’ll see what I mean.’

‘Someone, not us, injecting funds or else making money some other way, maybe o/s?’

‘Maybe. Let’s work together on this one. Here’s my card.’

‘And mine. Don’t look up but we’re being watched from the window. Let’s walk over to the Henry Moore.’

‘It’s not a Moore, by the way, it’s a fake but yes, let’s go.’

Paul Eastbourne positioned himself in such a way that he was not looking at the house directly but could observe all the same. ‘Our watcher is still watching. Who do you think it is?’

‘Fester?’

‘Morticia … oh … and now Ingram.’

‘Ah, so you saw the resemblance too?’

‘When you mentioned Fester. Now what are they so interested in? Let’s examine the Moore and see if that piques their curiosity.’

They made as if to scrutinize the work closely and then went the far side of the piece from the house. ‘Derek, this really is a Henry Moore. It’s genuine and it currently resides in the garden of a villa in Le Touquet. It’s actually here of course but you understand what I mean.’

‘So either Maven lied to me or the wool has been pulled over his eyes too.’

‘I can’t see it as being any too clandestine. A Henry Moore is not a small piece to cart around. People tend to notice things like this.’

‘It may be time to bring in the artillery on this. Let’s do nothing suspicious, let’s not leave our rooms tonight and let’s go up to town separately tomorrow, as we would have done. By the way, did you notice me leap for the apparition today? The one today was different to the lady of last night who appeared in my bedroom; that one was tactile. My hand hit her manacled hand and it hurt.’

‘Do you fancy a bit of boating before dusk?’

‘Why not?’

They spoke of this and that and Derek outined his whole experience from their first approach to him to the discovery of the Henry Moore. Paul was puzzled. ‘Too many errors, Derek. Far too many. Why? Either they’re incredibly incompetent or they want you suspicious. Don’t take this the wrong way but perhaps we should be analysing you to see the reason you were chosen. I know of your recent loss in Bulgaria. One would assume they would too. I seriously hope you’re not being set up here for a fall.’

Sir Richard was waiting for them at the lakeside.

IV

The plans had been approved, the money had been forthcoming from both of them, Derek having had to interest a number of other parties in the project, the landscaping and building had got underway.

Three months later, as winter approached, the two men met up one more time and made their eighth visit to Linfield, not for the official re-opening which had taken place one week earlier but for the first real weekend after the hullabaloo had died down and business really got underway.

Their cars were met at the park and they were escorted past the superb playhouse, down the terraces and into reception. Derek had asked for his old room and Paul was to be placed adjacent to this, at the end of the short hallway. Both had been invited for dinner in the Boiserie at 8 p.m. sharp.

After both had given their things the once over, Paul did not bother knocking but came straight into Derek’s room and put a finger to his lips. He immediately took the curtain puller thingy, put something form his pocket on the end of it, leapt up on the dresser and poked the curtain-closer into the corner. Jumping down and going to two other points on the ceiling, he repeated the process and putting his finger to his lips once more, jumped down and pointed to the candelabras.

Derek got the idea, went over to one of the pair and following Paul’s lead, ran his fingers round, over down, disconnnected the plug and took the bulb out. Paul found what he was looking for, came over to Derek’s, did not find anything, stroked his chin and went to the bedhead. This produced another result and Paul now indicated for Derek to help him remove all the bedding, piece by piece.

They examined the mattress for the slightest sign of invisible mending and came up with the tiniest of marks by the underside far corner. Derek brought over a collapsible blade from his case, made a slit, rummaged about with one finger and found it.

Both grinned at each other. Paul pulled out paper and pencil and wrote, ‘We could have let it go but warning them seemed better. They’ll be awaiting our move. Mr. Daveson begins to interest me greatly.’

Derek nodded and said, audibly, ‘This is where the apparition appeared.’ Paul examined the access and egress, had it been a holographic construction or a real creature. This came up with nothing. He struck his wrist and gave Derek a questioning look, to which the latter said, ‘Most definitely,’ play-acting a hurt wrist.

Paul stood in the middle of the floor and thought it out, then wrote, ‘1 a.m. I’ll come to you. Now for supper.’

Derek nodded and they went downstairs but not before the wetted hair had been placed across strategic points.

Supper in the Boiserie was superb, the caterers having released the Davesons, he to concentrate on the IT side of the project and she to take over the supervising of the domestic side.

Over port, Sir Richard spoke. ‘Gentlemen, I trust you’re settled in and will join us after supper for a short recital by Amanda Greaves, violinist, who’s agreed to stop by on her current tour to take in our playhouse. It’s a one-off this evening and we’re very lucky to have secured her. Most patrons will stay overnight as guests … so you won’t be alone.’

It was their first real look at the finished playhouse and they had to admit it would hold its own, even by comparison to some of the metropolitan rivals. This side of the business was only going to keep on keeping on, even if the rest took a downturn. There was no doubt it had been money well spent.

Waiting for Ms Greaves to begin, even in the dimmed light, Paul noticed two or three people of note, up from the big smoke and murmured close to Derek’s ear not to make too big an issue of it but to look over when he got the chance.

The lights dimmed the rest of the way and Amanda Greaves began with 'Die ihr des unermesslichen Weltalls Schöpfer ehrt', which set the tone for the rest of the evening. Derek supposed the chamber orchestra would be accommodated in the performers’ suites above and behind the main hall.

The recital came to a pleasing close, all the bravos had been shouted and they went back to their rooms. Derek took a look at the hairs and noticed they were all still in place but not precisely – he’d even noticed the marks in the texture of the case and woodwork on the drawer when he’d put them there. Clever people though. Opening the drawer, he saw the slight bulge, reached under his shirts and his hand closed around the pistol.

He’d brought one himself and checked his pack. The Glock 26 was gone, plus the parabellum rounds. He pulled out the shirts and saw a Glock 27 in its place, with a pack of .40 rounds. Putting on the cotton gloves and pulling the soft brush and powder from his shaving kit, he dusted the weapon – nothing.

After a few minutes of deliberation over this, he felt the best thing was to front Paul about it immediately. Of course Paul might lie, if only to protect himself from prosecution for illegal possession of a firearm but there was a chance he’d not lie. if Derek waited until 1 a.m., then both might go into this together highly suspicious of the other.

Better the secret came out now.

He knocked on Paul’s door and in answer to the quiet challenge, equally quietly answered, ‘Me,’ and asked Paul to come and look. The chain was unlatched, Paul came out and locked the room behind him. In Derek’s room, seeing the Glock lying there, he registered no surprise but pulled out paper and pencil again and wrote, ‘So? We agreed to come armed.’

Derek took the paper and wrote, ‘I had a Glock 26, 9mm. This is a 27, point-four-o. Someone’s changed the weapon, someone who removed the hair I left and then replaced it.’

Paul nodded and beckoned Derek through to his room, the latter locking his own door behind him. The instant they were in his room, Derek saw his Glock 26 on the bed, with the packet of rounds and it had been dusted too. He grinned and wrote: ‘Did you find my prints?’

‘I found no prints whatsoever. Also, I didn’t bring a pistol. I brought four polymer throwing knives, which I kept on me at the recital. Either someone fears for our lives or someone is setting us up.’

‘Why take mine and give it to you? Why not just give you the 27?’

‘Right, so we have a ‘we know that they know that we know’ situation. All the parties who were to be informed have been informed and our egress from our rooms after the household has gone to bed is going to be seen as fair game. Let’s say we’re challenged by superior firepower. The reason for and legality of our weapons comes into question and why we’d feel it necessary to carry them on this trip. They have our initial money but not the ongoing.

They might view us as intruders and on seeing the weapons, gun us down. Oh dear, officer, they came at us with the Glocks. Again, their ongoing money dries up. Do they care though? If this thing has come down to guns, then there is a secret to protect and as like as not, that secret is a source of money at least equal to our input in these early stages, which is substantial.

The last reason I can see is that they blackmail us into further funds.’

‘Perhaps they’re happy for things to stay as is, for the status quo to be and this Glock is a sign that if we wish for a shootout, they’ll oblige us but would much prefer we remain good little guests and let them get on with it.’

‘Get on with what?’

Derek sighed and wrote, ‘We went into that in London, I suppose. Hence Marie.’

V

Around 3 a.m., the aforementioned Marie, on padded feet, found her way to the converted gunroom and went through the process of identifying and disconnecting the alarm, an interactive Livermore system system but came up against the secondary password for the green room and conservatory. She pressed her pager and waited for the power disconnect from nearby Cheatham.

It came but the system went onto auxilliary as she’d expected. Now she was on safe ground as she’d been the one to install the Livermore and had to hope the code had not been changed. If it had, all hell would break loose and she’d have to get through the run-off duct and run hell for leather for the north-east gate where her car awaited.

She took a deep breath, ran the code and the power disconnected, which gave her the few minutes necessary, as the main door to the west of the house was now jammed. The only way she could be circumvented would be for them to come round and through the conservatory but that would take a minimum of eight or nine minutes.

There was time and she went straight through to the green room, which gave out onto the conservatory. Her pencil torch showed it was currently sporting an 18th century skeleton table, an antique Bavarian marriage chest, a Queen Anne chair, an Edwardian Pembroke table, an Edwardian double seat, a 20th century French settee and a George III side table. Mrs. Thompson had been hard at work.

She took a quick look at the workshop, got the general idea, went back to the double chair and yes, the glue still had not set on the rear right leg, which she now tore off, slipped over her shoulder into her back tube bag and now came the tricky bit, the egress from the conservatory. She hoped the hell the boys had made it to the belvedere.

She rapidly scanned the rows of flora by the three-quarter moon light, judged that the vault was accessible from the north end, most likely under a movable earthen pot, it was, she only had time to almost leap down the ladder, shine the pencil torch, see the inventory and take the top three sheets, then came a stroke of luck. There were traces of some spillage on the bench which had been cleared off but she saw a bin below and if they’d been lazy …?

Her holdall tube came off, the bin contents were poured in, that was enough for now, the next danger point was upon her – the egress up the ladder – she was now up, paused, exited the hatch, made for the far row, saw the figure step out and put a dart into it before it could fire, heard the one behind her before he’d even got a clear shot and put a dart into him, went for the door and now her life was in someone else’s hands.

Keeping, as arranged, to the hedgerow, she only had coverage from the belvedere for the first ten metres, after which she was on her own, nothing impeded her and the boys would be returning to their rooms, now she ran hell for leather for that sidegate, scaled it, saw the three unhooded faces she knew, made the car which was already idling, paged the boys, climbed in the trunk as she was and away they went.

There was a heavy knock on Derek’s door not one minute later, he sat crouched by the far wall, the lights were switched on and Pete Daveson and wife stood scanning the room – it was now 3:32 a.m. - caught sight of him, apparently unarmed, as apparently they were and all parties decided on the bluff. Of course they had to maintain form and apologize but they wanted to give Derek the once over all the same.

‘We’ve just had a break-in downstairs in the green room, they disabled the alarms and cut off all power to Linfield for thirty minutes.’

‘I know,’ said Derek. ‘We’ve just been to the belvedere -’

‘Ah, so it was you after all?’

‘Yep. Time to come clean. We were tipped off, both Paul and I, in London that an attempt was to be made on our lives tonight. Strictly between you and me, we’re armed, quite legally,’ Daveson smiled at this, ‘and when we heard a dull noise and saw car lights over by the east gate,’ Daveson looked over and conceded that that was possible, ‘we were puzzled. We thought the danger would come from inside the house, not form out there and we couldn’t see why they’d be stupid enough to show their lights.’

‘A point which immediately crossed my mind, Mr. Hatton.’

Paul had now come through and joined the discussion. Daveson turned round and addressed him. ‘You didn’t go down to the gunroom?’

‘How?’

The point had been well made and Daveson knew it. There was no way down from here because of the temporary device he’d installed for the night, on its own power supply, to give the alarm, should they have attempted it and it certainly hadn’t be triggered. These boys had not been down that way so who had?

He asked just that and both gave it some thought. Paul said, ‘It had to be someone who knew what he was going to find and knew something of the security system.’

‘Hell of a risk if we’d changed it.’ All parties knew this was a bluff but couldn’t admit that, of course.

‘Not unless they had up to date knowledge,’ Paul put the cat among the pigeons and it did stop Daveson for a moment. ‘OK, unless you two are going to kill us, I’m going to try to get a few hours sleep now. I imagine the fun and games is over for the night.’

Begrudgingly, the Davesons left and were heard to go downstairs. Paul played it straight, said, ‘Goodnight, Derek,’ to which the other replied and they both took a few hours rest.

VI

They met at the Hare and Hounds, ordered and bought ales.

‘A new variation of MDMA, Derek. In the furniture. Thompson has a clear run on the antiques side, she files accounts but the rest is up to her, particularly at her end. The vault was a lab. Whoever’s running the show and I still pin it on Daveson, he did err in even having the trapdoor under the pot. If it had just been the garden office, well …’

‘One can be too clever. So they know it’s known and are waiting for someone to make a move.’

‘It’ll have been scoured by now and the duff furniture removed. They can’t keep that up forever and it’ll have to start up again but any presence by us down there will send alarm signals from here on in.’

‘We still have a few people we could send but they’ll be like hawks on the phone or web reservations now. My feeling is that they’ll run some of the houses legit for some time, switch for a short time to Linfield, move it out again to another house and so on.’

‘Did you take both the Glocks?’

‘No, I left the 27, more’s the pity. It’s the better weapon. So … what next?’

‘Well, we really must discuss this. We could take a cut from the operation, which I’m fairly certain would shorten our shelf life, we could call the boys in blue, we could play the saint and demand they go legit, at least at Linfield or … what else?’

Derek took a sip and thought for a while. ‘What do you think, Paul?’

‘I suggest we play the saint for some time, the returns on that operation are miniscule compared to what could be made at source. If we were going to do it, we’d need to think big and cut into the main operation, better justifying the risks. Or else we take our returns as agreed way back when.’

‘Hard to know how much plod knows.’

‘That’s the key issue. Better we let it rest for now, see if there are any raids but if we do nothing at all, it also carries its dangers. At a minimum, it will intrigue Daveson who can think like us and would know the quandary we’re in. That strengthens his hand somewhat.’

‘Why don’t we do a bit more homework, set up a meet on the Osprey and invite key players, with an ostensible view to cutting in.’

‘Can you get the Osprey?’

‘Not a problem. Mike’s a mate of mine. I’m pretty sure they’ll send the deputy dawg first up, the principal won’t isolate himself on a boat but even that should tell us something. We’d arrange a second meet to tie up the details down the track and insist it’s the top man that time.’

‘We’re sitting targets. If we’re dealing with Europe or even with a more serious echelon here, we’ll be out of our league.’

‘Perhaps. We go in resourced. Is the game worth the candle though with these boys? I’m not unhappy with the proceeds as they’re currently trickling in. I still sleep at night. Seems we need to be sure how much we want it. We also need to run it so one of us can cut free, should he so choose.’

‘What we could do though is broker a new line that might interest them. That way we’re not dirty little men muscling in but are expanding their operations. They might go for that better.’

‘What new line?’

‘Cruises. Gets plod off all of our backs.’

‘I know some people.’

‘I know you do. The cruise idea dovetails nicely with the rest of their set up.’

‘I don’t think they’re that large in the first place.’

‘You’re right – they’re just an outlet and their papa might not appreciate the freelancing. The thing is, Derek, we need to know first with whom we’re dealing.’

‘We’ll reconvene at the Tavern a week today. All right?’

VII

The ‘guests’ had all checked in their weapons and had been scanned and dewired, the boat security detail consisted of ten torpedoes who’d be rotated next time round, the transit punt had returned to land, the guests were invited to scan for bugs and the latter did, coming up with a blank, the caterers had served the fish and the conversation began.

Present were Paul and Derek, Fester, one with whom Fester seemed particularly miffed - a lady called Meagan plus Johnathan Maven.

‘The question,’ opened Paul, ‘is whether we want to run the cruises legit or do a little extra. We have our hands on three boats for now and as you’ve already discovered, those boys aren’t playing ball with you. It’s through us or nowhere. I think you’d understand the nature of the return from these weekends and so our ask of 12% on top of the running costs would seem not unreasonable, would you say? Any dissenting voices?’

‘The electronics would be handled by us?’

‘Yes. From your cut.’

‘Catering?’ asked Meagan.

‘Your call, lady. We’re not in that game.’

There were nods around the table. Fester spoke. ‘For reasons I think are fairly obvious, we stand to risk most so on top of the distribution costs, we’d like 20%. If a cabin could be made over to us, we’d drop that to 15%.’

Paul spoke. ‘No cabin in the first year of operation. Your percentage is between you and the others.’

There were nods and murmurs of approval. Fester asked, ‘Why only the 12%?’

‘We’d like a longer shelf life. This is a business arrangement, that’s all. Our backers have stipulated 12% so that’s non-negotiable. I’m hoping none of us will get too greedy in this arrangement.’

‘Fine, fine.’

‘We’re going with two of your boys to the rear of the craft for twenty-five minutes. You can speak freely during that time.’

There was earnest discussion while Paul and Derek took a stroll on the rear deck; at the end of the stipulated time they returned and sat down.

‘So,’ said Derek, ‘how’s it to be split?’

‘We need to to speak with our people,’ answered Fester.

‘Meaning you’re not the principal. Now listen, people, when we reconvene in two weeks, we want the principals here. That means, Terry, the supplier for South-West, not your own girl and Johnathan, that means whoever is the decision maker. We’re not compromising on this and we’d be happy to accede to most checks and filters you care to run. We can moor where you like. On the other hand, you do realize that the Osprey will not be unattended. Peter has already seen some of the scramble defences. Everyone plays by the book and all will be well.’

Fifteen minutes after the last of the guests had been ferried ashore, a small runabout pulled up astern and the occupant was winched onto the landing deck. Two minutes later, they were in the communications room and listening to the conversations.

First the ferry in, then the dinner table and finally the ferry back.

‘Neat little unit that mike,’ grinned Paul and Dean Ferris smiled back. ‘So, none of them knew of the lovely Meagan except Terry who was cut up about her. Fester plans to double-cross us, did you read it that way, Derek?’

He nodded and Paul went on, ‘Johnathan’s presence was a mystery, no James Ingram and many unanswered questions. I think we came out evens on the first round. It wouldn’t have done to win too many too early.’

‘Perhaps we should have gone for 18-20%?’

‘No, my source says that’s the right price. It’ll have them guessing but not overly. It suggests we don’t need the cash.’

‘Paul, do you think Meagan was there to keep Fester honest?’

‘Oh I’m sure of it or else to prevent him branching out.’

‘Who’s she reporting to?’

‘Maybe she’s not reporting to anyone.’

‘Ah. You know, it seems to me we had a real mix onboard tonight. Rank amateurs like Fester who are no doubt expendable, through to the demure Meagan who might even be running Europe for all we know.’

‘This was what they projected. You can’t tell, without some sort of break, who’s lying in which bed. Let’s meet again in one week but not here. Can we use the Emma Hamilton?’

‘Good name, isn’t it. I can’t see why not.’

VIII

Derek had sent his secretary to lunch and was just tucking into his own turkey and cranberry sandwiches when the buzzer went in reception.

Typical.

Through the screen he saw it was Meagan, alone.

Within a minute she was seated in his office and he was making the coffee. ‘You saw her go out then?’

‘Yes. How long do we have?’

‘About twenty-five minutes.’ He served the coffee and the bits and pieces on a plate. Meagan glanced down at the arrangement and smiled, Derek shrugged apologetically. ‘Speak, Meagan.’

‘Are you certain that all your friends are friends?’

He laughed aloud. ‘That’s precisely what we were expecting – the divide and rule.’

She didn’t answer but reached inside her satchel and extracted a folder which she laid in front of him. He flicked through it and nearly concealed his shock but not quite. ‘That puts a different slant on it, doesn’t it?’

‘I thought you might see it that way. You do see they’re authentic, don’t you? Let your secretary run down after this and double check.’

‘Thanks, I shall.’

‘Here’s a photocopy of what I laid in front of him.’

She pulled the folder out and handed it over, he glanced at it and asked, ‘Why?’

‘So all players are in the open and accounted for.’

‘And the bottom line?’

She reached in and produced a third folder. He looked at the top sheet, the letterhead and the little mark in the lower right corner, closed the folder and said, ‘I had no idea we were playing in this league. Don’t you people allow the little man to have just a bit of fun?’

‘How could you in this caper? Offshore’s all tied up. Brussels is watching You should have stuck to stately homes.’

‘So we pull out, yes?’

‘No. Here’s what I’d like you to do.’

IX

The evening was unsettled, the sea was building up a fraction too much for comfort yet the Emma Hamilton was a large craft.

Derek felt the world and his dog must know about this meeting but here they all were anyway, Paul, Meagan, James Ingram, Johnathan and to his immense shock and Paul’s too – little Marie.

Meagan chaired the meeting and opened. ‘During the past two weeks, you’ve each seen what one of the others is really playing at. On the grounds that at least one other person knows about you, please now state who you are and how you see yourself contributing to this project. Marie please.’

‘I’m not the sole supplier to the south-west. There are others, especially out of London but most of it comes through Plymouth, as you know. We had a feeling Terry Reynolds might have been branching out and so it turned out, using Linfield as a lab and paying heavily for the privilege. Terry’s no longer with us, nor the lovely Linda but that wasn’t our doing. I suspect Meagan put one or two documents Pete Davison’s way but I can’t be sure.’

‘Johnathan?’

‘Linfield’s in my name. Pater signed it over when he passed his 80th and my interest is in the commercial possibilities of that and my other property, The Elms. I can’t say I didn’t know what Terry was up to but we needed him for the landscaping, the architects and the antiques people. We were always ready to hang it round his neck if the worst came to the worst. I took no cut from that side of the operation.’

‘Then why are you here tonight?’ asked Derek.

‘I keep plod at bay.’

‘Ah. That rather depends on Meagan’s people, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes and no. I have the contacts within the country. For now.’

‘James?’

‘Seems I’m the most transparent here tonight. I run the houses and head up Fern, which has fingers in many pies - wind turbines, nightclubs, whatever currently turns a profit, excluding porn and drugs.’

‘Derek?’

‘A bit like James, I dabble in a broad portfolio and make a little on every deal. I’m not known for trying the main chance. Some go pear-shaped and the rest pay my way out.’

‘Paul?’

‘I deal with people. Staff supply, jobs agencies in specialized fields, immigration advice, security.’

‘So,’ concluded Meagan, ‘apart from Marie, all of you are veritable saints, except that you all lied by omission. Let me fill in the blanks so that we all know with whom we’re dealing. ‘Johnathan, you’ve euphemized your role and you do keep official eyes from prying but at a price. Shall you tell them or shall I? As you wish. Johnathan is also involved in the male escort business and passes Marie’s contact number to discreet clients as well, am I right?

Let’s continue. James, what’s your wife’s name? So shy? Marie, what’s your husband’s name? This is coming up to your eighth anniversary, is it not, the pair of you?

Derek, what was the name of that woman found on Bodmin Moor by the Fowey? She’d asphyxiated on her own vomit, I believe. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Paul, dear Paul. How many was it you lost from Zeebrugge a month back? One hundred and five from a total payload of one hundred and seventy seven, was it not? How much did each of them pay? Not a penny? That would be right because when they arrived, they had a nasty surprise awaiting them, did they not?

But who am I to sit in moral judgement? Now, if you’re all happy to proceed with this business, by all means, be my guest.’

‘Who the fuck are you, lady?’ demanded Paul Eastbourne.

‘I represent interests within greater Europe who’d like to simplify the distribution channels in and out of member countries. We are not without resources.’

‘You’re sailing close to the wind, lady with your True Confessions. One more crack from you and you’re over the side.’

‘Indeed?’ She snapped her fingers, five of the security detail, Eastbourne’s detail, came at him, lifted him bodily, took him, shouting, from the bar area, out of the port door, heaved him over the side and returned to their places.

‘He has a sporting chance,’ explained Meagan. ‘He’s 0.9 kilometres offshore, he’s not drunk and the water temperature this evening should give him a good thirty to forty minutes before hypothermia sets in. If he tries to board, he’ll be shot.’

To their enquiring glances, she added, ‘Money talks, sadly. Now, back to business. Anyone wish to open negotiations?’

Johnathan Maven was stupid enough to try, the five security came at him, lifted him bodily, screaming far more than Eastbourne had, took him out and heaved him over, then returned to their places.

‘I think that concludes the evening’s discussion, does it not?’

They trooped out to the waiting punt but Meagan indicated she wanted to talk to Derek. ‘Right, Mr. Hatton, that’s the payback for Melissa Barnes, your niece who called you from one of Eastbourne’s riverbank parties and whom you found choking on her own vomit when you arrived. Were you aware it was one of his parties?’

‘Not a clue. If I had -’

‘Yes, what would you have done?’

‘I’d have shot him.’

‘Then you would have shot the wrong person. It was Eastbourne’s party all right but the one who supplied her with the cut drug is well known at Linfield. I suspect that’s your next task.’

‘Do you know who it is? Are you playing games?’

‘I can tell you I’m not playing games and I don’t even know if it’s male or female. I do know that Eastbourne paid out a substantial amount for that person not to talk. He had a twenty minute call on his mobile that night, followed by the fund withdrawal some thirty minutes later and that appeared in the house account the following day. You can’t conclude from that that it was her. For a start, the idea of her being at one of those parties is ludicrous. Secondly, she would have taken it as a downpayment by Eastbourne on the development project. She may have known the true story though. I think a fruitful line of enquiry would be for you to explore to where the money went after that.

I take it that you’ve now retired from this line of work,’ she indicated the boat and the reason for the meeting this night. Derek nodded and felt he’d got out of it relatively unscathed … so far. ‘Stick to what you know,’ she urged, with a kindly gesture. ‘Now let’s go ashore.’

X

Derek booked in to see Amanda Greaves, violinist, on the return visit on her way to the north and decided to stay two nights.

The operation had become quite slick and the experience enjoyable from access to egress. The staff had increased in proportion to the profits and the attention was assiduous. In fact, Linfield was building a name around Britain and abroad for a delightful weekend away. There was a seedier side for those of that bent but it was under the control of Meagan’s people and as they didn’t appear to be greedy enough to buy up the whole kaboodle, there was a form of tolerance in operation. Perhaps they hadn’t wanted to internationalize the experience too much, the lure of the English stately home still a clarion call.

There were three pieces of unfinished business. One was the unmasking of the person who had fed Derek’s niece those drugs and left her to die, the finding of the source of the cut drugs and one more little task entrusted to him by Marjorie Maven herself from a public box in the town – to track down, if he could, who was skimming off the profits. Marjorie still did all the accounts and they’d been sure they’d got it past her, on the grounds that she’d not kicked up a fuss.

Why she’d picked on Derek to solve the riddle was a puzzle to him. She obviously liked him and had seen his name on the list. Perhaps that had been it but he wondered if she’d tumbled to his own little Linfield secret. These forty-eight hours might be instructive.

He was a bit late arriving and barely had time to have his things taken up to ‘his’ room, the same one he always used now, to freshen up and dress before it was time to skip down to the foyer, vestibule and concert hall. The lights went down and Amanda Greaves began with 'Schlechtes Wetter; Ach, Lieb, ich muss nun scheiden and
Lied der Frauen'.

There was a slight weariness to her voice this time about – it had been a long tour of the south and Derek was surprised she could even find a note. as the repertoire went on, most felt she was good, of that there was no doubt but she hadn’t been great.

In fact, before the final number, she even apologized amid deprecating reactions from the audience for her not to trouble herself over that.

Cheryl, the entertainments officer, had arranged for Derek to slip backstage to see the soprano and that’s where he observed not only her weariness but her agitation. There was something not altogether right about Amanda and ever the opportunist, Derek suggested they step out into the night. At first that seemed the last thing she’d wanted to do but then she’d agreed and they took the walkway over to the high terrace and sat on the high-sided bench, looking down over the house, floodlit from the ground, an impressive sight.

‘Care to talk about it?’ invited Derek.

‘Not really. Just a personal worry.’

‘You’re being blackmailed. That was the only reason you sang this evening.’

She jumped up as if to flee but he ordered her to stay and it might have been the change in tone, it might have been that he seemed to know, it might have been that she really had nowhere to flee. She was dying to tell him.

‘There was a recital in Cornwall and a party afterwards. The whole thing took place on Bodmin Moor. Near the front I saw a woman slipping something to some girls at the front. I wouldn’t have seen it except that the lights flashed on stage at that particular moment and it lit up the front three rows. The reason I noticed was because the girls weren’t looking at me, not that it was necessary of course but it was still unusual at a recital; at least that’s what I thought.

After the performance, I saw one of those girls in a bit of trouble and I took her away from the compound area and we walked a bit. At least I walked but she stumbled. I wanted to get her medical attention but she gripped my arm and showed me it was the last thing she wanted. She feared it for some reason. This was my crime. I should have insisted but I didn’t and she began to convulse. I panicked, ran back to the stage area and screamed for someone, anyone, to get medical help. I think someone was called but by this time a man came to me and told me I’d left a dying girl, that the police would think I had given her the drugs and that he’d stay quiet if I gave him a portion of my takings and agreed to give three concerts at venues of his choosing. Tonight was the last of those.’

‘You say ‘a man’. You mean it wasn’t the organizer of the event, Paul Eastbourne?’

‘How do you know his name?’ she asked in alarm.

‘Softly, softly. I just do. All will be revealed in a few minutes.’ She stood up to go once more. ‘No, Amanda, if you go now there’ll be no end to the trouble. I shan’t hurt you and if you stay and clear this up, then that’s an end of it. The blackmailer no longer has a secret to use.’

She sat down again but was wary. He loosened his bowtie and went on. ‘The woman you saw give the drugs – was she small, dark-haired, pretty and moved quickly?’

Amanda thought about it. ‘Not really. She was dark-haired but taller, very pale.’

‘A bit like Morticia Addams in the comedy show?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘No matter. She looked gothic.’

‘Yes, yes that’s how I’d describe her. It’s how I’d describe the man who blackmailed me too.’

‘Thanks, Amanda. I’m sorry not to address you as Ms Greaves but this matter is personal to me and I forgot my manners.’

‘It doesn’t worry me in the slightest. But how? How is it personal to you?’

‘Firstly, I’ll clear two storm clouds for you. both those people are dead. They were killed by people in the trade. This information came to me via a long route. So some sort of justice has been done. And yet you were still being blackmailed until when?’

‘Until two Thursdays ago. I haven’t heard since.’

‘Ah, then that does not clear my friend at all. He drowned, from what I can gather.’

She looked at him curiously. ‘You seem to lose a lot of friends.’

‘The first two were the opposite of friends. That girl, Amanda, happened to be my niece.’

‘Ohmgd, I’m so terribly sorry.’ She took his hand and they sat for some two minutes.

‘It’s a weight off my mind to know that though.’

‘Are you sure that man is not coming back, the one who blackmailed me recently?’

‘If he’s the one I think he is, I have it on good authority that he drowned, trying to swim from a boat to the shore. I heard this some days after it happened. We’d better be getting back.’

They wandered down the path, chatting about this and that, parted sweetly and he promised to look out for her next tour.

It was probably time for bed.

XI

So here he was again, in bed, bedclothes up to his chin, alone, reflecting on life and a girl’s life snuffed out by uncaring, unfeeling people. He felt they’d relinquished their right to be called human, having done something like that.

The moon bathing the room in its gentle light was just over half full and he half imagined the old woman would appear again, never having accepted she was the holographic version but had been the genuine article.

That’s when he saw his bedroom door handle dip, saw the door slowly open, saw the foot before he saw the woman behind it, she slipped into the room and adjusted her eyes. Then her eyes saw him and she advanced steadily towards the bed. As he moved further towards the window side of the bed, she came round to the other side, lifted the covers and climbed in beside him.

She moved across to him, her cold hand reached out and went around his waist. She hissed, ‘Well, are you going to hold me, Derek or are you going to lie there like a dummy all night?’

‘Cheryl,’ he whispered and kissed her. They fell into thirty minutes of intensity and didn’t notice the presence in the room of another person but they sure heard the clump of the chain, pulled away from each other and stared in shock.

Over by the wardrobe had materialized the most pathetic of creatures, a gothic-attired old woman, hands manacled and presumably feet also; she gave out the most deliciously low, spooky moan and stared straight through the two of them. Cheryl gasped and clutched him as the woman slowly, evenly, advanced towards the bed and then half of her seemed to be moving through the bed, the other half above.

A metre from their pillow, she spoke in a low voice, ‘Help me.’

‘How?’

‘Help me. My daughter.’

Cheryl tumbled to it immediately. ‘The box room.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said the old lady and dematerialized.

‘Did we just see that?’ he asked her.

‘We did and I know the legend. The hologram was created by Pete Daveson to cover up for any appearances this poor dear might make. What she thinks of what’s happened to the old place I’ll never know.’

‘I should think that she’d love to hear music and gaiety once more after the years of gloom. But we’ll have to help her. Can we?’

‘Derek, we’re not even questioning what we saw.’

‘Well, we saw her, didn’t we? She spoke to us and besides, you probably heard I’d seen her before.’

‘Ah, that explains their behaviour. Sally was talking about it. We’ll go down tomorrow, find the girl’s bones, get the local minister in and bury her properly.’

They were sure the old lady had heard that.

‘Now,’ said Derek, ‘does anyone know you’re here?’ She shook her head. ‘Does anyone know of our plans?’ She shook her head. ‘Have you changed your mind?’ She smiled and shook her head. ‘Well, thank heavens for that. It must be the best kept courtship in the history of this place. Thanks for the tip about the alarms.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘There’s one more thing and we can tie this thing off. It seems someone is raking off some money from Marjory’s accounts. She noticed it. Now look, if you know about it, good. If you don’t, then also good.’

‘Silly. Marjory split the accounts when the playhouse was built but the bank didn’t do their end until a week ago. That can be straightened out tomorrow. The income now goes to a central account, from where it’s split three ways. So it was a substantial amount being ‘raked off’. There’s two hundred and fifty thousand in the playhouse account alone.’

‘One more thing – is Pete Daveson or his wife criminal?’

‘One never really knows about someone, Derek but no. Pete certainly suspected Paul and you of being here for nefarious purposes. Said the two of you were going about whispering, acting most suspiciously. He put in extra security which I told you about. He’s attached to the place and wouldn’t go anywhere else, neither would she. You see, Sally’s mother was the governess for the children of the late Lord of the Manor and Pete was given his position by Sir Richard two decades ago, when he’d been distinctly on his uppers. He’s never forgotten that.’

‘Did you think I was suspicious?’

‘Well yes, as a matter of fact, especially at first. But the story of Morticia and Fester broke everyone up and I had few doubts after that. It just seemed to me a comedy of misunderstandings from then on.’

‘It was a bit more than that and people died as a result but yes, it was a bit silly really. Who knows but maybe Paul Eastbourne picked up on that in me and used it to continue the divide and rule. We’ll never know now. We really must help the old lady tomorrow morning.’

‘That’s the first thing we’ll do after breakfast. When do you want to marry?’

‘In a few weeks. Any good singers coming up? Any chamber orchestras?’

‘We’ll look at that tomorrow too. I’ll have to put through some calls. The current ones are in the next week so that’s a bit soon for me, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘Fine. Do you mind if I stay over for a few more days? I’m shifting my operations up this way in the next month. The bulk of my business is online or by phone anyway.’

‘Enough shop for one night. Let’s do something else.’

‘Chat?’

CLICK HERE FOR STORY 2: LIFT

Lift

2009-05-25T06:14:00.000-07:00

Cast

Masha
James

Based on a true story

I

The moment the lift door closed, he realized he’d left his key to the downstairs door, the outer door, in his other jacket. How many times had he been told, ‘Na myeste,’ which is Russian for ‘in its place’?

Not to worry. There was always someone coming through, he’d wait and tag along on the way back. Let’s see - money, passport, car keys, confetti chocolates, the salad he’d promised to bring - all except for that outer door key.

Annoying but still.

The ding went on the 7th floor, the door opened, in came Masha, done up to the nines and clearly out on the town this evening. She nodded, he nodded, she turned to face the door, which now closed but nothing else happened.

He went to reach behind her to press the button. ‘I pushed it,’ she said.

‘Push it again.’

Slightly irritated, she did and the lift didn’t move.

‘Walkies.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Walk, pyeshkom, on foot, we need to walk, Masha.’

‘We need to get out of this lift.’

‘Press open.’

‘I pushed it.’

‘Push it again.’

She gave him a look but did it all the same.

Nothing. ‘Move over,’ he said, deeply annoying to her, suggesting that she was incapable of pressing the requisite button. He also drew a blank and pushed the lift keeper button. ‘You speak,’ he suggested to her.

‘You know Russian.’

He sighed and tried to gather the vocab from his word store, looked at the button and pushed it again.

He stepped back. ‘You push it.’

She did and then pushed it eight more times … he counted. ‘Blin,’ she muttered.

The first sign of their true predicament started raising its hand for attention in his brain. Lift stuck, no one at the end of the emergency button, the arrangement of the floors such that screaming and yelling would draw no one – they were all behind two foot thick walls, which themselves were behind an outer metal door and it was late evening.

He also noticed that with the new lift they’d put in a month ago, it might have looked new-fangled and shiny but there was one tiny little thing the old lift had which the new one didn’t – a rusted hole in the roof. In short, they were in a sealed cocoon. As casually as he could, he glanced up at the ceiling for the hatch with wing nuts or at least screws which could be worked loose.

Nope, only a beautifully flush fluorescent pane of light, dovetailed into the surrounding metal. He glanced at the floor – sealed at the edges. Not to worry, if they could prise the door open just a fraction, there’d be air.

‘Do you have a mobile phone?’ she asked.

‘Nyet.’

She thought about that for maybe half a minute and then asked, ‘Why not? Every guy has a mobile phone.’

‘This one doesn’t. I take it you don’t either.’

‘You’re right, I don’t.’

‘Every girl -’ Then he stopped himself. No point provoking her, as they had to stay calm in this situation; immaturity was the last thing required. Right. Hmmm. ‘People will come home from the bars. The lift woman will come home. When you don’t get to where you were going, there’ll be phone calls.’

‘No there won’t.’

He looked at her. ‘Try the buttons again.’

‘You try them.’ She slid down the left wall of the lift and sat on her haunches, pouting. He did try them, all of them, all the floors, open and close, the lot. He pushed them from different angles, with different pressures, he even held them in.

Nothing. He sank to his haunches against the other wall and thought it through. ‘Mobile wouldn’t work in here anyway.’

‘I know.’

‘So why did you … never mind. Someone will be here shortly.’

‘No they won’t.’

‘All right, I know they won’t.’

‘Why won’t they?’

He looked at her curiously. ‘Tell me, Masha, what would you do? Let’s say you come in downstairs, press the button, nothing happens, where do you go?’

‘Up the stairs at the back.’

‘You’d still need to come in and go past the lift door. You’d be heard.’

‘I would, if I was coming to this floor. But I’m me and I’m in here.’

‘Would anyone from your floor be likely to come to this landing at this hour on a Sunday?’

She thought about it and nearly fell into the trap. ‘No,’ she eventually said.

He grinned. ‘You were going to say that boys would come to this floor of yours, except for one thing – you’re in the lift and not at home.’

She stared over his shoulder at the wall, then looked sideways down at the floor. ‘I’ve seen women going up to your floor.’

‘Clients and friends.’

‘Mine are friends too.’

‘Mine are here for advice.’

‘Not all.’

They lapsed into silence. Right, he thought, the air would be good for an hour all up, it was a large lift. It was totally bare inside, no little hammer in a glass case, no jagged piece of metal to break off, as with the last lift. The light was the only way, by breaking the perspex. Then what? Electric shock as the light went out? The seriousness began to impinge on the brain.

Hey, he thought, there are a hundred flats in this block, many young people, the lift was always going up and down, even late. Not on a Sunday, admittedly.

It was a wintry Sunday.

This was a little more serious than he’d thought. On spec, he pushed the lift woman’s button again … nothing although he could hear it ringing through the speaker. He stood up, pressed the ground floor again and her floor, then his.

Hmmm. ‘Masha, wait till I put my fingers in my ears and then how about you scream at the top of your voice for a minute? I sometimes hear you from my flat.’

She grinned and asked, ‘Gatov? Ready?’ He nodded and she screamed, man did she scream and he’d have loved to have had a decibel and pitch reader just then. Her scream strangled itself at the end and she got her breath back.

‘You were good,’ he grinned. ‘Remind me never to attack you.’

She gave a mock bow.

Hmmm. ‘In your bag – do you have anything useful, anything metal, anything to help get the door open a little?’

‘Nyet.’ Then she smiled, unclipped the bag and showed the corner of a pack of light ribbed. ‘That’s all.’

‘Lover not exciting enough?’

They lapsed into silence again. Then he asked, ‘Have you eaten?’

‘I was going to eat out. Have you?’

‘No. Here. Use your fingers and take a quarter.’ He pulled the Bahetlye salad from his bag, she recognized the packet, he tried to undo the plastic cling film they always wound round and round so that it was impossible –

‘Here, give it to me.’ She found the edge and slowly peeled it back, laying each piece over her knee to put back after. She took off the lid, said ‘spasibo’ quite softly and took a little less than one quarter.

‘I’d tell you to have more but we might need it later.’

‘I hope we’ll be out of here by then.’

‘So am I but we need to play it safe, all the same.’

‘I see you almost every day but I never learned your name. You already call me by my nickname.’

‘Yes but I call you ‘vi’ as well. How many guys call you ‘vi’?

She was silent on that and he knew she appreciated it. Respect was a precious commodity in Russia, rarely meted out to any under thirty. ‘My name’s James.’

‘Privyet.’ She extended a hand and he shook it. It was now time to make whatever move they were going to make. About thirty minutes had gone by and that was usually enough time for someone to have come through and seen the problem. He was sure that if one of the older set had seen the lift in that state, he or she would have been on the phone – that generation always would.

He stood and in frustration, pushed the ground floor button. There was a whoosh, the lift went into its usual mode and started going down. He looked at her and she was smiling.

‘Hey,’ he said.

Suddenly the bloody thing stopped, bounced a bit and finally came to rest, halfway betweeen floors 5 and 4.

They both swore like troopers, both tried everything to get it going again and both finally sat back down on their haunches, frustrated beyond measure.

There was nothing for it but the door need prising open and all he had on him was his metal belt buckle – pointless. He looked at her but she had her jacket on. ‘Do you have a metal belt buckle, Masha?’

‘Da.’

‘We need to use it and mine too.’ He stood up, lifted his jacket and removed the belt. Pushing the buckle where the two doors met, he made little way but now she handed him hers and it was next to useless - cosmetic. He didn’t want to break it anyway as she’d be upset and there wasn’t a lot of money about for girls such as her.

The air was beginning to get that little bit musty now so he knew he’d have to try it. Her buckle did go in but the problem was that he couldn’t twist it. She saw what he was trying to do, said, ‘Wait one moment, look the other way,’ and did something behind him while he tried to insert his own buckle in the slight gap.

‘Here,’ she offered.

She gave him a piece of curved metal, he kept a straight face but at least they had two of these pieces if needed. It turned out to be a great lever and he was able to get not only his buckle in but the other end of his belt as well and better, he might be able to turn the buckle horizontally.

‘Could you give me the other piece of metal, Masha?’

She didn’t bother with niceties this time but reached inside her jacket, worked the metal out of her bra and gave it to him. His own buckle now went horizontal and one of her pieces of metal now also went horizontal and held the door open.

They both looked at the metal rod keeping that pressurized door at bay and laughed. He noted, ‘They make bras tough these days.’

Now he took his boot off and that gave them a slightly larger gap but then he noticed something – there was a flat metal strip along the top which clearly had somethig to do with opening and closing the doors. Trouble was, he didn’t want to electrocute himself. Reasoning that the lift only dropped when the inner doors fully closed, if he could close that gap with the metal rod, it might get them somewhere. Against that was the fact that the doors seemed to have been quite tightly closed anyway. Still, it might have been a tiny gap, anything could have prevented the lift going down.

Taking off his scarf, rolling it up tightly and resting the metal strip on top of that, he saw the little panel in the door at the top and carefully raised the rod until it touched.

Nothing. It didn’t short, it didn’t trigger anything. There was a draft coming in though and they could breathe.

‘Have you eaten?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, are you hungry?’

‘No, I asked if you’ve eaten.’

‘Earlier, I’ll have some later. I have these too.’ He pulled out the box of chocolates and tried to get the plastic wrap off but couldn’t find the point.

‘Here,’ she laughed. ‘Give it to me.’ She found it quickly, the plastic wrapper came off and she handed them back.

‘No, you choose which ones you want.’

He watched her deciding and thought she was like his own ex-girlfriend – indecisive when it came to critical decisions like this. She’d worked on her hair for some time before she’d come out – it was frizzy and gave the appearance of golden locks tumbling down everywhere.

‘Your hair looks superb this evening. I bet that took a lot of work.’

She nodded, smiled and went back to her chocolate selection. Well, at least that was occupying her. She did choose, by comparing the wrapper to the diagram in the lid and thanked him.

It was chilly now in the lift and he thought whether to close the door a little. There was no point it being so far open because even if they could force it, they were still stuck between floors. They only needed enough to breathe anway - his belt buckle would serve.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Moving the doors closer together. There … and there.’

He handed her her belt and the two bits of metal, looking but the second bit of metal must have stuck and he could sense she was having problems. She could also sense that he could sense it and that made her more annoyed. He could see her mind working, the cogs turning and wondered what she’d do.

Finally, she looked to see he wasn’t looking, took off her jacket, took off the jumper, unclipped the whole item and put the jacket back on. She worked at the metal rod for a few minutes, with him observing an interesting little mark on the light-grey lift wall and then handed it to him. ‘Here, see what you can do.’

Not expensive, probably made locally and with her shape, he couldn’t see the need for the heavy artillery like this thing. It was one of those arrangements where the cloth tube it went in overlapped halfway along and if you got the rod in one half, the other was more difficult. How on earth had she taken it out in the first place? Then he saw the small tear and that’s how she’d done it, not so femme fatale after all. He got the metal back where it should have been and handed the item over.

She laughed. ‘The guys would offer to put it back on.’

‘I’m not the guys. With me, it’s all or nothing. That usually means nothing. May I ask you something?’

‘Da.’

‘Why did you come out just in bra and jacket? It’s a good jacket but it’s only hip length and already you’re shivering.’

‘I had this on too.’ He saw the light blue jumper, wafer thin. She took off the jacket, put on the jumper and then the jacket again.

‘But it’s still too light. It’s minus ten out there; I know you’re Russian but I also know Russian girls feel the cold.’

‘I was being picked up.’

‘And now he’s gone, I suppose.’

‘They.’

‘Won’t they be wondering where you’ve got to?’

‘For a few minutes. I’m a bit capriziosna.’

‘Ah, I see.’ He took off his jacket and said, ‘Let me have your jacket and scarf … please.’ She tossed up for a moment, the cold won and she gave him both. He stood, held his fur jacket open, she got up, put two hands in the sleeves, turned and he zipped her up. ‘It will give you some padding to sit on too.’

He now started to wrap his scarf from the waist like a mummy, she saw what he was trying and said, ‘Here, I’ll do it.’ She wrapped it round and round and tucked it in near the shoulder. Taking her scarf, she wrapped it over and under and covered the upper chest and shoulders. It wasn’t too cold, he felt. ‘Thanks.’

‘Ask me whatever you want.’

‘Pardon?’

‘You’re dying to ask me some questions – you’re the question type. I’ll tell you. You want to know where I was going and who they were.’

‘Da,’ he chuckled.

‘I’m at KAI. They were some of the guys. Go on, ask me.’

‘I can’t. I don’t know that I’d like the answer. I don’t know that I’d like to think of you that way. I have a bit of an idealized view of women. I’m sure it happens, well, I know it does but I don’t have to like it.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I find myself invited to places I shouldn’t be invited to and then get a shock when I’m there.’

‘Invited or you invite yourself?’

‘Have I asked you for anything? Have I hinted at anything?’

‘What happens in your flat?’

‘I give people advice on work, presentations, that sort of thing.’

‘And?’

‘You’re fishing. There’s nothing there.’

‘That dark haired one, the tall one – she’s always coming in.’

‘Well? Have you noticed the tall man, about thirty, with the close-cropped hair? He comes here three times a week.’

‘Da.’

‘Why didn’t you ask me about him?’

She grinned. ‘He’s not as interesting. What about the blondinka, the small one? She’s always there.’

‘Guilty. She’s mine.’

‘She’s very pretty.’

‘Everyone says so. Yes, she is. Go on, I can see it in your eyes that you’re not satisfied. Ask it.’ She was silent, so he said, ‘Why shouldn’t I have a pretty girlfriend? Why do I have to have someone awful that I fight with all day, every day? I’d rather have someone pretty that I fight with all day, every day.’

‘How did you find her?’

‘In London.’

‘I’d like to go to London. Did you take her back to London?’

‘No, not London. We’ve been other places though – Cyprus, Egypt, Thailand, a few others. Have you been overseas, Masha?’

‘No. I want to work in America in the summer but we don’t have the money. Does she love you?’

‘That’s personal.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘She did. Now I’m not so sure.’

‘How do you know she did?’

‘Things she’d do, opportunities she didn’t take when she could have. Things she didn’t bring into the conversation. Letters.’

‘You have a lot of letters.’

‘The type you mean – a few, yes.’

‘Do you write letters to them?’

‘One. At any time, there’s only one. I might have you completely wrong but I think that’s the difference between us. I’ve seen you with many guys.’

‘You see, you’re doing it too. Why do you think anything happens, just because I go out with par ni’ [group]?’

‘Fair enough. So I’m going to ask now. What do you do?’

‘Go to Riviera, go bowling, look at the shops, go to McDonalds, go to the bar.’

‘That costs money.’

‘Does it offend you? They chat me up, not the other way.’

‘But you’re there, looking fabulous and you do that ‘look from the other side of the room’ trick.’

She laughed. ‘How do you know?’

‘Oh, come on.’

‘And you don’t look at girls?’

‘All the time. You happen to be very pleasant to look at and talk to. I’m not going to apologize for that. There are some sick minds, especially on the internet, who think the only way anyone can relate is to come on to someone. Tell me if I’ve come on to you and I’ll shut up.’ She didn’t answer. ‘Let me tell you about one time. I only did it once, just for the hell of it but there was this girl on the other side of the room and we looked at each other the whole time she was there with her boyfriend or someone trying for her. Anyway, every time he looked down to eat something, she’d look over. At the same time though, there was a lady in the other corner looking over.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing. It was an experiment. A one-off.’

‘Would you have gone with her?’

‘You’ve got to be kidding. She’d do the same to me with someone else.’

‘Not necessarily. She might be interested.’

‘Why would she be?’

‘You’re foreign, you’re interesting, you have money.’

‘Why do you people think that every foreigner has money? I live and work here and there’s no money in my game.’

‘You take your girl for holidays.’

‘Rarely.’

‘You take her out. I’ve seen you.’

‘So you’ve seen where we were. Hardly the most expensive retaurants in the city. If she was after that, she could do better than me.’

‘Do you think that’s all girls want?’

‘They’re the topics you’ve brought up. But no, not every girl. I think you’d like a nice life but it takes a certain kind to sell her soul for money or the ticket out.’

‘Many do. I don’t.’

‘In your case, I know it. You’ve never tried anything, you hardly even say hello.’

‘I didn’t want you to get ideas.’

‘Fine and I don’t have. I still think people can be friendly though.’

‘This is a small town. Everyone wants something. Everyone has plans.’

‘What are yours?’

‘To meet someone nice, someone with a brain, someone who respects me.’

‘Someone who takes you seriously and gives you attention?’

‘Nu, da.’

‘Someone confident, who seems to have a direction and knows where he’s going?’

‘Da.’

‘With a sense of humour and who cares about how you feel?’

‘Nu, da,’ she laughed.

‘Everyone wants those things, Masha. I’m still looking for them, even now. I think they’re an illusion.’

‘Nyet. I don’t believe that.’

‘There speaks someone young. I see girls all over the town, women, all done up with the best clothes and cosmetics. Lovely to look at and don’t get me wrong – a woman who looks after herself like Russian girls do is someone to prize but everything goes into the appearance and not a lot into the person. Whatever her personality, if it’s good, if it’s bad, it soon comes out. Good looks don’t cut it for me. There has to be something else in the girl.’

‘You’re spoilt.’

‘I live in this city. Of course I’m spoilt. Finding a really nice girl though, a woman who cares and is kind – that’s next to impossible.’

‘Lots of my friends are kind.’

‘I don’t know them. Are you kind?’

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Some people say so. I think what you mean by kind is someone pretty and also kind.’

‘Let’s call it someone who looks after herself and is kind too, an impossibility. Beauty means she’s into herself and expensive. Kind means she’s a nice person. You rarely get two in one and when you can, she’s taken straight away, she has thousands of friends, the males all try to come on to her, she’s puzzled why all this goes on around her and why her man is getting depressed. I don’t mind, that’s the dark logic of life.’

‘That’s awful.’

‘It might be awful but is it untrue?’

She was looking for the reply. ‘You’re so cynical.’

‘I’m weary, that’s all. So many tries, so many times trying to defy nature, coming to nothing, as it had to. There are certain truths in life, we can pretend they’re not so … but they are. In the end, they are. People always eventually run true to form. Dark logic.’

‘Are you kind?’

‘Only you can be the judge of that. I hope I am. I can also be very short with people though. I can’t abide fools.’

‘What do you want in a girl?’

‘Someone who looks after herself first, who tries to stay in shape, up to a point. Someone who cares about herself, in other words. Someone in need of a good man but there’s the problem because I’m not a good man. A person who sees her man as important and not just as a source of funds, someone who doesn’t see herself as the sun and all the men around are the planets, someone willing to give a lot of herself and tell the truth. Impossible in a woman, yes?’

‘No, not impossible at all. Must she be pretty?’

‘Good word, pretty. Do agree that it’s different to the word ‘beautiful’?’

‘Nu, da, konyeshno [of course].’

‘Pretty is someone who doesn’t look like Quasimodo, who’s not beautiful but can make herself look nice and her niceness comes through in her features. That’s the woman I want. That’s also the woman I’ll never get because I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time and she gets snapped up.’

‘But if she’s so nice, she’d notice you.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Most men want beautiful women.’

‘I don’t. They’re the type I’ve always had so I know them inside out. Most are high maintenance and the others always have something wrong because they’ve never lived a normal life. They’ve never gone round with their friends, they’ve always been desired from an early age and they’ve always got what they wanted.’

‘They’re spoiled?’

‘Maybe to call them that is unfair. They can’t help their upbringing, how they are. Inside them, somewhere, is still the best of what a girl is, the strange little ways of a girl’s world, which men are unfamiliar with until they live with them but they also carry all this other baggage and it warps their outlook.’

‘Am I beautiful?’

‘Need you ask? The thirst of Eve. Yes, you’re stunningly beautiful, which is why I’ve never approached you.’

‘Are you scared of me?’

‘The truth? No. I know the mysteries of beautiful women so no. With you, I’m searching for the nice person inside, the kind girl. Everyone can be kind if he or she wants. Sometimes a person is so focused on other aspects, he or she forgets how to be kind.’

‘Being kind is so important to you, isn’t it?’

‘Da. Someone says to me – hey, look at this girl. There’s a photo of some celebrity, I look at it and she’s awful. He says – look at those legs, those breasts [he uses a different word]. I don’t care about that – every pretty woman has those. All I see is the coldness in the eyes, the look of greed. Goodbye, sterva.’

‘You’re saying really hard things about girls but I’ve seen you with them and you’re not so hard then.’

‘If she cares for me, then I pour everything into her. Simple logic. If she is only into herself, then so am I. Look, Masha, this isn’t a female thing. It’s the basic instinct of both sexes. Think about it. If someone smiles at you, shows interest in you, supports you, then you like him more, don’t you? You want to give time and anything else you have. The opposite applies too. What gets on my nerves is when a girl thinks she’s so beautiful she doesn’t have to try because it will all come to her. Not from me it won’t.’

‘You’re spoilt. Most men would give anything for a beautiful girl.’

‘More fool them. I’m having a nice conversation with you now because you’re interesting and are willing to talk, not because you’re beautiful, even though you are.’

‘I don’t believe my beauty does not come into it.’

‘Fair enough, it does but not to the exclusion of the other things. May I ask you some questions now?’

‘You can ask.’

‘But that doesn’t mean you’ll answer. Understood. May I ask anything?’

‘Nu … da.’

‘When you go with one of those men who chats you up, what are you looking for?’

‘I don’t just go with someone. I told you before, I’m looking for someone who will respect me and enjoy me.’

‘And you’ll find that in a bar?’

‘Where should I meet people?’

‘In lifts which break down?’

She did smile. ‘When I was younger, I was less careful, I admit that. I did things and sometimes fell in love but he never did. He only wanted one thing.’

‘Story of the male gender.’

‘It took a while to understand that what I was giving was not getting anything back so I stopped giving so much. Now I go out just to have some fun and I come home alone, almost always. Sometimes a friend comes back with me.’

‘A girlfriend.’

‘Da. What are we going to do now, James? It’s getting late.’

‘It’s a good time for you to scream again and I’ll beat on the door and shout. We’ll do that for one minute, then have some more salad and chocolates. OK?’

‘OK. Are you ready?’ He nodded and she gave it both lungs while he hollered up a treat, then they went silent.

The trouble was, so did everything else. ‘You know, Masha, I’m puzzled why no one, no one at all has come into the pad’yezd downstairs. I mean, there’s always at least someone down there and we would have heard them, even while we were talking. I think something’s happened with the front door and the electricity problem affected the lift.’

‘Nah, the lift’s always breaking down.’

‘Not the new one.’

‘The woman who lives on the first floor, the lift keeper, you called her, she sometimes goes out till late but she always comes home.’

‘That’s good stuff and we’ll shout when we hear her but I see it happening like this. She’ll see she can’t get in. All right, she’ll go round the back to the second floor and try to catch the lift down. it will be too late so she’ll ring one of the other women’s bells on an upper floor, apologize and stay there the rest of the night. Then, about 07:00, she’ll get up and do something about it.’

‘Do you mean we might be here all night?’

‘Possibly. I think we’ll have more luck on my side. I was going out with my ex-girl. She’ll have phoned many times and then, when I wouldn’t answer my answer machine, the messages would get more annoyed. She’ll then throw her hands up and say – well, I did all I could. There’s a slight chance she’d drive round here, she couldn’t know that the door is broken and she’d just go away and wait for me to phone and apologize. It’s just possible though that she’d try to do something and if she starts that, she’s good at it and will get a result. The problem is that I’m the unpredictable one. Often I don’t answer the phone, don’t answer the door.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t want.’

‘It’s a wonder you have any friends at all.’

‘I always answer if it’s someone close.’

‘So, she’d know there was something wrong.’

‘Not really. You see, she’s my ex-girlfriend, not my current one.’

‘But you go out with her and she stays here.’

‘Da.’

‘So who’s your current girlfriend?’

‘I don’t have one.’

‘Strange.’

‘Easier life. But it does mean she would not necessarily make anything tragic out of me not answering. She’s a bit shy that way. But what about you? Surely someone, even your parents, would want to know.’

‘They would but they’re in Moscow.’

‘Ah, hence the parties and all those guys coming into this building.’

‘I don’t like your suggestion. There are plenty of girls there too. It’s just a few friends round.’

‘Sorry. I suppose everyone always wants to know what’s going on behind closed doors. Everyone always thinks the worst, as you did with the people who come to me.’

‘No offence taken. We might actually have to stay here for hours.’

‘It could be. Why don’t we do it this way. We’ll finish up the salad now because it won’t last, even at this temperature. You’ll use your own coat as a pillow, my jacket is comfortable and you try to get some sleep for a while. I’ll keep my ears open and try the the lift a few times – that sort of thing.’

‘You’ll look in my bag.’

‘No I won’t. But if you don’t trust me, sleep with it in your jacket or else show me now so there’s no need for me to see it later. Doesn’t worry me. I told you I won’t look and I won’t.’

She folded her own jacket and handed it to him, lay down on the floor but then sat up again. ‘Give me the sweet box lid … please.’

He did, she unclipped her bag and poured everything into the upturned lid. His eyes almost popped out. The things in a woman’s bag are a revelation. the first was a mobile phone. Ah.

‘They cut me off. I didn’t pay the bill.’

Uh-huh. ‘You don’t have to do this, Masha. It’s not the inquisition, I really don’t need to know.’

‘Look.’

‘I saw the condoms before, the purse is standard, I love the litlte glass animals. How come they don’t break?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘The cosmetics – my goodness, do you use all those?’

‘Da.’

‘So, what’s the big deal? Why would you be worried about me looking in your bag if you’ve nothing interesting there?’

‘Are you blind?’

‘I’m sometimes a bit stupid. I don’t know what I’m meant to be looking at.’

‘These.’ She opened her purse, took out some photos and handed them to him.

‘Oh, I see. Webcam?’

‘Da.’

‘Well, it’s your business. Why show me though?’’

‘Do you think I’m pretty?’

‘You’re gorgeous, I never disputed that.’

‘Which one do you like best?’

‘I don’t like this one with him and him. I never like seeing guys in photos with girls I like.’

‘Are you jealous?’

‘Yes. I don’t want to think about you being with other males.’

‘What about this with my girlfriends?’

‘Doesn’t worry me. There’s nothing special there. You all look like you were having fun though.’

‘We were. Why don’t you like,’ she handed him another, ‘this one?’

‘You know why. I just don’t. I understand you might have been crazy for him but I’m not particularly interested in him.’

‘Even if he was part of my life? In the past, I mean.’

‘Well, all right, so you had some guys you loved. Someone as beautiful as you is always going to have that.’

‘Why do you care? I’m interested. We only met in this lift, we haven’t got anything between us and yet you don’t like looking at those boys.’

He didn’t say anything. She observed and then said, ‘I think you have feelings for me.’

‘So? What do expect, with you sitting so close now? It’s not going to lead to anything; it’s best I just shut them out. There are a lot of girls I have feelings for.’

‘But only one you’ve been trapped in a lift with.’

He sighed. ‘So? You’ve seen through me. Why are you being cruel?’

‘My mobile wasn’t disconnected. It’s just turned off but it’s true the battery’s low.’

He looked at her. ‘Adventure? Curiosity?’

‘Da. I like you too. I didn’t want someone to phone me. That’s the real reason.’

‘You let us stay here and do this because you don’t wish to talk to someone else?’

‘Da. Are you angry with me?’

‘No. No, I’ve enjoyed every moment with you. The lift breaking was a good thing because it let me be with you and there was a good excuse.’

‘Would you come up to me if we were not in the lift any more?’

‘Now I would. But not if you were with your friends. Would you?’

‘I have to find out. I hope I would.’

‘If you weren’t embarrassed.’

‘Well, yes and no. It’s all the questions I couldn’t stand. I think there were many questions about you and her.’

‘There were and she was very angry about it. It drove us even closer.’

‘You were going to put that jacket under my head. Would you do it?’

‘Aren’t you going to phone anyone?’

‘Do you want me to? I’m as warm as anything in your jacket but you might be cold.’

He thought for ten seconds. ‘No, I don’t want you to phone. Lie down and I’ll put the pillow under your head.’

He placed the pillow, she laid back, arranging her hair carefully, looked up at him, then laughed. ‘On the floor of our lift. Zdorova.’

She thought through things for a minute and then said, ‘I lied to you. The battery’s completely flat. I meant to recharge it before I left but I forgot.’

‘Have a chocolate.’

‘What do you recommend?’

‘This one. You seem to like soft centres. You’re not so hard, are you, Masha?’

‘Not in the right hands.’

‘Tell me the big secret, the one you’ve been hinting at all night.’

‘How?’

‘Saying things like ‘no there won’t’ when I said there’ll be people phoning you.’

‘There won’t be phone calls from anyone I want phone calls from. He doesn’t care.’

‘The one in the photo?’

‘Da.’

‘Russian guys make it so easy for people like me.’

‘Not really. Most of us prefer our own guys. Anyone you’ve had so far is someone you got by yourself. I’ll give her that.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Do you love her?’

‘Yes. I think I always will although I can’t see us ever being together again.’

‘Don’t you want someone else?’

‘More than anything.’

‘No one’s going to accept her in the background.’

‘You have past loves who probably mean a lot to you, even now. It shouldn’t stop another man, one you care for, getting close.’

‘Man?’

He grinned. ‘What are you looking for?’

‘I told you a few times. I’m flexible but he has to be right for me. He has to care. He has to be mine.’

‘Yes, I know.’

She was turning this way and that now, the floor being quite hard, despite the jacket. She knew he knew and he knew she knew he knew. ‘Two choices. Stay down there like that or we put your jacket on the floor, you sit on that and the upper half leans on me.’

‘Where will you lean?’

‘On the wall. I’ll find a position.’

‘You’d do that?’

‘Why not?’

‘Let’s try it but if you’re uncomfortable, you have to say.’

‘I will. If it’s killing me, I will.’

‘I’m not light.’

‘That’s why only half of you is against me. No, it’s a bad joke. I know how much you weigh. You’re as light as a feather.’

‘How much do I weigh?’

‘One mustn’t speak of a lady’s weight. Not etiquette.’

‘Just tell me.’

‘53 kg.’

‘Wrong. I’m more but thanks for saying that.’

It took some doing to find the right position which wouldn’t stop the circulation and it could only last for a certain time but they found it and she quickly became drowsy. His left arm prevented her from dropping to the floor.

When she tried to turn over, she woke up, looked about, looked round at him, it all came back and she grinned, to his relief. He’d feared something worse. She sat up beside him and put her jacket behind his head and his hood, doubled over, behind her head.

He put his hand on his knee, close to where her hand was, she took the hint and entwined her fingers with his. ‘Interesting night we’ve had.’ They sat there for some time. ‘How much do you charge?’ she asked.

‘I wouldn’t accept money from you.’

They went back to silence. He broke it. ‘When are you usually free during the day?’

She looked across at him sharply and a smile came over her face. ‘Zaveecit. It depends on the day.’

‘Thursday?’

‘After 11:30.’

‘I work at 15:35.’

‘Where?’

‘Where do you work?’

‘I work and study. That day I’ll be near Pionerskaya.’

‘I know it.’ He did a calculation in his head. ‘Where do you go after that?’

‘Home.’

‘Usually by tramvai?’

‘Da.’

‘I know where you’ll be. Walk over to Druzhba and I’ll be in the road beside the carpark. We’ll go to Riviera, eat, I’ll order you a cab and go on to work.’

‘Druzhba’s better.’

‘OK. I’ll be in there at 11:30, we’ll eat, watch the matinee, I’ll have ordered the cab, I’ll cover that, then I’ll have to really move to get into town.’

‘I don’t need the cab. I can take the tram.’

‘No you can’t. Technically, I’m driving you home so you’ll go by Megane. Now, if you decide to go somewhere else after that, then tell the driver and that’s your business.’

‘OK. And thanks.’ She waited a few moments. ‘Why?’

‘We’re friends.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘What else could there be?’

I might be a few minutes late.’

‘The film starts at 12:15. What sort of food do you like?’

‘The usual thing, pizza, chicken, salad, you know.’

‘I’ll be there at 11:30. I’ll have to order the food by 11:45 no matter what so I’ll order a bit of everything, no vtoroye blyuda, I’ll eat if you’re not there, wait till 12:30 with a coffee and then leave for work. Unless you do come, of course.’

‘Oh, I’ll be there. If I say I will, I will. My parents come back on Tuesday, by the way and I might have to go to help my father at his work.’

‘When will you know by?’

‘Thursday. He might phone me during the morning, he might not.’

‘I’ll leave home at 11:00. Until then, I’ll hear my phone. Write down the number now.’ He dictated and she wrote it in her book. So, as I say, I’ll go there no matter what, I’ll wait till 12:30 and then go on to work.’

‘Do you have a work number?’

‘It’s not my number but yes. Write this one down.’ He gave it. ‘That’s for you only, by the way.’

She snorted at the suggestion. ‘You haven’t asked me for mine.’

‘It’s better I don’t know it.’

‘When I call you, you’ll know it.’

‘No, I have an old Panasonic, it doesn’t log calls. I’d like them to know, by the way.’

‘It’s only a film.’

‘I’d still prefer it. So, it’s mid morning now, Masha, I’m getting a bit tired and you’re mobile might miraculously be working now. Shall we?’

She looked hard at him and laughed, ‘They’re seriously in Moscow and I refuse to call him any more.’

‘So, we’re stuck here?’

‘Let’s try the buttons.’

‘We’ll need to get the buckle out though. If it doesn’t work, we’ll have to do it all again.’

‘You’ll take the metal out next time.’

The lift door closed, the ground floor button was pushed, the lift went ‘whoosh’ and descended to the foyer, they laughed and he said, ‘Do you want to try your floor and I’ll walk the rest of the way?’

First she gave him his coat back and he gave her her jacket and scarf.

‘OK,’ she said. She had no fear, this one. He pressed the 7th, the doors closed, the lift went up, the doors opened, they got out, she kissed him quickly and asked, ‘Is your flat empty?’

He looked at her evenly and she said, ‘Mine is too. Good morning, James.’ Then she went through to her corridor and closed the metal door behind her. ‘And thanks.’

II

Thursday came.

There’d been no call by 11:00, beyond the usual. The telecompaniya wanted him to come in but he’d made it tomorrow instead and he’d warned work that he might be fifteen minutes late. It wouldn’t be so but it was better to be safe than sorry.

By 11:30, he was inside Druzhba, the films didn’t look any too prepossessing but still, that wasn’t the primary object of the exercise.

By 11:45, she hadn’t shown and he had a feeling she wouldn’t. He went up to the counter and ordered just enough hot food which he could shovel down by himself and the rest they’d make up from the bain-marie. Sitting down at the table, he checked over his afternoon’s work and saw he was pretty well prepared.

By 12:00, she hadn’t shown and the food came out. All right, he’d told her what the score was and so he began eating, planning to leave half for her.

By 12:15, she hadn’t shown and he had to decide about the second half of the food. He asked the girl not to clear it away, ‘skoro ver’nuce’, skipped downstairs, looked about, went outside, looked about, came back in, went upstairs again and polished off the food.

Picking up his keys and checking his notes, he went to the car and drove into work, well within time, so he spent a couple of hours in preparation.

III

About 16:15, he was called out and offered the receiver.

‘Da? Ah, I wondered. No, fine, these things happen. When? Yes, I know it. Yes, without a doubt. No, don’t think about it, it’s fine. Honest.’

He almost skipped back inside, entirely the wrong thing to do.

17:45 saw him at Pizza Roma and he thought it might have been better to suggest Giuseppe but it was done now. She was there with a cappuccino in front of her, her regular jacket hanging on the stand behind.

Veronika saw him come in and bounced up to take his order, they made small talk in Russian, Masha and he ordered and after the girl had gone, Masha looked into his eyes. ‘Where does she fit in?’

‘She usually serves when I’m here. She’s a good girl.’

‘No doubt. It was impossible this morning. I had to go to the other side of town and you don’t have a mobile.’

‘I know; that’s why I’m never too fussed by those things. I’d hoped you’d make contact later at one of the numbers.’

‘I tried you at home but you’d probably left. Who’s the voice on the answer machine? Is that her?’

‘Yes. I never changed it, you know.’

‘Oh, I know. I’ve brought some photos.’

‘So have I. Yours first.’

About ten minutes were spent with, ‘And this is my …,’ ‘And this is when I was …,’ and so on. He loved the ones of her and saw the resemblance to the mother.

Veronika came over and served with a flourish, showing her not inconsiderable talents to best effect, knowing the ice cream he’d order and moving on to the next tables.

Masha raised her eyes to the roof and asked to see his photos.

‘Let’s eat first.’ They did, speaking of this and that between mouthfuls and replenishing the drinks.

‘What ice cream?’

He told her and yes, it sounded a good idea. After a few minutes, she asked, ‘Well, aren’t you going to order it?’

‘I already have.’

‘When?’

‘After you approved a few moments ago.’ She looked at him, looked over for the girl but she was nowhere to be seen.

‘Have you … er … brought anyone else here before?’

‘No, this is where I come to be alone.’

She nodded and now the ice-cream was served, great bowlfuls of it with the fruit and chocolate. He called for the check.

‘Where do you eat when you do go out?’

He smiled. ‘Giuseppe, the Pyramid, near the station, usually those but for an occasion, the Pyramid restaurant at the top. I like the view from up there.’

‘That sounds nice.’

‘We can go for a business lunch one day, if you want. It’s traditional Russian food though. You might not like it.’

‘Such as?’

‘Borsch, Khacho, those pot things with the pastry and meat, that sort of thing.’

‘I’d like that. So, that was delicious, thank you. We didn’t see your photos.’

‘Next time or later. Do you have to get home straight away?’

‘Not really.’

‘The car’s here. Let’s go to the riverbank.’

It wasn’t strictly the riverbank but the lake; anyway, it was nice on the bench on the embankment with the travel rug and the coffees they’d ordered out but both knew it was getting to the time when key admissions were going to ruin everything. He had no thought it would go beyond today, not when it came down to likes and dislikes. She’d be polite, he’d take her back and all would be safe, sound and pleasant.

She feared he wouldn’t fit in with her lifestyle. There were no signs of friends beyond girls, he seemed to do things by himself, for himself or for a girl and there’d be none of the big company and raucous laughter she enjoyed.

‘Do you like dancing?’ she asked.

‘No. I went a few times to Arena but not much after that. I suppose you go to Doctor Club.’

‘I used to but we go lots of places now. Why don’t you like dancing?’

‘For a girl, it’s like breathing, eating and friends – it just comes naturally. You all go out, if it gets late, you go and club. I hate it. Standing, making moves two metres from the person I’m with – it’s stupid in my eyes. Now when the slow numbers come on, that’s another matter. I’m right in there.’

‘So you don’t like the fast numbers.’

‘I like them a lot. I have lots of trance, drum and bass and that at home.’

‘You? Really.’

‘Really. I like the music, I just can’t stand having to stand two metres away from my girl on the dance floor. If I’m in love with a girl, then I’ll go along and put up with it. Besides, I look a bit silly at these clubs.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘To save us time and to tell the truth, I’m not social. Group things make me run. If someone says, ‘We’re all going to such and such a place, join us,’ I run. If someone says, ‘Come to the party,’ I run. On the other hand, if someone says, ‘Come to Moscow,’ ‘Let’s see a film,’ ‘Let’s climb to the top of a tower,’ ‘Let’s go to Paris for the weekend,’ ‘Let’s go to the forest,’ or ‘Let’s go waterskiing,’ I say, ‘When do we start?’ The thing is, Masha and this is why you probably won’t want to see me after today, I detest the two things girls love – shopping and dancing.’

‘There’s something else that’s nice.’

‘And I love that too but only if I love her and we both feel comfortable.’

‘You don’t know what I meant.’

‘You think so?’ She stayed silent and sat up next to him. ‘This is the whole problem with us going out,’ he said. ‘We’re so far apart that the compromise becomes huge. Not everyone thinks that’s worth it.’

‘I don’t live for those things. They’re just something we do.’

‘You shouldn’t have to apologize for anything you do. I like the things I’ve just said, what do you like?’

‘Well yes, I like the club but it’s just where my friends go. We walk around shops because it’s nice. I like the forest and here and up that tower you said, anything like that. The person is more important to me. That’s the main thing. If you like hawaiian pizza and I don’t, that shouldn’t come between us.’

He smiled. ‘I like pepperoni best, with green peppers.’

‘You know what I mean. Look, James, are you going to do something or not?’

He did.

IV

They hadn’t met for a week after the riverbank and he was relieved. It couldn’t have gone anywhere, she’d fought the realization that they were worlds apart, even in the way they went about things and why shouldn’t it have been like that?

They’d been stuck in a lift, that was all.

The riverbank had gone frighteningly close to something serious but far from ending up in a flood of tears on both sides, it had found a nice conclusion, with no damage yet done. If nothing more occurred, they’d remember that time fondly, as they’d pass on the stairs or … in the lift … and they’d smile, an innocent little secret involving a lot of imagination over what might have been nice, had it happened.

It hadn’t.

A lot of people seemed to have been relieved at that too, especially his ex-girlfriend and so life settled back into its routine. He’d go to work, she would too, they’d meet, his ex-girlfriend and him, two people whose relationship had taken off like a rocket once they’d parted and it was good. They could tell each other absolutely anything, they’d make a point of it now, as if to compensate for all the lies and deception when they were officially together and there was hardly one evening when laughter didn’t burst out at some point.

Frankly, they were good for each other. He’d be at his most wickedly outrageous, saying almost anything which would have her in stitches, she was just her and that’s all she ever had to be, her presence still disturbing after these years and when she’d crack a joke, there was an idiosyncratic way she did it which was touching.

So why not? People had said make the break and move on but both wanted to know why - it was a good thing they currently had between them, with zero rancour and the next day, neither ever regretting the night before. If he or if she did get deep into something else, well, of course this thing would be lost but that was the way cookie crumbled.

This late evening at the Red Bar, she was discussing her next trip to Italy, he had stated his opinion, a phone call had come for her, this had started a chain of events, the food had come and got cold, she’d come back, they’d had it attended to and brought out again, the coffee had come and they eventually went downstairs to the car.

Back at her place, he didn’t come in but spent about ten minutes saying goodnight and despite shaving closely before going out, it was still too bristly for her. ‘Think of it as acapuncture,’ he said. ‘it’s good for you.’

He drove back to the secure carpark where he had a permanent spot, locked it and made his way back along the yellow floodlit path, layered with snow. It was so romantic, this walk and tonight the air was crisp but not unbearable. The squelch of the boots on the hard packed portion of the path was nice, as was the way the grains of snow reflected the light back.

Well, at least the door was working this time, at least he had his keys, all of them, at least the lift came down to meet him and opened on cue. It went up and deposited him, he opened the corridor metal door and then realized he didn’t have the number she’d given him.

Damn. It had been shoved in the coat pocket and under the handkerchief, it should have been safe enough but now he’d just checked and it wasn’t there. When had he disturbed the pocket? Getting his keys out to come in the outer door, that was when.

So that’s where the slip of paper must have fallen. No big deal because it was a foreign number and no use to anyone here but annoying. He pressed the button, the lift came back up, down he went and he heard the ding on the 7th floor.

No, he thought to himself, it couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible.

Why not? The door opened and in she stepped, the door closed and this time she did not look to the front but straight into his eyes.

The lift stopped near the 5th floor.

Died.

They pressed no buttons, made no scream, did not swear but came to each other’s arms swiftly and that was the first hour spoken for.

BACK TO STORY 1: THE PROBLEM WITH LINFIELD

CLICK HERE FOR STORY 3: MOON OVER SEDNA

Moon Over Sedna

2009-05-22T05:14:00.000-07:00

Cast

Annunaki

Helene Lempriere
Joel
Raymond
Justin

Fraternal groups

Dean Freeman
Chas Collins
Masha van Duyne
Don Kennedy
Morgan Astor
Toy Haines

Crew

Rory Adamson
Louise Evesham
Randall Stoppard

Press

Joel Parris, AP
Susan Hobbes, Reuters
Maxim Schemkoff, Pravda

Others

Mike Brown, CIT, Pasadena

I

‘Joel Parris, Associated Press. Mr. Brown, your team discovered the tenth planet, Sedna, in March, 2004. What went wrong?’

‘Mike Brown, CIT, Pasadena. Well, Joel, we came up against one tiny little glitch. Thirty-five Hubble Space Telescope images taken in mid-March said there was no moon. No moon – no planet.’

‘You must have thought there was a moon, to call Sedna a planet in the first place.’

‘That’s correct. We were sure it had a moon - slow speed of rotation, at least twenty earth days, instead of a few hours like most other asteroids. A moon and its tidal forces are the usual factor to slow down an object's rotation. It appears that though our calculations were correct – there just weren’t no moon.’

There was a general murmur around the hall.

‘Susan Hobbes, Reuters. Mr. Brown, what can you tell us about Sedna that most astronomers are actually agreed on?’

‘Thanks for your question, Susan. We calculate Sedna to be about 1,770km in diameter, slightly smaller than Pluto and about three times further away. We don’t know a heck of a lot more, except that it’s cold, red-coloured and a slow-moving place: a year on Sedna is equivalent to about 10,500 Earth years. Sorry we can’t give you more at this time.’

‘Maxim Shemkoff, Pravda -’

II

Dean Freeman turned to the five and explained, ‘Mike Brown then apologized and left the press conference. That was twelve years ago and there’s been no movement in astronomical circles since that time.’

‘But you say Sedna does have a moon, called Anunnak, it’s one tenth the size of Sedna and it’s in another dimension?’

‘The name doesn’t much matter. It was the pattern of pulses which put us onto it first, all those years ago, some of the boys and girls thought they’d go a bit biblical on this thing and wildly speculated that earth was being controlled from that moon.’

‘Mr. Freeman,’ began Morgan Astor, ‘you’re saying it was known all along that Sedna did have two moons -’

‘One.’

‘I thought there were two.’

‘There were. We blew up the second.’

‘With all due respect, Mr. Freeman,’ drawled Chas Collins, ‘we don’t possess the technology to get that close, even the stuff we keep closeted and we sure as hell haven’t had time to transport a weapon of that devastating firepower that far.’

‘Nor would it have been much use if we had. Annunaki possess it though. We just relayed the message.’

‘Whoa, I can’t see you for dust. You ‘relayed’ them? But you’re still talking over 250 years just to get the message there.’

‘That’s incorrect.’

‘Incorrect?’

‘Incorrect, sir. My attention wasn’t to mislead the meeting. When I say we relayed it, we relayed it to their people on earth and let them get on with it.’

Collins chuckled. ‘Let’s put this thing in perspective … er … Dean. The sheeple believe the Royal Society, who’ve stated that the natural laws apply in time and space, reinforced by our people – Newton, Galileo and the whole education system, we ourselves happen to know the existence of Portal Tao and the secret of kingmaking, so we’re halfway there in the belief stakes. Now this comes along – that there are folks other than us running around, a rival firm if you like and you say you have some sort of contact with these beings?’

‘There’s one of them in this room now. They’re not all giants and their agenda’s also ours. Think of them as irregular forces, an advisory body so to speak, with us as the front line, the interface with the sheeple.’

Toy Haines put in, ‘It is us who train the president, isn’t it? I mean, I always thought we were in the driving seat -’

‘And we are but we can’t do it alone. It takes resources and expertise. We picked up some sort of interference which our colleagues don’t seem to have monitored themselves, something within us -’

‘Some human quality?’ asked Lempriere.

‘Well, something we could do and they couldn’t, we warned them, they dealt with it.’

‘Dealt with it? Blowing up a moon?’

‘Hardly a moon, at least not of the solid rock variety. It was a station.’

‘And the … um … Anunnaki … er … they couldn’t detect this station?’

‘Well, for a start, it was in the same orbit, only diametrically on the other side to them. There was an EM field they used to cloak themselves. The Annunaki used our coordinates from here and that was that.’

‘Why,’ asked Masha van Duyne, ‘couldn’t this have been detected from Sedna?’

Collins laughed. ‘Have you been to Sedna lately? It’s a red desert, nothing’s lived there since their holocaust at the end of the 3rd era. They do have some equipment still functioning below the surface but the radiation levels are prohibitive. Besides, they never even suspected something like that was going on until we brought their attention to it.’

‘So, we appear to be of some value to these, er, people in implementing their vision?’

‘For the moment,’ replied Lempriere.

‘What I’d like to know,’ puzzled Don Kennedy, ‘is how Mr. Freeman here seems to know these things but we seem to have been left in the dark so far?’

‘Need to know principle,’ answered Freeman. ‘Come on, Don, you understand the way it works, even in Political. Dupont knows some in Sciences, I know some too, more than you but less than others. Ours is a hierarchical organization, that’s our strength.’

‘We need a party to go to Anunnak,’ stated Lempriere.

II

This side of the portal, physics was going to be the essential problem. Three bodies, at that speed, even allowing for an exponential curve in the acceleration was going to stress the bodily functions beyond endurance.

For the Anunnaki, it was no big deal, able to exist as constituent atoms for the 4 milliseconds required but the humans had to be dehumidified to their limit and cryogenically sealed. At the portal, someone would have to take these humans over the bridge and this was going to involve a brief docking and transference to a Sednan pod.

They could only try it.

Lempriere explained that Sednans always travelled in threes, considered the most natural grouping - one of each gender – and they’d be more at ease if the humans followed suit. The male and female were fine but the sticking point was the third member of the party. They eventually settled for Commander Rory Adamson, Flight Lieutenant Louise Evesham and Randall Stoppard, the cadet, as androgenous a human as they could find for the role.

The building was unimportant, it didn’t need to be a NASA facility, launchpad or a bunker in the desert; after all, they were using Sednan technology so Lempriere suggested they use the women’s bathroom.

Once through the door, they were advised to look away, Lempriere outlined the circle on the white tiled floor, the flames erupted from the thirteen knots in the ring, the three were invited inside, the words were spoken and that was it – they’d gone.

The flames died out, Lempriere uncircumscribed the circle, which now vanished, she turned on her stiletto heel and went across the street to Ray’s Bar and Grill, famished, fancying a piece of meat.

III

In the 1.29 human seconds it took them to reach the rendezvous, the three Anunnaki had positioned themselves, the cryopods arrived, the beamers were EM attached to the disc extrusion, the words were chanted and chanted and chanted, the portal opened in the space-time fabric, the three humans passed through and the portal closed behind them with a ‘zup’.

Time slowed, all felt themselves reconstituting, still tightly bound in the cocoons which had spun around each of them, conscious again, they bit the capsules, the carbo-protein-fat mix slid down their throats and they settled down for the realtime journey to Anunnak, unable to utter a sound.

Rory might have been conscious for some time but sentience was only returning now in dribs and drabs. He was sure that half the nitro-oxygen mix had almost been used and there was the question of the return journey … but surely they’d factored that in.

He tried to move and of course couldn’t and so time passed.

And passed.

And passed.

They all felt the bump and the fabric of the cocoon torn away, what felt like a syringe was plunged into their necks and they were breathing again as normal but for how long? Eyes now focussed and what they saw was half expected and yet it was peculiarly alien, all the same.

For a start, it looked like a 50s earth conception of what a space station might look like – the gunmetal greys and cobalt blues of the shiny metal domed roof which stretched like the heavens above the floor, not unlike an oversized planetarium but without the projector and yet, on that opaque roof, the stars were shining and yet not shining. Also, it didn’t look like any night sky they were familiar with.

Eyes of wonder gazed upwards and all round until Louise backed into Rory, both jumped and in so doing, floated into space above the deck, slowly spinning round to face one another, grinning and Louise asked, ‘How do we get down again?’

‘Swim?’

Randall suggested they think themselves down so they did and what do you know, they slowly alighted once more on the deck. Each looked at the other and tried to avoid staring at those needles with the pouches on the end, sticking from the others’ necks - grotesque but they were in no position to argue.

‘Welcome to Anunnak,’ jested Louise.

‘So, what now?’ asked Randall.

They took in the whole landing area now. It was maybe a football field in diameter, perfectly round as far as they could see, the floor jet black except for geometric lines criss-crossing it and Randall immediately tumbled to the design. ‘Star of David, crew. Inside a circle. I’m not sure if I like this. And we’re in the centre.’

They all shuffled outside of the central hexagon, as if that was going to offer them some comfort but something else was occupying all now – the strange feeling of reconstitution going on in their organisms and the feeling that the nitro-oxygen feed was becoming insufferable; in fact they were all feeling the first effects of nausea when the needles and sacs suddenly fell out and clattered to the floor.

‘Er, people,’ Rory stated the obvious, ‘how are we … um … breathing at this moment?’

‘We’re not,’ said Louise. ‘I still feel alive though.’

‘Well, let’s not question it too much just yet but I’d sure like to know if it’s my nervousness or are you also feeling a trifle chilly?’

‘I’m cold.’

‘Me too,’ chorused Randall.

Rory was looking for the doorway but they seemed to be in a sealed unit. ‘The atmosphere’s chilly, they don’t breathe air but we seem to be fine.’

‘I think, Rory, that it might come down to our constitution. We all have the Anunnaki inside us, don’t we? I mean, in history, you know. Interbreeding, our family line and all those things. I wouldn’t mind betting that we’re more Anunnaki at the moment than human.’

‘My spirit feels human, my emotions. I wish something would happen.’

A sudden swirling in his mind had him spinning and then ebbed. ‘Did you feel that?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘Giddiness and then it died away.’

‘Nope.’

‘I have a feeling about this. Let’s all to join hands and then I’ll say we want to see someone important. We could try anyway, couldn’t we?’

They decided to stand in the middle of the hexagon again, joined hands, Rory spoke the words, ‘We wish to meet someone important,’ and suddenly they found themselves on top of some sort of gigantic heliport in the dark and it was raining or to be more precise, it was teeming down and to their shock, they were barely affected beyond the easing of the stuffiness they’d begun to feel in the landing area.

The whole heliport, maybe two hundred metres across, was glistening black, the rain was violently bouncing off the surface and visibility was poor. They could make out a sort of dome in the distance which occasionally became visible as the rain momentarily eased but then it would start up again and they had not a clue what to do next.

‘Welcome,’ a voice seemed to mock them from closeby and yet they could see no one. ‘I trust your journey was pleasant.’

They spun round this way and that and could still see no one. Rory had an idea and took the hands of the other two again. ‘Show yourself,’ he commanded.

Suddenly, through the stream of rain, they saw him or her or it. He towered over them by a good fourteen inches, was wearing nothing much at all but his hide was coarse and it was only when the eyes dropped to his nether regions that the grossness hit them.

The rest of the body, vaguely human, seemed to fit well with the neck and head, the swarthy face was not ugly by any means but when their eyes dropped to the nether regions, it was not unlike those monkeys that were nakedly raw and white and what made it worse was the schlong hanging down, swinging about with the movement of the creature. Even worse than that, it wasn’t even vaguely cylindrical but was bent in places like the small branch of a tree.

Louise gazed at it in horror, the creature’s eyes gleamed, the mouth set in a sardonic grin and his broad hoofs, if that was the best description, took a step closer towards her. Rory instinctively stepped between them, the creature put out one gnarled but powerful hand and Rory found himself catapulted along the helipad, not coming to rest until he’d reached the side railing.

In a microsecond, he was back again where he’d been standing, the creature bowed, rumbled, ‘My guests, welcome again,’ and suddenly they were in a large room, unclothed and with a beige coloured, padded platform in the middle.

Louise crouched down on her haunches and covered up as best she could and the truth was that it was the first time they’d really acknowledged what the others looked like, the arrival at the office on earth from where they’d been transported only occurring a few minutes before they’d actually stepped into that ring.

Louise had to acknowledge that Rory, although not in the physical league of the creature, was enough for a human, being maybe 178 cm tall, in proportion, having obviously trained in the gym but not to the exclusion of litheness. He might have been approaching forty years of age, perhaps he was closer to thirty – with that type it was hard to tell. His face was pleasant rather than handsome and the smile was not unkind. She adjudged him a quick thinker and an even quicker mover.

She looked over at Randall and liked what she saw. With none of the physique but with a hard body which those in their early twenties still possessed, around 180 cm tall, ‘boffin’ described him to a tee. In fact he was very much a boffin, intimacy coming a long last after technology, adventure and coin-collecting and yet Louise saw something in him which really did appeal. Maybe it was the cheekiness.

The men had been cheated of a halfway good scrutiny of the goods with Louise. Beyond the fact that she was probably late thirties or early forties, with that slight heaviness to the form which age brings to a woman, she was in shape, maybe 165 cm, with brunette hair cropped short, not an overly-developed bust as far as they could see but definitely shapely.

So, here they were, their clothes neatly hanging over there in the alcove wardrobes, they were near this platform which they were beginning to suspect was a bed, there were three ornate silver goblets sitting on a white stone block and a carafe, equally ornate, beside that.

Rory was the one to break the ice, he asked Louise if he should bring her clothes across, she hesitated, saw that the two men were not overly concerned and decided to take the chance. Standing up, she walked across to where Rory was, he handed her a goblet, Randall came over and took one, they toasted good luck and tentatively sipped the liquid, it didn’t seem half bad, they sipped some more, felt more relaxed about everything and wondered what was next.

Randall was the one who remarked that the liquid seemed something more than just wine – it seemed almost like a meal in itself, which it might well have been. Either way, it was satisfying and they began to feel inhibitions slip away.

‘Is this our bed for the night?’ asked Louise.

‘Seems that way,’ said Rory. ‘Where are the bedclothes?’

‘In a cupboard?’

‘Stop for one moment. You remember when we asked for something earlier, like standing on the landing floor again or meeting someone important, it happened. It seems to me that we need to formulate our questions properly and if we ask, we’ll be given. That could be a double-edged sword, of course. What if we fell out with each other and one called for harm to the other?’

‘I don’t think it would hurt, Rory, to ask for bedding. I have no qualms standing like this with you two nor sleeping naked with you but I would like some sort of bedclothing over me. It is a trifle chilly in here.’

‘So let’s ask.’

They did but nothing happened.

They asked again. Again nothing happened. Self-consciously, they made a move to climb onto the padded platform, bumped into one another and laughed. ‘Ladies first,’ invited Rory.

She climbed up and lay down the centre, they went to one side each and all lay on their backs. ‘Well well,’ observed Louise, ‘isn’t this friendly? What just appeared in front of our eyes?’

Three metal cylinders had appeared, hovering above their chests and they reached for them. Randall pushed the button on his first and the other two watched as his part of the bed started to virtually massage in small waves, an electro-field appeared over him, he smiled and dropped off to sleep.

‘Well, I never,’ said Louise who did likewise, the same thing occurred and she dropped off.

Not wanting to miss out, Rory pressed his button.

IV

The morning brought with it a strange feeling. All had had dreams and the dreams had not been not nice. It was almost as if they’d been brain-scanned, their innermost fears discovered, examined, noted and allowed to slip back into the unconscious.

They all agreed that that is what had happened. Against this, their nakedness now was of absolutely no concern to them and any need to dress seemed to have slipped away. They felt neither hungry nor tired but what they did feel was a falling away of will.

The first sign of it was when Randall committed the ultimate offence before a lady – he made a noise from his nether regions, seemingly quite untroubled about it and Louise found herself slapping his face and hard too.

She stepped back in horror. ‘Randall, I’m … really sorry.’

He felt his cheek and looked at her ruefully. Yet she felt no remorse and the apology had been a mere courtesy on her part.

Rory, not bothering to wait for the circle of hands this time, simply asked, ‘We want to know what you need from us.’

The next moment, they were in yet another domed, circular room, this time about thirty metres across, with a black and white checked marble floor, glistening wet white walls and one round desk, behind which sat another of the creatures, a different one from last night but no less repugnant. At least, Louise thought to herself, his thing wasn’t as grotesque.

‘No, it’s not,’ agreed Rory, out loud and both stared at each other. Their sudden fear was confirmed – the creature had ‘heard’ Louise’s thought and he/she/it was grinning from ear to ear. He came round from behind the desk, straight up to Louise and pressed his unwelcome attentions on her. This time, Rory made no move to step in, he ‘heard’ Louise say no, the creature growled and returned to his position behind the desk, white stone stools suddenly appeared and they sat down.

A guttural voice shattered the calm of the room. ‘You have the secret of the spirit locked inside you. On your planet, there is too much interference, too much …’

‘Protection?’ thought Rory, aloud and the creature grumbled.

‘Too much altogether. We brought you here because, in your more natural environment, we think you might be able to release the secret of the spirit. Think of this as a holiday for some time -’

‘For how long?’ thought Louise.

‘For as long as you desire,’ thought back the creature, ‘or as long as you are desired.’

A sudden feeling of intrusion between her legs gripped her and just as quickly, it faded and she knew she didn’t like any of this one little bit. She felt pressure to conform but to what? The other two also felt the same thing and it was a desire for Louise which required gratification and gratification now.

Rory didn’t want to convey his thoughts; he resisted and resisted until the thought died away and then faced the creature again. ‘What do they call you?’

‘Joel.’

That came as a shock to them all – a normal, everyday, common, garden variety biblical name.

‘Joel,’ asked Louise, ‘are we ever going to get out of here alive?’

‘Do you think you’re alive now?’ was the gruff rejoinder and the creature chuckled. ‘Go and enjoy yourselves. Ask and you shall receive.’

Randall was the first to latch onto the possibilities. ‘Do you two want to go swimming?’ They nodded and he asked, ‘Give us a swimming pool and bar.’

There they were.

The space was circular, the dome sky blue, foliage abounded and a kidney shaped pool with glistening, clear water occupied about half the area. A thatched roof covered the poolside bar, the barman asked, by thought, what they’d like to drink, each put in his or her order and received, not what they’d ordered, but more of the same nectar as on the previous evening.

Still, it wasn’t unpleasant and they felt they’d not tire of that … nectar. Louise was first into the water, followed by Randall while Rory sat on the edge, sipping his drink. Louise swam up and knocked his drink from his hand, grinned and swam away again. Rory’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. A thought was forming in his mind though and that was ‘escape’.

Those two were so readily accepting all of this as a normal way to operate but so far, he’d seen precious little he’d have called normal. He’d keep his own counsel for now though and neither speak nor think out loud about it. Even while he looked over at the other two, Randall waded over to where Louise was leaning back against the pool’s edge with her hands and in a second, he was inside her and thrusting hard.

Far from shrieking, tearing herself away or pushing him away, she didn’t move from her position and just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped and Randall waded over towards Rory, climbed the stone steps and went to the bar for another drink, as if nothing whatever had occurred. Louise now lifted herself from the pool, walked around the edge to the bar, ordered a drink and came across to Rory.

He kept a poker face but was marvelling at two things. Firstly, how nonchalant she was about it all, especially about what had just occurred at the other side of the pool with Randall and secondly, her lack of manners in ignoring Rory’s empty goblet and getting herself a drink. It was no big deal but still – Rory would have expected at least a look over and a gesture towards his goblet, at which he would have gone up to the bar and ordered two and that was another thing – how could they tell, with an opaque goblet, that it was either full or empty and yet they could instinctively tell that. He knew it.

There were too many elements of the bizarre going on now; it was almost as if they were being asked to accept too much at face value.

In a rush of blood to his head, he suddenly wished for her to come over and love him.

Nothing.

All right, he wished her to come over and have sex with him.

Suddenly they were conjoined and she was actually surprised that he wasn’t getting into his role in any significant way. He pulled out and went over to the poolside, sitting down and sipping on his nectar. She made no move to come over and ask what was wrong, made no move to even converse with Randall but stepped down into the water, waded to the middle of the pool and sipped her drink there.

Randall, meanwhile, was looking away from them, facing the dome. It was like modern art.

Rory tried conversation with Louise. ‘Louise, come over here a moment.’ She instantly turned and came to the steps, climbed them and walked the few steps to him.

‘Yes?’ No emotion, no warmth.

‘Kiss me.’ She did and it was devoid of any feeling whatsoever. As he said nothing further nor thought it out loud, she looked at him and then drifted back to the pool.

What a life these creatures live, he thought to himself. He had to speak with Louise and Randall, had to get them to see what was happening but more than this, he had to work out why he wasn’t succumbing and they were. Maybe they were the ones in the right though, adjusting to life on this planet and he was the fish out of water. And why did thoughts of escape flit through his mind more and more often?

He had an idea. Out loud, he thought, ‘Let’s have some company here at the pool.’

The pool had six or seven ‘people’ in it, of male and female persuasion and a smattering of another type – slender, like the female and yet without genitalia beyond some sort of narrow, linear, vertical, closed orifice. He didn’t know if he wanted to know about that – the prospect of being touched by one of those did not appeal.

He looked over the females and saw that they were in various stages of thick hide. Some looked not unlike Louise, with far more hair and the beginnings of a rhino hide but some were far more swarthy, not unlike the two creatures they’d already met.

Now, around him, were a few of these people – let’s give them their due, he thought and call them that – and one of the males, again with a considerable thing, was approaching him to converse.

‘I’m Raymond.’ Rory couldn’t believe he was actually hearing this. ‘You’re Rory, I know. Do you want to go shooting?’ At the other’s reticence, he seemed to understand and offered, ‘You want trakh instead?’

Rory had not a clue what the man was on about but in another rush of blood, said yes, at which the ‘person’ put down his drink, went behind and tried to penetrate him. Rory spun round and punched Raymond full in the face, at which the man, nursing his jaw, stepped down into the water, took one of the females by the arm, she took one of the androgenous ones and the most bizarre three way activity now began, with no finesse whatever; it was like shark feeding time in Rory’s eyes, they’d now grabbed Louise and Randall and suddenly Rory called out, ‘The three of us want to be alone,’ at which all the other creatures disappeared and the three of them were left staring at each other.

Louise and Randall came over to the pool edge and Rory sat nearby to talk to them.

‘Why did you send our friends away?’ charged Louise.

‘Were you really happy to do that … with them?’

Something within her now seemed to collapse and she looked sheepish. ‘What’s happening, Rory?’

‘I think we’d better discuss it tonight. Are you thirsty?’

‘Not really.’

‘Randall?’

‘No, I’m not thirsty either.’

‘Good. I’m going to ask you both not to drink the nectar until tonight; I have a feeling it has something to do with our changes.’

‘Changes?’

‘Look at your hips, Louise and the outside of your thighs. You too, Randall. I’ve already looked at mine.’

They did and were horrified. The skin was solidifying and soft down had begun to grow from the affected areas.

‘O-o-o-o-o-o-o-h, n-o-o-o-o-o-o-o,’ Louise felt nauseous.

‘Are you aware you had sex with both Randall and me?’

‘I … I am but I’m not too. It just seemed the thing to do at the time. Rory, I can’t believe I just said that. Me. What shall we do?’

‘Certainly not think about it here and now. Let’s leave that until tonight. think of pleasant things about our hosts in the meantime.’

IV

Once more on the ‘waterbed’, as Rory referred to it, he took Louise’s arm and inscribed letters with his index finger, in fact laboriously writing her a message, with Randall looking on.

‘Ask for pomada, lipstick, of all varieties, also any other cosmetics you can think of. Ask for plenty of eyeliner. It will accord with what they hope.’

She did that and a sidetable appeared with the required items. Rory wrote on her arm again, ‘You’ll need to actually go and make yourself up. I’m sure we’re being observed.’

Louise climbed off the bed and went over to the dresser, looked in a mirror for the first time since they’d left earth and was horrified by what she saw. Where once had been the pleasant face of a not unpleasant woman who’d passed the first bloom of youth, now there was a harder quality to the face, the eyes narrower, the cursed hardening of the skin and the fur extending over her body – mostly on her back, she spun round and noted that, including some around her genitalia, which is where she did not wish to see it.

Nevertheless, she sat down and took time to make herself up, tumbling to Rory’s plan and finally bringing some stick pomada across to the bed to use as pencils, plus some remover. She handed each a stick. The conversation began, using her arms as the slate, the writing removed after each paragraph.

‘What do you understand about our antecedents,’ Rory asked the boffin.

‘Abraham, was the son of an idol manufacturer in the Sumerian city of Ur and knew about the Anunnaki - they who from heaven came. The Old Testament confuses them with the Nephilim but the Sumerians, 6000 years ago, say they were aliens who came from another planet and created humankind as a slave race to serve them. Anu was the king of the Anunnaki, and Ea (or Enki), who is the serpent, the one who gave the knowledge to man in the Garden of Eden, and created the Brotherhood of the Snake – he was also there.’

The arm was wiped clean and Randall began again.

‘The Anunnaki are said to have come to earth to exploit the resources of the Earth; especially gold, as this was something they were lacking on their planet, and they urgently needed it as an important ingredient in their atmosphere. Thus Ea, who was a brilliant scientist, created homo sapiens as a hybrid between a primitive earth life-form and the alien race.’

The arm was wiped clean again.

‘At first, homo sapiens was only meant for slave labor and couldn't breed. Later on, this was changed. Ea didn't like how his created race was treated by his people, and wanted to enlighten them by teaching them who they were and where they came from. He also wanted to tell them the well hidden truth that each individual is a spirit inhabiting a body and that after bodily death the spirit lives on and reincarnates on Earth.’

The arm was wiped clean and Rory took over.

‘Except that Ea did not create Man but someone else did, Ea was jealous as hell and that’s been the story of the world ever since. According to the Jews, the Anunnaki in fact were the Giants that walked the Earth, which the Bible is talking about. Those Giants were the nephilim, who rebelled against God and were cast down to Earth from Heaven, together with their master. That’s where all the shape-shifting and so on comes from.’

‘Which is right?’ asked Louise.

‘You’ll have to decide that yourself. I only know I don’t like what I’ve seen so far.’

The arm was wiped, she was sore and changed arms. She wrote:

‘We’re part of the Anunnaki on the earth, we’ve been involved in secret projects and have knowledge the average earth mortal does not possess. We are the chosen ones, chosen to visit Anunnak and share our knowledge, our prime directive. It’s a bit late to have second thoughts, Rory.’

Randall reached for her arm, wiped it clean and wrote:

‘There’s control going on here, big time. I agree with Rory - there’s one too many illusions. I think we’re being treated as special until they get the knowledge they want and I’m not sure I’m going to like how they’ll extract it, if we make it difficult for them. You seem susceptible to them, Louise.’

Arm wiped.

‘Maybe that’s because I’m purer, more pure-bred, I mean, in their terms and Rory maybe a later generation. Are you willing to try something, you two? I want to ask to see our brothers and sisters. It should be interesting.’

Randall nodded and Rory, hesitant at first, now nodded. Louise spoke the words and the scene instantly changed.

They were in a vast hall, a cave it looked like, dark, dank and it smelt but not only of natural stuffiness. There was another more overpowering and it seemed a mix of a very familiar smell and a stench they couldn’t quite place. They were on top of a ledge, a rope ladder would take them down into the cave proper and Rory couldn’t help but think that they’d been treated with kid gloves so far – they might have appeared right in the middle of what was going on below.

Around the walls of the cave were blazing torches and at intervals, young anunnaki seated, beating on half muted drums, the effect though - a low, dull thud which went right through the body and set it into a rhythm. There’d have to have been a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred down there and they were alternately drinking from goblets, eating grapes and in different stages of coition in a variety of orifices. It was a bacchinalian festival of epic proportions, no one seemingly too fussed about who was with whom; they’d get up and roam about for new partners all the while.

What there were also though and no amount of attempts on their part to shut it out could do that, were cadavers – some old and near skeletal and some seemingly fresh, together with body parts strewn haphazardly around the floor, even a still bleeding leg which had landed on a chaisse longue where three people were going at it hammer and tongs, oblivious of the murder that had taken place.

Murder? It didn’t seem that it had been execution, it didn’t seem to have been ritual. It did seem that someone hadn’t liked something and that had been that. Now they, all three, witnessed one of these.

One woman – they were all of indeterminate age, except for the very old – had left two men and one of that other type and had gone to four others and two other women. One of the original men took exception to this – maybe there still were feelings of love but it seemed more like possessiveness than anything – he now took up his scimitar, strode over to the others and slaughtered them – the woman, the two other women, the four men and the androgynous one. Heads and limbs fell to the floor, the blood spurted everywhere, the soggy mess of meat was left where it fell, the scimitar point was dug into one of the pieces of body and the murderer went over to another part of the hall and joined in there.

Rory looked at Louise with a look which asked, ‘And you want to go down and join your pure brothers and sisters?’

She shuddered and Randall’s face was blanched. He asked, ‘We want to go back to our room,’ and there they were, back on the bed.

Rory took Louise’s arm and a cosmetic stick and wrote, ‘We’re in serious trouble. Are you in any doubt that that’s how we’re going to end up?’

Both the others shook their heads. Louise wrote, ‘Imagine the diseases down there.’

Randall was a bit more practical. ‘We haven’t drunk the nectar and we’re getting hungry. What are we going to eat? I suspect if we ask for food, it’ll also be drugged.’

‘Maybe it’s not drugged,’ said Louise, ‘but that’s how it comes from their soil, such as it is on this moon. I can’t think they’d be very good horticulturalists.’

Rory stroked his chin, then wrote on her arm: ‘Well, we’ll have to ask for food, as we have no choice. I think they’ll set up a situation where we see a hope of escape, of survival, they’ll hunt us down and then they’ll try to excise our souls from us. This is what they’re really after, it seems to me – harnessing this power.’

Louise wrote: ‘I think they’ll coerce us first, send someone to entice each of us, drawn from our own image of a person we’re susceptible to, maybe an amalgam of past lovers. I do think they’ll try that. Possibly tomorrow. And now look how we’re feeling. I’m sure you’ve just had the same urge in the last minute and I want to ask you, Rory, are you going to do that to me? Randall?’

Randall spoke simply. ‘I want you.’ It had been spoken out loud. Rory agreed. ‘Yes, I want you too and its getting stronger. I looked at you earlier – well, you’re a pretty woman, Louise – but now I can’t keep my hands off you.’

She wrote on her arm. ‘We’re being coerced. I’m not averse to making love to one of you tonight and the other tomorrow, if it’s done kindly but I don’t want what they’re suggesting. I think we should try to resist this all we can.’

‘Then let’s all go to sleep,’ wrote Rory but Randall reminded them they were hungry and asked for food.

A table appeared, laden with meats, greens, fruits and all they’d have conceptualized as good food and behind the table were three attendants. One was a young man of good proportions, with chisel jaw and large hands, about 185 cm tall and of dark complexion. Rory had a very good idea whom he’d be attending.

The one in the middle, partially obscured but still visible enough, was a demure girl in her early thirties, about five centimetres or so shorter than Rory and with the most fabulous curves to her slender body.

Both he and Louise guffawed about the third before they could stop themselves. It was a young man of a similar type to Randall, equally boffinish and Rory didn’t want to even think the implications of that one through. All knew that if they succumbed, they were most likely in trouble and Rory half hoped Randall’s boffin would attend him and make it easier.

No such luck.

The attendants brought platters to their bed, exactly as they’d suspected would happen, the girl to Rory, the Adonis to Louise and Randall’s friend to him. Both Rory’s and Louise’s attendants fed them grapes from above and in stretching over them, the naked bodies were very close for the taking. What killed it though was Randall talking technology to Justin, as he was apparently called. It completely killed the erotic atmosphere and both Rory and Louise gave silent thanks for that.

After maybe forty minutes, having eaten and drunk much and with no sexual moves having been made on anyone’s part, the table and the attendants suddenly disappeared and the three of them lay back and took in what had just happened. They were well aware that the same drug was inside them, however it had taken the appearance of food and now the question was how well they could resist its effects.

Rory took Louise’s arm quite roughly and wrote, in a jagged manner, ‘It kills the inhibitions, this drug. The slightest thing annoys me, I want Louise and if there’s any resistance, say from you, Randall, I’ll kill you. At least, I won’t but you know what I mean.’

‘I know,’ wrote Louise. ‘The inhibitions are gone but the tolerance level has also. I want both of you and if I don’t get you, I’m going to come over and take you. I think that’s how they have us, that’s where the control comes from – if we can’t resist our own urges. That’s why the younger they get us, the better chance they’ve got. And the longer it goes on for, the worse it gets. I’m feeling immense pressure inside right now.’

‘Who’s doing this?’ wrote Randall.

‘Maybe it’s the moon itself, maybe ethereal presences we can’t detect.’

On an impulse, Rory said out loud, ‘Show yourself.’

Suddenly, they looked over and a woman bearing an uncanny resemblance to earth’s concept of Lilith was astride Randall and there was little doubt from his angle what was going on. She looked across and though the face bore traces of beauty, the shape of the jaw, the lips, it was also an old face, weary and satiated, an appalling yet sensuous face. Her breasts were like something from a boy’s computer game, impossibly perfect and the overall shape was an hourglass, with not a trace of fat but a lot of meat, all the same.

She obviously caught Rory’s desire and now sprang off Randall and onto him before he could even register a protest. Now, another appeared, one of the male types and there was zero doubt where he was going to end up. Louise suddenly said, ‘Go away, all of you,’ and they disappeared into thin air.

She was shaking, Rory held her, she took a stick and wrote on her arm, ‘Would that it were always so easy to get rid of them.’ He nodded, sure that this power was going to erode, probably in proportion to the excesses they allowed themselves, the extent to which they’d give way. It became clearer in his head that it wasn’t a question of morality on this moon – it was a question of survival. Their ability to get out of this was going to depend on the power they still retained at the end.

Now, in a worrying development, two of the attendants reappeared and they knew how that had happened. Randall saw it too, was miffed and his attendant now reappeared. They looked at one another and knew the lie of the land; they also knew that it was getting quite impossible. Out loud, Rory apologized to Randall, pulled Louise to him and they were conjoined in seconds.

All three attendants turned their attention to Randall who told the two he didn’t want, ‘Go away,’ and they half did, appearing again on the other side of the room, waiting. This was more than worrying because they’d disobeyed for the first time. Randall knew his order had stemmed from wanting the first, Justin. The boffin in him overcame any desire he had and he told all three of them, ‘Go.’

The attendants disappeared.

As it was a bit gross for poor old Randall to have to endure the humping going on beside him, they disengaged and all lay back again on the bed, only this time, there were feelings between Rory and Louise. She looked over and touched his arm, then wrote: ‘First sign of love since we’ve been here.’

He nodded and looked over at her. That had been nice, no doubt of it. She didn’t know how to tell Rory she’d have preferred Randall or the Adonis and he didn’t have the nerve to tell her he’d have preferred the nubile attendant. What they both knew was that if they did stick with each other, the feelings could be controlled. If they let themselves go with the objects of their desires, then nothing was going to stop them.

V

They awoke in a garden, a grove and again, it was uncannily like the artist’s conception of the Garden of Eden.

Their bed was a fern strewn palliasse, the birds sang in the trees, fruit weighed down boughs, a table was set to one side of the clearing they were in and on it was all manner of foodstuffs.

By now, they knew how to accept an illusion as an illusion, that hadn’t altered but what had altered was that Randall had his companion with him. Rory half suspected that if it was an emotional attachment between the two and given the nature of Eden and right and wrong, two words which had not cropped up on this moon until this moment, then they might be in for the first separation from a colleague.

The two young men were obviously getting on well, chatting about this and that, so Rory wrote on Louise’s arm with his index finger, ‘What do you understand about Eden?’

She wrote, ‘Yes, I saw it as Eden too. They ate an apple and knew right from wrong.’ She hadn’t even tried to justify the parallel between the original inhabitants and the two of them – it was as clear as day.

He inscribed the words on her arm, ‘It always puzzled me how, before they ate the apple, they could make love and do everything in a state of innocence. The serpent urged them to eat it. Now why? Because the moment they did, they knew right from wrong and adopted a set of values. But surely it was in the interests of the serpent for them not to have any values and to just do as they wished.’

She thought about that, then wrote on his arm, ‘Maybe that was amoral or in that state of innocence, not a question of morality at all. But the serpent wanted them to know right from wrong and then do what had been stipulated as wrong. Immorality.’

‘Could be. Why?’ He felt Louise might be closer to the truth with her feminine take on things.

‘Because it diminished the human’s power and gave the serpent power instead. You know those SF creatures who feed off brainwaves or radiation or something.’

‘But how did they know right from wrong in the first place? No one had given them a lecture.’

‘Maybe it was programmed in but hadn’t been activated.’

‘Why would the serpent have wanted it activated though? Did the knowledge of right and wrong give the humans power or did not knowing it give them power?’

She wrote, ‘I don’t know, Rory.’

Well anyway, here they were.

They looked about, got up and went for a wander through the trees. Rory wrote, ‘If we make love in here, is it right or wrong?’

‘Good point. We’re not married.’

‘Is there marriage in Eden?’

‘If the only couple are us, it’s maybe not needed but if there were more people, it might be necessary as a sort of statement. It would prevent the sort of thing we saw in that cave.’

‘Will you marry me?’

‘Why?’

‘To stop you making love to Randall or the Adonis.’

‘No, I won’t marry you for that reason.’

He thought about it. ‘Will you marry me because you have feelings for me?’

‘If I was going to, that would be why. I do have feelings, by the way; to what degree I’m not sure yet.’

‘Why don’t I want you to make love to Randall?’

‘Why don’t I want you to make love to that attendant?’

‘Something happens, doesn’t it? There’s some sort of bond comes out of relations but if you follow the rules and you don’t do it before you’re married, then where’s the bond come from?’

‘Maybe there are other bonds as well. Maybe these bonds make them say yes to each other and then, when they do marry, the lovemaking is the icing on the cake. A bit late for us though.’

‘You used the word ‘us’.’

‘Yes I did, didn’t I? Curious. Do you think it’s this garden?’

They’d stopped by a leafy tree, he looked up, hoping no apple would be there for the picking and it wasn’t, mainly because it was an oak and not an apple tree. She pointed to the ground and he saw it instantly – dried blood. The illusion had been well done but they hadn’t been able to disguise this. A feeling of horror now crept over both of them that this might well be the hall where those things had happened.

They looked at one another and he took her arm. ‘I feel confused,’ he wrote, ‘and I think you do too. Look, Louise, let’s marry and then make love. I do want you in the future. Do you have anyone back home?’

‘I did have. All right, Rory. When we go back, if we go back, we’re going to be so unusual that I can see a situation where we’d be forced into each other’s arms anyway. I can’t see any reason why not.’

‘I can. We might get back there, all the rules change, you or I meet a fabulous person we fall in love with and really want to marry. We then resent it because we can’t escape each other.’

‘That seems the product of this moon,’ she wrote, ‘everything’s on its head. You know what I think? I think that if we were to marry in this grove, we’re actually thumbing our noses at the sacred feminin, we’re pairing off and agreeing to follow rules. We’re surrendering the freedom to choose.’

‘But the thing is – we’re the ones giving it away. It’s not being taken from us. The hall with that orgy was a nice allegory – that’s what total abandonment leads you to. What do we have to fear from marrying?’

‘Getting sick of each other. Wanting others,’ she wrote.

‘If we knew that, if we were well aware of it, we could work to stop that happening. You know what I think the anunnaki fear most? The chemistry between a man and a woman.’

‘Let’s do it, Rory. Let’s marry – we’ll get Randall to do it and the other one can help if he wants.’

They returned to where Randall had been but he wasn’t there. The good thing on this moon was that it just took Louise to call, ‘Randall, come here,’ and he was there with his friend. It was clear that things had moved on with the two of them. Once Louise had explained, Randall was all for it but curiously, his companion was not.

In fact, Justin was raising all sorts of objections and one was that he didn’t want to lose Randall now he’d found him. It turned out he wasn’t a long time Anunnaki but like them, had been beamed here, had fallen, had regretted it and had then found himself in limbo. He’d been tortured or at least, that’s how he described all attempts, medical and otherwise, to excise his spirit from his body. He’d been asked to sign a contract, been offered riches beyond imagining but it had been the vehemence of the request and the pressure which had been brought to bear which had determined him not to give it away. Human perverseness, even in a part Anunnak.

Rory explained that if the young man went along with their wedding, then whatever happened would happen to all parties to the marriage, meaning Justin too. The young man saw the force of that. Not only that but he knew a super place to conduct it.

He led the way.

They came out, over by a sheer cliff of many colours, with a large stone, maybe a metre square, sitting about two metres from the cliff and it was clear what this had been used for. The oaks either side of this stone provided a canopy and the whole was in a little clearing. In an even more perverse gesture, Rory now took some of the long grass while the others watched and he plaited it into a more solid length. Louise saw this and she too plaited one. The other two also plaited lengths of grass, why no one but Rory knew.

‘Good,’ said Rory aloud. ‘You’re now all guilty.’ He instantly formed a cross with two strands and bound the arm and upright with the other strands, then placed it on the stone. ‘I’m ready. Are you ready, Louise? Any second thoughts?’

She shook her head and joined him, facing the stone. The other two stood either side of the stone and there was silence for the space of maybe half a minute. Randall broke it by asking, ‘What now?’

Louise spoke. ‘I think you’re meant to ask, ‘Do you take this woman for your wife and that sort of thing.’

‘Oh, right.’ He began but Justin said, ‘Hold on, no ring.’ Searching about, he found any number of them mostly buried in the soil. This seemed to have been the final act of those who’d paid the ultimate price here. Digging one up with a stick, he cleaned it up a bit, smiled at Randall and the ceremony went on.

‘It would have been nice to have had a dress to wear,’ said Louise and one suddenly appeared on the stone; she was past being shocked, she took it and slipped it on. ‘Give Rory a suit,’ she added and a jacket and trousers appeared. He put them on and then both came to the same conclusion – it was tampering with history. ‘Take them away,’ ordered Louise and the clothes disappeared off their bodies. ‘Let’s do it maybe as it was meant to happen at the beginning.’

Rory grinned. ‘I quite like this. Do you realize we’re being perverts, deviants?’

She knew exactly. Here, on Anunnak, to do as they were doing must have been nauseating, disgusting to the Anunnaki. ‘Good,’ she said defiantly. ‘let’s continue.’

The ceremony was close to the end, meaning that Randall had run out of things to say, they both said, ‘I do,’ and the scenario no one had wanted eventuated. In a flash, Eden disappeared and with it, Randall and Justin and what there was in its place was mortifying.

They found themselves still by the cliff, still by the stone but now the rock was dark and clammy, they were on a hillside and out in the valley – well, it was like the aftermath of a holocaust. Depressing did not even begin to describe the view.

For a start, the air was acrid and thick and yet the visibility was not all that bad and they could see a fair way down. With virtually no sunlight, only the presumably molten core of the moon, making it more like a planet than a moon, provided some sort of warmth and now they regretted sending the clothes back. Of life, there was no sign. Leafless trees, blighted and gnarled stumps, dead black soil, no grass – these were the things they could see and this was their punishment for having transgressed.

On spec, they both tried calling for food; they both thought that calling for their attendants might have a better chance.

Nothing. They were alone and had been left to their own devices. Both knew that there was no atmosphere here, that they were still dependent on the good offices of the Anunnaki to allow them to remain alive, they didn’t try to revert to their fully human form, not that they ever had been, really and now they began making their way down the hill, one naked man, one naked woman, holding each other’s hand for support, stumbling, being picked up, stumbling again.

‘The joke’s going to be on us,’ said Rory, ‘if we can’t procreate.’

‘The joke’s going to be on us if we can’t eat today.’

They reached the foot of the hill, Rory stooped and dug his fingers into the ground. It yielded but it would need digging over, a pain in the butt but there it was. Plus, that wasn’t going to help them today.

‘Louise, why don’t you gather some wood for a fire, at least we have plenty of that and I’ll try to build our hut.’

‘Put it over there, Rory and make the entrance face that way.’

They must have put in about two hours work, much of his time spent making cord from grass and finding wood which was not rotten to form the girders. She’d done a grand job gathering different sized wood from kindling up to logs and it was set in a fireplace she’d circled with stones. The essential problem now was food.

They saw a couple of bushes less weathered than the others and they were carrying berries. Well, poisonous or not, these were going to comprise their first food. The question was, of course, whether or not their metabolisms had altered sufficiently from that of the human that they could only stand to ingest the nectar.

She took a berry, nibbled half of it, nodded and put the other half into his mouth. Yes, the berries seemed possible to eat and now something else was becoming clear to them or rather confirmed. There was an atmosphere of sorts. The dust particles in space suggested air, the berries suggested water and those two were going to keep them alive.

They fell into each other’s arms with relief and Rory said, ‘We’ll keep the hut for storage after tonight but we’d best find a cave to live in tomorrow.’ She nodded on his shoulder. ‘I sincerely hope we do find ourselves in danger of being savaged by wild beasts.’

She agreed and added, ‘Come, let me help you with the hut and then we’ll work together on the fire. I wish to work with you just now.’

The hut was good – set in the three-way fork of a tree which had lost the rest of its branches in the holocaust, there was room for them to sleep and for supplies to be stored and the canopy was made of small branches and a sort of thatch made of grass and leaves. It would do.

Curiously, neither had made the least attempt to get back to the garden.

Now they set to work on the fire, he lay down on the cool ground and worked hard with the lump of wood and the stick he twirled to produce that first spark and it was damned hard going. She nudged him, took over the stick and he felt her hands over his as she took it over, felt them and felt good inside, she made a spark but it didn’t catch, he took over now and rubbed like crazy until one spark, two, more came and the first grass ignited and died, she replaced it with other grass and still he rubbed like crazy, it caught, she fed it with more, which also caught. Little twigs were added, both brought the other kindling closer and within fifteen minutes, they had a fire.

They leapt about with joy and hugged each other like there was no tomorrow, the feel of the other’s skin a nice counterpoint to the heat of the fire.

They didn’t need to be told, both had read their history books, both had read Robinson Crusoe and Swiss Family Robinson; it wasn’t as if they were making these discoveries all over again. They’d even construct the wheel when the time came.

They now spent the next three hours gathering wood. Even though there seemed to be no meat about, they still thought it somehow the most important thing to keep alight, almost a symbol of themselves and what they had sacrificed everything for.

They climbed into their ‘bower’, made love copiously and with more tenderness than had been to this point, then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

VI

The next morning wasn’t a morning and so they’d learnt a lesson. It was certainly approaching a morning and was a bit lighter than had been the case … well … yesterday, to still utilize that term, he remembered that the Sednan rotation was twenty earth days but they’d have to wait to discover what it was on Anunnak.

Time to eat a few berries and then to explore the area.

The fire was stoked in such a way that they thought it might buy them two hours and off they went up the hill and along a ledge which had obviously been carved out long ago. Surely this would bring them luck.

It did. Not only did they find a cave but it was one which had been selected by someone in the past because they found remnants of clothing and tools, rough tools, which had been made with care but without much technology to assist. That’s when they saw two eyes appear in the gloom at the back of the cave and disappear just as quickly.

Far from being fearful, they were overjoyed and embraced again. Good, there was meat.

‘Let’s explore further along, Louise and choose the best of the bunch.’

She eventually hit on one cave which seemed to suit them best although it was furthest from their hut and now it was time to return. Looking back from the ledge they were on, they saw four Anunnaki down at the fire, two had kicked dirt in on it and a third now kicked the wood, dirt and ashes about, obliterating their work. Louise placed her hand on his forearm and looked into his eyes. ‘No, Rory. We’ll build it again.’

He fumed but knew she was right in this. The vandals wrecked the hut before moving on and now it was a question of either going back down to collect what they could or doing it all over again in a new place.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘we were tied to this area by the fire but we have no restrictions on us now. We can find anywhere we like. Let’s go.’

He looked over at her walking beside him, neither was what they could have described as clean with this black soil but in a nuggety way, she looked magnificent in his eyes and now went red, well aware of his thinking process and flattered by it. She didn’t think him half bad either by this time.

He stopped and turned her, then made love to her standing up. ‘Rory, she puffed, ‘they were so keen for us to lose ourselves in their paradise, to follow our instincts and that’s just what we’ve done now and it’s better, don’t you think?’

His kiss answered that.
The good thing was that there was no nightfall and it did appear that in the next few days, it would be continuous, if dull light; they knew that night would follow that for some days too and so everything which needed to be prepared had to be done now. Neither was afraid of hard work, both were relieved that they had this start and who knew what the pressures back on earth would have done to them?

By the time the weariness really set in, they’d gone a good two kilometres around the hill, had found a super cave which could only be reached by climbing, they’d made a rope with knots to drop down from there in future, the fire was inside the cave and lit, hours had been spent getting fuel in there to feed it, there was not bad soil further down the hill, they’d made a comfortable palliasse and both were now working on a woven grass blanket to put over themselves. Rory wanted it about king-sized so that they’d not fight over that at night.

Piles of berries and some other fruits they’d found were in one corner and now came the distasteful part. They knew that in one of the caves, some creatures were living. Both felt a repugnance at having to do what they were going to do, when construction had been the whole name of their game. They were willing enough to do without meat if they could have found a protein substitute but where would they find soy or something like it?

Unfortunately, it had to be so.

They climbed down from the cave and went to where they knew the creatures were. Sadly, the creatures, some form of rodents, were completely naïve and even curious. Rory had to overcome his squeamishness over this, he took his spear, slowly approached one of them which backed away to the wrong corner and did it. Louise swiftly closed in and finished the creature off between the eyes before the pain had gripped it.

First blood and it had not been good, not at all.

What made it worse was that with the straps they’d plaited, Rory now lifted the still bleeding body onto his back and the two of them slowly made their way back to their own cave. They’d taken some of the rudimentary tools from the cave near their original hut and now came the job of gutting and slicing this creature.

Louise set to the cooking and Rory took the entrails away, using the skin as a bag, a repugnant task and yet it had to be done. This raised the question of where their garbage was going to be put and he saw a place some distance away which might do. They’d need to sort out something more permanent later.

Now they were in this cave, the question of personal hygiene arose – not to put too fine a point on it, ablution. He was in no way averse to her bodily functions and had even watched her doing it, she’d obviously not been fazed by it and had admitted to herself that she’d felt strange inside with his eyes on her most personal functions, strange but excited; yet it seemed to both that they had to begin to aspire to higher things, rather than living as lower order animals.

On the way back, he mocked up the boundaries of a possible latrine but he also wanted another area where she could preen herself. He’d think on it.

Back in the cave, the meat had been cooked and placed on two little mats she’d woven and now she led him to the rear of the cave. Pointing to the discolouration on the rock floor, all the way to the entrance, she retraced her path to the back wall and then where the cave curved round to the left. He heard it before he saw it –the trickle, trickle.

He kissed her there and then, held her close and ran his hands over her. ‘You’re a prize, Louise, I’d fight to the death over you now. I mean that.’

‘I think you might have done that anyway,’ she laughed. ‘You strike me as the type.’

This was excellent. Food, water, possible crops, some form of safety up here, with the rope ladder pulled up and a fire.

And they themselves. ‘Any regrets so far?’ he asked.

‘Not so far. Let’s stay focused on each other, let’s continue to improve our state. Do you agree?’

‘I was going to ask you that. You know the Anunnaki will come back again. Then we’ll have to fight.’

‘Yes.’

‘If three or four come, we’ll have to kill them and hide the bodies.’

Ah, this one she didn’t like so much although she knew the dark logic of it. ‘They’ll send out a search party.’

‘Which is why our prime task is to find a more permanent home with good natural protection, somewhere far away.’

‘Do you not want to return to earth?’

‘I don’t mind. I do like the idea of us here though.’

‘So do I but there might come a day when we get homesick. What will we do then?’ Knowing there was no answer to that one, she moved to the next. ‘Listen Rory, if they could create a Garden of Eden and shift us quickly from place to place, then they can find us and destroy us too.’

‘And yet, on earth, if they could have destroye us all, don’t you think they would have done by now?’

‘It’s not too good on earth, is it?’

‘Why’s that? Because they only have power over those who give way to their instincts, their wants. Why haven’t they flashed us back to the torture chairs yet? I don’t think they actually can. Not without some sort of input from us. I think the first time we’re angry with each other, they might be able to.’

‘Gee, that’s a tall order, isn’t it?’

‘It’s no bed of roses, love. We chose this way.’

‘You called me ‘love’.’

‘Why not? I love you.’

She ran it past her lips a few times, did not dislike it and said, ‘I love you too. Rory, look at my body. Do you notice anything?’

‘You’re losing that hair.’

She looked down and smiled. ‘No, I mean apart from that.’

He suddenly grinned and went quiet. ‘Do you mean …?’

‘I think so.’

They looked at one another and took that in, in all its implications and it just began another bout of lovemaking, of no possible interest to anyone but themselves.

BACK TO STORY 2: LIFT

CLICK HERE FOR STORY 4: TURANDOT

Turandot

2009-05-18T06:13:00.000-07:00

Modica by night

Cast

Hotel staff

Signóre Failla, 57, Modica, Sicily, proprietor
Signóra Failla, 42, Modica, Sicily, proprietor
Giovanni Criscione, 29, Ragusa, Sicily, front desk
Vittoria Scirpa, 26, Scicli, Sicily, front desk
Francesco Giavatto, 27, Modica, Sicily, waiter
Tommaso Scirpa, 25, Cava d’Ispica, Sicily, waiter
Claudia Gintoli, 21, Modica, Sicily, chambermaid
Francesca Vindigni, 19, Modica, Sicily, chambermaid
Eleonora Iacono, 19, Modica, Sicily, chambermaid
Katiuchia Cappello, 29, Frigintino, Sicily, former employee

IT delegates

Arturo Alecci, 29, Scicli, Sicily, freelance, programme co-designer
Massimiliano Pace, 37, Turin, Sicily, Impada, systems expertise
Johannes Ilkka, 54, Helsinki, Suomi, Sitra, venture capital
Aino Ilkka, 27, Kerkola, Suomi, Tekes, programme co-designer
Ilmari Jokipii, 26, Helsinki, Suomi, Tekes, systems expertise
Jaakko Perttula, 26, Helsinki, Suomi, Tekes, systems expertise.
Yuri Federov, 41, St. Petersburg, Russia, Lukoil, venture capital
Natalia Beria, 38, Smolensk, Russia, Gotek, systems expertise
Marcel Dumont, 34, Orly, France, Techniques, systems expertise
Cédric Ratouis, 29, Iles de Paris, programme co-designer
Isabelle Ratouis, 27, Iles de Paris, systems expertise
Christa von Sievers, 51, Kempten, Bavaria, security issues
Miles Everard, 43, Manchester, UK, Innovative Technologies, security issues
Vaclav Chmyz, 41, Warsaw, Polska, Juri Micha, venture capital
Ngaire Silverwood, 43, Auckland, New Zealand, venture capital
Maaka Rawiri, 28, Auckland, New Zealand, systems expertise
Salimah Rafa, 21, Tunisia, listed as IT expert but does not appear to be

Other characters

Alberto Tasca, 43, Modica, Sicily, police inspector
Simone Greer, 53, Modica, Italy, Welsh expat friend of Miles Everard
Signóre Pietro de Luca, 54, Palermo, Sicily, tenor

This story is a work of fiction dedicated to Simone Greer and Katiuchia Rizzarello.

I

With the nightfall also came the welcome drop in temperature.

It had been 41 degrees on the board in Piazza Garibaldi as they'd scooted past on the way down to the beach at Pozzallo but a tolerable 29 degrees now had people opening shutters and venturing outdoors. Miles Everard thought the scorching sun oppressive but the rest of the party insisted it went with the territory in Sicily.

The beginning of the conference had been set for August 15th at Hotel Palazzo Failla, high on Modica Alta, Miles knew Modica and had taken a stone-walled room he called la Cava even further up the hill on Corso Regina Margherite and now, seated on the broad steps before the boarded up chiesa di San Giovanni, he could look out over the lights of the city below and admire it all, in peace.

In this city’s architecture was living history, from the Chiaramonte influence to the gothic, to the Spanish and Arabic. Even the most culturally dulled brain, which it was not entirely fair to accuse him of possessing, would have appreciated the vibrancy of the past in these narrow streets.

The first strains of Turandot filtered through the houses clinging to the hillside, stacked one upon the other and he knew he was late for the recital.

‘No!’ he cried and jumped up, throwing the remainder of the granita in the bin, trying to remember which way down to the Palazzo. The old men seated by an open door gave directions and one chap asked if he could show him.

‘Non c’e bisogno, grazie,’ said Miles and hurried back to la Cava to spruce himself up. There was a Sicilian girl at that place he needed to impress, he’d seen her early that morning and knew he’d liked her from the start. In la Cava, his most billowing white chemise seemed to be the goods, disguising the beginnings of a paunch and the rest of him might pass muster as it was.

Down Regina Margherite, almost slipping on the greasy black residue on the asphalt on the 1 in 4 drop, left now at Palazzo Napolino and there they all were - seated al fresco on wooden chairs in the narrow Piazza, the night sky clear, the traffic having dissipated, stillness around except for the tenor at the far end, partially silhouetted by the glow of lights from the lower town – Miles slipped through the crowd and perched on a seat just near the back. Four girls were seated along the wall opposite the Hotel Failla, one noted his arrival and nudged the object of his presence, obviously he’d telegraphed his interest early that morning, she got up now, took the tray of sweetmeats and began handing them round to patrons, eventually ending up in front of him.

Excellent, they were, the almond impanatigghi and canoli but tastiest of all was Katiuchia Cappello, 29 and now she smiled down with a slightly bemused look, knowing he’d done this for her, he went red, she laughed inside, put her finger to her lips and suggested he shift camp to where they were seated, which he was loathe to do at this moment because of the effect on other patrons, she, fully aware of his reticence, indicated a path back through the crowd and round the side, which he dutifully followed, noted by a great many of the women dressed in evening attire, ears on the performance but eyes on every little aspect of note in the piazza.

Signóre Pietro de Luca was building up to the climax of Nessun Dorma, the acoustics in the piazza rendered unnecessary any electronic assistance, eyes were either rivetted on de Luca or closed, the better to take in the performance, the piece came to its crashing finale and thunderous applause erupted, Miles looking round at the standing multitude wildly expressing their appreciation, which he politely joined in because de Luca had been superb, Signóre Failla himself came over and in his eyes was the question, to which the Englishman’s facial gestures provided the answer, then, in almost the same instant, Miles caught the grotesque sight of a woman falling from an upstairs window, he touched Signóre Failla’s arm, the propietor also caught the last moment before impact, swore and raced off to deal with it, indicating for his two waiters to accompany him.

Miles assumed they’d take the body inside the northern entrance bar immediately, of course incurring the wrath of the carabinieri but stopping hysteria before it began. In this, Signóre Failla was standing on his intergenerational position in the community and when one of the local officers, a sallow youth, assisted him, he smiled grimly and thought it might be all right after all.

It was time for his speech to the performers, his wife had begun without him and now he gathered himself, moved swiftly through the hotel and emerged at the south entrance, to further applause, made a most emotional speech which had the performers almost blushing, everything wound up most satisfactorily, guests were urged to remain and enjoy the wine and snacks, at which the girls sprang up, took a tray each and Signóre Failla mingled with the throng, making small talk and graciously accepting accolades.

Francesco Giavatto, head waiter, came close and nodded, the police would delay their arrival for twenty minutes, which was about the time it would take for the wine and morsels to be finished up, the crowd slowly drifted their separate ways, some to Ristorante La Gazza Ladra but most homewards and forty minutes later saw a group of seven gathered in the luncheon bar, being addressed by Alberto Tasca, chief officer for the area.

In a nutshell, with Katiuchia and the front-desk man of all seasons, Giovanni Criscione, translating when necessary, it seemed the poor woman, Aino Ilkka, a Finn of 27 years from the Kerkola area near Lapland and one of the delegates, had decided to remain in her room throughout the performance, pleading a headache, husband Johannes, 54, had been seated outside during the recital and the most curious aspect was his immediate lack of emotion on hearing of her demise.

Tasca had the theme of the conference clear in his head within ten minutes – a local boffin, Arturo Alecci, based in Scicli, had developed a software package to enable the Finnish programme developed by Tekes and funded by Sitra to transcend the non-interface of various platforms, the whole package particularly suited to maximizing oil revenues, which naturally brought Russia and Europe into it, casting OPEC and various other bodies into the role of adversaries.

Miles was here on behalf of Innovative Technologies, UK [ITUK], his input to be security devices to be packaged in with the product and that was what they were all currently thashing out, day by day.

Why in Modica?

Ridiculous reason really. Alecco had been a bit naughty on a recent trip vis a vis work regulations and he was subject to a 90 day ban in certain parts of the EU. Given that and the traditional pull of Sicily as a venue for bonhomie and all good things, along with the local community jumping in to help, with guests split between the Failla and the Principe d’Aragona, situated near Bar’o’centro in Modica Bassa, some in billets and the remainder finding their own accommodation, it was a pleasant arrangement all round.

Miles had used la Cava before and knew it to be a cool ten degrees below the outside temperature, this constituting his only criterion although the mod cons in that old subdivided palazzo were also up to scratch.

Tasco, flanked by two sergeants, took up office in the northern bar to where the body had been lifted earlier and began his initial interviews. First cabs off the rank were Signóre e Signóra Failla, Miles and translator Katiuchia. Si, Miles had seen the woman falling first. Si, it was almost as if she were diving into a swimming pool but difficult to ascertain in a split second.

Signóre Failla confirmed that he’d responded to Miles’s tap on the arm and had seen the headfirst last moment of the lady, obscured, fortunately, by a large potted tree, one of many dotted about the outside of the building. Had she seemed deceased already? He shrugged, ‘How can I know?’ to which Miles chipped in that she’d been fairly inert in herself – she’d certainly not been struggling nor flailing nor any of that.

There’d been no cry.

Signóra Failla had been in and out of the building constantly, no, she did not need to check on her most trusted staff, her task merely to coordinate and to convey the requests of the guests.

Tasco made a note to inquire about the motion of bodies through the air from that height, asked Miles about his relationship with the next person to be interviewed, released the three but kept Katiuchia.

Si, she was from Frigintini and helped out on occasions at the hotel, such events as this evening’s, for example. Si, she was a lady of leisure, aged 29 although she was studying for a degree in horticulture, from home. Tasco knew of the Cappello family in the Frigintini area and could understand this lady. Si, she’d learned English some four years earlier and had a smattering of that tongue. No, she’d seen nothing but had noticed Miles tap Signóre Failla on the forearm.

Some guests had reported that she had some connection with Signóre Everard. Katiuchia laughed and dropped her head - just pleasant interaction with a man she’d warmed to, with his gracious attitude towards her this morning, nothing more. They were from different walks of life, after all, different ages. It accorded with what the other had said.

Perhaps, thought Tasco but there could be something more there – Everard seemed to have latched onto a particularly nice specimen of the local female population and that one might be worth exploring further.

The waiters and waitresses were interviewed together. Giovanni had been manning the front desk, Francesco and Tommaso Scirpa were the two waiters on duty for the other hotel guests, plus at the bar, Claudia Gintoli, Francesca Vindigni, and Eleonora Iacono had attended to the guests at the performance, Signóra Failla was coordinating the whole show and Signóre Failla was also in attendance on the guests.

No one had been upstairs via the staircase during the recital but si, there was a staff exit from the far end of the luncheon bar, which led upstairs to a toilet and no, it was not possible to access the guest chambers from up there.

Signóre Ilkka came through with Giovanni and made it plain from the outset that he wanted this thing over and done with and would the inspector or whatever he called himself kindly get on with it? Giovanni winced, knowing from bitter experience how the Italian police could tie you up in red tape if you failed to respect their procedures. This man seemed to be heading for a fall, unless he knew something or somebody Giovanni wasn’t sure about.

Katiuchia, the other staff and Miles finished up their coffees and the former now offered to drop the latter back at la Cava on the way home. The car was parked over in the cliff edge carpark and to get there necessitated passing the point of impact on the ground. There was nothing there. Nothing, almost as if it had never happened.

Her car stopped at the top of the one way Corso Regina Margherite and it was an awkward moment. She was dog tired after that affair tonight, he was tongue-tied but both knew they’d liked the first day of this association and the look each gave the other confirmed it would continue, on the morrow for lunch, as a matter of fact.

‘Ciao, grazie,’ was said and each went home.

II

The word ‘conference’ did not accurately describe the get-together so much as ‘workshop’. It was a very hands-on affair, with the practical application and drawbacks at issue, the annoying obstacles were being brainstormed over and into this came the slight form of Alberto Tasco, apologizing and wishing to speak with Signóre Everard again.

Miles excused himself and the two men went to the guest bar where Katiuchia was waiting, something which caused him to redden and the other two to note that.

‘Signóre,’ said Tasco, ‘I’d like you to cast your mind back to last night and describe again what you saw, not only at the scene of the tragedy but all the way along the side of the hotel. You see, both you and the young lady here may have seen something but not noticed it, if you take my meaning.’

Miles nodded. ‘As you know, the left corner of the building was where it happened and you know, interestingly, the light was not on in that room or at least it didn’t appear to be. As we move to the right, the next part – I have no way of knowing where one room ends and the next starts – it was also in darkness but as we approach the bar -’

‘Signóre, may we go outside and you can demonstrate this to me?’

They all went out onto the piazza.

‘From here to here, the other end of the bar, had a light on upstairs, the next part here also had but from there to the end had not. Is that significant?’

‘Let me confirm – the room on the northern end, to the left here and behind the guests last night, from where the lady fell, did not have the room light on?’

‘No.’

‘What would you say if I was to tell you that that is not the room of Signóra Ilkka but of Signóra Failla herself, whenever they stay at the hotel?’

‘Extraordinary. Could you tell me where the dead lady’s room actually gave onto?’ Katiuchia translated for Tasco.

‘Certainly, it was on the far side of the building, over the main corsa.’

‘I see.’

‘Yes,’ Tasco replied in English. ‘Why would she choose this window?’

‘Or why would someone else have chosen this particular window?’

The inspector looked at Everard. ‘I’m asking all guests to give small word portraits of the others; I’d appreciate if you’d now give yours, Signóre. Start with the fellow conference delegates.’

Miles thought about it. ‘Right, Johannes and Aino Ilkka. He’s a hard man in the business mould, she was softer and younger, the two not necessarily going together but there was also something not quite right with her. I had no time to explore it -’

‘Did you intend to?’

‘Well, yes. Quite apart from being an interesting field, my work is partly in security so yes, I intended to sum people up along the way.’

‘Go on please.’

‘There was some sort of coldness between them which didn’t seem to fit the idea of a newly married couple with one many years the junior of the other.’

‘Signórina Cappello here is many years your junior.’

‘We’re just friends.’

Katiuchia showed nothing on her face, so the inspector asked Miles to continue.

‘Salimah Rafa is interesting. As an arab and presumably a muslim, her presence at the conference puzzles me but was at the insistence of Arturo.’

‘And what do you make of that?’

‘I’d hope Arturo doesn’t have plans of his own for the distribution and sale of the finished product.’ Tasco smiled at Miles’s remark. ‘She doesn’t seem attached to anyone and yet she’s pretty pretty, in her early 20s. She couldn’t be orthodox, I wouldn’t have thought, otherwise where is her man and why is she dressed almost provocatively, in muslim terms?

Ngaire Silverwood and Maaka Rawiri are the two New Zealanders. She’s not Maori, yet her first name is. He’s definitely Maori. Maybe I’m an ignorant, prejudiced person but I can’t quite see them at a European conference like this.’

‘She’s apparently the potential antipodaean distributor of the product.’

‘I know that but surely we develop the product first and then worry about distribution. After all, the product is going to sell itself, should we perfect it and why would New Zealand be interested in oil in this way? And why him? I can’t see the point of either of them being here and yet they apparently represent interests from that end of the world who were keen to have someone present.

Marcel Dumont from Paris, Cédric Ratouis and the beautiful woman with him, Isabelle whom I presume is his wife plus Massimiliano Pace from Turin – they all seem logical. All are involved in the IT field in industry, the former connected with the finance in Paris. Yuri Federov is logical. Vaclav Chmyz, the Pole, is also. Johannes Ilkka is the money from Sitra and the other Finns, Ilmari Jokipii and Jaakko Perttula are the expertise.

Who else? Christa von Sievers has reason to be here by virtue of her IT contribution but she also has an interesting association.’

‘Si, we know of that,’ murmured Tasco. Katiuchia looked from one to the other and determined to ask Miles later. ‘Grazie, Signóre Everard and now perhaps, your views on the staff of the hotel.’

‘I’ll give them but even then, there were all the guests to take into consideration, those at the concert I mean. Anyone could have walked in, hearing the singing all around Modica Alta and any one of them could have been the one, should this have been a murder.’

‘You were once a member of military intelligence, low level, were you not, Signóre?’

‘Long ago, in a minor capacity, as you say.’

‘You have a special reason, do you not, to keep an eye on Signóra von Sievers?’

‘And if you know that already, also on Yuri Federov’s sidekick, Natalia Beria.’

‘You’re being remarkably open, Signóre.’

‘Always pays when it can be discovered by a bit of research anyway. No doubt you’re aware of one of my personal missions.’

‘As, no doubt, are they. Which is why your prints on the window sill from where Signóra Ilkka fell did not lead to a rash of questions from me. Any thoughts on Ilmari Jokipii or Jaakko Perttula, from Finland?

‘Not particularly. Seem logical.’

‘Thank you for your cooperation, Signóre.’

Hotel Palazzo Failla

III

In the luncheon bar, she brought foccaccie and fixed them both chicken salads, then came out with it.

‘Miles, you wish to go to Marina di Modica or Sampieri with me this afternoon? I have some free time.’

‘Are you meeting up with your friends?’

She smiled. ‘No, I’m showing you the sights.’

‘I’d love that, Katiuchia. Should I bring beach things?’

‘Si and I’ll pack some things to eat.’

‘Give me time to update myself on the morning’s doings upstairs and then I’ll join you. Where? At the car?’

‘Si.’

Miles skipped upstairs and was briefed on the few developments by Federov, understanding Russian to an extent and the two therefore finding themselves perhaps closer than the other delegates.

They all broke for the afternoon and he soon found himself in the silver Rav 4, being transported to Sampieri. Looking from the corner of his eye at the driver, he saw the typical dark-haired Italian with Sicilian overtones but her shyness did not seem to be what he’d heard about local denizens and even in his covert scrutiny, she went bright red and lost her English, so he swung into very bad Italian which caused her to choke in turn and this was going to be a lovely day, thought Miles.

Hot.

That’s what the beach was, packed with locals and tourists, the sea breeze and umbrella barely reducing the stifling air and his whiteness, compared to her normal olive colouring, stood out embarrassingly. On the other hand, she clearly hadn’t been out in the sun much herself either, tan lines clearly demarcated and as she handed him the impanate and he handed her the water, there clearly had to be something else to help this day along.

They found it in a walk over the rocky shore, all the way to the old brick factory, the abandoned but dominating feature of the shoreline. Her flat sandals were a bit treacherous and at one point she slipped, he caught her and that was the first contact taken care of. An awkward time now ensued when neither could think what to say, they were walking very close, hands occasionally brushing against the other’s, he crossed the line and took hers, her fingers immediately slipping inside his, in total silence.

‘Miles,’ she said in a slightly elevated voice, once they’d reached the wall, ‘we go over there.’

‘There’ took them inside the wall and he had no idea of the legality of the thing but as the gate had been unlocked, he reasoned it was all right. The shade afforded by the eaves of the brickworks proper was a welcome relief, they both turned at the same time and fell into a kiss. Interestingly, though she’d allowed herself this far, now she was unsure and hung back. This seemed to be her way - to venture forward, then back.

No matter, he thought, it could also have been that she’d realized the futility with one such as him or hadn’t liked what she’d found close up. They’d take it as it came. He ventured another kiss on spec, she allowed it and tried a couple of daring movements herself, then pulled back again.

Well, all right, let’s move on, he thought.

She went through the gate first, he came second, there was a soft ‘phut’ sound and he caught the bullet in the right side, penetrating not all that far from the heart. The gunman had to have been up near the road.

IV

In his hospital bed in la Sorda, Katiuchia had been beside him for some time but his first other visitor was Alberto Tasca. Miles grinned as the inspector brought a chair over and sat down.

No, Miles and Katiuchia assured the man – they’d seen no one but yes, Miles could speculate on who it might have been; it might be worth following up on the Germans and Russians. This one seemed to be more a case of why than who. The why could have been any of a number of reasons. Perhaps Miles would know a bit more after a few more visitors.

Tasco thanked him and took his leave.

Twenty-five minutes later, of all people, the Pole Vaclav Chmyz appeared and immediately the communication barrier was the problem, Miles’ long-forgotten Russian language the only channel.

Chmyz was clearly uneasy but as neither of the other two were making any moves to converse, the man decided to come out with it. He’d seen Natalia Beria at Sampieri. Had he told the inspector? Not yet.

The visit concluded soon after, with thanks for the information and Katiuchia now stated the obvious: ‘There were many people at Sampieri yesterday, Miles, including this man Chmyz himself. Everyone had to go somewhere to escape the heat and we have three main beaches. It might mean something but it might not.’

‘I think she might have done it. I have my reasons for thinking that. The other would be von Sievers. The 9mm rounds proved little – it’s popular ammunition and there’s not the gun to match it to. I think they’ll try again.’

‘Miles, you know I didn’t … well … I didn’t … at the brick factory.’

‘That’s your business and you have your own reasons. Your lips were sweet, Katiuchia but I’m past worrying about those things.’

‘But I’d like to tell you. I can’t.’

‘Then don’t,’ he smiled and she took his hand instead.

V

The conference had gone ahead as per schedule but the security aspects had been left towards the end, for when Miles returned. Now, in an annoying development, just as he was getting into full cry on these, the inspector appeared and wanted to talk.

As Miles wasn’t altogether mobile in his condition, he’d taken an upstairs room for the remaining two days and this was the venue for the questioning. The inspector had brought Katiuchia with him and she didn’t seem too put out by it.

‘Signóre Everard, why do you think Signóra Ilkka went out of that particular window? Why would either she or someone else wish the tragedy to be so visible?’

‘At first I thought it was to make a point to her husband for some reason known only to the two of them. It still might have been so but there were anomalies in that. Why on the corner, behind the audience, behind him even? He didn’t see it happen. It could have been a love thing and she reasoned that so close to the northern bar entrance, that it would be taken care of very quickly.

One thing which puzzled me was the apparent high dive – she landed head first. Now either that was to ensure instant death and no lingering pain or else, if it had been his doing, how had she taken that trajectory?

I thought it through and it seems to me that that room was used because it was only the window without security devices. Signóra Failla didn’t need such things and they weren’t covered by local planning laws. Therefore Aino did it herself and took a swan dive.’

Tasco rubbed his chin and said, ‘Regulations cover all windows. That window did have security devices but they’d been disabled. Also, they are not primarily to prevent people jumping out but to prevent undesirables getting in.’

‘So someone might have been trying to get in to rob Signóra Failla’s room, met Aino and threw her out.’

‘Why was she in that room at that moment?’

‘I don’t know, inspector. You tell me and while you’re about it, you might tell me why anyone would want to break in at that moment, during a concert and with people milling around on the main street as well as in the piazza?’

‘Si, my thoughts too.’

‘Let’s face it, anyone could have come in the door of the northern bar -’

‘No, it was locked.’

‘Then the boys who got her inside the hotel did it very quickly.’

‘Si, that is so.’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘It is. Now, do you see any connection with the attack on you and that on Signóra Ilkka?’

‘I think they might be separate, the reason for my own having already occurred to you.’

VI

In the heat of Sicily, one got up early and prepared for the day before 09:00 as a rule.

Miles had been awake since 04:30 and so heard the first staff arrive, the place being unlocked, the various machines turned on, the night porter depart and the girls who did breakfast and the rooms also arrive.

He’d ordered his breakfast for 07:30, half an hour away and thought about changing the time but didn’t. Usually the girl would leave it outside if a guest left the sign on the door handle but if not, she’d knock and bring it in. He had left the sign because he didn’t want complications with the management, so when the knock came and the door handle turned, he was annoyed.

It was Katiuchia though and his emotions went through so many changes. She pulled the drapes, set the tray on the sidetable and then turned to him propped up in bed, a smile on her face. He was about to ask about the sign on the door handle, decided against it and now there was an impasse. He couldn’t very well get out of bed, as she could see, she’d apparently assumed he might be dressed and so the onus was on her.

Walking over to the wardrobe, she saw the blue cotton robe, took it and passed it to him, he got up and slipped it on quickly while she looked away, then came up behind her, passed his arms round her waist and his lips bent down to her neck. She turned and the kiss was not reticent. It was an absolute nerve but he touched her cheek with his palm and guided her lips to his again.

She gave for a few moments and did not hold back but then turned and left the room, yet not before he’d seen the corner of a do not disturb sign poking out of her tunic pocket. Smiling to himself, he went over and poured a coffee.

The instant the liquid touched his tongue, he knew. Pouring a glass from the carafe of water, he went to the bathroom and swilled out, over and over and over, came back through and rang reception. Vittoria was on and he asked if Katiucha was nearby.

‘One moment, please.’

‘Si, Miles?’

‘Katiuchia, don’t tell anyone that you’re doing it, come upstairs to my room – nothing romantic at all and I’ll be dressed. Something has happened and I want you to be the first to know.’

‘Understood.’

About ten minutes later, she knocked and came through. ‘Miles,’ she said simply and he indicated for her to sit in the chair opposite the one he now settled into.

‘I think the coffee is poisoned.’

‘No, no, it is not!’ She clearly thought he was accusing her.

‘I’m not saying you did it but before we call anyone else, let’s try to work it out together. Can anyone hear us at the door, from the corridor, I mean?’

‘One moment.’ She went and checked, came back but conceded that the hall carpet would hush footsteps. ‘Speak softly.’

‘Are you playing with me, kissing me then stopping, kissing me then stopping?’

‘Miles, I tell you I have feelings but I can’t do this. It’s not to do with you and I’ll explain when we can go out of here.’

‘I have feelings for you too. All right, think back, girl, to exactly what happened downstairs, who prepared the breakfast, when did you take it, did you walk away for any time and come back? Think.’

She slowly lost colour in her face. ‘I prepared it myself and then brought it to you immediately. I was … pleased to see you again.’

‘There was no time when you left that breakfast tray?’

‘No. But I didn’t prepare the coffee. That was done by Tom –’

She stopped and he supplied, ‘By Tommaso. Now look, Katiuchia, when did you agree to work till today?’

‘I don’t work. I just help today because I wanted.’

‘Bene. Could you do your own investigation down there? Slowly. First take Tommaso to one side and tell him what happened. If he’s guilty, you’ll pick that up quickly so don’t be in a closed place with him and don’t eat anything he prepares from then on. If it looks as if he is as shocked as you, then put both your heads together and try to think who it was. Ask the next person. Decide again. Slowly go through everyone, deciding as you go. When you think you know, the others will protect you, unless it is Tommaso himself.

Stay near reception, phone and when you see me come to the head of the stairs just there, come up and I’ll watch you up to me. Are you willing to do that?’

‘Certo.’

‘The moment anyone comes near you, keep your distance, even if it is one of the boys joking about hugging you. No contact and run for reception if you have any trouble. Refuse any request to take something outside, a tray, whatever. Do you understand the sort of thing I’m saying? Contact me every ten minutes from reception or if they’ve shut that off, run up here and I’ll hear you.’

The waiting began. Miles felt that the wardrobe was the best place to be, crouched down but first he lightly ran the shower, came back and got into his position in the space under the hanging clothes.

Now it happened quickly, someone had clearly come into the room, paused and then gone to the bathroom. Whoever it was now realized it was a trick and ran for the door, getting out just as the phone rang. He climbed out and went to the phone, breakfast knife in throwing position and facing the door all the while.

Picking up the phone with the other hand, he asked who it was. It was her and she wanted to come upstairs. ‘All right, Katiuchia, one minute.’

Putting the receiver back, he went for the door and the process of getting out to the head of the stairs took the full minute. He saw her below, beckoned her up and whispered, ‘Put your arms around me while we stand here, it’s strategically better and safer. You stand this way, facing the conference room and I’ll face the other rooms. We’ll whisper in each other’s ear while we do it. OK?’

‘OK.’

‘Good. Now, tell me what happened.’

‘I told Tommaso and I couldn’t know. He expressed shock but I’m not sure. He asked me who I thought had done it. I went back to Vittoria on the desk but she was strange. Also, did you hear the sound on the phone – it was different? It means someone was listening.’

‘Oh yes, that’s been clear all along. Do you have your mobile phone on you?’

‘Si.’

‘Then phone the number I’m going to give you now and ask the inspector to get here quickly.’ He fished in his pocket and found it.

The guest bar

VII

The heat of the day was upon them, everyone had arrived, there was no outward drama but Miles and Katiucha now went to la Cava with the inspector, she sitting on the chaisse longue, he on the bed and the inspector on the hard chair, rubbing his chin in that characteristic manner of his.

‘A woman’s footsteps in your room?’

‘Too unreliable to say but it seemed that way to me. Not a large woman because there were seven or eight steps. I’d imagine a man would have gone more swiftly or even Vittoria.’

‘It was a risk on that person’s part.’

‘Katiuchia came downstairs, obviously acting strangely. That would have tipped off the downstairs person who was most likely waiting for some sign. He or she would assume that the poisoning had happened and that Katiuchia did not want any scandal for the hotel. She’s known as being discreet -’

‘Except with you.’

‘Except with me and vice-versa. That someone tipped off the person upstairs and the one upstairs then came through to check, was puzzled by the shower and needed to get close enough to hear me. Then the phone rang and she got out of there.’

‘It’s possible. It would be better, Signóre Everard, that you remain here until we investigate thoroughly and the signórina needs to remain here too. There is a second room, I notice, with a lock and one man will be posted through the night. He’ll bring food as you need. He’ll be here shortly and I’ll introduce you. The signórina should call her home and explain; perhaps her father might like to come to make sure all is well but she must stay here. Even home is not safe for her at this moment.’

A phone call was put through, all was explained, the inspector was put on the line, the father was indeed coming around, now the inspector’s phone went off and it was his assistant at the door. He handed back Katiuchia’s phone and went to the door. They could hear the conversation and Katiuchia nodded, so it seemed all right.

Introductions were made and now came a call to Katiuchia from her father. He was nearby in the car and knew the address.

Twelve minutes later, he came through with baskets of food and the introductions began all over again. After the food had been fridged, the inspector explained that though he could speak by phone with his daughter, he must not actually come to this address until next day unless she called for him.

The father checked her room, was satisfied, scrutinized Miles and was also satisfied – Katiuchia must have extolled his virtues in that direction, it was known that a second officer would relieve the first at nightfall, the name and number were given, the whole thing would be done with the inspector also returning at that time, the father was satisfied and everyone except the officer and the two of them departed.

‘Hungry?’ asked Miles.

‘I’ll prepare it.’

They had a lovely late lunch, all three of them, washed down by a drop or two of red Cerasuolo di Vittoria, there was good conversation and the thing was done the Sicilian way, a great relief for all, after the tension.

With Katiuchia’s things in her room, she came through to Miles and sat on the bed with him. It now really hit home that here they were and yet there was a barrier which only she could explain, a barrier she seemed stressed by and so he took her hand and said, ‘If you can’t, for whatever reason, you can’t. I don’t want it this way and I don’t want you distressed. You owe me no explanation. Just tell me what I can do and can’t do. May we kiss?’

‘If we do that here, we won’t be able to stop.’

‘All right, then we won’t.’

‘But you will go from here in three days. I want and don’t want.’

‘Then better not. Seriously. I suspect that it’s not so much that I’m awful but that you have a promise to keep.’

‘Si.’

‘There’s no problem either way.’

They heard a call taken at the outer door, they heard the lock undone and the sound of three voices. It was as had been mooted. The inspector took them through to Miles’s room and told them immediately.

‘Tommaso and the girl Vittoria were together in it. The one upstairs was Natalia Beria. I still do not consider that it is safe and so this night will go ahead as planned. Tommaso is in custody and Signórina Beria is on her way to Catania.’

Miles nodded but Katiuchia was shocked to the core, not least at the personal danger to herself. Miles would have liked to have chatted to Yuri at this point. ‘Was there a connection with the death of Signóra Ilkka?’

‘She did not fall from the window, I can say this now. She was already dead and was dropped from the roof. Again tell me, who took her into the northern bar?’

Katiuchia answered, ‘Tommaso and Francesco.’

‘But Signórina, Francesco remained downstairs at the luncheon bar the whole time, apart from going to the toilet twice from that bar, which leads nowhere.’

‘Then,’ Katiuchia went white again, ‘It was one of the girls.’

‘Or someone from the public but that would have been too risky. Or someone from among the guests. To lift that woman onto the roof and to suspend her in that way would take more than his and her strength. You need only look at the roof at that point to see this. No, it was two men.’

‘Signóra Ilkka was with the guests the whole time,’ Miles reminded him.

‘Si but one other person was not.’

‘And you’re not going to tell us who because you’ve laid a trap tonight.’

The inspector smiled at Miles. ‘It’s time now for you, yourself, Signóre, to tell us about your purpose here.’

Katiuchia started back at that but the inspector assured her, ‘No, no, Signórina. Signóre Everard is not guilty in this matter.’ She relaxed but her nerves were bad. Miles wanted this to end and the inspector, not an insensitive man, saw the way of things and nodded again.

Hugh got up, went to the kitchen, poured three limoncellos and returned. ‘To the clearing up of the issue,’ he toasted, watched as the liqueur settled her down,then began.

‘All right, it’s like this. The two people who came to this conference did not even bother to disguise their names. Whether they are victims of their own home propaganda and felt that no one else could know, I’m not sure but I quote parts of what I’m going to say directly from an excellent piece of research by Benjamin B. Fischer.

Beria is the name of the man who urged Stalin to execute 21,857 Polish prisoners at Katyn and two other execution sites, one at Mednoye (near the former city of Kalinin, now Tver’, in Russia) and the other near Kharkiv (formerly Kharkov), Ukraine.

This was complicated by the USSR’s disastrous 105-day war against Finland at the time, in 1939, and the NKVD dispatched one of its rising stars, Major Vassili Zarubin to take care of the job. The Poles were the intelligentsia and higher skilled people who could possibly have led a revolt against the oppressor. They were initially put in camps at Kozelsk, Starobelsk, and Ostashkov, all three located on the grounds of former Orthodox monasteries converted into prisons, then transferred to the execution sites.

When the Nazis discovered mass graves in April, 1943, it was grand propaganda for Goebbels to use to divide the allies but the U.S.A. and Britain decided to cover up and whitewash the whole affair instead, for obvious reasons. This woman, Natalia Beria, is of that family and is determined to clear her family name.’

‘But of course,’ commented Tasco, ‘it is not the Russians themselves, post-communism who need to cover up. The crimes of Stalin and Voroshilov, Molotov, Mikoyan, Kalinin and Kaganovich are well and truly part of folk lore now so who would still wish to see it remain secret?’

Katiuchia supplied it: ‘The Americans and British.’

‘Plus some Polish communists who colluded,’ added Miles. ‘Of which one is now in Hotel Failla. You see, at a Kremlin ceremony on October 13th, 1990, Gorbachev handed Jaruzelski a folder of documents that left no doubt about Soviet guilt. He did not, however, make a full and complete disclosure. Missing from the folder was the March 1940 NKVD execution order. Gorbachev laid all blame on Stalin's secret police chief, Lavrenty Beria.’

‘And,’ the inspector added, ‘Signórina Beria has never forgiven this. Yuri Federov was in grave danger of his life and that was this lady’s focus – to destroy Russian interests at this conference. Signóre Everard, due to his long association with Russia as well, was equally damned in her eyes.’

‘The second person,’ Miles took up the tale again, ‘whom the inspector is well aware of, is mentioned in another excellent article by Wulf Schwartzwaller, titled: ‘The Unknown Hitler’. I quote:

‘An SS occult research department, the Ahnernerbe (Ancestral Heritage) was established in 1935 with SS Colonel Wolfram von Sievers at its head. Occult research took SS researchers as far afield as Tibet. Sievers had the Tantrik prayer, the Bardo Thodol, read over his body after his execution at Nuremberg.’

The granddaughter of that man is present in the delegation as well.’

Katiuchia was goggle-eyed. ‘All this has been happening in these past few days?’

‘Yes, yes it has. Why she would wish to harm me is tangential. I publish many articles against the Bruderheist who are but one part of the people I call ‘Them’. Hardly anyone reads my work but They do and They’re not noted for their forgiveness. It might be that that’s why my prints were on the window sill, she would be strong enough to have helped Tommaso to the roof with the body but the thing still puzzling me is how clumsy it was. The inspector was always going to find the truth of the body’s trajectory, so what was the point of it all?’

Tasco added, ‘We’re reasonably convinced of the culpability of Christa von Sievers but we also feel there is one other. We feel that we might have missed something quite big in what has happened, almost as if this has been a play so far, of which the dropping of the body was merely the overture. We also think that the names Beria and von Sievers were too obvious, designed to get people like Signóre Everard thinking along these lines. Perhaps there is a greater plan afoot.’

It was Miles’s turn to stop and think. ‘Money?’

‘Si and in this charade of the past few days, although a painful charade for you, Signóre, forgive me, the net effect is that you have been removed from the deliberations at the conference.’

‘So that when I return, the security aspects will already have been merged in with the programme and will just require my perusal and signing off.’

‘Quite possibly. The programme goes wrong when it is implemented, the funds are transferred and the blame falls on the security agency who signed it off, ruining that man forever.’

‘Then I should be there now.’

‘No, Signóre. To do that would be actual death for you – these people are not playing games although they are using games to cover what they are doing. You must not sign off on the programme until your people have had a good look at it. You are on firm ground here. Prevented from doing your job and close to the time when people have flights booked for their return, great pressure will be brought to bear on you to sign off but everyone there knows, in his heart, that by any industry standards, you must not. By keeping you here tonight, quite safely, I might add, the one that we suspect – that person will be feeling quite nervous.’

‘Ah. Let’s have a wine. Would you like, Katiucha?’

‘I’ll get them.’

Once she’d gone, the inspector moved close and whispered, ‘Don’t drink your wine.’ Miles was appalled at the implication but still nodded.

Katiuchia returned with a tray of eats and the glasses of wine, all of which she now distributed. She lifted her glass but noticed the other two didn’t and asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

The inspector took out three glass phials and one by one, poured the wine into them, pulling out post it notes and labelling them as he went along. ‘My officer has the bottle, Signórina.’

Katiucha started back again and shrank against the wall. ‘No, you cannot think … you cannot think that,’ she stuttered.

‘You’re quite right, Signórina, we don’t think that but the wine is poisoned, all the same.’

‘Then you are accusing my Papa.’

‘Again, no, Signórina Cappello. We are accusing the person who put the wine in the basket, which your father merely collected and brought here.’

‘Now you’re accusing my Mama.’

Miles felt that this was bearing an uncanny resemblance to a children’s folk tale, as the inspector answered, ‘Yet again no, Signórina. Your mother might have packed it but someone else might have touched it.’

At this, Katiuchia clammed up and went into a deep mood of despair. The inspector noted the lack of protest this fourth time and wondered how much Miles Everard knew of this girl. Still, it was fairly certain that she was no danger to him, for this night at least.

Tasco made the right noises and took his leave. ‘Oh, the unopened Siracusa Eloro sitting on the benchtop in the kitchen is quite drinkable and the other foodstuffs brought by my officer should also see you alive tomorrow morning. Good night to you both,’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

They just looked at one another, then she burst into tears and he knew why. He held her close and stroked her hair, touched her chin with his cupped hand and smiled, gazing into her eyes.

She sobbed, ‘Do you think … I want to … kill you?’

‘No, Katiuchia, the inspector said that and I believe him. I know you’ve a secret you can’t tell me and though I can guess it, I’ll wait for you to show me in your own way in the next two days. It’s a good secret and stops us from getting any closer. That’s fine. This is enough for me now.’

She looked at him and at her watch. It was 22:14. ‘Come with me and we’ll make a light meal.’

They made the meal and shared it with the officer on duty, then washed up. It might have been un-Sicilian but she now went to make ready for bed, had a shower, did a few things and then surprised him by coming into his room and getting into bed. He said nothing but went and made ready himself.

It was 23:30 by the time he finally slipped into bed and cuddled her to him.

‘One day it might change,’ she said. ‘It might become different and we can finish this.’

‘Somehow I’m not so sure; let’s enjoy each other now, while we still can.’

Near the old brickworks

VIII

Nothing had been expected to change in the state of play overnight and it hadn’t, at least according to the inspector.

Clearly, the big issue would be when Miles reviewed the programme with the group but at least he was equipped with the names whence the danger might arise.

It was an artificial welcome from some, barely disguised annoyance from others and heartfelt warmth from the remainder.

It took him four hours to review the system, knowing immediately where certain anomalies lay and suspecting where others might. He noted down all his concerns on paper, then announced that it couldn’t be signed off, stating each concern aloud.

Two or three argued but one remained silent. It was put beyond doubt for that person when Miles announced:

‘We have reason to think, the polizei and myself, that the moment this system is installed and goes into operation, vast sums are going to be illegally transferred into the wrong hands. One person in this room has hoodwinked you into allowing this to happen.’

‘Do you know who this person is?’ asked Massimiliano Pace.

‘Si, we do, both the police and I know this person’s identity and it is written in a file at the Questura. This person must now act before we all go home tomorrow.’

‘What of the programme we’ve all worked on?’ asked Marcel Dumont.

‘The essentials are sound, Monsieur but the programme must be rebuilt from just before I was taken out of the game, up to its current state. As we already have the basic blueprint here, it would only take a security team, comprising one from each of our nations, to review it in another place, let’s say in Paris, the process being completed within two months and all will be well.

That team will sign it off and everyone will be happy, except for certain people whom the person in this room is representing, sorry to be so enigmatic. Remember, this person must act before tomorrow, for self-preservation and so we should all be vigilant from now until then.

Don’t go anywhere in pairs, keep an eye on the conference room, seeing that no one enters it, lock your doors and windows tonight and stay alert. Don’t be fooled, even by your own partner, to allow him or her into the conference room. The person who goes into that room, for whatever reason, however innocent it might seem to us, however many years we’ve known him or her, sadly, is the criminal. The police will also be present on the premises throughout the night. Terribly sorry, people but there it is. Let’s vacate this room now and let the proprietor lock it.’

‘Doesn’t your own safety and that of your new girl concern you at all, Herr Everard?’ asked Christa von Sievers.

‘Have you heard the expression ‘if you’re treading on thin ice, you might as well dance’, Fraulein?’

‘Except that to tread softly and not to dance might keep you alive,’ she said evenly, looking straight into his eyes.

‘I had to do as I had to do, m’lady and you must do as you must do. Would that it were not so.’

In dribs and drabs, they all departed and the room was locked.

IX

Miles had phoned his friend Simone Greer a few times but as she’d been staying in the country for a few days with friends Gino and Susan, they’d not been able to meet. Now she’d returned to la Sorda and he asked if Katiuchia would drop him round there to talk it all through.

When he was ushered through, latest Siracusan cookbook given, pausing only to pat her little dog Alice, he was handed a Glenfiddich, so she hadn’t forgotten, they lost themselves for some minutes in an embrace, which had Alice yelping her approval, they settled in the chairs and discussed life for the first hour until the homemade bread came out of the oven and the prosciutto was served with it.

She was well aware that he’d been sneaking glances each time she’d looked away and now she confronted him with it. ‘I trust, Miles, that you’re reassured by your scrutiny.’

‘You’re still a damned fine looking woman, Simone. Forgive me.’ There was a low growl and he realized his omission. ‘You too, Alice, you too.’

Now Simone was ready to hear about the dire situation at Hotel Failla. He ran through the cast with her, what had happened, what had been done and she was amazed not to have heard of the death.

Well, there it was.

She thought it through for some time - a fruitful line of enquiry might be to look at the respective roles the delegates and hotel staff had played, also any friendships and romances between the various parties. A glance at the ages and names might also throw some light on the business.

‘And don’t forget that your Katiuchia whom you seem to have attached yourself to fairly quickly – she has her own dark secret too, which I happen to know. It sounds like a minefield to me.’

They both thought some more, Simone got up and went over to her vast library, found the volume she wanted and flicked through it before finding the page she wanted.

She brought it over to him and presented it with a flourish. He read:

‘In January 1996, a book with the provocative title “The Katyn Crime Fiction”, written in Polish under the pseudonym “Juri Micha,” began circulating …’

‘Juri Micha is your Vaclav Chmyz’s company name.’ She began to rummage around one of the bookshelves again and soon came up with a slim volume, began to scan it, found the page and read:

‘Aino – a tragical character in Kalevala, girl who drowns herself when forced to marry an old man. Ilkka - also the last name of a peasant rebellion leader Jaakko Ilkka, occured in 1590’s … interesting, no?’

‘More than interesting, Simone. If I gave you his number, would you tell the inspector these things, in Italian?’

She nodded, he gave the number and she placed the call. On returning, she said, ‘The inspector is looking at the fall from the window again. He’d like you to think back if there was any sign of animation in the body at all. He’s sure that those two were on the roof with Aino but a second look at the marks near the guttering has him puzzled. Here, let me top up your glass.’

‘No, let me get you a drink and I’ll fix mine. You like plenty of ice, don’t you?’ When he came back, he was sure about the Aino matter. ‘My first instinct, which I subsequently put out of mind because of later evidence, was that she looked like a diver. The first words which came into my mind were ‘swan dive’ but why that was, I don’t know because swans don’t dive like that. Yes, I’m pretty sure she was diving.’

‘If I didn’t know you, Miles, I’d say you were fantasizing. Are you positive about this?’

‘The more I think of it, the more positive I am.’

‘All right, I’ll phone the inspector now. Any other points of note?

‘Only Christa von Sievers, the logical villain who’ll try to kill me tonight.’

‘She seems too obvious but that might be a ploy in itself. She does represent the people you’ve been slamming in your articles and so she’d hardly be entirely innocent. She might just be indifferent in this matter, that’s all. So, I’ll put through the call.’

When she eventually got to sink into her chair, they switched on the tele and watched Sky News until his lift came to pick him up.

It was a tender farewell downstairs, unfortunately in full view of Katiuchia.

At the end of the road, he asked her to stop the car and call the inspector if she would. Here’s what she was to ask:

‘Please check the whereabouts of Salimah Rafa during the concert, with whom she stays, her living status within Italy, where she was the morning of the poisoned coffee; also please check Vaclav Chmyz’s extra-curricular activities for the Russian communist party; especially please check if Johannes Ilkka has any special security clearance in Italy and how he first met his wife, where they were married and so on.’

Katiuchia did all that and then he apologized to her. ‘It seems I’m getting you to do this and that for me but it’s not what I really want with you. May we go out to eat and let me take you?’

‘I’m taking you to Frigintini this evening, Miles, but the inspector says he wants you back in your hotel room by midnight. He’s now your mother, I see. What do you have with Simone?’

‘So you do care and I wasn’t sure. She’s a dear friend and yes, it might have developed, given other circumstances. So might you and I have developed if you’d allowed it. Such is life.’

Katiuchia was satisfied, put the car into gear and took the road for Frigintini. It was a pretty little town and in the middle was an open air hotel and in that hotel was a young man Miles was now introduced to as the fiancé. He’d suspected as much and watched as the weight now fell off her shoulders.

Miles quite liked the man and they got to talking a little in Italian but Miles’s limitations here were obvious.

The evening was lovely, the whole family appeared, including the little sister who liked Signóre Miles, they ate and talked as best they could, his Italian had improved somewhat with the application of alcohol and soon it was time to return to Modica Alta, the sister insisting on going along for the ride.

Too soon they were there, he shook the sister’s hand and kissed Katiuchia one more time, got out and went inside to the front desk where Giovanni had a message – call the inspector. Miles went to take the phone but Giovanni handed him his mobile instead.

Once he got off the phone, he asked whether it was too late for a coffee and Giovanni came through with him to the luncheon bar, indicating his own place at the table, enabling him to keep an eye on the front desk through the door.

Once the coffees and some pies were brought, Giovanni conspiratorially gave him some further advice, courtesy of the inspector and it was time to retire for the night.

The temperature was pleasant, the curtains were drawn, the usual bolster had been placed in the bed but a bolster most unusual all the same, as it happened to be a human body, female. No time to sort that out now.

Miles crouched by the wall the far side of the ornate wardrobe and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It must have been all of 03:00 when the expected happened. The room door slid open, almost silent feet stepped in, Miles saw the phut, phut, phut into the head and back of the ‘bolster’, he aimed and fired twice himself, once at the arm with the gun and the next at the back, sprang at the assailant and kicked the gun away, the assailant turned and then collapsed. The darts had done their work.

He went over and picked up the gun with his gloved hands, then came back to the wall again and crouched down, waiting.

This time, it wasn’t long in coming. The door opened, two other feet came in, their possessor took in the situation and turned but Miles had fired three darts already, the person staggered out of the door but collapsed against the hall wall and from there, sagged to the floor.

Miles went over to the pillow, reached under, took the key and went to the conference room to unlock the door, stepping over the body in the hallway. The inspector and Signóre Failla came out, both armed, the latter locked the door again and took both keys, two officers came up the stairs to deal with the bodies, the inspector drove Miles back to la Cava, where the officer was relieved from duty by his replacement and that was that, until next morning.

X

The remaining delegates were seated in the conference room about 09:10, having breakfasted, Signóre e Signóra Failla were present to one side, a skeleton staff were running the show downstairs and now the inspector took the floor at the front and spoke in Italian, which Katiouchia, standing beside him, translated into English for the others.

‘The first thing we must understand, Signóri, is that in any international trade deal or in any form of business, though participants may seem to be friends, they are, in fact, bitter rivals, trying to score advantage for their organization. When the stakes are high, as they are in this particular case, then the best people are sent and the game has few rules, if any at all.

Aino Ilkka is a made up name. This was a girl from the north of Finland who’d been mind controlled and sent, as ‘wife’ of Johannes Ilkkar, otherwise known as Veli Makela, key figure in the Finnish mafia, to seduce two of you now seated here, with a view to putting a few lines of code in which would divert funds to a Zurich account. Something was not right with her programming, she reacted violently and ran up to the roof, followed by Tommaso and Vittoria Scirpa, the latter who’d been in the audience at the concert and had seen commotion inside the hotel.

They tried to stop the woman leaping off the roof but she did manage to dive, as if into a pool, Tommaso caught her ankle but it was not enough and the young woman plunged to her death. At this point, the brother and sister were innocent, they raced downstairs and together with Francesco Giavatto, managed to get her inside the northern bar and the area cleaned up very quickly.

Such unusual behaviour was going to come out in the next few days so it was necessary that they be bought off. The brother and sister were, in fact, bought off but it was unnecessary to approach Francesco, as he had not seen any of the commotion or Aino’s behaviour. Makela now had to buy some expertise, as his own people were really Tekes and couldn’t be approached. He reasoned that von Sievers might be a likely starter, as well as Natalia Beria. In other words, he had dirt on them.

They had their own agendas though and Beria was determined, not to divert funds to Makela but to milk any Russian accounts linked to the programme. In this, she found an ally in Vaclav Chmyz who betrayed her later over the shooting at the beach. She’d bought, with Chmyz’s money, both Arturo Alecci and Salimah Rafa, an illegal immigrant, a former boat person … and some of the sexual antics in Scicli had the neighbours getting in touch with us. Alecci’s plan was to divert the funds from all the accounts linked to the programme to both Makela and himself.

Christa von Sievers was working independently for her backers, trying to divert funds to them. She also had an ancillary task to remove Miles Everard from the board, from the point of view of his scrutiny of the programme and as payback for the ‘silly’ articles he’d written, in their view.

It was Salimah Rafa who shot Signóre Everard at Sampieri and the presence of Natalia Beria was that of observation of the couple. It was Signórina Beria who also later entered the Everard room and checked near the shower. She’d been phoned from downstairs by the poisoners, Tommaso and Vittoria Scirpa who, once they’d been bought, were now blackmailed and were getitng deeper and deeper into this thing, innocents to the slaughter.

Though Makela was the one ordering the mayhem, it had been Alecci who had convinced him of the necessity of it. Salimah Rafa, now even more a pawn in the hands of these two unscrupulous men, had abandoned all her muslim principles and was now just a dangerous and unprincipled tool. She was the first into the room in the early hours of this morning, aiming to shoot Signóre Everard and take the key which Makela knew had been left with our Englishman.

The body in Signóre Everard’s bed was that of Francesca Vindigni who had apparently seen Salimah Rafa go into Signóre Everard’s room the morning of the poisoning, we can conclude no other way, had sat on that information but late yesterday had been unwise or innocent enough to go into his room to wait for him and tell him. She’d been seen to go upstairs and not come back down for some time.

In the eyes of Makelo, that meant she had her own agenda and had to be removed from the board. Salimah Rafa already knew what she had to do - shoot Signóre Everard - and when Makelo phoned Alecci, the mobile was closed down because the two were engaged in conference, so to speak. Makelo went in and killed Francesca Vindigni, then thought it was an idea to frighten Signóre Everard by placing the body in the bed.

It was now too late for any change of plan; Salimah Rafa, still incommunicado, arrived, waited for the night porter to go next door, slipped in and went upstairs. Makelo was waiting to warn her but perhaps reasoned – we’ll never know – that the only important thing was to get the key to the conference room and if she died in the process, who would care? He’d give her a few minutes, then go in himself, if nothing had happened.

Signóre Everard neutralized both, using the tranquillizers we provided.

Alecci had been waiting downstairs for the signal from the conference room, they’d falsified Signóre Everard’s signature, courtesy of Vittoria Scirpa, ready for the sign-off and it was downstairs where Alecci was apprehended by our officers.

Even now, we feel that there are one or two sitting here every bit as guilty as the least guilty of those exposed but that is no longer our concern. The project, as you’re all well aware, is dead and you are all taking today’s flights from Catania. The bus is waiting downstairs.

We thank you for coming to our part of the world, trust that Sicily itself was to your satisfaction and hope you return one day to sample its delights again. Grazie.’

Someone, as always happens, began to applaud, the rest thought why not and thus ended the conference. Katiuchia came over to Miles, rested a restraining hand on his arm and said, ‘You’re not booked on that bus. Your flight is late afternoon so if you wish, you will spend the morning with me and then I’ll drive you to Catania.’

He’d be delighted but there were farewells to be said first and the matter of la Cava to sort out

‘Of course,’ she understood.

XI

They walked up to the brickworks one last time but the gate was locked and in a way, he was glad.

Here was a classic case of two people who should not have been together, not like this, not under these circumstances, neither the type to be unfaithful and yet … and yet … they had to find some sort of solution to this thing.

He began. ‘I hope your life together, you two, is all that you would wish. I’m sure it will be. I don’t wish to be the cause of anything which might prevent that.’

‘A lover needs to be bold, Miles, he needs to be sure if he wants her or not, with no doubts. If he’s sure, he will make his move to take her, if she is not yet married. If he is not sure, he has no right to play with another man’s girl, not even to take one kiss.’

He paused before he replied. ‘Katiuchia, there’s bold and then there’s bold. In these past days, the crisis took up all our time. It required boldness and we were bold, even when it meant shooting someone. If anyone were to threaten you, I’d be bold and not stop until he was neutralized; I’ve done that before. So that sort of bold is fine.

Bold in love can also be unfeeling, insensitive. I was bold enough to go straight for you in the hotel and not stop until you were going around Modica with me. But when I could see it in your body language that you loved another and had a conscience about it, then I felt I might be doing wrong, causing confusion in you.

If I told you how passionately I feel, you’d run away in horror, screaming. I do want you very much, forever. The question is not in me but in you. It’s best I go back to Britain today and that gives us both time to think. We’ll stay in touch by email and phone. We’ll know sooner or later if this was just a romance or something more.

Unfortunately, this is all one way. If I feel so strongly that I can’t live without you, I’m not allowed to come to you. If you feel it, you can come to me the next day or I’ll come to you.’

‘That’s not so. Why do you say that? It’s equal. If you feel that way, then of course I’ll see you. Do you know I’m coming to Britain anyway? I’ve booked a course three months from now and I’ll be in Cambridge for three weeks.’

The words had all been spoken and now he just held her close, it became even closer, then as close as two people standing near a beach can decently be and a lot was said in those twenty minutes or so.

The drive to Catania was strange. It was the only place he wanted to be, beside her and she occasionally went bright red in her shyness. As at the beach of Sampieri, hardly any words were spoken and yet they never ceased speaking the whole way.

‘Would you like to put some music on, Miles?’ She indicated the glovebox with one hand. ‘It’s in there.’

She was nervous. He saw a disc in her collection, smiled, put it in and cued it.

No, no, sulla tua bocca lo diro
quando la luce splendera!

Ed il mio bacio sciogliera il silenzio
che ti fa mia!

Dilegua, o notte! Tramontate, stelle!

Tramontate, stelle! All'alba vincero!

Vincero! Vincero!

‘Please stop the car. We have time.’

They were near a vineyard which provided precious little shade but was a good backdrop. Everything he’d wanted to say to her, or have said by her, was now said through four lips.

They resumed the journey, quite seriously disturbed, he pressed play again, the end came quickly at the airport, the farewell, he went through, she returned to her car, put it into gear and the next part of their journey began.

BACK TO STORY 3: MOON OVER SEDNA

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