by Terry Waite
Harry got up and fetched them another coffee each from the ancient espresso machine, recently restored to life by the ship’s engineer. He returned to the table.
‘As you know, Sparda is married to an English wife, and as you have seen, he speaks English fluently, although his written skills are only average. He was brought up in the South of Italy and comes from a large family who have many “involvements” both in Sicily and across the country. There is nothing he can do about that. He is an honest man - you know that - but he does have to pay his dues. I would be surprised if he had not declared this to you before you offered him the job.’
‘Yes,’ said the Admiral, recollecting the somewhat amusing letter of application he had received from Sparda some months earlier. ‘Yes to be fair, he was clear from the start that he had his friends as he put it.’
‘I knew he would,’ replied Harry. ‘As for last night, I think we have seen the last of that problem. Although the Russians are vicious fighters, they won’t want to take on our people. The thugs who came to the ship last night were pretty low-level operators. The real bosses were in fact getting together with the Italians for a joint business meeting in Monaco. It’s not in their interests to take this any further, so we can forget about it.’
This conversation considerably eased the Admiral’s mind. He got up to leave.
‘Naples next,’ he said. ‘I dread to think what awaits us there.’
The Hardcastles had witnessed the Admiral and the Captain marching resolutely along the corridor in the company of the three visitors, and at the time thought it rather odd, for when Albert said a cheery, ‘Ow do, Captain,’ instead of a warm smile and effusive reply, all he received was a stern look.
‘What’s up with him then?’ Albert asked his wife.
Other passengers had witnessed the procession and rumours circulated the ship. It was being impounded for non-payment of port fees. The Captain had been arrested for shop-lifting and, worst of all, the ship was being inspected by health and safety officials! Lady Veronika had also seen the procession and had immediately identified one of the black-hatted thugs as Boris Boroneski of the Siberian Secret Service. He was a member of the Siberian criminal underworld and was known for travelling everywhere in an ornate sledge pulled by several Husky dogs. Later, when he advanced in the criminal world, he was given charge of the sledge rental business, a lucrative operation which hired out sledges throughout Siberia.
She had lost track of him when he moved to Moscow. As soon as she spotted him, she informed Harry and then went to hide in a linen cupboard, knowing that Harry would resolve the problem - which of course he did.
It was a lovely fresh morning and Albert and his wife had had their breakfast on the veranda, a tiny space just outside the main dining room with only space for two tables. Well, they tried to have breakfast there. As the warmer weather approached there would be a rush for these places, but it was usually possible to get one if you appeared early enough. This morning, Alice lost several napkins over the side (Albert refused to use them, describing them as being for ‘sissies’) and when her cornflakes were blown completely out of the dish due to a sudden gust of wind, the couple decided enough was enough and sought refuge inside.
‘By gum,’ said Alice, as she poured herself a cup of tea. ‘This stuff is nothing like we get at home.’
Albert agreed. This was the first time ever they had used tea bags and they were not impressed. They shunned the coffee completely, describing it succinctly as ‘poison’. Alice made a face as she sipped the weak liquid in her cup.
‘I think today we ought to go to the Italian Language Class,’ she told her husband, ‘as we might want to do a little exploring by ourselves.’
For their stay in Naples, the Tour Manager had organised a series of visits to some of the noted classical sites, such as Pompeii, Herculaneum and Paestum. Albert had taken one look at the cost and there and then decided he did not want to ‘pay that to visit a pile of old stones’. Alice agreed that it was all rather expensive and besides, why pay for an extra lunch on shore when there was a perfectly good meal on board. They had spoken with a passenger who had visited Italy before and who suggested to them that they might hire a car for the day. He assured them that a small Fiat Cinquecento could be hired for next to nothing at the dockside, and, once they had got used to driving on the wrong side of the road, they would have a carefree experience.
Albert was most reluctant. The thought of driving on the wrong side did not appeal to him in the slightest, and he had no idea where they would drive to. Alice’s confidence had grown since the start of the cruise and, as often was the case, she won the day. They would have an early lunch on board and then hire a car. As the ship was not due to sail until eleven that night, there was plenty of time to explore the surroundings and, providing they had some knowledge of Italian, all should be well. Albert remained unconvinced, but as domestic harmony was important, given that they were sharing a suite with limited space, he acquiesced.
At the prime time of eleven that morning, Enzo stood at the door of the lecture area ready to welcome his students.
‘Good morning, Mr and Mrs Hardcastle,’ he said, for once accurately connecting faces and names. ‘Welcome to the Italian class.’
‘Not many here,’ commented Albert, looking around and noting the many empty seats.
‘We tend to be a select group,’ Enzo replied. ‘Those who attend these important sessions are the ones who want to get as much as they can from the experience of being at sea. They also want to take home something of the experience. What could be better than returning with an understanding of several languages?’
Albert and Alice sat down and other select passengers seated themselves at points around the auditorium.
Enzo began.
‘I am going to teach you this morning everything you will need to converse with the local people in a way that will ensure you have excellent relations with them. They like nothing more than a foreigner who makes the effort to speak to them in their own language.’ At this point he produced a small booklet. ‘I shall read out a word in Italian and its English meaning. You will repeat it after me,’ he told them.
‘Buongiorno - good morning.’
The group intoned the words.
‘Good, excellent,’ enthused their instructor. ‘You are making amazing progress.’ And now to: ‘Buonasera - good evening,’ he continued.
Once again a few voices around the room repeated the words.
‘Oh well done,’ beamed Enzo.’ You have the accent perfectly.’
The lesson continued as he went through numbers from one to ten, taught them how to say pizza and pasta and one or two other simple words.
‘This is bloody boring,’ Albert muttered as the lesson droned on.
‘Quiet!’ snapped his wife. ‘This will be invaluable tomorrow when we will need to speak Italian.’
After half an hour the lesson was brought to a close with Enzo congratulating his students once again and suggesting that they might wish to come and learn Albanian at the next class.
‘Not on your nelly,’ said Albert to himself. ‘One lingo is enough for me.’
Following the Italian class the day passed peacefully enough. As the weather was beginning to get warmer Albert was able to dispense with his waistcoat, but he continued to wear his cap whenever he went out on deck. The Balcony Suites, being the exclusive accommodation on the ship, were equipped with small safes hidden in a dark corner of the wardrobe.
‘Put yer gold watch in there,’ said Alice, as Albert hung up his waistcoat. ‘You never know.’
Albert fiddled with the safe. The instructions as to how to lock it were on a printed sheet fixed to the wall adjacent to the safe, but as the room was dark, and Albert’s eyes were not as good as they once were, he could not read them clearly. Finally, with Alice’s help, he was able to work out that he had to select a four-digit number which he then had to enter, and when the door closed, the safe would lock im
mediately. Before closing the door they selected other valuable items that they had with them and put them alongside the watch.
‘Right,’ said Alice. ‘Close the door.’
Albert jumbled the numbers and closed the door. They heard the sound of the bolts moving across, thus locking it securely.
‘I think we ought to see if it works properly,’ said the ever-cautious Alice. ‘Put the numbers in, luv, and see if it opens.’
‘What are they?’ he asked, looking at her.
‘What do you mean?’ she said. ‘I don’t know. You put them in.’
‘I thought you made a note of them,’ he replied, now somewhat alarmed.
‘How could I?’ she asked. ‘I couldn’t see the blessed things for a start.’
Albert tugged at the door then spun the dials. The door remained firmly closed.
‘It’s hopeless!’ he cried. ‘Totally hopeless. Why they make such daft devices I don’t know.’
‘Here, let me try,’ said Alice. She pushed Albert aside. ‘Have you any idea what numbers you might have chosen?’
Albert had no idea whatsoever. After several vain attempts, she gave up.
‘This is a fine mess, Albert Hardcastle. We have all our money in there, as well as your driving licence and goodness knows what else. How are we going to see Naples tomorrow?’
‘I don’t give a damn about Naples,’ said Albert. ‘What we need is that daft safe opened. It’s a good job I’ve got my Swiss Army knife with me as I might be able to unscrew it off the wall and get in through the back. There must be some way of getting in.’
Albert rummaged in his luggage and produced his Swiss knife given to him by his Uncle Charlie many years previously.
‘This gets you out of all sorts of difficulties,’ he said and disappeared into the wardrobe. For the next half-hour, much banging and cursing emanated from the small dark cubbyhole. Alice remained silent, having learned over the years not to disturb her husband when he was engaged in an important task. Suddenly there was a loud crash. Albert emerged from the gloom clutching one leg and shouting, ‘Ow, my foot! The damn thing fell on my foot?’
As he was hopping around the floor, the cabin doorbell rang. It had been Radley’s idea to have a different tune for each doorbell of the Balcony Suites. Albert and Alice’s played the first bars of ‘You Tak the High Road’, a good old Scottish melody. From time to time the bell stuck and that, along with the sticking door, was the cause of much irritation during the voyage. Alice heaved at the door, which eventually opened to reveal their neighbour from the next cabin.
‘I do apologise for disturbing you, Mrs Hardcastle,’ the woman said politely, ‘but I am afraid that in the last half-hour there has been so much banging from your cabin that all the pictures on our wall have fallen off and now a hole has appeared so that we can see directly into your changing room.’
She glanced at Albert, who had now stopped dancing around the room and was sitting with his foot held high and a very pained expression on his face.
‘Is anything wrong?’ their neighbour enquired.
Alice gave a nervous laugh. ‘Oh, nothing too serious,’ she replied. ‘A small difficulty with the coat-hangers, but my husband will attend to it. He’s very handy, you know.’
‘But what about the hole?’ said the anxious neighbour. ‘That is more serious, is it not?’
‘Don’t worry,’ replied Alice soothingly. ‘We’ll hang a coat over it and then get the ship to deal with it. So sorry to have disturbed you.’
She forced the door to and returned to the room, seething.
‘Albert Hardcastle, how dare you embarrass me like that. Sitting with your bare feet in the air like a loony. Whatever will our neighbours think?’
Albert was just about to reply in a way that was bound to cause further trouble when ‘You Tak the High Road’ pealed out again. It was the Indian cabin steward, Udi.
‘Oh sir, madam,’ he said. ‘You have problem with coathanger. You have bad feet, sir?’ noting Albert’s swollen toe.
Albert, not in any way wanting to lose face on the ship, thought quickly.
‘Look, Udi,’ he began. ‘We don’t want to cause any alarm or any trouble on this cruise.’ Udi nodded. ‘Very good, sir. You no trouble. You good man, sir. You good lady.’
Albert lowered his voice and beckoned Udi to come closer. He spoke in a half-whisper. ‘Udi, someone has tried to steal our safe with all our valuables inside.’
Alice stared incredulously at Albert.
‘We arrived back at our Suite and had trouble like we always do in getting the door open. When we got in, I went to put my cap in the wardrobe and stubbed my toe on something. The safe was on the floor and I could see into the next Suite.’
‘Goodness gracious,’ said the startled attendant. ‘This very serious, sir. I must report it.’
Albert waved his hand for Udi to be quiet.
‘When he heard us entering, the thief must have hid under the bed and escaped when we ran into the corridor to see if we could see anyone.’
Udi peered under the bed. ‘Not here now, sir,’ he said.
‘Udi, I don’t want any fuss. This must be treated with great discretion. We don’t want to cause alarm on the ship. Get the safe opened and replaced, and we will forget all about the matter, OK?’
‘OK, sir, very good, sir. Thank you, sir. Nothing stolen, sir.’
Udi looked from the heavy safe on the floor to the hole in the wall. As he peered at it, he noted the occupant of the next cabin staring curiously at him. Quickly he hung a coat over the gap and retreated.
‘No worry, sir. I get engineer, sir,’ and with that he left.
‘Udi!’ shouted Albert as the attendant scuttled down the corridor. ‘When he’s here, get him to fix the door, please. The wife and I are going on deck for some air.’
When they returned one hour later, the Suite door opened so quickly that Albert was catapulted into the room. He looked into the wardrobe where there was a new safe with the door swinging open. On the table was a message.
Sir, madam. If you call at Reception the precious things from your safe are in plastic bag. Happy to help sir. Udi.
‘Damn good ship, this,’ said Albert as he hobbled back across the room. ‘Damn good ship. But from now on we put our valuables under the bed, luv.’
Alice nodded, and the ship with her valuable cargo of contented cruisers continued on her way to Naples.
22
It was part of the job description of the Security Officer to keep a low profile and Arthur Chub did just that. Arthur had been recruited for the Golden Handshake by Harry. He had had a career in the Royal Military Police and for a year or so after leaving the Service had worked as a security officer at Wigan Gasworks. This post he found to be both poorly paid and unsatisfactory, as all he had to do was wear an ill-fitting uniform and check those who entered and those who left the premises.
In his new post at sea he was responsible for the total security of the ship and had a small team of loyal workers reporting to him. He stressed that every suspicious activity must be reported, no matter how slight. The initial difficulties with the card system had caused him tremendous headaches, and he was still not happy with the passenger-list, even though they had been at sea for several days.
When the alarming news of the attempt to steal Albert’s safe reached him, he immediately suspected that there was a stowaway on board and ordered a discreet search of all the lifeboats. No one was found, but Arthur remained unsatisfied. He wondered if he ought to visit the scene of the crime, but he did not want to go against the express wishes of a Balcony Suite passenger so he kept his distance. Unfortunately, when the problem was first reported to the engineer by the cabin attendant, Arthur had been fast asleep after sitting up late in yet another fruitless attempt to work out who was and who was not on board. By the time the report of the attempted theft reached his desk, the safe had been replaced and the scene of the crime considerably disturbed.
&nbs
p; Once again he issued a confidential circular saying that he must be contacted personally, the moment any suspicious activity was discovered or reported. He was totally unaware of the visit to the ship by the Russian gangsters and the Italian ‘insurers’. The Captain and the Admiral had kept this whole matter very quiet, and that was how it would remain. As for Lady Veronika - well, Chub had written her off as a complete lunatic of the kind one often finds on cruise ships. He would have been greatly intrigued had he known of her colourful past, spent in the wilds of Siberia.
Naples, known to him as a place where crime was not totally unknown, caused him concern, and he had asked Fred Batty to slip in a few words of caution to passengers who would be going ashore. Even so, someone was bound to have a wallet or handbag stolen. He was thankful that passports were securely held on the ship, as trying to replace those documents was a total nightmare. So, Arthur Chub, ex-military, ex-gasworks, sat in his tiny cabin awaiting Napoli and struggling with incomplete passenger-lists whilst, out on the deck, carefree passengers played deck quoits (now resumed again as a fresh stock of quoits had been unearthed), and leaned over the rail as they had seen people do in brochures, or just dozed in their cabins, happy to be sailing towards a romantic location so frequently eulogised in verse and song.
The next morning, Alice woke early and did her best to remember the Italian language she had learned the previous day. It was strange, but before retiring last night she seemed to be quite good at it, but this morning her mind was a blank. As for Albert, it wasn’t worth asking him anything as he paid no attention at all when the charming Enzo was conducting his class. She consulted the notes she had made on the back of waste paper that Enzo had handed out for note taking. She had scribbled pizza and pasta. Those words were familiar as she had used them often enough in Grimsby, but never had she said ‘Ow do in Italian to her neighbours.
Getting ashore was not too difficult, but as the couple were checking themselves out of the ship they were approached by a uniformed man they had not seen before.
