Virginity Despoiled

by Charles Brett

  As they contemplated their freedom their spirits rose along with their affability. They were not quite the friends from before but close enough. Both understood this would last only until they split to go their different ways. It was sufficient.

  Trying hard not to beam as the officers returned their personal items before they walked out and down the steps to the street. A line of taxis waited nearby. Andrei signalled and one started towards them. A good omen.

  They would head to Andrei's apartment nearby, followed by a visit Oleg's. After that the bus station underneath the Viru shopping centre beckoned. To reach it should not take more than an hour. Their next movement depended on which bus departed first for Riga.

  Before their taxi could draw close a large silver Mercedes S Coupé barged its hyper-expensive way in front of their taxi. The doors opened. Toomas and Aniika emerged.

  Oleg and Andrei assessed their options. There weren't any. Outside a detention centre having just posted good behaviour bonds was not the ideal location for a violent showdown. Toomas came over, carrying some form of bucket. If his face was bleak, Aniika's was sour. Something was wrong. Aniika handed over some newspapers.

  "Did you have to announce to the world how you caused the plague of olive fruit flies?"

  She pointed to the newspapers and the pictures of the flies. Worse still, she drew their attention to a series of diagrams capturing the essence of their dispensers. One graphic even showed 'Kanon' inscribed alongside a large feeder hopper and an elongated distribution tube all mounted on an open van deck.

  Andrei was dumbfounded. No one but he or Oleg could know this level of detail. He'd told nobody. He was certain the same was true for Oleg. He began to stutter.

  "B-but this isn't right. We used trucks with high sides to keep the dispensers out of sight. Not the flatbed depicted here."

  Aniika's response was chillier than the breeze blowing off the ice-ridden Gulf of Finland visible behind.

  "It really doesn't matter. What does is that the insurers couldn't determine for certain if the plague of flies was a natural or unnatural cause of the failure of the olive harvest in Andalucía. In their indecision they invoked force majeure clauses, to cancel unilaterally all olive-related policies for this year. As a result, those claims you so willingly agreed to assign to us when we last met in Reval are like you: worthless. You won't see one of those many millions of well-laundered Euros. Neither will we. You owe us, and you will pay."

  Toomas chipped in.

  "Should you be thinking of making yourselves scarce, by way of Riga or Helsinki, you might want to contemplate this."

  He produced a small can from his bucket, which revealed itself to be one of those starters for barbecues. He rattled the charcoal inside before pouring what smelt like paraffin. Lighting a match he flicked it in. Flames flew up. The charcoal began to catch. One by one he dropped in their precious passports.

  "They make a good fire, don't you think? We'll go now. Don't expect us to leave you alone, not until we have extracted every last euro from your miserable hands. You Russians always treat us Estonians as dumb shits. You might want to revise your views."

  He pivoted. Aniika followed. They headed back to the Mercedes Coupe.

  Oleg and Andrei exchanged glances. Five minutes earlier they had everything to lose if they made a scene. Now they had nothing. Their reserve of passports smoked on the pavement. One quick flicker of eyes between them confirmed a common purpose.

  Andrei moved first. Before Toomas and Reelika could drive off he heaved his bulk onto the front of the Mercedes. There was a metallic shriek as the engine cover crumpled in protest. Twisting round he used the small diamond ring on his left hand to score the windscreen in a series of sweeps.

  Meanwhile, Oleg was not idle. He wore no ring but he did have a small sharp knife. One stab to the front tyre deflated it. He scraped the blade from front to back of the car before attacking the rear tyre. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.

  Toomas flew at Oleg. In seconds they rolled on the street, repeatedly hitting each other, if to little effect.

  Furious, Aniika climbed out, screeching at Andrei, "What are you doing to my car!"

  He grinned.

  "Just ruining it. Doesn't look so good now. Nor do you. More a harridan than the beautiful lady you once were."

  Despite their incongruity in size she flew at him, nails ready to scrape him as he had her car. He batted her away as if she were no more than a leaf. Sprawled on the pavement, with ripped blouse, torn stockings and street-sodden skirt, Aniika did not cease screaming curses and imprecations.

  The Eesti Politsei arrived to cart all four of them away, no doubt for a substantial time. At first they considered placing them in a single van. The senior officer came to his senses. He understood this posed the risk of a fatal error.

  The initial van departed with Toomas and Aniika.

  While waiting for a second, the now handcuffed Oleg turned to Andrei.

  "We must agree what to say. We don't want them to get away scot-free."

  Andrei nodded. That sight, of Aniika, distraught, unkempt and furious, wouldn't disappear. From fabulous lay to nightmare, she was sure to want revenge.

  Also by Charles Brett

  The HolyPhone Confessional Crisis

  The Vatican introduces HolyPhones into confessionals in Europe and the Americas. These smartphones connect those seeking confession to the Vatican Confessional Call Centre, part of a Church initiative to reduce the workload of its priests and generate new income.

  An alliance - of a female Spanish member of Opus Dei, an American lady whose father runs a southern fundamentalist church, an Israeli pro-Settler technology genius and an ex-banker-turned- priest, a past lover of the American - conspire to cream-off a slice of the HolyPhone's confessional revenues.

  Cardinal da Ferraz is responsible for the HolyPhone's success. He has suspicions. He locates Davide, who conceived the HolyPhone, and deploys an Irish policeman with his Australian computer crime sidekick to identify if there is a problem. They must find out before the Church suffers.

  More than the Church's finances are at stake.

  [This is the first Davide Shape/Inma Ávila novel. It is a technology, crime and church thriller set in Rome, Israel and Spain.]

  Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit

  Davide returns to Spain to grow an American company's client list. Realising the chances of success are diminishing and suspicious about why, he invites previous business partner Caterina to Madrid to explore what might be wrong. Caterina brings Emilia, her multi-talented and bi-sexual friend.

  The three work with Ana, who is from Madrid. She introduces her cousin, a senior policeman investigating national crimes involving corruption and money laundering. They are backed by a frustrated investigating judge.

  In disentangling a cat's cradle of connections, they uncover deceits reaching deep into business and beyond. These touch the Church, Opus Dei, the legal profession and politicians.

  Their activities provoke a reaction from those who fear the consequences. The effect threatens to undermine the viability of the Spanish State. Who will win?

  [This is the second Davide Shape/Inma Ávila novel. It is set in Spain]

  About the Author

  Charles Brett is a novelist and business/technology consultant. Born in Belfast and educated in England he has a degree in Modern History from the University of Oxford. Married to a Spaniard he has lived or worked in Italy, Abu Dhabi, South Africa, California and New York, Spain, Israel, Estonia and now Nicosia.

  Besides his first two novels, The HolyPhone Confessional Crisis and Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit, he has written software-related books, speaks at technology conferences and contributes to a variety of newspapers, journals and magazines.

  His author website may be found at: www.charlesbrett.net

 

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