“But the boat is my precious jewel, so beautiful and very new. And if I sell it, I would lose too much money. No, I’ll manage to keep my sea legs somehow.” Martha gripped the handlebars hard to keep her balance, tried to get back up on the bike but wobbled again. He was immediately there to support her and help her straighten up again. She shook her head, was silent for a moment and then hid her face in her hands.
“No, this is not going to work any more!” She started to sniffle. “I have tried everything to train my muscles and balance, but I can’t manage it. I will have to sell the yacht. But I don’t want to. Whatever should I do?”
“Let me help you. Sit down here on the bench and I’ll fetch a glass of water.”
Oleg disappeared and returned with a bottle of Vichy water and a glass. He poured the water into the glass for Martha.
“You know what, it would probably be better to sell before you hurt yourself,” he said, and made sure she drank properly. “Out at sea anything can happen. A new motor yacht, you said?”
“Yes, one of the biggest and finest in the Mediterranean. My husband had it built two years ago but he died shortly after it was launched. That was last year and now—”
“A newly built motor yacht, luxury class?”
“Yes, a fantastic ship, several stories high and with two pools and helicopter pads. Here, have a look!” She bent down with surprising agility—considering that she had just lain helpless in his arms—and picked up her cell from her bag. She scrolled through some pictures. “It is a dream, a sailor’s dream!” She sighed and let Oleg get a glimpse of Bielke’s motor yacht. He leaned forward to get a better look.
“Can I see?” he asked, and when she handed him the phone he scrolled through the photos. He became all the more keen. “A real beauty, absolutely fantastic!”
“But it is probably too expensive for you. My husband paid ninety-five million dollars to have that built, and we have hardly used it. So I would want at least ninety million for it. But who has so much money? Perhaps one of your friends at the conference?” she said and pointed in the direction of the conference room.
“So you can think of selling it, after all?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps.” (She didn’t want to sound too eager.)
“Would you accept diamonds? I mean, a quick deal with about half in cash and the rest in diamonds?”
“All women love diamonds,” she said and pretended to wobble again.
WHEN OLEG WENT BACK TO THE CONFERENCE ROOM, HE BUMPED into his colleague Boris Sorokin who had been born in Moscow but had lived in London since he was ten years old. They usually spoke English as Boris’s Russian was a bit rusty. There was a break between two presentations and time for coffee. They went into the lobby and each took a cup and some cakes and sat on a sofa. All around were tables and chairs, and hotel guests passed behind them on the way to their rooms or reception. It was hot and the air conditioning hummed away.
“Interesting seminar, pity you missed it,” Boris started up, but was immediately interrupted by Oleg.
“You remember that old lady in the gym I told you about?”
“The one who was a bit unsteady on her legs?”
“Yeah, that’s her. She owns a fantastic super-yacht with two helicopter pads. Newly built.”
“Wow! Just what we’ve been looking for.”
“Her husband died and now she wants to sell. It’s a real beauty, has three decks and two pools and the furnishings are really top notch. She gets dizzy and that’s why she can’t keep it any longer. She’s probably a bit senile too. She wants ninety million dollars. A quick sale and we can bargain.”
His comrade ran his fingers through his hair and grinned.
“Fleece a poor old lady?”
“She’s a rich old widow and she’s too old to look after a yacht like that. A pile of dollars and diamonds and the boat is ours. I promise you.” Oleg laughed. “We don’t need to commission a shipyard and wait two years for it to be ready. I’ll just charm her and it will all work out. It isn’t often you get a chance like this.”
“I’ve seen her. She has such a friendly smile, seems nice, I thought. Shall we really . . . ?”
“Opportunities in life come along slowly, but disappear quick as a flash. Hell, let’s go for it!”
The men slurped their coffee and were so engrossed in their discussion that they didn’t notice when Martha walked into the lobby. She was on her way to her room, but when she heard what they were talking about she stopped close to the back of the sofa and eavesdropped. Boris took another cake and turned to Oleg again.
“OK. Say that the boat is as fantastic as you claim. Then we’ll bid sixty-five million and we can raise that to seventy, if necessary. Then we’ll take the boat to Cyprus and sell it again for eighty-five to ninety million. That would give us a nice little profit.”
“Yes, but first we must have some fun with it and cruise around a bit. Vodka and girls, you know. I saw some tasty-looking goodies on La Place that we could take with us. No ghosts like that Martha. No, senile old ladies are not much good for anything. And you should see her double chin and dachshund ears.”
“Dachshund ears?”
“Yeah, sagging breasts that almost reach the floor. Oh no, women shouldn’t get to be more than thirty. And after thirty-five it’s time to get out the wheelbarrow.”
“But didn’t you say she was nice?”
“Yeah, sure, a sweet old lady all right. Kind and means well, but what the fuck. I’m talking about something pretty to have in bed. And she must cook decent food too. What else would you need women for?”
“Yes, what else would you need women for,” Boris agreed. “But, yeah, arrange a meeting with her so that we can have a look at the boat.”
“OK, I’ll do that. Just have to charm her a bit extra in the gym. And you make sure we can get the diamonds and cash ready, right?”
“I’m an old hand at this. Best to go for a quick sale before anybody else finds out about it.”
“Then we’re agreed!” Oleg gave him a thumbs-up and grinned.
But he might not have done if he had seen who was standing behind the sofa listening: an old lady who was muttering to herself in Swedish, muttering lots and lots of swearwords.
50
IT HAD STARTED TO GET DARK AND THE LAMPS IN CAFÉ TROPEZ were lit. The boats rocked slightly at their moorings and groups of tourists could be seen strolling down in the harbor area. Gradually the restaurants had started to fill up and the cafes were already more or less full. The gang of pensioners had each ordered a caffè latte and indulged in cakes to regain their strength. Now they were prepared for action.
“Righto, are you ready?”
Martha tried to make her voice sound steady although she was just as nervous as the others. She was still dreadfully angry about what she had overheard outside the conference room, but she kept that rage to herself. Personal failings should not get in the way of what was of the essence. They were now going to steal Bielke’s yacht and everything else she would have to deal with later. Earlier during the day she had talked with Oleg about the sale and he had seemed decidedly keen to buy. But since she was worried that somebody might be able to expose their shady deals here in Saint-Tropez they had agreed that she would show him and his Russian friends the boat in Cannes. There they would be able to strike a deal and, if they could agree, the Russians could take over the boat directly. But this required a considerable effort from the League of Pensioners. They not only had to steal the yacht but they also had to get it to Cannes. Why did she always think up such complicated crimes? Couldn’t she be satisfied with a bit of simple embezzlement, as Brains used to say? At this particular moment she was prepared to admit that he was right. Martha put her arms around her flowery handbag and looked out across the water. Ah, it would probably be all right.
With two skilled seamen like Nils and Rake aboard, everything should work out. And she had insisted that Oleg and his companion should bring cash with
them, otherwise she wasn’t going to sell. Her husband had taught her that that was how things were done. No checks or credit cards, absolutely not, only cash! Only then would Oleg be able to take over the boat directly.
This time Martha had been careful to make sure that she kept Brains in a good mood, and she and Anna-Greta had planned the coup together with him. Besides, they had practiced climbing ladders and getting in and out of motorboats. Rake’s son, Nils, who had arrived from Gothenburg, had also been there at the briefings and they had even used stopwatches. But there was, of course, a great deal that could not be foreseen. For example, nobody knew how long it would take to find the yacht’s registration papers and to con the crew. They must reckon with having to improvise. And seeing as those Russians were so rich, the risk of being tricked was not so great. One luxury yacht more or less. Ah, a Russian oligarch was good for several billion!
“You make it all sound so simple,” Brains sighed.
“In this business you must be an optimist!” answered Martha—with a lump in her throat.
She looked across toward the yacht. Thank God the weather was good and a slight onshore wind made the boats in the harbor bob gently at their moorings. No gusts of wind or other unexpected factors. No, the weather wouldn’t be causing them any problems. She took some deep breaths and studied Aurora 4 which had been moored right out at the end of the pier. She had seen Bielke leave the boat by helicopter earlier that day and when she had walked along the pier and spoken to a member of the crew she’d been told that he was going to London on business.
“He’ll be away over the weekend so we are going to take some leave now,” the crewman had said with a smile. “But then it will be charters. Ten thousand euro for a week. What about that, lady, something to think about?”
“Emtremely expensive,” Martha had replied.
“Market price, you can’t charter a boat like this any more cheaply.”
“Well, then. In that case I want to charter it for one week. I shall just go and fetch my friends,” Martha had said, and she’d put her handbag over her shoulder and walked away humming to herself. On the esplanade she’d waved to a taxi and on the way back to the hotel she’d thought it over. Since it was Friday, Bielke would certainly be amusing himself in London on Saturday and Sunday and then have his meetings and bank transactions on Monday. It would be tight, but this was a golden opportunity that they simply couldn’t miss. When the taxi had stopped outside the hotel she’d almost forgotten to pay, she’d been so eager. From the lobby she’d then gone straight to Anna-Greta’s room and, as expected, she’d found the others there too, each with a cup of coffee out on the balcony.
“Now listen, everybody! The time has come. We are on standby. Only the captain, the first mate and the engineer are still on board,” she’d almost shouted out. “We must strike now!”
“Are you really sure?” Christina had wondered and she’d picked up her nail file.
“Now or never!” Martha had said and then, almost as if she were telling a fairy tale, she’d told them again about how the jet set lived their lives on the Riviera. “Like I said, the wealthy ones have several yachts with a standby crew in various harbors. When the owner wants to go out to sea, he rings the captain of the yacht he wants to use. Then the crew in turn contact the rest of the staff so that everything is ready for departure when he arrives.”
“By helicopter or speedboat direct from Nice airport,” Rake had filled in.
“Exactly. And since Bielke isn’t going to use his yacht this weekend there are only three crew on board,” Anna-Greta had added. “The captain, the first mate and the engineer.”
“I’m beginning to understand,” Christina had mumbled, putting away her nail file.
“Besides,” Martha had continued, “Bielke intended to charter the boat. So I said that we want to charter it for a week. But first we just want to have a closer look and be given a guided tour on board.”
“Now I understand even better,” Christina had said.
“You want us to set off straight away, of course?” Brains had said, realizing that this was for real.
“Indeed,” Martha had answered.
Then they had got their things together, dressed up for a sea outing and had even taken along some extra clothes and equipment which they thought might come in useful. Everything had happened so quickly that Martha had hardly had time to be nervous.
BUT NOW THEY WERE ALL SITTING HERE AND IT WAS ACTION time. Everybody was tense but ready. By now it had got dark and the light from the pier lit up the motor yacht. It was time to get going. Martha took out her cell and dialed the number to the captain.
“Yes!” she said afterwards and put the cell away again. “That commander sounded really friendly. We can go on board now.”
The gang of pensioners looked at each other in silence, paid an excessive amount for the coffee and got up. They fidgeted with crumbs and napkins. None of them said anything, they didn’t even sing a jolly song; they just stared at the yacht. But in the end Anna-Greta couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
“Just because you are sitting in a cafe in the harbor which happens to have a nice view, you have to pay twice as much for coffee. But it’s the same damned coffee. Scandalous!”
Rake nodded, brushed away some crumbs from his pants, adjusted his suit and combed his hair. He looked again toward Bielke’s boat.
“They are bound to have a fancy espresso machine on board, just you wait and see. And the thought of getting a closer look at a motor yacht in that class. Wow, this is quite something!”
“Rake, we’re not here simply to look at it. Just so you know,” mumbled Martha.
Christina delved into her handbag, took out her lipstick and improved her lips. She powdered herself and teased her hair. She had actually wanted to have a hat that matched her dress, but Martha had said that it was not practical because her hat sat on her head so loosely that she could lose it. And whatever sort of robbery you carried out, it was dangerous to leave tracks.
“But you’ve got a hat!” she protested.
“Indeed, but for good reason—you are so elegant and pretty anyway, you look so chic and young. No, you don’t need a hat,” Martha had decided.
“Don’t try that with me! I say like Mark Twain: when your friends start to flatter you, commenting on how young you look, it is a sure sign that you have grown old,” said Christina and she jerked her head back. “And just so you know, I’m taking my handbag with me!”
“Yes, of course, Christina. You need that!” said Martha nodding. Then she went up to Brains, took his hand, squeezed it lightly and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“This is going to work out all right, you’ll see. A robbery like this is not a challenge for us.”
“No, much easier than a bank robbery. Isn’t that what you said, my dear?” sighed Brains. And he felt nauseous. And completely green in the face.
The five pensioners in their newly purchased clothes and expensive jewelry walked at a leisurely pace toward the pier in dark clothes because Martha had insisted on black. It made them look elegant and she, also in a black outfit, wanted to look rich, old and dignified. This time they had left their Ecco shoes at home, and instead had equipped themselves with hideously expensive boat shoes which were all the fashion among boat people. When they reached the yacht, Martha fished out her cell. A few minutes later a well-dressed elegant man with a suntanned face and impeccable white suit came down the ladder. He looked slightly confounded when he discovered the five seniors, but when he discovered that they were customers, he welcomed them with a bow.
They were then given a tour around the boat which Martha would not soon forget. If there hadn’t been a slight bobbing now and then when a motorboat drove past, she would have thought they were in the Princess Lilian suite at Grand Hotel in Stockholm. The captain took them from the luxuriously furnished dining room in light gray with blue velvet curtains and matching lilac cushions, to the over-furnished salon in brown with a
Chagall on the walls. Then he showed them the room for afternoon tea with comfy flowery armchairs, glass tables and crystal vases, and the library which had classic literature such as Dickens and Cervantes on the shelves. (Christina let out a few enthusiastic cries.) After that the tour reached the spacious bedrooms with large TV screens that could be brought down from the ceiling and bathrooms with built-in multi-colored lighting above the sinks and bathtubs. Martha was so overwhelmed that she completely forgot why she was there, and if Brains hadn’t pinched her and whispered: “Don’t forget what you have to do!” she might have spoiled everything.
The captain took them up to the bridge and, thankfully, there was an elevator so that they didn’t have to worry about stairs and banister rails. Rake and Brains both became more lively when they set eyes on the navigation equipment with GPS, echo-sounding sonar and compass and Rake stood there with his legs apart at the control panel and adopted a knowledgeable expression although a lot of what he saw looked extremely new and modern. Thank God he had asked Nils for help, and his son would soon come on board. Nils was on standby on the pier not far away and as soon as he received the signal he would come up the ladder. They had timed everything precisely and knew that it would work. But before they did anything else or signed a charter contract they must get ahold of the owner-registration certificate. Without that proof that they owned the boat—at any rate for a while—they wouldn’t be able to sell it.
“Christina, are you ready?”
She was, although she looked very pale, despite all the powder, rouge and lipstick. She felt an enormous responsibility and knew that they were all a bit anxious about how she would carry out her task. During the last planning meeting they had agreed that if anybody should discover her she should flirt madly or play confused or stupid. Men always fell for that immediately and usually became very pleased with themselves. So you only had to distract them right away. Martha had heard that the papers were normally kept up on the bridge somewhere and Christina had been tasked with finding them. Now it was simply a matter of finding the box where the original documents were kept.
The Little Old Lady Behaving Badly Page 29
