Brains, also in a white uniform, smiled in relief when he caught sight of Martha; a smile that soon faded when he noticed the two beefy men who followed after the Russians. And that wasn’t all he saw; didn’t Martha seem unusually pleased when she looked at them? Elderly gentlemen who looked furtively at younger women was one thing, but Martha! Brains took a lot of quick breaths before he had pulled himself together to such an extent that he could wave to them down below and invite them on board.
When they had come up on deck and then settled in the saloon, Rake brought out the champagne and bowed a few extra times for the Russians. But Martha gave him a stern look. No alcohol until the business was concluded, they had agreed on that! But now she was obliged to toast them and wish them welcome to her boat, while at the same time sincerely hoping that the Russians wouldn’t become angry with too much alcohol in them. To be on the safe side, she decided to hurry things along.
“Perhaps we should go on a tour of the boat right away,” she said and she got up. “I want you to be satisfied with what you’re buying.”
“I can show you the engine room,” said Rake.
“I’ll show you the bridge,” said Nils.
“And we ladies can show you the rest,” said Anna-Greta.
“But what about the crew?” wondered Oleg. “It would be nice to meet them,”
“Naturally,” said Martha. “But I said they could go ashore this evening, because we can manage this tour ourselves. But they are on standby so I can phone them any time, of course.”
The men were satisfied with this explanation and for the next hour the League of Pensioners took care of them. Rake let the group have a quick look in the engine room, but he didn’t go into much detail about horsepower and engines because he was afraid that a single wrong word might give him away. Nils showed them the bridge and had the air of a real expert and said beautiful and wonderful about everything and patted the radar and the compass as if they were old friends. Christina, for her part, was in charge of the guided tour inside the boat and she took this most seriously. She accompanied them from room to room and spouted on using design and artists’ terms as if it was an exam on art history. But the Russians listened, interested, as they were taken from the luxuriously furnished dining room to the elegant saloon with black leather armchairs, an oak table and a Chagall on the wall (at this point, Oleg gave a whistle and went up to the painting, studying it closely. He even looked at the back before he hung it up again in its original position, humming as he did so).
The party continued to the afternoon tearoom with its luxurious cream-colored armchairs, glass table and crystal vases filled with roses. In the library they all stopped for quite a while as Christina went on at length about how fond she was of Chekhov, Pushkin and Pasternak. But when she tried to quote from them in Russian, nobody understood her at all so she had to settle for a short, shy “Kalinka.” By now, Oleg and his companions were rather tired and they didn’t brighten up until they were shown the big wide beds and the bedrooms. When they got to see the elegant rooms with giant TV screens that could come down from the ceiling with a remote control and the bathrooms in blue mosaic with red lighting in the sinks and bathtub, they cheered up and after that it felt as if the yacht was as good as sold. The little red motorboat with a cabin, the Jet Skis and the water jetpack on the lower deck, these they passed strangely enough rather quickly and Martha hoped it was because they had already decided. After the tour of Bielke’s newly stolen boat was complete, the party sat down in the saloon again. Martha brushed the table with her hand, wiping away dust that wasn’t there.
“That’s it,” said Martha. “You buy?”
Oleg and Boris had a lively discussion in Russian and Martha didn’t understand a word of it, but then Oleg cleared his throat and switched to English.
“Nice boat, yes. We’ll pay 65 million dollars.”
“That’s an insult to my husband’s memory!” exclaimed Martha with a rhinoceros-like snort. She got up abruptly and gesticulated so wildly that the fruit bowl fell onto the floor. “He built this with love and with the help of the best French architects’ bureau, and it cost him all his savings and now you don’t want to pay what it is worth!” She sat down again, closed the zipper on her waist bag and looked around angrily. “No, there is not going to be a sale, that’s obvious.”
Oleg and Boris exchanged a quick glance and didn’t comment on Martha’s outburst. Instead, with an elegant movement of his hand, Boris lifted up his briefcase and put it on the table. He opened it wide. On a green velvet cloth lay a row of glimmering diamonds, even more beautiful than those she had seen at the restaurant. One of them reminded her of the famous African diamond, a 59.6 carat Pink Dream diamond that had been sold at Sotheby’s for 83.2 million dollars. This one wasn’t as big, of course, but was just about as beautiful.
“Goodness gracious me!” said Martha and, somewhat overwhelmed, pressed her hand on her chest.
“Smelling salts!” Anna-Greta squeaked, and stretched out her hand to grab ahold of the stones.
“No, no, keep your fingers off,” muttered Boris and he pulled the briefcase toward him. The bodyguards moved a little closer to Anna-Greta, but Martha tried to look more distanced and to stay calm.
“Don’t think that a few diamonds can distract me. I can of course lower the price a little, but I won’t go below eighty-five million.”
Oleg discreetly prodded Boris in his ribs and picked up one of the brilliant cut stones from the briefcase. A light-blue, gleaming jewel in a casing of gold.
“Seventy-five million, then?” He coughed slightly into his clenched fist. “Plus this beautiful rare stone from South Africa.”
Martha shook her head.
“No way. But I don’t want to be impossible. You can have the yacht for eighty-two million.”
“Including the painting by Chagall?”
Martha hesitated, she hadn’t thought about that. The painting was worth a lot of money.
“Perhaps,” she answered.
The Russians discussed together for quite a while and everyone in the League of Pensioners felt uncertain and very uncomfortable since they didn’t understand what the men were saying. It was nerve-racking enough to steal a boat, but it was darned well even worse trying to sell it. And the men were talking this Cossack gobbledygook!
The negotiations went on for many long minutes which became an hour at least before Martha noticed that they were now very close to each other. They finally settled on a price of eighty million dollars including the Chagall painting.
“I’m selling at a loss!” said Martha finally with a broken voice and she tried to look sad. “Good thing my husband isn’t still alive. He would never have forgiven me.”
“Oh yes, you have struck a really good deal,” Oleg pointed out. “Not many people can pay cash in dollars and diamonds. You’ll have no problem with the banks and you know too you won’t be conned. The world is full of swindlers.”
“Swindlers? Oh how dreadful!” said Martha.
“Right then, and here are the dollar banknotes!” said Oleg, lifting up his briefcase and opening the lid.
“Heavenly!” exclaimed Anna-Greta when she saw the dollar bundles and she was there in a jiffy, grabbing a pile. With practiced fingers she started to flick through the bundles, stopping now and then to examine a banknote or a watermark a bit more. All the time humming contentedly to herself, while flicking through them so quickly that the Russians were really impressed.
“You seem to be a real professional, madame,” said Oleg politely.
“I was Stockholm’s sharpest bank official,” she hollered, looking pleased. She laughed in delight. “And we women always try to be cleverer than you men.”
Anna-Greta had soon checked the banknotes and when she looked up from the pile of money, she pointed at the diamonds.
“And now we would like to see all the diamonds too,” she said resolutely.
“Of course,” said Boris patiently, and he laid
a red velvet cloth on the table. Then he pulled out one diamond at a time which he placed on the cloth with an elegant gesture. Old veined hands turned and twisted the stones and now one could hear ums and ahs, sighs and sudden deep intakes of breath as the valuables passed from one member of the League of Pensioners to the other. Martha, however, controlled her enthusiasm and critically examined diamond after diamond under her magnifying glass.
“Goodness, this is indeed wonderful,” she said after each new stone and, if nothing else, she understood that these were the real thing. Of all the diamonds she had handled since they left the old folk’s home, these were the most beautiful precious stones she had ever set eyes on.
“Formidable, great, wonderful,” said Oleg of every stone, but now slurring his words a little since Rake (without Martha’s permission) had given him and his friends vodka. “Nice, nice, yes! In a business deal all must be satisfied.”
“That’s what my husband said too. But what if one or two of these diamonds are worth more than you think?” Martha went on. “That would be terribly unfortunate.”
“They could also be worth less,” Boris broke in.
“Hardly, your diamonds are superb! Think of the four Cs: Color, Clarity, Cut and Carat—the four qualities that decide what a diamond is worth. One or even two of your diamonds seem to have a higher carat than you think,” Martha went on and she put the magnifying glass to her eye again. She looked and hemmed and hawed and twisted them this way and that. “Yes, I really don’t wish to fleece you, you see, but in that case I would pay you back. I want things to be correct.”
“So nice of you, but—”
Martha whistled and handed a pink diamond to Oleg. “This diamond, for example. I think you have undervalued it. It would be best to hand it in for an independent valuation. If it is just a few hundred dollars, then that doesn’t matter, but if it is more, then I really must do what is right, and pay back the extra to you. Sometimes diamonds can be incorrectly valued by as much as five or ten million, and I certainly don’t want to swindle you. My husband was always very fussy about everything being done the correct way.”
“Ten million, wow, that is a lot,” mumbled Oleg.
“Yes, it is indeed. Just tell me which account number I should pay the money to, and I shall arrange the rest.” Martha pulled out her notebook, adjusted her glasses and leaned her head to one side. “You do have a company, I assume. So give me the name, and your bank and account number, please.”
Give her his account number? Oleg hesitated. But if the old lady was so keen to do things the right way, then it would feel wrong not to do as she said. And, after all, it was better that the money ended up in his account and didn’t just vanish into the wrong one. He dug out his wallet, took out a business card, turned it over and wrote down the information on the back.
“Yes, I have heard that diamonds can be very hard to value sometimes. So thoughtful of you,” he said politely and handed her the card.
“Thank you! Well, all you have to do is take over the boat.”
“But the papers?” said Anna-Greta and pointed at Martha’s flowery handbag.
“Oh yes, of course,” said Martha.
The Russians nodded understandingly while Martha fumbled with her handbag to find the certificate of ownership and the contract which Christina had so skillfully managed to copy. She pulled out the papers, signed them (with her usual illegible handwriting) and handed them over to the Russians.
“Here is the documentation,” she said with a bountiful smile.
When the Russians had quickly browsed through them, she discreetly added an extra page without anyone noticing and then stapled that paper together with the others. Then she asked Oleg to sign each and every sheet just like she had heard that one should do with contracts.
“Now the yacht is yours,” she said, pulling the briefcases toward her. “Is it all right if you take over the boat tomorrow, early morning?”
“Early tomorrow? Yes, fine.”
“Because we would like to sleep here tonight as it has been a long day and we are extremely tired.”
“Yes, we are old, after all,” Anna-Greta filled in.
Oleg and Boris exchanged glances. This wasn’t exactly how business was usually conducted, but one night more or less didn’t make any difference. Besides, they were in a decidedly good mood after having bought the boat at such a cheap price.
“Naturally,” said Oleg.
“No problems,” Boris added.
“You could sleep on board too, of course,” said Martha with her warmest and most accommodating smile, and she noticed how the others in the League of Pensioners gave a start. Because this was not part of the plan. But Martha looked so determined—as she always did when she had made her own, absolutely inflexible decision. Brains gave her a prod in the ribs.
“My dear, what are you up to?”
“Just wait and you’ll see!” she whispered and winked. Then she winked at Rake, who obediently filled the champagne glasses.
“Cheers, then!” exclaimed Martha and she raised her glass. “Nothing beats a good business deal. We are all happy, aren’t we?”
The Russians nodded and clinked glasses, while Brains and the others wanted to leave as quickly as possible. They couldn’t understand why Martha stayed on at the crime scene and even wanted to spend the night there. At any moment, the boat could be reported missing and then people would start looking for it. But she seemed unusually calm.
“Martha, whatever are you up to?” Brains asked again.
“Trust me. We had an extremely good plan, but the new one is darned better! Come with me, and I’ll tell you more.”
54
THE LEAGUE OF PENSIONERS HAD RETIRED TO ANNA-GRETA’S cabin on the middle deck, while the Russians stayed on in the saloon and played cards. By this time, Oleg and his companions had become so noisy that it was hard to have a conversation. Besides, Martha was anxious to make sure that none of them would hear a single word of what she was going to say. Not even in Swedish. So the cozy cabin—or bedroom, as she called it—with its duvets, curtains and cushions was absolutely perfect. Martha looked around at the friends and said with a very quiet but clear voice:
“Oleg and Boris don’t pay any taxes. No taxes at all, even though they are so rich. And besides, they called me an old lady. Gaga and senile, they said, the nerve! They are slimy scoundrels of the very worst kind! How dare they! You don’t insult an elderly lady and go unpunished.”
Anna-Greta and Christina nodded in agreement and looked really angry.
“So horribly inconsiderate. Idiots! One really can’t behave like that,” said Christina.
“Without us old ladies, the world would come to an end. Culture and social life would collapse and there would only be football and computer games left,” Anna-Greta said.
“Ugh, don’t exaggerate! Without us men, the world would come to an end, just so you know. All this talk of old ladies. No, young, pretty gals—now that is something!” Rake said, and the very next moment he got a hard kick on the shin.
“That’s really enough!” hissed Christina, and Martha screwed up her face like a raisin. She gave him a look that could have cut a diamond. But it had no effect on Rake.
“But get to the point, then, Martha. You had something important to tell us.”
“Oleg and Boris behaved so disgracefully, you can’t imagine. Talked about me as if I was just worth nothing,” Martha went on and she showed a minimal gap between her thumb and index finger.
“You worth so little? No, the bastards!” said Rake.
“It is dreadful to grow old and hear all this shit. No, I won’t stand it! So I thought we would deal with Oleg and co and their ageist attitude toward elderly ladies. They made me so angry that I got lots of energy, so now I’ve thought up a plan. A devilish plan, I can tell you. A new robbery, one might say.”
“Oh no, no, not another crime! You are much nicer when you aren’t so energetic,” Brains groaned.
“Around five hundred million kronor, that’s how much we could get,” said Martha, looking rather proud.
“You what! Another five hundred million!” Anna-Greta yelled so that her hearing aid fell onto the floor.
“Now listen to me. I’m thinking about that transponder up there on the roof. That shows where we are, doesn’t it? I mean where Bielke’s yacht is.”
“Yes, right, but I turned it off so that nobody can see where we are,” said Nils.
“Exactly. But sometimes it can be a good idea if somebody can trace the vessel too. So, Brains, can you go and fetch it please?”
“Now you must damn well explain what you’re on about,” exclaimed Rake.
“Well, it’s like this. We’ll need the transponder for our new coup and the Russians must not be allowed to see anything.”
The members of the League of Pensioners stared uncomprehendingly at Martha and shook their heads. What had happened? Was Martha going completely crazy? An embarrassing silence followed. None of them did anything, nobody reacted. But in their heads, there were lots of thoughts. Then Martha leaned forward and whispered something into Brains’s ear. The others saw that she was telling him something, but couldn’t hear much more than: “Please, Brains, can you just do what I’m asking you? You’ll see . . .”
Martha and Brains continued to talk for a while and then suddenly he looked remarkably alert and grabbed hold of Nils.
“Right, now I get what she means. But we must hurry! We must go up onto the roof right away. It’s important, of really colossal importance!”
Nils tried to protest but when he saw that Brains was going to go up himself anyway, he had no choice but to follow along. He didn’t want Rake’s good friend to trip and hurt himself out there in the dark.
The Little Old Lady Behaving Badly Page 32
