“All right, then,” he mumbled, but on the way he went into the storeroom and fetched two flashlights and a toolbox. Then the two men took the elevator up to the upper deck. Once there, they stopped for a few seconds so that they could hear the Russians, but the only sound was a distant shouting. They nodded to each other, put on the flashlights and opened the door out toward the roof.
“It ought to be somewhere here,” mumbled Nils, turning on the flashlight and looking around. The lights from the Cannes seafront glimmered on the water, and above the sea, stars were clearly visible. There was a new moon too. The two men crouched under the radar and carefully made their way toward the bridge.
“What great luck, look over there!” said Brains after a minute or so when the beam from his flashlight fell on something rectangular in metal just above the bridge. Nils nodded, looked for a big screwdriver and wrench and set to work. It was a bit awkward to get at everything and the screws and bolts had been pulled very tight, but soon he had succeeded in loosening the yacht’s transponder from its base. The men wrapped it in a pullover which they then put inside Brains’s sports bag before they returned to the others.
“Here it is, the transponder, an AIS Match Mate!” said Brains, pleased with himself, and he pointed at his bag. “Mission accomplished!”
“You are fantastic, but now I’m sure we would all like to see that thingamajig too, wouldn’t we?” said Martha. Upon which the men lifted it out of the bag and put it at the end of Anna-Greta’s bed. The thingamajig, painted gray and with dials and buttons, looked rather boring and insignificant. But it was evidently very important.
“Um, that’s a great box.” Rake hummed and studied the mysterious contraption which hadn’t existed back in the days when he went to sea.
“It looks like a record player,” Anna-Greta pointed out and carefully poked the apparatus with her index finger. “Does it play music?”
“No.” Brains smiled and patted the box. “This is the smartest thing on the seas since radar. This apparatus sends and receives radio signals automatically and then other ships and port authorities can see where you are. They can keep track of the ships’ speed, course and position.”
“Geez. If they are looking at us now, they will be very surprised,” mumbled Rake and he pointed at the bed.
“They’ll think the ship has run aground and collided with a bed,” giggled Christina.
“Cripes,” sighed Rake, “But what are we doing with a transponder on the bed?”
“Well, this is what I have in mind,” Martha began and she looked really pleased with herself. “When the Russians turn on their AIS, nothing will happen because we have taken it. OK? Neither the authorities nor ships in the area will have a clue as to where Bielke’s yacht Aurora Four has gone, and it will take a little time before they react.”
Anna-Greta’s eyes lit up and she gave a shrill whistle.
“A stroke of genius!” she cried out.
“We have a plan and if we can pull this off we can give health care at least another five hundred million,” said Brains looking important.
“Exactly. Me and Brains, we have talked this over,” Martha went on, and she squeezed his hand as a sign of mutual understanding. (Coming up with solutions together with this man was the best thing she knew, and now Brains had that ingenious and satisfied look about him that he normally only had when he had thought up a new invention.)
“As I’ve said before, bank robberies only give us pocket money,” Anna-Greta cut in, now beginning to accustom herself to larger sums.
“Yes, but if this plan is going to work, we must sneak away from the Russians. And it would be best to do that right away,” said Martha.
“But my God! Oleg and Boris are Russian oligarchs. We must be careful. It isn’t dangerous, is it?” Christina took a deep breath and wrung her hands so much that they almost hurt.
“Not if we behave just like normal, then they won’t suspect anything,” said Martha. “But now they will get their just deserts! They only have themselves to blame. Tax dodgers and bullies of women. No, mark my words, nobody insults an old lady and gets away with it!”
“Amen!” exclaimed Rake.
“Now you won’t let your emotions gain the upper hand, I hope, Martha? If you do, it is so easy to lose focus,” Anna-Greta warned.
“Oh no, they are just going to get a little punch on the nose, that’s all,” answered Martha. And then she asked for silence, leaned forward and presented her plan.
55
THE LEAGUE OF PENSIONERS HAD TALKED THINGS OVER AND were now only too well aware that they had a very arduous task before them if Martha’s plan was going to be successful. And the worst of it all was that they couldn’t be off their guard or fall asleep during the coming hours because that would jeopardize everything. Now it was one o’clock in the morning and they must stay awake until dawn. This was rather a contrast to life in old people’s homes where you were tucked in bed at seven in the evening. Or as Rake had said: “Not only are we going to commit crimes, but now we must also do them in the middle of the night too!”
“We are developing and becoming all the more polished,” Martha considered.
“First and foremost, we must stay awake until the Russians have fallen asleep because the briefcases are still there in the saloon,” said Anna-Greta.
“Oh yes, of course,” muttered Martha. “I almost forgot that detail. On the other hand, the contents of the briefcases is ours and we have earned it honourably.”
“But won’t it look a bit suspicious if we just fetch them and then disappear?”
“Agreed,” said Brains. “There really ought to be a retiring age for robbers. So much can get screwed up just because you forget. Mind you, we would have avoided all this if people could afford to live on their pension.”
“True. And robbers are in the same situation as women. None of us can afford to retire. So criminals, stick to your guns!” said Martha.
The members of the League of Pensioners kept themselves awake by playing bridge even though their eyelids wanted to close all the time, and Rake was so tired that he didn’t even have the energy to cheat. But in the end, things became quiet down in the saloon and Christina was sent down on a scouting mission. When she came back, her cheeks were bright red.
“Oleg and the others are asleep!”
“Excellent. Gather your things together and I’ll follow with the briefcases,” said Martha. And while the others collected their belongings, Martha went as quietly as she could down to the saloon to fetch their booty.
When she reached the room, she saw the Russians lying sprawled over the table with their heads resting on their arms—all except Oleg, who lay stretched out on the sofa. His mouth was wide open and he snored loudly. There were empty bottles everywhere and sticky playing cards next to the table together with piles of poker chips that had fallen onto the floor. Martha shook her head. Evidently they had been playing for money too. What decadence! She straightened her back and walked in as ordinary and nonchalant a manner as she could (in case one of them was spying on her behind half-closed eyes) up to the briefcases. Then she stood still a while and listened before she carefully lifted them up and went toward the door. She tiptoed out and had just reached the deck when she heard a call from down on the quay.
“Attention! Vos papiers s’il vous plait!”
A young man in a T-shirt and shorts and with a clipboard in his hand was staring up at the boat looking very important. Yes, of course, the harbor authorities had staff who went around on the quays checking. Nils had said that you could only be moored by the quay for one hour, maximum, then you must move or anchor further out. Or, of course, you could go into the harbor office and pay the harbor fee and some other stuff. But then they would check your certificate of ownership and lots of other papers at the same time. Martha hesitated for a moment or two, then she walked up to the railing.
“Excusez-nous! Us, that is,” she said, putting down the briefcases and pointing
at herself. “Nous avons eu des problems, mais maintenant, voilà (that sounded very French) our captain will sail any minute.”
“Il faut aller maintenant!” said the pompous young man.
“Naturellement! Right away, tout de suite, immédiatement, direct, swisch, swisch!” said Martha, ever ready to oblige. She heard the Russians begin to wake up in the saloon. Now they must make their getaway as quickly as possible. She bumped into Nils on the stairs.
“Nils, we must leave the quay and anchor out there straight away. They want our papers.”
“Damn it. Now that,” he said, and turned back up the stairs. “Rake, can you man the engine room?” he called out and hurried up to the bridge.
“Aye, aye, captain,” answered his father, feeling the adrenaline boost straight away. Action stations. Now they must get the engines going immediately and gently maneuver the boat out to where they could anchor. And they must do that without turning any of the other boats by the quay into firewood! Brains stood there at a loss until he realized what he had to do. Cast off the ropes of course! He took the elevator down but got off on the wrong floor, and when finally he got it right, he heard how the lines landed in the water with a heavy splash. Martha had asked the young man on the quay to help. Another boat was evidently on the way in.
The engines started up, Nils inched the throttle forward and Bielke’s boat slowly headed out into the darkness. When they reached the mooring field, Nils set the boat at anchor. This time Nils managed it well but just as they dropped the anchor the door to the bridge suddenly opened.
“What are you doing with my boat?” shouted Oleg, angry as hell. Nils quickly rolled up his sleeves so that his anchor tattoo became visible on his wrist.
“Harbor authorities,” he explained, and threw up his hands. “Sorry. But don’t worry. The crew is on its way.”
Then Oleg looked a bit calmer, but Nils could see that he had been drinking and needed to hold on to the compass to stand steadily. Then Martha came rushing in with her cell in her hand.
“Our captain,” she said, and pointed to the cell. “The crew, you know, will be here any minute. So we shall go and fetch them. Pick them up, you know,” she said as naturally as she could and just as if the entire crew was included in the sale. “Don’t you worry. We will organize this. My husband always said that you should take things easy and enjoy life. So don’t you worry, go back to sleep.”
Oleg was intelligent and had a sharp mind, but it was the middle of the night and he had drunk too much to allow his brain to function properly. In such situations, he took orders from others and didn’t think so much himself.
“Ah, yes, captain, good!” he said simply. He shrugged his shoulders and returned to the saloon. He had lost his Ferrari in the last round of poker and was very keen to win it back again. Martha glanced at Nils.
“You had better open the ramp. We need the motorboat NOW, the red one, you know. And don’t forget any important papers or other stuff. We must leave within five minutes.”
With those words, Martha went off and fetched Brains and the others who were groggy with tiredness and were simply longing to be able to go to sleep.
“To the motorboat, hurry now. And don’t forget your things!”
Tired and somewhat unfocussed, they picked up not only their own things but also a bit of this and that they happened to think might come in useful. Above all, blankets and cushions so that they could have a nap on the way back to Saint-Tropez. And Anna-Greta took the Chagall painting too because she had always had a soft spot for the artist. But since she was ashamed of her art coup she didn’t say anything to the others but simply slipped the painting into her backpack.
“I had been racking my brain trying to think up a good excuse to take the motorboat and leave the yacht without arousing suspicion,” said Martha when she caught up with Brains. “And then we were helped by the French port authorities. Voilà. Now everything will work like we wanted!”
“Let’s hope so!” answered Brains and he snuck his hand into hers. Together they hurried hand-in-hand all the way down to the ramp where the motorboat was waiting. But just as they were about to climb aboard, Martha stopped and turned red in the face.
“Oh, forgive me, Brains. The briefcases!” She had forgotten them in Anna-Greta’s cabin.
“I’ve already carried them down,” said Brains smiling.
THE WATER LAY DARK AND BLACK IN THE BAY AND THE MOTORBOAT could steer right out through the open stern. If we had only been a little younger, we could have taken a Jet Ski and had a bit of fun too, Martha thought, strangely enough actually realizing her limitations. Nils, who had had the presence of mind to check that the gas tank was full, started the engine. On the second attempt it started up with a low humming, and he nodded to Rake, who cast off. They were on their way.
“OK, now let’s get out of here!”
“No, wait a moment,” said Martha. “We can’t forget the most important thing.” And then she pulled out two cans of spray paint. The white was the same shade as the color of the boat, the black the same shade as the lettering of Aurora 4. Christina nodded and, as they went out, Nils maneuvered the motorboat toward the stern so that Christina could reach. He brought the little boat up close so that it prevented anyone from seeing what they were up to, from both the sea and from up on deck, and Christina was quick. Like the pro she was, she rapidly painted over the number “4” in the boat’s name and replaced it with a “5.” With her flashlight and a little paintbrush, she also improved the lettering of the number so that it matched exactly in size and angle with the lettering of Aurora. She pulled back a little and checked the result. With the quick-drying paint she had changed the boat’s name to Aurora 5, just like it said in the Russians’ certificate of ownership.
“Finished! Sometimes things actually go better if you are in a hurry,” she said, pleased. She signaled to the others that they could leave. They slowly slipped away from the yacht. For the appearances’ sake, Nils steered in toward quay number five where the hypothetical crew would soon come aboard. But when they were almost there, he pretended that the engine had stalled and the boat started to drift. The League of Pensioners waved their arms and pretended to be desperate, while the boat drifted further and further away from the quay. The harbor disappeared in the background and when they were sufficiently far away from both the piers and any eyes, Nils started the engine again. Then he opened the throttle to max. The gang of pensioners still had one extremely important task to finish off. And to do that, they must return to Saint-Tropez.
56
WHILE NILS DROVE THE MOTORBOAT AT FULL SPEED TOWARD Saint-Tropez, Martha gathered the gang of pensioners together to further explain to the sleepy members what awaited them.
“Sorry to have to rush you like this. But the transponder can be our fortune.” She pointed at the little apparatus which Brains had on his lap.
“Yes, you can say that,” said Rake. “So fortune in life is a transponder, you mean? Indeed! You go from clarity to clarity!”
Martha pretended not to have heard, but went through the plans in detail.
“Do you remember that derelict ship just near the entrance to the harbor in Saint-Tropez, the Panama boat, you know?” Martha went on, ignoring Rake. “The awful vessel that we thought was an appalling eyesore.”
Everyone nodded.
“It will be sunk on Monday.”
“Don’t say we are going to steal that wreck too,” sighed Rake.
“No, quite the opposite. We are going to rejoice when the old piece of junk is sunk. With Bielke’s transponder on the roof.”
Anna-Greta whistled shrilly and then burst out in such a loud horsey laugh that they all put their hands over their ears.
“Aha, now I understand,” she said, and she looked decidedly content. “So we put the transponder on the Panama wreck and when the boat sinks, the authorities will think that Bielke’s boat has disappeared, right?”
“Exactly. When the Panama boat sinks
with the transponder and all, the authorities can suddenly no longer see “Bielke’s boat” on their screens. It disappears and will never turn up again. And then we report the boat as stolen . . .” Martha went on.
“. . . and get the insurance money,” Anna-Greta filled in, her eyes glistening with pleasure. She had already understood the plan and smiled widely. “You did prepare the papers, didn’t you, Martha?”
“Yes, and the Russians didn’t notice anything. Hopefully it will be a while before they realize they have been conned.”
“Tell us again, how will that work?” Rake asked, not really remembering.
“The Russians bought the yacht Aurora Five, while we have the papers for Aurora Four, which is insured. It is the tiny details that make the difference,” said Martha, looking really satisfied with herself.
“You know what, we ought to get out some wafers and the cloudberry liqueur right away,” said Christina.
“Hang on, we mustn’t celebrate until everything is tied up,” Rake said. “Lots of things can happen.”
“Absolutely,” Anna-Greta agreed, realizing that they didn’t have the money yet.
“The problem will be to try to fix the transponder on the Panama wreck without anyone seeing. I suppose that will be my job,” said Nils with a sigh, without taking his eyes off the water. At any moment now, motorboats could turn up out there and be dangerously intrusive. A murmur of agreement could be heard from the others.
“Yes, that should be done as soon as it gets light,” Brains said. “And on Monday we will activate the transponder with my remote control and then we drive to the airport. It should work.”
Martha nodded and the others went along with it too. And Anna-Greta couldn’t refrain from contentedly stating that she had the certificate of ownership, the contract and all the boat papers. Everything they would need to get the insurance money.
“Take care of those papers. They are the original documents; the Russians only got nice copies, Christina. And Oleg was unusually careless when he signed. He didn’t notice that it said Aurora Five and not Aurora Four,” said Martha.
The Little Old Lady Behaving Badly Page 33
