The Black Rose Conspiracy

by James McKenna

Sean smiled. “I look forward to our meal together.”

  “Me too.” She squeezed his fingers. “And I hope you can solve the mystery of my brooch.”

  “I have to see it first.”

  “I’ll bring it with me. It’s too late for looking now.”

  When they reached her flat Sean stopped and waited. She let go of his hand and kissed his cheek.

  “There, knew you wouldn’t take advantage.” She kissed him again.

  “When the time is right, you tell me.” He kissed her lips.

  “I will, rest assured.” She entered the flat.

  Sean turned and walked towards his cottage thinking, I was told to socialise.

  Inside the cottage he poured himself a glass of wine then took it with his laptop to sit on his terrace. Listening to the cicadas he recorded the day’s events in detail, listing all he had met and his analysis of the situation. Entrance of two high ranking Mafia godfathers completely changed his view of the DJP. Speculation by the Witch and Cobbart took on new meaning. Mafia money into the DJP meant Mafia control and that jeopardised the fundamental values of British politics. When he had everything typed up he inserted a sub-heading to the report calling it The Black Rose Conspiracy. He sent a copy to Cobbart, another to Victoria.

  Unsure what time dawn would start the new day, he debated whether to try for a few hours sleep in his bed or try sleeping in the dugout, while stuffing a black backpack with a pillow, water bottles, bread, cheese and fruit. He decided on the latter and after locking the hut, headed for the cliff top.

  He smiled over the expression Victoria had given him knowing his dance with Sarah, followed by walking her home, would stir her jealousy into action. So he still had a chance. Meanwhile let her realise she had competition.

  Finding the dugout he looked down on Krata’s luxury yacht, the lights remained glowing but no sign of activity. On the other side of the harbour Aguzzi’s yacht gleamed in majestic splendour. He stretched out in the hole, placed the pillow behind his head and tried to sleep. Poor Victoria, he smiled. Let her suffer, then after he would give her a taste of what she wanted.

  Victoria lay wondering how this had happened. Did anger drive her, jealousy or just sheer bloody-mindedness? Not that she cared, it had somehow just happened and now she drifted between euphoria and ecstasy. She lay stretched out on the bed, her legs wide, Denise’s lips pressed against her vagina, while the girl’s tongue explored every crevice, darting with the delicacy of a magical butterfly. Victoria glanced down at the top of Denise’s head and gently clasped each side, lifting her own body as she rose and rose in pre-climax, hearing the soft cry of her voice, allowing herself to be consumed by utter bliss. Who needed men? No man had given her this heaven, now bursting forth to send Denise lapping and swallowing in ravenous appetite the fruits of her labours.

  CHAPTER 18

  Sean slept until woken by the sound of shouting voices. Looking at the computer screen fed from the digital long-range cameras Pug had made ready, he watched eight drunken men pull themselves up Krata’s gangway. Clearly a good night out for all, both Krata and his minders. Ten minutes later the ship fell silent, the lights went out and all lay still.

  Sean found it difficult to sleep again. The sound of cicadas surrounded him, occasionally punctured by the angry drone of two-stroke engines as the last waiters rode their scooters home. He thought of Victoria and smiled. He thought of Sarah and smiled even more. The current game might yet prove very interesting. His eyes closed but this time the Mafia filled his mind. Were Aguzzi and Krata in league? Were the DJP playing along or were they all secretly on different sides? Clearly the DJP did not want either man to meet. It appeared both men turned up at the party without an invite, but it appeared Aguzzi was the chosen one, so where did Krata fit in? The DJP wanted Aguzzi to run the casinos. He would want both that and the twenty billion, then so did Krata. Sean guessed the DJP were playing both along and waiting to find any knowledge of the money. But they had to make up their minds fast or someone would get hurt. He needed Joe and Laura Manning to become close, but could he trust Joe, or was Joe playing his own game? Again he closed his eyes, imagining Victoria lying naked beside him. Holding this image above any intrusion, he finally drifted to sleep.

  Dogs barking along with the crowing of cockerels woke him a second time. Sun shone between the lattice work of leaves overhead. His watched read 8.45am. Switching on the screen he found Krata’s yacht still and silent save for a lone crew member on watch. Sean drew out binoculars left by Pug, shifted half round in the hole and peered under the edge of the dugout lid. Aguzzi’s yacht showed more activity.

  Waiters set a table on the rear deck and minutes later Aguzzi himself appeared in a towelling robe. For minutes he did some arm stretching exercises then settled himself in readiness for breakfast. Sean left the binoculars wedged between the dugout lid and ground then returned to the computer screen. All silent. He huffed breath when a fly buzzed round the confined space and wondered just what the hell he had let himself in for.

  Moments later he watched a dinghy pull alongside Krata’s gangway. Zooming in, he saw Laura Manning and Eleanor Baxter, closely followed by Marilyn, mount the steps. They waited on the rear deck for five minutes before Krata finally showed. The women had their backs to Sean but he zoomed in the telephoto lens so it focussed on Krata’s mouth, enabling a close-up of his lip movements. If London could read what was said, then good. On a second camera he watched the four of them as the conversation and arm waving clearly became heated. After five minutes the women stormed off, Marilyn in the rear. Krata shrugged and gave them two fingers.

  The encounter over, Sean watched the dinghy cross the harbour towards Aguzzi’s yacht. Marilyn let the women off then headed for shore.

  Aguzzi sipped his second cup of coffee when the two women mounted the gangway. Aguzzi smiled, it seemed the hens had come to a conclusion, let us hope, he thought, they had made the right decision.

  “Bring the ladies to the main deck,” he ordered one of his bodyguards.

  Staring out towards the mouth of Lakka bay he made a pyramid with his fingers and thought, these women must obey his will or learn a lesson. He wanted no rivalry from that rat Krata. The DJP, the casinos and Silverman’s billions must be his. If the DJP offered their obedience, he would allow them a reasonable share, enough so they would gain parliamentary power.

  The moment he heard the women approach he stood in welcome, dismissing the waiter out of earshot.

  “Laura, Eleanor, how are you this morning?” He kissed both on the cheek. “Please take a seat.” He poured them coffee.

  “We wish to assure you Mr Aguzzi we did not invite Krata to our party last night. We did not even know he arrived here.”

  “What are you doing about it?”

  “I have discussed it with Marilyn and she has suggested a plan to ensure Krata’s departure,” Eleanor said. “We tried to persuade him to co-operate in another venture but his sole interest is control of my ex-husband’s money. We hope by our actions we will prove our commitment to you and you alone.”

  “Excellent. And what of the other DJP members?”

  “They don’t realise the situation, so I have not consulted them,” Laura said and checked her watch. “Our plan will go into operation approximately twenty minutes from now, immediately Marilyn is in place.”

  Sean watched the meeting on Aguzzi’s yacht until bored. He had no idea what they discussed but it seemed amiable. Looking back to the harbour he saw a slim female figure in a wetsuit and carrying aqua diving gear climb into a dinghy. From the long dark hair he guessed it was Marilyn. She took the dinghy out into the harbour halfway between the two yachts, anchored up, fitted the diving gear, checked the compass bearing on Krata’s yacht then slipped over the side.

  All stayed quiet for ten minutes. The bars and restaurants began to draw in customers. Two of the DJP’s angels came to the harbour front, secured a couple of dinghies then took them to Aguzzi’s side of the waterfront.
Ten minutes later a bevy of slim, blonde young ladies, all dressed in miniscule bikinis, came on to the quayside. For minutes they stood chatting and giggling until they had everyone’s attention, then all piled into the two dinghies and set off towards Krata’s yacht.

  Sean watched them go, trying to count the heads. He guessed ten, twelve, maybe more. Their arms waving, the shrieking chatter of their voices carried over the water. He looked back towards Aguzzi’s yacht to see him and the two women watching progress through binoculars.

  As the two dinghies closed in, Krata came onto the deck with some of his bodyguards. The girls waved and he waved back, his face wide with smiles and expectations. When the two dinghies drew close the girls dived en mass into the water, their screams and laughter echoing around the harbour. The water became a splashing turmoil of foam and sea spray as the girls splashed and played. Some of them dived below the surface causing screams of mock protest as bikini tops, then bottoms were thrown in the air.

  Sean looked back at Krata to see his face a mask of rampant pleasure. Moments later he leapt in amongst the girls leaving his guards to shout encouragement from the railings. White naked buttocks flashed across the surface as girls dived for revenge against their colleagues. Within seconds Krata was amongst them, his voice giving shouts of encouragement, then he too dived below the surface. Thirty seconds later he resurfaced amidst the splashing turmoil of female bodies. It became difficult to see him until he waved a pair of bikini bottoms in the air then dived for a second time, cheered on by his bodyguards. Again the sea became a tumult of thrashing, screaming bodies.

  Crew members now joined the bodyguards clustered at the rail watching naked buttocks flash over then under the surface. Krata threw his trophy in the air then dived a third time, his men yelling encouragement for more nakedness. The sea became a cauldron of laughing hysterical girls. Whilst some dived, others tried to retain their pans and bras. Even Sean grinned, appreciative of flashing bare breasts and limb. Heads surfaced then dived back, making it impossible to tell who pulled pants down and who held them on. The noise carried in every direction then suddenly one shriek cut above others. A shriek of uncertainty then panic. Krata finally resurfaced not to hold a bikini in triumph but to float face down, his arms outstretched as one of the girls screamed in terror and began to swim for the dinghies. Within seconds the spot became deserted, save for the lone floating figure of Krata. The two girls who had remained on the dinghies helped pull their mostly naked comrades back on board.

  Krata’s men looked down in disbelief then almost as one leapt into the sea. Whilst they turned and pulled their boss back to the yacht, the girls sped away. Sean watched Krata’s body lifted onto the deck. Once his men realised he had drowned, they began to blame each other. This they had clearly not expected. Meanwhile the girls had made the harbour wall and were scrambling ashore, oblivious of their nakedness amidst the cheers of onlookers. A shore member of the DJP security began handing out shorts and tee shirts. These the girls hurriedly donned before scampering off into the town.

  All carefully planned, Sean thought and looked back to Aguzzi’s yacht to see him patting the two women on their backs while they walked from the rail. Sean realised he had witnessed a near perfect murder. Who could prove it was murder, how did you prove the killer was Marilyn or all of them? He knew Marilyn had to be involved, probably she being the main one to hold him under water.

  Krata’s crew and bodyguards now seemed in a heated argument over what to do. The captain appeared, checked the body and raised his hands. One thing appeared certain, no one would pay or thank them if they stayed. Minutes later the yacht began to turn and head out of the harbour. Sean guessed Krata would be reported accidently drowned on the way home. Got drunk, careless and during the night fallen over board. The last thing any of them would want was a serious police investigation.

  Sean looked back at Aguzzi’s yacht. He lay on a sun lounger, his feet up, the waiter pouring him a drink. Of one thing he felt certain, Laura Manning and Eleanor Baxter were definitely in league with the Mafia. Did the other three realise this? He guessed yes, they simply kept aside.

  All the girls on the harbour front had now departed and the spectators resettled with their beers. Mission accomplished, Sean thought, but waited another five minutes before Marilyn surfaced. She shrugged off the aqua tanks and face mask and dropped them into the dinghy before pulling herself aboard. A minute later she headed for the shore.

  With no one to spy on, Sean switched off the equipment, slipped the video recording from the computer to his pocket and climbed out from the observation hole. No point in remaining. What he needed most was a drink. He scurried to the stone steps then walked down into the village. All appeared at peace, people chatting, drinking, enjoying their day. After one quick beer he returned to his hut and started compiling his reports for Victoria and Cobbart. He also copied the video recording of all he had witnessed then sent it to both.

  CHAPTER 19

  Sarah waited 'til mid-morning before she phoned Libby and Grace. Libby answered.

  “Everything is fine,” Libby said. “We’re just out for a walk on the common. Here’s Grace.”

  Sarah’s heart glowed when her daughter spoke.

  “Everything is great, Muma. The sun is shining and Mick and Scamp are both excited to be out, but it would be nice if you came back.”

  “I will, darling, tomorrow. It will be so good to see you.”

  “You too, Muma because I miss you. I’m still saving my hugs.”

  “And I’m saving hugs for you too. Enjoy your walk and big, big kisses.”

  “Love you Muma. Bye. Have to go, Scamp wants his ball back.”

  Sarah heard the line go dead and bit back her tears. How could she be so cruel and negligent to leave her darling daughter? Determined not to give in she left the apartment with her two friends.

  Jerak watched the three women leave then phoned one of his men.

  “OK, search their flat but leave nothing disturbed. I don’t want anyone to know you’ve been there. Fortunately they left their balcony door open so you can climb in from the adjoining flat.

  “Very trusting of them boss. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

  “Remember, we are looking for documents or letters. Bank documents with codes or numbers.”

  “One other thing, boss, Krata’s boat, it’s gone. Looks like he’s out, or running away.”

  “Good, that’s one less to deal with.”

  When Sean walked down to the harbour front the lunchtime crowd filled tavernas and restaurants, everyone relaxed with no idea a murder had taken place before their eyes. He saw no sign of Joe or the DJP MPs but plenty party members relaxing in the sun, including a few of the blonde angels. After fifteen minutes he found Sarah sat by the waterfront with a group of friends. Sean perched on a bar stool, ordered a beer and when she looked his way, waved to her. Moments later she came by his side.

  “Want to examine my brooch?” She removed it from a buttoned pocket and held it out.

  Sean clasped the silver item and studied it closely.

  “A photo of a young couple,” he shrugged. “It looks quite old and I would say, solid silver.”

  “True. My mother and my father, someone called Silverman. I think he loved my mother very deeply but he didn’t stay with her.”

  “Silverman.” Sean tried to hide his sudden interested. “You know anything about him?”

  She shook her head.

  “I believe he had wealth and this brooch holds some important significance between himself and my mother. She treasured it. I kind of hoped with your detective skills you might figure an importance beyond love. I’ve examined the photo but can see nothing.”

  Sean shook his head, turning the brooch over between fingers.

  “It’s thick. Could be something under the photo.”

  “I thought of that,” Sarah said. “But I don’t see how it comes apart and I don’t want to risk any damage.”

  �
��I can do it for you, but not here. I need a table and a few tools.” He rubbed a finger over the back looking at the inscription. “Something inscribed here.”

  “I’ve noticed that. Probably some kind of silver hallmark. He would only have bought my mother the best.”

  “Probably right,” Sean said, making a mental note of the lettering NC4846. “Let me have a look at it now.”

  “But you said your days were busy.”

  “The guy I had under surveillance cleared off. That leaves me free to be useful.”

  She looked at him, lips pressed as if deciding.

  “It might be important for both you and the memory of your mother. If your father was the Silverman I’m thinking of, then in his day he became a prominent Mafia man.”

  “Mafia!” She screwed up her nose. “You say he was Mafia?”

  “I’m afraid he’s dead.” He watched as she placed hands to mouth, her eyes creased.

  “I never met him. I only knew my mother loved him and she would not have loved a bad person.”

  “She probably knew him as a businessman. Mafia bosses can appear very respectable. Let’s look at it now.”

  “OK.” She touched his shoulder. “I’ll tell my friends then be back.” She slid the brooch from his fingers and slipped it into her pocket.

  So trustworthy, Sean thought and watched her go. If her father had been Silverman and she had associates within the DJP then maybe she held significant connections.

  She returned almost immediately. “Let’s go.”

  They walked side by side.

  “What made you join ranks with the DJP?” Sean asked.

  “The need for female company. When I first moved to Harpenden and some discovered I was a lone widow, men came calling. John was friends with a couple of them. He’s gay and therefore safe. He introduced me to the DJP. I met a lot of other women, made friends, became politically interested in women’s advancement and here I am.”

  They reached the gate which opened onto his small garden; he led her to the terrace and indicated a seat before entering the cottage. First he wrote down the letters and numbers from the watch then collected a small sharp knife and a nail file.