Hole in his Shoe
A Harry Parker Story
Written as a serial - a new page added each week - there are 62 episodes
Part 1
Lost and all forlorn
He was having a hard time. Well trying to come to terms with the fact that he was faced with redundancy, he might be thrown out of his flat, he did not have any prospects, or skills worth talking about meant that times were indeed hard. Oh, and there was a hole in his shoe.
He looked out of the bus window, hell, it had started to rain. He wriggled his toe in his shoe, he wondered about the hole, would it let the rain in - metaphorically speaking, into his life?. There was one hope, he had a girl friend whose was his saviour, or so he thought. This was the time for his phone to ring, and so it did. He looked down it was from his dad, son, it said come quick your mother is very ill, she may not have long. He stared at the text, he was without feeling, he was confused, how could all this be happening, now, to him.
The bus stopped, he looked out, hell that was not his stop, just a minute he had gone by it, hell where was he now? He saw lights coming from the window of a building. It was difficult to work out what it was. It might be a factory, the walls were grey and streaked with rain rust. He looked down from the top deck, he saw a familiar figure going through a door. As light beamed out he saw that it was his girl friend, what was going on?
He clambered down the stairs and lept off the bus as it started to move off. The building door shut before he could reach it. He stood, uncertain what to do. The rain continued and his foot felt wet. As the bus left the driver turned and waived to him, his face set in leering grimace. On the side of the bus were the words - Your Time is Nigh. At that moment all seemed lost, somehow it seemed to herald the end.
The door of the building opened and a figure in white beckoned him in. He heard music and laughter. He stood in a hall, there were crowds of people milling around, he recognised many of his friends. There on a dais was his girl friend, sitting with a crown on her head. A girl pulled his arm and he looked round, she’s won the lottery, she exclaimed. He turned away, his misery was complete, he had split from her only last week.
He stood waiting in the rain for a bus that never came. The hole in his shoe got bigger by the minute!
Hole in his shoe 2
Fortune in the Stars
As the bus trundled on the rain gave way to sunshine, slowly emerging from low clouds. As happens after rain the smell of soil fell upon the nose giving that strange connection to a world at peace.
The bus stopped by the pier, it had the usual fun entrance containing fruit gaming machines and the like, and there he saw the sign - Peti Lingro Fortune Teller. At that moment a shaft of sunshine fell across the sign, as if it contained a message - from the stars perhaps? Something in that moment moved him to get off the bus and try his luck.
He stepped toward the entrance but looked back as the bus departed - the same driver, but a cheery smile on his face as he waved, not farewell, but somehow your luck will change! It seemed a magical moment, and so it turned out; apart from the hole in his shoe!
The curtains swung to behind him as he entered the booth. Instead of an odour of incense the air was fresh and with that strange smell of the earth.
‘I was expecting you, but not so early.’
He had expected an old crone done up in gypsy clothes, but no she was a Spanish beauty. A clean blouse high to the neck, a long skirt that she swished over her thighs as she sat down. Dark luminous eyes which seemed to be hiding a hint of sadness, held his gaze
He was embarrassed and uncomfortable because he had no cash, and he felt somehow that a bond could only be established with some exchange of value.
She smiled. ‘You seem so sad, has the world treated you badly?’
He fell under her spell, maybe those eyes held a secret he should learn. He spilled out his heart. She listened with languid composure, she leaned forward and held his hand, her smile softened as if she understood more than he could ever apprehend. He heard what sounded like a marching drum and the crack of gunfire, and the wailing of torn souls.
‘You have a lot to bare,’ she said, ‘but only your heart is broken, that can soon be mended.
He stuttered,’ Are you going to read my fortune.’
She smiled again and replied, enigmatically, ’Your fortune is in the stars. Go forth young man.’ And he did.
He walked to the end of the pier and there tied to a staunchen was and old fishing vessel. A grizzled seafarer looked up, ‘You looking for life at sea, to see the stars young man?’
He remembered edict of the Spanish beauty, and so he stepped aboard, and a new life began!
Hole in his shoe 3
At Sea with a Milkmaid
The fishing boat eased in to the small harbour at Konigsberg as dusk was falling. Lights twinkled from the houses along the harbour wall, a welcome sight after the long trip across the North Sea. It had been smooth enough apart from a light skirmish with a cross channel ferry. He thought that’s the end of searching for the stars at sea for me.
The Skipper, if he could be called that, climbed up the ladder onto the quay side and beckoned him up. As if they might be illegal entrants they half ran across the road, under a bridge and turned into a walkway and stood before an old house. The Skipper knocked on the door and it was opened by a small red haired lady, she smiled a welcoming smile and beckoned them in.
The Skipper addressed the lady as Winnie, it would seem as an old friend. A meal of potatoes and meat was put before them, as if she had been expecting them. They spoke together in the soft gutturals of Dutch, with much laughter and more amorous touching as the snaps were consumed. He awoke in the morning to the sound of seabirds to find the Skipper had gone.
Red haired Winnie looked decidedly worse for wear in the morning light, and there was strong smell of alcohol as she moved about the kitchen. On a breakfast of cold herring and cheese he was immediately sick. He lay on an old settee in a state of near collapse wondering what on earth he had got himself into when there was a knock on the door and an apparition walked in.
‘You English?’. She looked down at him and laughed, ’Oh la la, I see Winnie has been looking after you.’
She smoothed down her dress. ’Drink this coffee, we must be away.’
Through bleary eyes he took in the picture before him, the smooth skin, the blue eyes, the blond hair, the long legs the perfect figure. Could this be his girl from back home, Perhaps with her new wealth she had come to save him.
‘I’m Eva, I’ve come to save you.’
She looked at Winnie and they laughed together as if conspirators.
Outside was an open sided van laden with bottles of milk. They sat side by side as she drove off, he could not but notice those seductive breasts on the move as she manoeuvred the van through the traffic. And so he became an ardent milkman, the stars would have to wait!
Hole in his shoe 4
Milkman gets the Boot
Eva Bloancamp, for that was her name, had him in enthral. He was enraptured by her. Winnie catered for his daily needs, whilst Eva for his emotional. And so the sail seemed set for the life of a milkman in the small Dutch town - the stars were in his eyes, not in the heavens. And so the days passed, a sublime existence - he learned the ‘clip clip lop clip coop’ of the language, it seemed so easy to understand - clip clop to the housewives brought smiles and laughter - nodding their heads together - Enlistee Ah! And yet all was not what it seemed.
Eva’s love was as of the ice cream kind, lick, lick, so tasty and yet no substance, when the end comes the cornet is chewed up or thrown away! Was she playing a game or was there a little vixen in there. Had he paid attention he would have seen just the curl of the lips and the distained nod of the head. But we all know love is blind. Also Winnie’s attentions were in some way becoming more demanding.
And so the end came in that thunder clap that has warned of its coming but strikes unrepentantly!
Whinnied was stark naked, just getting into his bed, not a pretty sight, when Eva un-expectantly called. The ensuing blow up of emotions would have shamed a North Sea storm. Suddenly Eva’s charm became
that of the harlot. Words were used that would have disgraced fishmongers wives. In this coulstrom he was at some disadvantage, he could not understand a word, but it became clear next morning, she was gone! On returning from his milk round, which he had manfully carried out, his cases were on the doorstep and the door was locked.
He stood with his case at the bus stop, he did not have anywhere to live, he had no money, he had no skills (not forgetting being a milkman), no prospects, and his girl friend had left him - he really was having a hard time. To top it all it looked like rain, and he still had a hole in his shoe!
The bus came, on the front it said Amsterdam, he got on and sat next to a buxom lady, well made up, of a certain age. She turned to him, he smiled and he said ’Clip clop’. She stifled a laugh. ‘You look so sad,’ she said. For a moment he was stoic, then it came out - my girl has left me and I am destitute. She smiled as a mother might, she patted his leg, ’ ‘There, there, you will be alright when we get Amsterdam, I will look out you.’
Once again it looked as if a bus was taking him a new adventure. Had he looked back he would have seen a brown and cream police car on the road where he lived. He would be less philosophical had he known they were looking for him!
Hole in his shoe 5
Amsterdam Message Boy
Amsterdam, a city of canals and bicycles, a homely city, a metropolitan city, a city of urbane style, a city where drugs and sex are tolerated, a city of sin; perhaps!
The bus drew up at the central plaza by the railway station. Isabella, the lady on the bus, took him to a small hotel in the red light district - better to be in the centre of the action she assured him. He was not aware at the time that she part owned it.
They had spoken together on the bus. It turned out her English was better than his Dutch! She had explained to him, a simple Englishman, the workings of Amsterdam and its customs - to say he was taken aback was an understatement. He would work in kitchens for a start!
And work he did. The noise was indescribable - orders arriving from the restaurant, chefs shouting at the under-chefs in languages he did not understand, they all seemed to be from China, or somewhere east. The waiters all seemed to be Russian, although when asked they always came from the Ukraine, so now he started to pick up other communication sounds - another language in his locker? His shift was from four in the afternoon until gone midnight. He slept all day and was worn out in a week. Isabella kept a close eye on him.
One day she asked him to take a message to the manager of a night club, one of the many that specialised in pole dancing and escort services. On announcing he was from Isabella he was shown to the top office. A smooth European man, whom to him was clearly Mafioso, opened the note. Clearly he was not pleased, and a fast stream of Russian was directed at him. He felt powerful arms around him and he was thrown out onto the street. As he came round he found a policeman staring down at him.
He was in a police station. In his naive way he answered the police questions directly. He was just delivering a message - no he did not know what was in it. Yes he was English - no he did not have any identification. Where was he from? He misunderstood them, and he answered Isabella. This brought a stop to the questions. The policeman looked at each other and nodded their heads. A senior police officer then entered the room; he produced a European identity card and spoke.
‘It seems we have other knowledge of your activities here in Holland, take this card, you are now an official resident. We will keep a close eye on you; you may be of use to us.’
Life was about to get harder. His shoe nipped harder.
Hole in his shoe 6
Message turns Nasty
Isabella’s mumsey image had a more icy edge to it. ‘Tell me what happened?’
He explained he really did not know, a lot of Russian was spoken, the manager was not happy, and he was man-handled out on to the street.
He kept it simple, he held back on the rest that happened.
‘Was you hurt?’ she asked; a threatening tone in her voice!
‘No, I’m OK,’ he replied, feeling the ache in his bones.
Isabella stared out of the window, a glint in her eye.
‘Perhaps we must teach someone a lesson.’ She lifted the phone and spoke rapidly in Dutch.
‘There, I think that’s taken care of. You can go back to the kitchens.’
He returned to the maelstrom of the kitchens. He was now getting used to it. Because of the repetitive orders he learned the connection between the sounds and what was wanted. He was learning fast. He was even asked to prepare an omelette, not very difficult you would think, but not under a Russian chef!
One evening during a break he joined the chef and asked what he knew about the Green Cokato, where he had delivered the message for Isabella.
The chef screwed his eyes against the smoke from his cigarette. ‘Why you know?’ he asked in a thick Russian accent.
‘I went there for Isabella.’
‘Ah!’ The chef stared at the cigarette smoke, then added, ’Isabella no like you?’ He lips curled in a cynical grin.
‘It was just a message.’
The chef threw his cigarette on the floor and stamped it out.
‘Why you live then?’ With that the chef went back to the kitchen.
The next day he sat outside a café near the Green Cokato drinking coffee when who should he see but Eva! She stood talking to a tall man, not unlike the officer who had given him his permit. How odd, he thought, that she was here in Amsterdam when she was just a milkmaid.
As he was considering whether he should speak to her a black limousine drew up outside the nightclub and a stretcher was wheeled out with what could only be a body on it! It was slid into the back of the hearse, Eva got in the passenger seat and it drove away. He felt a decided chill come over him.
‘Eezveeneetye, you have light, yes?’
He turned, in the next seat to him was a heavily built man in a dark coat. The man who had thrown him into the street.
His chill turned to fear!
Hole in shoe 7
Boris turns Nasty
He felt his stomach drop, and his brain went into panic mode but he held as nonchalance air as he could.
‘Nye, ya Nye smoski.’ He answered although he knew that was not what this was about.
The Russian heavy smiled, ’You Russian good speak.’
‘Ya, ya,’ was the reply but that was about all he knew.
The Russian lit his cigarette with Ronson lighter. ’Know you Isabella?’
Here it comes he thought, should I play safe, but good sense prevailed. ’Ya.’
‘I message have, Isabella mess in fishy waters, maybe she by alligator catch.’ And then, ’myenya zavoot Boris.’
Then in perfect English. ’Have a nice day.’ With that he rose from the table held his hand to his head with finger crooked, and pantomimed pulling a trigger. The message was quite clear!
His evening shift in the kitchen went by in a daze. At the break he approached the chef again.
He came straight to the point. ‘Do you know a Russian named Boris?’ The chef waived cigarette smoke from his face. He turned and looked at him through narrow eyes. ’From Green Cokado?’ ‘Ya,’ was the answer. The chef looked at him for a long time, and then said, ’go home young man.’
That night he wrestled with the problem; who was it worse to fear, Isabella or Boris - clearly they were both capable of carrying out threats. He owed it to Isabella, but, a big but, should he inform the Amsterdam police of his fears? Maybe he should run for it, but where? It might be just as well to have an escape plan.
The next morning found him at Amsterdam Central. Trains from here run to Brussels, Paris, Cologne, and beyond. Also it’s a quick route to Scihphol Airport. It occurred to him he could travel anywhere in the EU, and now he an Identity Card he had an identity.
As he stood looking up at the departure board he realised he had very little money, maybe he would have to thumb a lift somewhere, anywhere.
A black limousine drew up at the station forecourt and two heavies got out and before he knew what was happening he was hustled out of the station without a word. As he was brought to the car, the window was wound down and a voice said, ‘going somewhere?’ He sensed he might be in trouble. Then; ‘Let’s go for a little ride!’ Now he knew he was.
Hole in his shoe 8
Chef's delivery from pain
Boris turned to him and gave him an alligator smile, ‘you and I are going to have little chat.’
'I don’t like the sound of that.' he thought, imagining the films he had seen; maybe he should have taken the chef’s advice and gone home.
There was silence in the car, nobody spoke. They pulled off the road, down an ally and into a yard opening out an unlit building.
The first blow took the wind out of him.
‘Now my friend we want to know what you are up to.’
Through his pain he realised that the Russian accent had gone.
‘It is strange, is it not, that after your little accident Gregory Rovonitch meets with an untimely death.’
He gasped for breath. ’That was nothing to do with me.’
The second blow caught him under the ribs.
‘Well Gregory is still dead.’ The alligator smile returned.
His brain moved to challenge mode, often the case with a prisoner at the start of an interrogation.
’You were given message, and did not act on it.’
‘And what message was that?
‘You should ask Rovonitch?'
They actually laughed.
‘Tough guy, eh? You think you John Wayne!
The next blow was to the back of his head. He felt his head spin, at this stage the blows whilst painful but not excruciating, that comes with finger nails being pulled out!
‘It was Isabella.’
They laughed again, looking at one another. ‘Isabella, Disabella, Umbrella, queen of the whores, she whipped cream. You do better than that.’
Through his addled brain he wondered what he had got himself into. This message, what ever it was, was not from Isabella. Jesus, was he in a gang war.
The interrogation went on.
Suddenly the doors smashed open and two men in cooks attire burst in, holding Glock automatics in their hands. One was the Chef!
There was stream of Russian invective, Boris and the two heavies stepped away from their victim.
The chef looked at him. ‘Looks like you have been having some sort of party. You should have gone home!’
Through his pain he thought how right you are!
Hole in his shoe 9
Asian Blanket Bath
He came too in a luxurious bedroom, it was fitted out as a hospital might be, he was conscious of a young woman attending to various medical items. He stared up at the ceiling; there was a mirror directly above him. He did not recognise what he saw. Who was that with swollen lips and eyes? He did not feel any pain directly, but he was conscious of something wrong. He looked down at his arm: there was a drip in it, he wondered why? The young girl turned towards him; he could see she was Asian with that typical serene beauty.
‘Ah! Welcome to Golden Pearl Pleasure Dome. I am Jasmine, I look after you,’ she said. ‘Dr Ling says you will be ok, nothing broken.’
She smiled as if she had some secret she would have loved to have shared with him. She came over to the bed, checked the drip, and leaned over him to plump up his pillows. Her breast briefly touched his cheek and he could smell the exotic aroma of the East. He felt better almost immediately.
He tried to speak but his tongue was swollen, he licked his lips, Jasmine applied a cool towel to his face and offered him a drink with a straw from a glass. It felt like the nectar of the Gods.
‘You would feel better if you had a bath, yes?’ He looked at her puzzled. ‘A blanket bath!’ She left the suggestion hanging in the air!
A blanket bath? He had no idea what that was, never having been in hospital. He certainly felt the need for something. He tried to smile in agreement. She smiled sweetly. ‘Of course. Let us begin.’
To say he was surprised was putting it mildly, one thing for sure Jasmine was not you’re regularly nurse; she turned over the sheet covering and removed it from the bed. This was done in the manner as if caring for a child. He seemed be wearing a single cotton gown which she slid off him, gently moving him from side to side, he lay naked before her. She smiled that secret smile. Taking a sponge, soaked with antiseptic type soap, she gently wiped his body from top to toe.
To say this was sensual was an understatement, the combination of her looks, her nurse's dress, and tender movement of the sponge, the feeling of warmth of her fingers on his skin brought about a unexpected arising.
Jasmine held it firmly as she wiped down between his legs. She bent down as if to kiss the tip when a voice said, ‘Ah! Mon cherie, I see you are on the road to recovery.’ It was Isabella.
She sat on a chair watching this manifestation as if she might have missed something! She sighed. ‘You have been badly treated, mistakenly, but when you have recovered I have a mission for you.’
He smiled inwardly -this recovery may take some time!
Hole in his shoe 10
Sublime Recovery
Kaleidoscopic time passed by, sometimes slow, and sometimes fast. Initially he drifted in and out of consciousness; he dreamt of a dark place, echoing Russian voices, of pain coming in waves. He would wake in a state of desolation, how was it him, there had been no reason for his torture?
The name Boris was engraved within his mind, he raged with revenge, and then it was gone. Jasmine tended him with care and devotion. And then without realising it he was aware of himself and surroundings!
Isabella came on a daily basis, always with that strange mixture of mumseyness and hardness. There was an allure he had not noticed before. God how would like to bury his head between those sumptuous breasts? Then he wondered how he had come to this, he was, after all, only a man with a hole in his shoe?
The chef came, he smiled his screwed up smile. He always spoke Russian as if he was grumbling at something. The chef had been in a Gulag and he knew all about hardship and pain; he held the patients hand as if he understood; they were now comrades.
Then one day a bevy of young girls came in, laughing and joking, being solemn as they held his hand and stroked his hair, and playfully brushed phantom crumbs from around his lower parts. It became clear what the Pleasure Dome was; a high class brothel!
They pulled him out of his bed and danced him round the room. It was pretty obvious he was getting better. Their closeness and sensual gayety aroused some unexpected pleasure, but on his advances they playfully pushed him away, wagged their fingers and said, ‘not bukshi.’
As they left the room a tall willowy girl with blond hair and dark blue eyes turned back and said, ‘this is the Pleasure Dome, you have to pay.’ And she was gone. Then one day, out of the blue, Eva turned up!
‘What have you been up to Mr Milkman? I worry about you!’
He looked at her, balancing in his mind, ’what was this about?’
‘I’ve been mistaken for someone else, I wonder why?’
‘Oh Mr. Milkman it was not my fault. You kind of got in the way.’
He was exasperated. ’I am not Mr Milkman, my name is Harry, and I am from England!’
She smiled. ’So Harry Englishman, what shall we do with you?’
Before he could stop himself he blurted out. ’Isabella has a mission for me. I work for her, she is my friend.’ She looked at him blank. ‘In which case you don’t need enemies!’ Harry pondered that at some length. He wondered if he had to would pay; he would soon find out!
Hole in his shoe 11
Snared by Prada la Femme
Harry had a day off, that is a rest from everything; life and its ‘outrageous fortune’ was getting to him. There were moments when he would have gladly returned to his ‘none’ life in England. He had come to the conclusion that adventure had its down side, and, where were the stars promised by the fortune teller; yes he had seen stars, but not the kind you would set your fortune on.
He was sitting on a bench in the Vondelpark when it started again. Life that is! He could hear music from the concert that was being played on the central bandstand. It was a Richard Touber number; ‘You are my hearts delight‘, if he had known he would have paid more attention to it. There is a line;
'You make my darkness bright, When like a star you shine on me.'
There is another line;
' When you have cast a net round me.'
She came sauntering by, long legs, high heel shoes and a skirt that opened up to her thigh as she swayed along, and then she tripped, right in front of Harry! He sprang forward, knight-errant, or what, and slipping his arms under her shoulders lifted her up with one movement.
He was immediately taken by her soft yielding body and the perfume she was wearing; Maroussia, that spoke of Cossacks.
She spoke in Russian; ‘Bal’shoye spaseeba,’ in a breathless voice.
Harry helped her, limping, to the seat he had been sitting on.
‘Pazhalooysta’ he offered.
She bent down, rubbing her ankle, looking sideways at him;
‘Vi sazhalyeneeyoo pa angleeskee?’
Harry smiled, ’Just a little,’ he said, playfully.
‘Kak vas zavoot?’ she asked, as if she might know him.
‘Harry,’ he replied.
She turned towards him, her ankle seemingly better.
‘Ah, Harry yes, I need help.’
Then in Russian; ’ Meenya zavoot Olga!’
Harry did not know it, but she would play a big part in his life.
Then in English; ‘Boris is me after!’
Harry was puzzled, he knew about Boris alright, but how did it effect this stranger, then looking down the path he saw Boris! Someone he certainly did not want to meet again.
‘In that case we must go,’ he said with some concern.
He took her hand and they fled!
Hole in his shoe 12
Life repeats itself
Harry was again sitting on a bench in the Vondelpark, He was watching a spider on a nearby bush spinning it’s web. Such diligence he thought, such application, such purpose, so frail a thing to catch a fly and yet the spiders patience was always rewarded, and, it never gave up! He pondered the fate of the fly, all bound up for later consumption. He should have heeded the warning. You’d think once bitten twice shy, but no!
She came sauntering by, long legs, high heel shoes, flowing dress that opened up to her thigh as she swayed along, and then, she tripped, right in front of Harry!
He sprang forward, knight-errant, or what, and slipping his arms under her shoulders lifted her up with one movement. He was immediately taken by her soft yielding body and the perfume she was wearing; Prada La Femme; this act was meant to impress!!
Harry lowered her on to the seat.
‘That was a close one; I hope you are not hurt!’ he said.
She looked up at him, her limpid eyes, moist as if ready to cry.
‘No, how silly of me, but my ankle is quite sore. I hope it is not strained.’ There was expectation in her voice.
Harry, by now a man with some experience of life, suggested with a casual air. ‘Maybe you would like me to take a look at it.’
He then added, somewhat mischievously. ’I do have some medical knowledge.’
She sighed, ’are well in that case.’ She offered up her leg across his lap, in doing so revealed shapely calves and thighs.
He held and moved the ankle as he had seen on TV, and stroked and massaged it more than was strictly necessary.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘only a light strain, but you should rest for a while.’
‘Yes,’ she said, laying her hand on his, ’I think I should go home and rest.’ She looked up at him, wide eyed, portraying beguiling innocence. ’Perhaps you should take me? ‘
The man about town answered with aplomb. ’Of course. I will call a taxi.’
She directed it to the Amsterdam Boutique Apartments, a block of luxury flats by the Singel canal. She rang the bell and the concierge let her in, she turned and beckoned Harry to follow. They entered the lift and were silently carried aloft to a night of passion: the fly had been caught in the finest web known to man.
The net had been cast; the fly had been trapped. Harry in the manner of all men thought he was the man - he would soon find otherwise!
Hole in his shoe 13
A well laid Trap
Harry sat outside the Caffe Happe enjoying a coffee and a croissant. The early morning sun was glittering on the canal, and all seemed at peace. The birds were singing and there were early walkers about. He was contemplating the night before, in fact the whole night.
It had been a whirlwind of a sexual encounter. The blond from the Pleasure Dome certainly new her stuff. For that was the damsel that had ensnared him. He remembered she had said; ‘this is the Pleasure Dome, you have to pay.’ He pondered that for some time; what would he have to pay for last night?
He opened up the DutchNews, a Dutch English newspaper which he had just purchased.
Police investigate racist social media
Rare bird of prey makes it nest in Amsterdam
Ajax footballer Nouri ‘suffers brain damage
Body found in the Singel canal near Amsterdam Boutique Apartments.
Early this morning a male body was found in the Singal Canal near the Amsterdam Boutique Apartment. Police suspect foul play and they say they have a suspect but refuse to comment any further. Identification reveals it was Russian national.
God, that’s were he had spent a night of bliss with Blondie! He read the news item with some trepidation; a Russian national, a suspect! His mind went back to Olga.
They had fled to Isabella’s nightclub, the only place they felt safe from Boris. Boris! What was he doing out and about? Surely the chef had fixed that! Now a body in the canal. He metaphorically felt the police hand on his collar. He folded his newspaper and made his way back to the Apartments.
Naturally, he should have known, there was no record of Blondie having an apartment there. However the concierge recognised Harry!!!
‘You Harry English?’ she asked in thick Dutch accent. ‘I have a message for you.’
She looked up at him suspiciously. ‘You presence is requested at Police Head Quarters.’
Harry stood there, struck with uncertainty as happens when you are in country you are not familiar with. Should he make a run for it, but where? And how? Olga had suggested Berlin. Hell, could he trust Olga? Hold on, are you going barmy, he thought. Rainy old England didn’t seem so bad after all.
A brown and cream police car drew up outside the Apartments.
‘You Harry English?’ He nodded. ‘You are wanted for questioning, please come with us.’
He got into the police car. The concierge watched it go with satisfied grin on her face. ‘See how you like that, English.’
Hole in His Shoe 14
Uncertain certainty
Isabella lay back against the sumptuous pillows of her bed. It was early morning and she often used this time to ‘review the situation’. She smiled as she remembered the show that the line came from. At times she felt like Fagin - as if her team was like the pickpocket boys. They needed a firm hand - in management speak - leadership!
In her world that meant exuding power in which there could be no doubt or misgiving! She wondered if she could carry on. She had formed underworld and police relationships that kept the show on the road - but, there was always a but.
She looked up at the mirror above her bed, put there in a moment of self delusion; there was no delusion now. What she saw did not comfort her. She needed loving - there, she had reviewed the situation alright, but was it to late?
There was a soft knock on the door and her maid came in. None other than Jasmine from the Pleasure Dome.
‘There is a telephone call for you madam.’
Isabella came slowly from her condelutions.
‘Who can it be, so early?’ she asked.
Jasmine hesitated. ’It is the police madam.’
Isabella looked puzzled. ’Police?’
‘Yes madam,’ hesitating again as if she did not want to be a part of it. ‘Captain Vandeloute.’
Isabella picked up the gold phone next to her bed, and with scrutinising look at her maid said, ’Well good morning Captain, what can I do for you on this lovely morning?’
There was a hint of invitation in her voice - they were old friends.
‘You have not read the papers this morning - perhaps?’
Before she could answer he continued in a police voice.
‘A body was found in Sengil canal yesterday.’ he waited.
She was wise enough not to take that up.
‘It was someone you know?’
Her heart skipped a beat - not English don’t let it be English!
‘Someone you have had dealings with - a Russian named Boris.’
She pretended it was off no account. ’Yes, yes, and?’ she said.
‘We have your protégé in the station to answer a few questions - Harry the English.’
Isabella put her hand to her ample breast. God! What has he been up to?
‘We would like you to come down to answer a few questions!’
This was unprecedented, Isabella felt someone walk over her grave!
Hole in his Shoe 15
The games Afoot
The Dutch are thought of as blunt, because they don‘t say please, So it’s easy to be affronted by their directness. They are in fact friendly, tolerant, and self sufficient. Their police are also direct, but friendly. But don’t let that fool you; they have plenty of experience policing the port of Amsterdam, connected to the river Rhine, as it is, giving access to Russian mafia from as far away as the Black Sea.
Captain Vandeloute welcomed Harry with a smile, even a handshake!
‘Well Harry, you seem to have got yourself in a spot of trouble.’ He said, by way of welcome.
Harry remained silent.
‘You know,’ the Captain went on. ’You should be careful who you pick up.’
Harry remained silent.
‘You know who we fished out of the canal yesterday?’
Harry remained silent.
‘An old associate of yours -name of Boris.’
Harry’s face tightened.
‘A friendly man, I understand,’ said the Captain with a wry smile. ‘Now he’s been found doing underwater fishing!’
The Captain waited. Then more officially.
‘What were you doing at the Boutique Apartments?’
Harry felt his legs tremble - he knew where this was going.
He hesitated. ‘I was with a lady friend.’
‘Name?’ demanded the Captain.
‘Blondie,’ he offered.
‘And?’ returned the Captain.
‘From the Pleasure Dome’ he replied, rather shamefacedly.
‘Ah,’ responded the Captain, as if he knew. ‘The problem is there is no record of Blondie, ‘from the Pleasure Dome’, ever being at the Boutique Apartments.’
Harry, who by now was wising up, as the Americans say, said, ‘I’m not surprised. It was a set up. But why?’
‘To get you firmly under their control.’ said a new voice.’
Isabella had entered the room.
‘Captain Vandeloute, is this really necessary? We all know Boris, is, was, a bad lot.’
Before she could go on Captain Vandelout interspersed. ‘Harry certainly knows that; maybe he has had his revenge, and perhaps you could explain that'
Isabella felt the ground move. Here was, ‘certain uncertainty.’
Hole in Harry's Shoe 17
Loves old sweet song
The random intricacies of life sometimes come together to provide a harmonious outcome, but sadly their randomness cannot be preordained. They were about to start a seismic shift in the life of one, if not all of the participants of this little saga. Isabella invited Harry into her boudoir, well not directly; there are certain proprieties to be followed even in a criminal organisation.
Isabella lived in an old town house opposite the BABANEN BAR. Heavy double doors guarded the entrance. Inside was a small but opulently apportioned courtyard, opening onto gabled veranda surroundings. There was a landing stage at the rear, by the Vandorgan canal, that afforded a discrete entrance and exit. Domestic quarters and the kitchen were on the ground floor On the next floor were business offices. Above that was a suite of old world luxury apartments where Isabella entertained her guests.
The misjudgement she made was that Harry was now a changed man. When he arrived he was naive stripling, now, well now, he was becoming a shrewd operator; his danger was he was playing both ends against the middle. His run in with the police had run its course. His reputation was based on toughness and knowingness. Hell, he even had a girl friend, one Blondie Van Der Dome, (an occupation appellation!). This required him to be constant visitor to the Pleasure Dome!
A metaphorical bridge had been formed between Captain Vadeloute and Eva, who it turned out was a special agent for VDF - anti terrorist department.
The chef was moved to the Isabella Castillo, as it was called, and became Harry’s defacto bodyguard.
One evening Harry was invited to the holy of holies, Isabella’s boudoir. She wore a flowing dress that hid and at the same time showed her plumptious sexuality. They drank wine together. Low defused lighting lead to a softening of the scene, where hands could lay sensually on the erotic outlines of a body. The dress slipped off. Harry caressed the sumptuous figure, and as the lights went down he slipped into that joyful mental state where man takes his mate! It was a physically rendering union. Harry was now in command. She surrendered herself to the realms of Aphrodiety. A union of dubious value had been made!.
Jasmine watched this risible performance from a side door. The little yellow god glowed and she fingered a long ornate dagger hidden in the side of her sari!
Hole in his shoe 18
What’s this to do with drugs
As reported by the OCD the opium trade out of Afghanistan is worth 25 billion dollars. Just so you know this is 100 times more than farmers get in Afghanistan. Routes from Afghanistan ending at the North Sea are varied, through Asian and Balkan countries. But most end up in Amsterdam, by land and river, in particular the Rhine.
Isabella knew this, and was aware of the profitability, but since she was at the user end in the tolerant Amsterdam, she was on easy money without too much effort. But there was an agent provocateur pressing for more of this lucrative trade, and she had the ear of Harry. Olga, no less.
Olga Petretov, daughter of Count Petrotov, was of Slavic extraction and had grown up in Belgrade.
They were lying together in Olga’s hideaway, a houseboat on the Singel canal.
The leg of her naked body lay between Harry’s, equally naked body. She nuzzled his ear.
‘Harry we must get away from here.’
Harry fondled her breast, he knew the game.
‘And where would that be my love.’
‘To my ancestral home.’
‘You have ancestors?,’ chided Harry.
She brought her knee dangerously up to his groin.
He smiled. ‘Careful my love, you may miss your sweet.’
‘Pha, I raise you up, anytime.’
Harry hummed the popular melody that contained that line.
‘I think you be lucky,’ he said, as if a challenge.
‘Ha! We see.’ She unravelled herself and rolled out of bed, and, stood in an exotic pose. ‘All girls are beautiful in Belgrade.’
He sighed. ’So Belgrade is it?’
‘Harry, they make beautiful carpets there, Pirot Kilim. They used as tapestry.’ She looked at him with a sly smile. ’Isabella would love one, You can pleasure get looking at when she ride you. Ha! Like hippopotamus!’
At this part of the game he leaps out of bed, he smacks her beautiful rounded body and wrestles her to the floor.
She turned and looked at him and squealed with mock terror.
‘Hippo, hippo hippo,’ she taunted him.
He fell down on her and drew squeals of a different nature!
He stood looking out of the window at a passing barge. On the side it said Lasta Beograd. He looked down at Olga. ‘What is Lasta Beograd?
She jumped up. ’Oh Harry I know this - We go to Belgrade. Yes.’
Hole in his shoe 19
Getting to the Church on time
Harry sat on the deck of the houseboat and he heard singing. It sounded like a choir. He realised it was coming from a church on the opposite bank. He crossed over the canal and entered. It was obviously choir practice. He sat down and listened; to his surprise he heard the phrase used by Olga.
And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His Hand.
He sat as if spellbound. There seemed to be an echo of the Spanish fortune teller’s prediction, that his fortune would be guided by the stars. Well, he thought, ‘I’ve seen some stars but not the sort that brings good fortune‘. Then two things happened at the same time, well sequentially. He focused his eyes on the choir, all female, and at the back there was a figure he recognised. Could it be…………… there was a tap on his shoulder.
‘Taken up religion Harry?’
He recognised the voice, and the perfume. He turned. It was Eva!
She sat down beside him.
‘Funny place to find you,’ she observed.
He played for time, how did she know he’d be here?
‘Ah, ah,’ he responded.
‘Nice choir,’ she said, as in appraisal, then, ’I’m told Isabella is a big supporter.’
He realised who he had seen at the back. He looked up, searching for her familiar figure, but she had gone.
‘How’s Olga, I haven’t seen her for some time. Does she live near here?’
Pretending to fish he thought; she knows where she lives; have they been spying on me?
‘She a friend of yours, you know, after what happened to Boris?’
That made him stop; Boris was no friend of Olga’s, or, just, maybe? Was he being played for a sucker?
That both sat for a moment, as if in communal thought.
She turned to go. ‘I hear you are going to Belgrade’
And then. ‘Take care.’
He sat for a long time digesting what he had heard. He walked out of the church and what should be waiting there; a familiar black limousine.
The window wound down. ’Want a lift home Harry?’ It was Isabella! This all I need, he thought!
Hole in his shoe 20
The cost of escape
The little yellow God had struck, driving, metaphorically speaking, a dagger through Harry’s heart. Rivalled love had its way!
The meeting was brief. Isabella Conchita Dolores Castilla, was if of stone, with diamond eyes. One of her henchmen was standing by.
‘You leave Amsterdam immediately, and never return.’
That statement lay coldly in the air affording no response. Harry had been physically tortured - this, at one stroke, was worse! Harry did not remonstrate; he affected the humorous response of a James Bond.
‘It’s been nice while it lasted.’ And with a wry smile touched his forehead, and left. He had a plan!
Jasmine standing in an alcove smiled that ‘no smile’ Asians are famous for.
A close observer may have seen a tear in Isabella’s eye!
*
Harry was working in the kitchens again, but this time on a passenger river cruiser, going from Amsterdam to Belgrade. The idea had come to him on Olga’s houseboat when that barge went by. He signed on immediately, ready to go. He knew which way the wind was blowing after being accosted by Eva in the church. But what of Olga? He thought he had left her in the shade, but a bad penny has a funny way of turning up.
The Rhone Star would take fourteen days to reach Budapest, stopping at the following towns - Cologne - Rudesheim - Wittenberg - Wartburg - Bamberg - Nuremberg - Regensburg - Passau - Durnstein - Vienna, - Bratislava - Slovakia - Budapest -
‘Plenty places to get some adventure,' Harry thought!
On his first day of duty who should he find in charge; none other than the chef!
The chef screwed his eyes, and with that mirthless twisted mouth said, ‘surprise, ah! what you do here? You cook, sudden?’
Harry smiled wryly to himself, someone had been spilling the beans; chance; not likely! He would not have been surprised to find Olga was a waitress. If he only knew! And Eva? More the merrier he thought. God! Isabella might be on board?
He said goodbye to Blonde Van de Dome. She was upset.
‘Not buckshee, you pay,’ and presented him with a $1000 bill.
Ah, well, the piper must be paid, he thought!
Hole in his shoe 21
Who’s a father then
A voyage down the Rhine is a stately affair, travelling at about 12 knots, it is designed to create a symbriatic air as the landscape glides past. You are expected to admire and exclaim at the wonderful countryside. The staff is caring and helping in all things.
To prevent boredom becoming to prevalent stops are made along the way to view the edifices, mainly churches and the like; a long way from the red light area of Amsterdam!
There is no telling who the passengers might be except they are usually old. Americans - English - German - occasionally from far away, but rarely the Dutch. They have long memories about Germany!
Harry English was not thrilled by this, although he had not expected a floating brothel (he filed that idea away for future reference), he thought there might be some fun and games.
Life in the galley, for that is what the kitchen is called on a boat, was busy but not hard work. 200 passengers - set menu for each day; preparation easy - even the chef smiled - occasionally!
Cologne. The boat moored up against the Rheingarten Embankment, handy for a visit to the Cologne Cathedral, if that’s what takes your fancy; Harry wanted the red light area, naturally. The chef knew; the Hornstrasse, very appropriate!
Harry took a taxi; the driver did not need much instruction. Since it was day it did not have the false glamour as the night lights. He was about to enter the’ Heise Heise’ club when who should he see; Olga! Of course! He sheltered in the entrance and watched her. She entered what looked like an office block. Harry sauntered over and read the plaque; BPAS Abtreibung!
A Russian accented voice said ‘That’s an abortion clinic.’ He turned. It was the chef!
Harry was lost for words; thoughts tumbled in his mind; what, when, me, no, who, you did ride bareback, shit.!!?? 'Jesus!'
‘I think you more Jesus than need!’ continued the chef.
‘You make run - you no Nana.’
He used the Russian for daddy.
Run, Harry thought, where to; also his legs had turned to jelly!
At that moment Olga came out.
They tried comically to hide their faces.
Olga laughed. ‘What are you boys doing here.’ She asked quizzically.
‘We on the boat.’ They answered without thinking.
‘More in the boat!’ She laughed, looking at Harry. And then walked away with a ‘Toodledoo.’
Hole in his shoe 22
Waiting discovered
Harry returned to the boat in sombre mood. As he mounted the gangplank he was told to report to the purser. ‘What now,’ he thought?
‘I am in difficulty,’ she said.
‘Not the only one,’ thought Harry
‘I am short of staff, one to be exact,’ she corrected.
She moved her head to one side and brushed back a stray lock of hair. She seemed to ponder something as if assessing him.
‘I wonder,’ she hesitated. She smoothed her skirt down, ‘if you might help out.’
He answered devilishly. ‘Madam, I am yours to command.’
She looked up at him. ’I am only looking for a waiter.’
He could not resist. ‘That is exactly what I waited for.’
He had overplayed his hand.
‘In that case report to the hotel manager, let us hope he finds what he is waiting for!’ She said, some what icily.
So Harry became a waiter. After a time he came to relish it. He saw great opportunities if he played his cards right!
A middle aged American lady, who was, and indeed still was a beauty, asked him in the conversational way of Americans.
‘Everybody’s very efficient, I do appreciate it. How long have you been on this boat?’
‘Some time, madam,’ he answered evasively.
‘Please, call me Ethel.’ She looked at his name badge, ’Harry?’
‘Yes mam.’ He overplayed his hand. ’Harry English, at your disposal’
She looked up at him quizzically.
‘Well. Harry English, where do you come from?’
‘Amsterdam.’
‘Amsterdam,’ she said thoughtfully. ’I have a friend in Amsterdam, more a business colleague.’
Harry almost sensed what was coming.
‘Name of Isabell Castella. Perhaps you know her?’
He hesitated a moment too long. ‘No Madam, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.’
‘Well she did talk a lot about a Harry English, I think she had a thing for him, Are you that Harry?’
He smiled in that maybe, maybe not way.
’What would you like for sweet madam?’
‘Whatever Isabella liked!’
‘Well, well, well, I know what she liked,’ he thought - ‘I wonder?’
Hole in his shoe 23
Planned seduction
It was early morn - the ship was moving smoothly along towards Vienna. His shift was due to start at 7 o’clock (for early birds), and he was lying in his bunk cogitating on the odd events of the voyage. He kind of ticked them off on his fingers.
The purser said, one crew was missing - Olga came to mind; odd that she should be in Cologne?
How come the chef is on board, and always at his elbow. Planted to keep a check on Harry?
And now Ethel - how likley that an American knew Isabella?
It only needed Blonde Van de Dome to turn up to complete the hat trick!
On balance the improbable became the probable.
The question was; what was the purpose of all this?
Clearly he had been pointed towards Belgrade - Olga set the seed, and Isabella had talked about a mission. He then realised that the situation in Amsterdam had simply been transferred to the Rhine Star!
What would James Bond do; why, just go along with it and let Ethel think she had seduced him; he would certainly go along with that!
So he set about letting Ethel ensnare him; There are two ways; be directly clever and then admit to some confession, or play the dependency card; I need your advice!
He arranged to meet her off ship at the Die Rosencaffe that he claimed he knew. It ws the café of the Die Rose Hotel; very convenient!
‘How are you enjoying the cruise. Beautiful scenery, yes?’
‘Yes, it is near perfect, everybody friendly, but I am alone.’
‘God,’ he thought, ’it can’t be this easy.’
‘Ethel, if I may call you that, you are too, how shall I say, too outgoing to be alone.’
‘Ah, Harry, it is difficult when you have to start again, as if from scratch!’
She looked at him in an appealing way, and layed a hand on his.
‘I know,’ he said ’I have had a great loss myself, a lost love you know,’ he laid on the smaltz. ’It broke my heart, but you learn to live with it.’
‘Harry we are kindred hearts, if only we could be together?’
He gazed heavenward. He swung his hand towards the hotel sign and breathed sadly. ’If only!’
‘The ship does not leave until 8 o’clock, there is plenty of time.’
And so a pact was sealed between seducer and seduced. They both found they had something to offer and afirm. It could be called love!
Isabella was much aggrieved when she read the report!
Hole in his shoe 24
Early departure
Birds were singing, early sun illuminated the room through the slatted blinds, a church clock rang out the hour; it stopped at 8 bells. Harry woke up with a start; where was he, not on ship, he was in a soft double bed. He turned to find he was alone. She was gone. And then he realised, so had the ship!
He lay back trying to take it all in; it was, after all, something of a problem, what now? Well, what is, is, he thought. He got up, dressed ready to go down for breakfast at least, when he looked on the bedside table and saw a note; ‘sorry, had to go‘, and 100 Euros - marvellous!
Over breakfast he thought about the note, it looked as if Ethel had been instructed to go. He considered it further; one conclusion was that someone did not want him to reach Budapest. He wondered why, but there was one thing for certain; 100 Euros would never get him there.
A plain pretty young girl was serving breakfast.
‘Excuse me,’ he asked; ’have you seen my wife?’
The young girl looked him puzzled.
‘A tall blond lady, about forty years old.’
‘Bitte, Ich sparache keine English’
Marvellous, he thought, now what?
‘Ich wille mit meine fater sprachen.’
An old man came over. ‘Can I help you sir?’
‘Yes, have you seen my wife.’
‘Is she missing, shall I call the police?’ He offered.
An odd thing to say thought Harry - he was immediately suspicious. He had better watch his step here.
‘No, she’s just gone out early, I think.’
The old man looked at him oddly.
‘A lady left very early, was she your wife?
‘Did she check out?’
‘No, she was sitting in the reception when two men came in and took her out to a black limousine.’
Harry felt a sudden sense of danger - Not Ethel, please!
‘Did they say anything?’
‘Yes, they addressed her as ‘commander’
This gets worse by the minute Harry thought.
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes, she left this,’ He handed Harry an envelope.
He opened it. A train ticket to Budapest, no less! He began to suspect that Eva had a hand in this!
Holein his shoe 26
A deserved knockout
The Vienna Main Station is a super modern futuristic building; it is an international hub for railways in Austria. From here you can get anywhere. It takes 2hr 30minutes to get from Vienna to Budapest. There are 7 daily departures, and no matter which Harry took he would be there before the Rhine Rose.
Harry had plenty time for a bit of sightseeing. He chose the Prater amusement park, home of the Ferris wheel made famous by The Third Man, a favourite film of his. He stood below the Riesenrad watching the gondolas making their stately rise and fall as the wheel turned.
It was 10 Euro for the round trip, easily afforded, so he indulged himself as imagining Harry Lime on board. It crossed his mind that there were similarities between what was happening to him and Harry Lime. A romantic thought soon to be shattered. Looking from the high point the thought he saw a familiar figure; could that be Eva?
*
He sat in the railway station waiting for his train. He was somewhat bemused that he had a first class ticket - welcome but suspicious. Above him was a huge TV screen giving rolling news. It was the usual stuff; sport and political intrigue - boring because he did not understand the language - he understood the next bit! The Rhine Rose, clearly disabled; then a voice he recognised translated in his ear.
‘As the Rhine Star was leaving Vienna late last night there was an explosion in the galley. A fire quickly spread through the boat. All the passengers were evacuated safely, but is reported several of the crew were severely injured, with one fatality.’
He turned, there was Eva, dressed in business suit, perched on case right next to him.
‘A terrible tragedy Harry. Lucky you weren’t on it.’
Harry was very angry, preset by thought of who was dead, and somehow it smelt of deliberate sabotage. ‘You bastard, you knew about this and let it happen.’
‘Harry, calm yourself; you were saved.’
For the first time in his life he hit a woman. He knocked Eva out cold.
‘Halten Sie .’ A Policeman stood not three meters from him with his pistol drawn.
He was charged with assault, and had to appear before the magistrates in the morning. He spent a miserable night in the cell. He felt his chances of getting to Budapest was getting less likely every minute. Who would save him this time?
At his hearing Ethel appeared. The ‘commander’ paid the fine!
‘How about that!’ he thought, ’out of jail with free card!’
Hoe in his shoe 27
Take me home baby
Harry took a taxis back to the station. Who would be waiting there to accompany him to Belgrade? Accompany was the wrong word; to keep a watch, or deception, was more likely.
The afternoon train left at 14.15hr, time for him to get a bite to eat with his fast disappearing 100 euros. Something had to happen otherwise he would be destitute on arriving in Belgrade.
He was eating a Verna Snitzel when he saw two men in long macs’ standing by the departure gate speaking conspiratorially to a Ethel! James Bond would have recognised them instantly; CIA!
Harry was immediately suspicious, what where their intentions? Harry sat as inconspicuously as he could, eating his snack. He did not want to draw their attention, he looked round, he desperately needed an escape plan. Who should he see but Eva?
She didn’t look at all well, a dark bruise on her jaw line and a black eye! He didn’t hold out much hope for help there.
‘Oh, hello.’ A lady sat down beside him. He turned round; it was the purser lady from the Rhine Rose!
‘You waiting for a train?’ she asked, as if surprised that he should be there. Harry nodded.
‘You going back to Amsterdam?’ she queried.
He hesitated, he was cautious about giving anything away. ‘Maybe.’
She smiled, as if at a child, ‘Then you are on the wrong platform.’ ‘
I am going home to Budapest.’ she added, matter-of-factly.
Harry saw his chance. ‘Well, I don’t have to go back to Amsterdam! I have had Belgrade recommended as an interesting place to visit.’
Then he added, ‘I would have been there if the Rhine Rose had not blown up.’ He saw her shudder, ‘I should haven’t have said that!’
She held his arm in vice like grip.
‘I am scared that something else will happen!’
He gently pulled her hand away, and with a cavalier gesture pointed up to the departure board, ’we will go to Budapest together.'
’
‘Yes,’ she breathed, ’I would like that,’ then looking up appealingly into his eyes, ’I would like that very much!
Eva, watching from some distance applauded such a performance. Harry was hooked again!
Hole in his shoe 28
Awakening
Reka, the purser, and Harry, made their way to the platform where the train was waiting. To avoid the suspicious men waiting at the gate Reka approached them directly, and simply stumbled, and to prevent falling, she clung onto their arms. Harry brazenly stepped forward, and bowed down to lift her up, said.
‘Come we must hurry, or we will miss the train.’
And with heads held low they moved onto the platform and stepped into the nearest carriage.They found their seats. Reka had been given a first class ticked to get her home as compensation for the tragedy she had witnessed, and so they sat together in some luxury.
Reka laid her head on Harry’s shoulder and immediately fell asleep. As the train sped along at its 250 km/hr Harry revued the situation. The plot without a plot had thickened. His brain was now in turmoil, he had no reference to work from. In Amsterdam there was Isabella, but in Budapest there was no one.
The chef was a goner, Eva was non combat, the American was an unknown quantity, but clearly a player, the two ‘CIA’ were certainly a concern, God, it only left Olga - pregnant or not, but she might have fingered him in the explosion. He lay back with beginning of a headache!
Rika’s head had slipped lower and lower, and she was now laying head down in his lap. He kind of came to from is reverie with her head bearing down on his member, almost involuntary his left hand lay across her bottom. Maybe something was going on here! And so they arrived at Belgrade in unresolved bliss; did this preclude something for the future?
Budapest
Harry was in for a shock, he came from Hull in the North East of England, not noted for it’s culture, although there was some criminality that gave it some spice; but Budapest, wow, a huge metropolitan city, one of the biggest in Europe, bounding in culture and architectural buildings! But what about night life?
It is packed out with bars and nightclubs, some 32 are described as the best in town. Harry did not know this but he was to be inducted into that nightlife.
Naturally, Isabella had some connections in this world. It was, maybe, the start of his mission! Oh, Isabella is Hungarian girls name
Hole in his shoe 29
Welcome to Budapest
They stepped of the train and started to make their way to the exit. Rika suddenly stopped , and laying a hand on Harry’s arm said,
‘Be careful what you say. Whatever they ask keep it simple’
Harry looked down at her, puzzled?
She nodded in the direction of the exit gate.
‘They are anti-terrorist officers; they will want to interrogate us.’
What on earth for, he thought, and then the penny dropped.
‘Ah, the boat!’
‘Yes, ‘she said, impatiently. ’Hold my arm and act naturally.’
At the gate a tall saturnine officer stopped them and asked.
’You Rika Kovak?'
She nodded.
‘Identification’
She showed him her identity card.
He checked it and then gave her quizzical look.
‘OK, you need to come to headquarters, to answer a few questions.’
Rika did not query this!
‘And you?’ he queried turning towards Harry. ‘Who are you?’
‘I was accompanying this lady to Budapest; we were on the same train.’
The security officer smiled, as if to say, good try.
‘Name?’
Harry saw the difficulty this could cause. He was known as Harry English, but his real name was Harry Parker! He chose Harry English.
The officer looked knowingly at him.
‘You English?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry.
‘Reason for visit?’
‘Pleasure.’
The officer was tight lipped. ‘You have come to right place. Have a good time,’ he added with some irony.
Rika looked at Harry in some surprise.
He winked back at her. ‘See you in the…’ he stopped. It seemed best not say.
As he turned away, astonished at his luck, Ethel, the lady he had had a dalliance with, apeared as if by magic.
‘Harry, nice to see you again, come this way.’
She strolled with him off the station, and there waiting was the familiar black limousine. The window was wound down and a voice said, ’welcome to Budapest, Harry’. Isabella’s smiling face beamed up at him!
The hole in his shoe got bigger, and they nipped hard this time!
Hole in his shoe 31
Harry Makes a Stand
Well, well, thought Harry, there you have it, I’ve got my orders! Increasingly he could see the parallel with James Bond. Isabella was playing M, and I am just sent out on dodgy missions to save the country/world.
God save the………..,wait a minute which country was he working for? Its time for a change! Well sod’em, I am no longer Harry English, I am Harry Parker, and they had better watch out!
He then came down to earth and went to look at the Cocked Hat, run, would you believe, by an Australian, name of Chuck Travers!
‘Welcome aboard mate.’
Harry sighed, the only Australians he knew played the didgeredoo, and sang - ‘Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport’ - a ‘wanker’ by all accounts.
‘Her highness has ordered me to come aboard, and here I am,’
‘Well cobber the only job I’ve got is in the kitchen.’
‘That’s a shame, cobber. I’m here to sort your mess out. I’ll have a look at the books first.’
Harry Parker was showing his new persona.
‘Well mate, you’re out of luck, cus I’m the only one that sees em, mate!’
‘You’ll be the last one to see them if you don’t get a move on,’ threatened Harry.
‘You’ve got me trembling, cobber!’
‘Harry.’ A new voice which he recognised, ‘you got trouble?’
It was the Ethel with her two cohorts.
‘No.’ He thought quick. ‘Just an undesirable from down under.’
‘Harry, we got news for you. You can forget this guy.’
‘Well,’ Harry said ‘I’ve got news for you.’
The American looked at him archly. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m staying right here.’
‘But Harry there’s a new the task Isabella wants you to do.’
‘I know what she wants, but I don’t see it that way. She tried to blow me up.’ ‘But I saved you, surely you remember.’
Harry looked at her long and hard.
‘I’ve wondered about that.’ He went on. ’My good friend the Chef wasn‘t saved, why was I?’
‘You’re precious to us, Harry.’
‘You mean ‘M’, ‘Harry said, with a straight face.
She looked at him puzzled then laughed.
‘Like James Bond?’
She leaned forward and kissed him, ‘Well 007, we shall see!’
Chuck watched in astonishment. ‘You better look at the books then.’
And so it was that Harry was soon running the Cocked Hat!
Hole in his shoe 30
Another Mission?
Isabella, as behoves her status, had acquired a fashionable five bedroom apartment, sumptuously furnished, and in addition, a kitchen staffed by a chef from the Ukraine. She had a live-in maid, and a personal bodyguard - a ‘heavy’ from Amsterdam.
Isabella sat at one end of a polished dining table set for six, Harry was sitting on her right.
‘Harry,‘ she said ’you seem to have had an eventful journey getting to Budapest!’
She continued, ‘You’d upset one of the girls from the Pleasure Dome. I had to pay her off. ‘
Then she added, ‘You have been dallying with Olga.’
She looked at him closely, ‘Pregnant, I hear?’
Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
‘Then, you attack an officer of the Terrorelharitasi Kozpont.’
Harry, with surprise, went, ’Who?’
‘Why Eva, a darling girl; my, you are a hard man!’
Harry muttered, ’She deserved it.’
‘Maybe, but Harry!’
‘Then you blow up the Rhine Rose.’
She actually smiled.
He played the James Bond, and spread his hands out as if to say well, that’s what happens.
‘But, Harry, you were clever, you was not on board!’
He shrugged. He was beginning to enjoy this.
‘Not so funny. Look what happened to the Chef!’ She pointed out.
He said nothing.
‘Also a night of l’amour, I hear, an American, no less. Can you explain her?’
‘You know the American?’ he thought, ‘what’s your game?’
‘Then, who was that lady with you on the train from Vienna. My contacts tells me she is maybe secret service.’
He countered, ‘Rubbish, she was the boats purser!’
‘Odd, then, that she was taken away by the Terrorelharitasi?’
Harry said nothing..
Isabella, more sharply, said, ‘To business then.’
‘Whilst we decide on your next mission you can go and sort out a problem I have at the Cocked Hat bar. Now go, and don’t get into trouble!’
Harry looked round the table with an inquisitive look. She waved her hand round the table ‘For my business associates.’ Harry left with a sense of foreboding!
Hole in his shoe 31
Harry Makes a Stand
Well, well, thought Harry, there you have it, I’ve got my orders! Increasingly he could see the parallel with James Bond. Isabella was playing M, and I am just sent out on dodgy missions to save the country/world. God save the………..,wait a minute which country was he working for? Its time for a change! Well sod’em, I am no longer Harry English, I am Harry Parker, and they had better watch out!
He then came down to earth and went to look at the Cocked Hat, run, would you believe, by an Australian, name of Chuck Travers!
‘Welcome aboard mate.’
Harry sighed, the only Australians he knew played the didgeredoo, and sang - ‘Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport’ - a ‘wanker’ by all accounts.
‘Her highness has ordered me to come aboard, and here I am.’
‘Well cobber the only job I’ve got is in the kitchen.’
‘That’s a shame, cobber. I’m here to sort your mess out. I’ll have a look at the books first.’
Harry Parker was showing his new persona.
‘Well mate, you’re out of luck, cus I’m the only one that sees em, mate!’
‘You’ll be the last one to see them if you don’t get a move on,’ threatened Harry.
‘You’ve got me trembling, cobber!’
‘Harry.’ A new voice which he recognised, ‘you got trouble?’ It was the Ethel with her two cohorts.
‘No.’ He thought quick. ‘Just an undesirable from down under.’
‘Harry, we got news for you. You can forget this guy.’
‘Well,’ Harry said ‘I’ve got news for you.’
The American looked at him archly.
‘Yes, I’m staying right here!’
‘But Harry there’s a new the task Isabella wants you to do.’
‘I know what she wants, but I don’t see it that way. She tried to blow me up.’ ‘But I saved you, surely you remember.’
Harry looked at her long and hard. ‘I’ve wondered about that.’
He went on. ’My good friend the Chef wasn‘t saved, why was I?’
‘You’re precious to us, Harry.’
‘You mean ‘M’, ‘Harry said, with a straight face.
She looked at him puzzled then laughed. ‘Like James Bond?’
She leaned forward and kissed him, ‘Well 007, we shall see!’
Chuck watched in astonishment. ‘You better look at the books then.’
And so it was that Harry was soon running the Cocked Hat!
Hole in his shoe 32
A New Partner
Harry’s book keeping skills were zero, but he recognised a rip off when he saw one. The formula is basically simple -stock purchased - stock moved - income - operating costs - money left over. Easy, but hard to sort out - invoices - pay slips - receipts - very brain aching.
Well for a start there weren’t any books worth talking about. The solution? He thought of his interrogation. Well let’s try that! He invited Chuck into the stock room; with the aid of a hammer all was revealed - it was worse/more dangerous than Harry thought. Hungarian mafia-no less! He needed help -where was Olga?
Olga’s presumed visit to an abortion centre was misleading; it was the clandestine offices of the Hungarian secret service. Her being the daughter of a Hungarian count was far removed from the truth, but she had Hungarian blood in here veins, and had grown up in Budapest! Harry’s contact with Reka had not gone unnoticed by the Secret Service.
They had put a tag on Harry, which had led them to Isabella and then to the Cock Hat, in which they had an interest. Olga was despatched immediately. Chuck was serving at the bar when she arrived. It was with some difficulty with one hand heavily bandaged.
‘You had an accident?’ she observed.
‘You could say that’ he growled.
‘Well you have to be careful with that, easy get the till wrong.’
He flared up. ’I don’t get till wrong!’
‘Not any more he doesn’t.’
Olga turned. ‘Harry, how nice to see you, you should not have left as you did.’ Harry smiled, then.
‘It seemed I took your place on the Rhine Rose. You know, got me out the kitchen! Kind’a saved my life.’
He thought it better not to mention his night of Lamoure! He played it careful. ’What brings you here?’
‘Just passing,’ she said, ‘fancied a drink.’
Then. ‘See you are looking after your staff well!’
‘This’s Chuck; he had an accident in the store room!’
‘Well we must be more careful, we don’t want anymore,’ and then looking at Harry meaningfully, ‘do we?’
Harry noted the ‘we’, and knew he had a new partner. He breathed a silent thanks for that!
Hole in his Shoe 33
Investigations begin
The Austrian authorities do not take kindly to a river boat blowing up in their territory, especially on the Rhine by the landing stage in Vienna. Commander Gustav Brunzter was in charge of the investigation, a man in his fifties, well used to controlling teams looking into disasters of this kind. He was well aware of the political and media issues that could, nay, would, arise from this, and made suitable preparations.
He stationed his headquarters in the Opera house close by the river. He ordered telephone connections to made to all the Police and Antiterrorist sections in Austria and throughout Europe, including Interpol. He also included the British Special Branch, and the CIA! He was prepared for any fall out.
He commandeered the top floor of the Marriott Hotel nearby, where he resided along with other senior officers. He new the value of a close team that he could keep an eye on, also what is known as, covering your back!
The Rhine Rose was a sorry sight as it lay in the dry dock up river, Engineers examined the structural and operating machinery. Fire officers investigated the debris for signs of a fire starting the explosion. Since there was a fatality explosive teams checked for anything suspicious. The question at the heart of the investigation was; accidental or explosive devise; then the how, more importantly, why?
Commander Brunzter took personal interest in the crew and passenger list. He knew this was where the answer might lay. Immediately several names came under suspicion.
Chef; unidentified ? -fatality
Olga Petrotov; Waitress
Rika Kovak; Purser
Harry England; waiter
An American lady and two men; Passengers.
Telephone calls were made, and there were immediate connections; three of them were known to the Dutch police. One was Hungarian. The American lady and two men were marked as possible CIA.
And then there was the unknown; Harry England! Oddly, he did not come up anywhere, other than he was more than likely English. No passports had been issued under such a name. An immediate search was put out for him. Harry did not know this, accidentally he had left no tracks! But that did not fix the hole in his shoe!
Hole in his Shoe 34
Profit into Loss
The Cocked Hat began to turn a nice little profit. Olga, had, what are called connections, that improved turnover! Basically the Cocked Hat was an outlet for Mafia controlled goods. In their world imports and exports! In this world an accommodation is the solution. Olga arranged that accommodation!
Harry was swinging along nicely, on the crest of a wave, as the song has it. He had a clandestine bank account! In essence its simple; an obscure bank, say in Malta, that immediately moves funds ‘off shore’; to say Martinique, which then funds an import/export business, whose profits are paid into a Swiss bank account.!
In this world its just data flow - the money does not become real until it purchases something - say a yacht, or a Lamborghini; but there was a cloud on the horizon!
The investigation into the Rhine Rose! Commander Brunzt, aware of the political implications, produced a 200 page report that concluded that it was the unfortunate outcome of a faulty pipe connected to a propane gas cylinder.
Everyone was happy, (well, perhaps not the insurance company!) but the Commander knew different and undercover investigations continued!
Days ran into weeks. With Olga’s influence everything ran smoothly. A simple bar was now running as a shipping business. It seemed that they could ship anything anywhere. The net was being spread. Names started to appear. In the world of espionage that means important people who are not what they seem! It could not last as events proved!
The Cocked Hat was surrounded by the police; gun fire had been reported and Chuck (the Australian) was found tied and tortured. The commissioner of police and several high powered politicians had been arrested.
At 2 o’clock in the morning the door to Harry’s flat was unceremoniously smashed open, the American and two guys pulled Harry out of bed, and in his pyjamas, was hustled in to the now familiar black limousine. Olga had disappeared!
The limousine raced through the streets towards the quay for the cruise liners. There, they deposited him, unceremoniously on board the Rhine Edelweiss, whom the purser was (would you believe it) Rika Kovac. Harry was safely out of the way!
Isabella was not happy at this turn of events; but resourceful as always she simply changed the action to achieve her goal! The apartment was closed; the staff dismissed, and she was on a flight to Amsterdam; first class, of course! Harry’s mission would continue!
Hole in his Shoe 35
Eastward Bound
Harry was bundled into an unoccupied cabin, still in his pyjamas. He was in a daze; he remembered the American saying ‘this is for your own safety, we’ve been ordered to get you out.’
As he sat there feeling helpless, Rika entered with a cup of coffee in one hand, and a small glass of cognac in the other.
‘Harry’, she said with some irony, ’welcome on board.’
She handed him the coffee and cognac and stood leaning against the cabin door watching him drink.
‘I hope our journey will be less eventful this time!’
He looked up at her. ’Where am I?’
‘Why you on board the Rhine Edelweiss.
She smiled, ‘I’ve been told to offer you your old job back.’
He looked up at her bleary eyed.
‘You know, as a waiter.’ Harry looked under-whelmed!
‘Well, for a start, perhaps,’ she added.
Rika sat down on the little couch, and spoke as if as a mother.
‘The best thing is for you to get some rest, so drink that cognac, and get some sleep. We sail at eight.’
With that she got up and left.
Harry was in no mood to sleep. He finished of the cognac in one go, and then sipped the coffee slowly whilst he ’reviewed the situation‘! One minute he was big time in Budapest, fancy car, even a Rolex watch, now, he was being offered a job as a waiter. We’ll see, he thought!
Olga!? Yes he might have known, it was all down to her, and now Rika, how likely is that? He tried to tote it up in his head; Isabella - Eva - Olga - American Lady
What about the departed! Boris, and the Chef. He did not yet know about Chuck, the Australian! He fell asleep without resolving anything, but he was in for a shock.
The river cruiser slipped its mooring and set off eastwards along the river Danube on its way to Bucharest, and the Black Sea. Beyond that it is the old opium route to Afghanistan! Harry’s shoe was beginning to look decidedly leaky!
A newspaper was delivered to his door
The Cocked Hat bar was virtually destroyed last night as there was a police shoot out with, what was described as; Mafia elements. There were several fatalities; one person was found gagged and shot through head. Special Forces deny there was any terrorist involvement!
Hole in his Shoe 36
Go East Young Man
Harry read the paper with some concern, not to say horror. To read that Chuck had been brutally murdered, not say tortured, filled him with trepidation - were they after him - and what had Chuck told them - and why torture him and then rub him out?
Could this be a warning to himself? Were they after him for some reason - wait, someone thought he was in cohorts with Olga.Looking back he realised he was part of a massive sting to unmask - what - Mafia, or terrorists?
He drank a cup of tea he got from the galley, and sat idly watching the countryside slip by whilst he considered the implications! For some reason, for which he was delighted, Rika seemed to take a liking to him. She started to share early morning tea with him on the deck.
It was on one of these mornings that he noticed something odd; the sun was rising in the wrong direction. He puzzled over this because it was not always the same - sometimes more to one side and then the other.
Eventually he mentioned this to Rika.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘you mean coming over the bow in the morning?’
‘Yes,’ he said uncertainly, ‘don’t you think that’s odd?’
Rika laughed.
‘That’s because of the direction we are going. Perhaps we had better teach you some navigation!’
‘Navigation?’ he queried.
‘Yes,’ she said. ’and then you would know we are travelling East.’
‘East?’ Harry realised he was beginning to sound stupid.
‘Yes,’ she said, with some irritation, ‘to Bucharest!’
Harry hesitated, uncertainly, then.
‘Not to Amsterdam?’
‘Harry, please, not Amsterdam, to Bucharest.’
Harry was bemused. ‘Why?’ he asked.
Rika was becoming less amused. ’Because that is where this hajabol is heading.’
She used the Hungarian word for ship, which also means overboard. Perhaps there was a threat there! Harry suddenly got control of himself.
‘I want to go back to Amsterdam,’ he demanded.
Rika suddenly became the Purser. ‘I have been asked to deliver you to agents in Bucharest, and I will.’
She stood up and threw the remains of her coffee over the ship’s rail, and then with more force.
’You can do it the easy way or,’ she paused for effect, ’the hard way!’
With that she turned on her heel and left.
Harry was stunned. He realised he was effectively a prisoner. Oh well, Bucharest it is! Where the hell was Olga when he needed her? The hole in his shoe looked as if it might be letting water in!
Hole in his Shoe 37
Two Shots and miss the boat
Harry did not find this river trip so onerous after all. Rika became quite friendly - she thought he was more suitable for ‘customer services’ than a waiter, and this required that they should work closely together! More coffee togetherness became evening togetherness. Rika told Harry of her life.
Growing up in Belgrade in the old days of the communist state. Her escape came by marrying a Dutchman, working on the river cruisers. It did not work out, and here she is, a Purser, a job with which she was happy. Harry listened and ‘ah’d’ in the right places, but in truth he did not believe her - but so what, sharing her bed was compensation enough!
On the sixth day they arrived at Belgrade, and Harry went ashore to discover its delights! In retrospect he might have regretted it!
‘You waiting for someone?’ A voice asked.
Harry sat in a rather seedy bar not far from the quay where the Edelweiss was moored. The evening lights were coming on in the town.
‘Who’s asking?’ He didn’t look up, he waited.
‘Someone who wants to be friend.’
‘And how friendly is that?’ He turned, searching out the voice.
A slim figure, obscured by a back light, leaned tentatively against the door frame.
‘Ah,’ was the response, ’that is up to you!’
’Well, we could find out. Why don’t you come and sit down?’
She walked over as if she was nervous, expecting something. She sat down in the seat opposite Harry. He studied her; she had the look of Eva, but her blond hair was lank and unstyled, her eyes looked tired.
‘Do I know you?’ he asked.
‘I’m sure you know someone like me!’ was the cryptic reply.
This sounded suspiciously like a set up. He was after all almost certainly a wanted man - police or mafia - take your pick. He changed chairs so he had his back to the wall.
‘Yes, I suppose I have, would that be in Budapest?’
She raised her hand to her head as if a signal. He sensed danger. There where two shots. The first one missed Harry by a hairs breath; the second one caught the girl square in the breast.
The police arrived, and asked Harry to go to head- quarters to make a statement! Was there anyone who could save him this time? The Edelweiss sailed on without him!
Hole in his Shoe 38
I’m only a waiter
The title, Policiskska stanica Stari grad, (Police HQ), is enough to make most people sqeezy. The building itself is utilitarian, at odds with the tradition buildings on the street that it is located. It reminded Harry very much of the warehouse he was interrogated in Amsterdam - not a comforting thought. Harry’s statement soon turned into an interrogation.
The police recognised an attempted assassination when they saw one; Harry’s explanation did not hold water - he worked on the Rhine Edelweiss and had just come ashore for a drink was greeted with some scepticism!
Captain Markovic, from the organised crime division, was not impressed.
‘What is your name and nationality?’
A simple question for most people, but Harry could see the pitfalls! Keep it straightforward, he thought.
‘Harry Parker, I am English.’
‘And you work on the river cruiser Rhine Edelweiss? What is it you do?’ ‘Customer relations.’
Captain Markovic smiled. ’Much like my work, then’
Harry kept quiet.
The Captain looked up at the ceiling as if for a blessing.
‘And how long have you been’ customer relations’?’
Harry hesitated. ’ Six days.’
The captain appeared sceptical.
’Six days - you expert then.’
There were smiles from the other officers.
‘Have you been on other boats?’
Harry answered as if in the past tense.
‘I was on the Rhine Rose.’
There was silence in the room - immediate tension.
‘The one that blew up, you was on that, Harry English!’
Harry could see that this was going to be a long night.
‘Yes,’ he said.
He felt it required no embellishment.
‘And you were there?’ The captain said with some purpose.
‘Yes.’
‘And what were you doing?’
Same tone of voice. ‘I was a waiter.’
And then as if something incredulous had occurred.
‘And someone has tried to assassinate you!’
Then. ‘A waiter?’
Harry saw his chance. ‘Yes I know, I am only a waiter.’
The interrogation continued. The Hole in shoe his got bigger!
Hole in his Shoe 39
A person of Interest
The interrogation started the following morning. Harry had spent a fretful night in a nearby hotel - he was not under arrest, simply assisting the police in their enquiries, therefore he did not spend a night in the cells!
Captain Marcovic started right in on a different tack.
‘I see that this identity card was issued by the Amsterdam police?’
‘Yes,’ replied Harry.
'Why was that?’
Harry was ready for this.
’As a European Citizen I simply applied for an Identity card.’
The Captain adopted a comically quizzical voice.
’That would be difficult without a passport.’’ Implying he knew something Harry had not revealed.
Again Harry was ready for this. ‘I had it then, but it was lost on the Rose explosion.’
The Captain jumped on this. ‘So it was an explosion?’
Harry decided to take a stand.
‘Captain, what has this got to do with the shooting of a girl; one of your citizens, in your country?’
He hesitated for effect. ‘I was just an innocent bystander - well, sitter to be more precise!’
The Captain went on the defensive - in the back of his mind he longed for the old days, he would have got the truth then!
‘Yes I accept that, but,’ he gave Harry a suspicious stare, ‘there is more to this than meets the eye. The girl was a nobody, so why was she approaching you, was she selling herself, or, as we suspect, to deliver a message, or, more dangerous for you, to mark you out as a target!’
‘Yes, but that’s all fantasy, I am a waiter, who on earth would want to kill me?’ ‘Who indeed?’ agreed the Captain with some scepticism.
‘The constable here will take your statement, sign it, and go.’
Then he added.’ You can catch up with the Edelweiss at Vidin if you hurry’
Then he added for good measure.
’You should know that on the Interpol you are listed as ’a person off interest’, so watch your step!’
Harry was taken to the Belgrade Centre Station where he caught the midday train to Vidin and boarded the Edelweiss. Rika was surprised at seeing him again; she thought he had jumped ship in Belgrade - or so she said! Harry was suspicious at her reaction. He thought he must certainly watch his step with her. His shoe felt certainly leaky!
Hole in his shoe 40
Romance in Romania
Two days left to get to Bucharest; what would await him there? To say he was concerned about the events in Belgrade would be an understatement. Could he trust Rika, bearing in mind she was the only one who could identify him as going ashore in Belgrade. Did she set him up! The question was why? And for whom? Was it revenge; plenty of reasons for that after the events in Budapest! Did she know something ’they’ did not want revealing, or were they trying to stop his mission for Isabella; whatever that was?
He hoped the answer would be in Bucharest! But so could an assassin! He could jump ship! He considered his plan, which he didn’t have! He had a look at the sailing charts to see where he could get off; obviously he could not jump into the Danube, so what could he do? Stop the boat, with what excuse! A bomb on board! That would certainly create the need to get all the passengers off and he could just slip away. Which is what happened.
A mysterious looking package was found in the kitchen pantry; like it had not been there before! Rika, conscious as to what had happened on the Rose ordered immediate evacuation. Harry was ready for this, he had all his necessary belongings in a shoulder bag.
The Edelweiss docked alongside a deserted quay and everybody got off. Thankfully it was a lovely day. Harry just walked away. The mysterious package turned out to a bag of frozen sausages! The Edelweiss continued on its way, minus Harry.
To his surprise there was a road, which he set off walking along. Within ten minutes he entered a small town through which the Strada Alexandru ran; turn right or left, the classic question? Across the road was the Tat Si Fii restaurant and hotel, I’ll try that first, he thought.
As he entered a small blond lady caught his eye, why not; he sat down at her table. The twinkle in her eye said it all, she said in Romanian -
‘Salute strain’ (howdy stranger).
He said- ‘imi pare bine sa te cunosc’ .
She laughed, and then in near perfect English -
‘nice to meet you to’.
And so a liaison was made. Harry by this time could play any part, and today he was the suave devilish adventurer. She, who was a bit sharper than he thought, loved every bit of it. They finished their coffee together;
‘It is too late to set of for Bucharest today, tomorrow is better.’
Sonia, for that was her name, owned the Hotel, so they retired to her apartment, and a devilish union was made! Harry, used to ups and downs, made the most it! His shoes shone!
Hole in his Shoe 41
Love and Let Go
Harry woke early in the morning on a soft feather bed in the arms of a cuddly bodied seductress. Her breath was sweet, her loins were strong, and inner thigh most sweet. Wow, he thought, this a bit of alright! He looked down at her face, in repose it showed the years, but then, he fooled himself, he could see grace in the lines, and gentleness.
How a night of sex, no, more, a night of togetherness and desirability can fool a man into thinking he is the man, he is the one in control; he is the master! Ah, women’s wiles can enrapture any man, and so Harry became her slave. Wait, just one minute, he thought, I am going to Bucharest. She smiled her smile over breakfast that was brought up to the room.
'Bucharest can wait, and it will always be there.'
He gave up, for the moment, and snuggled down in the feather bed, laying one hand across her ample bosom.
Harry played it cool, he saw that this was a useful bolt hole, and he did not want to upset the apple cart. He played the English gentleman; always courteous and helpful, never interfering, he saw that his situation with the boss could cause ranker. The two local girls who worked in the restaurant thought he was wonderful; the older lady who cleaned the rooms was not so enamoured.
Harry was back working in the kitchen with Sonia, who did the cooking, so they were together in harness, as you might say, day and night! Everything was hunky dory until that day, looking out of the bedroom window he saw a police car slide into the drive; his heart sank.
Two policemen got out and entered the restaurant. They were both bon amie. They laughed and joked with the girls, ordered coffee and sat in seats overlooking the car park. Sonia hurried out of the kitchen and went and sat with them. They obviously knew one another.
There was laughter and back chat; none of which Harry understood, as he lurked by the kitchen door ready to flee. They eventually got up to leave, and as is the nature of police, they turned back and asked a question, always designed to catch you out! Sonia played it cool, but there is always a give away -
‘likely we would get any strangers around here, as if.’
To the trained police ear a cover up; the correct answer is - no! Harry knew it was time to leave. That night they both knew it, their sex turned into a long loving goodbye and Harry was ready to go.
He had already acquainted himself with buses out of the town and he was on the 8 o’clock one, on route D55A to Bucharest. Damn that hole in shoe, it had opened up again!
Hole in his Shoe 42
Lost and found and off
Harry was in a tizwaz. He had misread signs, so he did not catch the 8 o’clock bus, because there wasn’t one. As he stood wondering what to do, the police car, which he recognised, drew up beside him. They spoke in Romanian, but there was no mistaking police talk; polite, but with that under tone of authority ‘Are you lost?
He shrugged, to imply he did not understand. Before they could answer the old lady from the hotel spoke up.
Harry turned, surprised. She had followed him out of the hotel and was about to make mischief.
‘He came off the boat.’
There ensued a comedy exchange.
‘Which boat?’
‘That boat.’
‘What sort of boat?’ Said with some exasperation.
‘Fun boat.’
‘You mean cruiser.’
‘If you like.’
They did not know what to make of that, and started again.
‘There’s no cruiser here.’
‘Well there was a month ago.’
The two policemen looked at one another with more exasperation.
‘Cruisers do not stop here.’
‘Well this one did; everybody got off.’
The two policemen made twirling motions with their fingers against their heads - the universal sign of somebody not with it.
‘Then they all got back on.’
They burst out laughing.
Then the crunch - with pointing finger.
‘Well he didn’t.’
With a ‘so there’ expression.
In the midst of this melee Harry saw his chance, and simply walked round the back of an adjacent wall.
The police looked up.
’Where is he?’
‘He’s got back on the boat.’
With that they had had enough, they drove off in a swirl of dust.
Harry went back to the hotel and had a cup of tea with one of the girls, waiting on events; something would turn up, it always did.
The black limousine drew into the forecourt. He felt a wave off relief, coupled with apprehension, as he got in and it set off for Bucharest.
The hole in his shoe opened up!
Hole in his Shoe 43
Rescued by Police?
Harry looked at his companions, or captures, he was not sure which. They were two of Ethel’s henchmen; one beside him and the other driving. They said nothing. The limousine, a merc, with darkened windows slid along in it’s smooth way.
Harry considered his options; stick with it or effect an escape! Both unknowns, but his imagination could guess the welcome he would get in Budapest! He went for escape, but how?
The merc slowed to pass a cart being drawn by a horse. He tried the door handle. Locked. No chance on that front then! He waited. Then the unexpected happened, the merc slowed to a halt; as if out of petrol! And as luck would have it, as the driver got out of the car, the police car from the hotel slid alongside to ask what was wrong.
Harry didn’t hesitate. The doors were unlocked, he opened his and stepped out. ‘You were looking for me this morning, yes??'
The two policemen covered their astonishment as behoves the law.
‘Ah! You are the disappearing man!’
‘Where you looking for me?’
They immediately moved into police mode.
‘Did you think we were?’
Harry was a bit stumped by this.
‘Oh, it was what I overheard in the hotel; you were looking for a stranger.’
They looked at one another. They became more cryptic.
‘The old lady said you came off a boat?’
Harry backtracked. ’No.’
Then he made his mistake.
’There’s no boats dock there.’
You could see gotcha in their faces.
‘How do you know that. A stranger and all!’ Then Harry’s story became weaker. ’I was working at the hotel.’
They smiled. ’And also providing a service, we hear.’
Harry’s reply was pathetic.
'I only do what I am asked.’
They smirked.
’Sonia must be very happy, then!’
Harry got even worse.
‘I try my best.’
Then they stated.
‘You are English!’
‘Yes.‘ He said.
‘Stranger still, there is an Englishman reported missing from a river liner. Would that be you?’ Looking at him qizzically
He had no answer! The limo swiftly drew away; they were not out of petrol after all . Harry turned to see it go; he was now in the hands of the police, for better or for worse he did not know.
‘Get in, we will take you to HQ in Alexandria to see if we can make some sense of this.‘
The hole in his shoe never felt bigger.
Hole in His shoe 44
Justice will have its say
Alexandria, a small town, the county capital of Teleoman County, situated on the Vedea river south west of Bucharest. It has its own governmental and judicial offices. Harry knew none of this.He sat in the back of the police car in his usual state of uncertainty - he was sort of preparing his brain for anything that might come!
The police car did not go to the police HQ but into the Prefectura Judetului’s inner courtyard. They more or less marched him into the Office Securite, giving the impression they would be glad to get rid of him and go back on patrol. Harry sat down on a chair and waited.
He was, although he did not know it, to be subjected to communist style questioning. The office he was shown into was straight out of a James Bond movie. A large room with high windows on one side. It was opulent but sparsely furnished.
Behind a large desk sat a big man recently run to fat. He was not wearing a officers uniform but had the bearing of a man who would like to. He was, naturally, drinking tea that came from a samovar on a nearby table. A long legged beauty in a business suite sat nearby with notebook in hand.
‘Welcome to our small town.’
He settled back as if he was going to enjoy this.
Harry did not share the same feeling!
‘The officers reported that you spoke to them in a manner as if wanting their protection!.’
Harry said nothing.
‘You got out of a black limousine with some, how you say, alacrity!.’
He took a long sip of his tea. He smiled as if remembering the old days.
’Were you being abducted?’
Harry still kept mum.
The man behind the desk looked as some papers.
‘It says here that you got off a river cruiser that never stops there.’
He looked, as if surprised. ‘Houdini, hu?’
Harry said nothing.
The man looked at a document type paper. ‘So you jumped ship.’ He laughed.
‘A big jump! But this makes you illegal immigrant!’
Harry did not like that.
’I am English!.’ He said forcefully.
‘Good.’ the man said, ’this makes you political prisoner.’
‘We give you overnight accommodation, yes!’
Harry did not like the sound of that, god, that shoe was tight!
Hole in His shoe 45
Personne non Grata
Harry spent an uncomfortable night as a guest of the Prefecture of Justice. A palliasse was far removed from the feather bed he had lately enjoyed, neither was the coffee, (very much like Camp coffee!). However it was out of the rain, so to speak, and it was warm.
He was not enamoured by the issue Pyjamas of a sick making yellow colour. He suspected he was to wear these all day. After a breakfast of cold porridge he was taken once again to the office of interrogation.
The pseudo major was now flanked by a thin austere person wearing a judge’s gown. The long legged beauty was in position, pencil ready. The samovar was already brewing. Harry was not offered a cup.
‘I trust you had a peaceful night,’ offered the major, with a side glance at the judge.
‘You must be assured you are not under arrest.’
He continued. ’This is a Councillor. He is here to defend your rights.’
Harry did not like the sound of this. He decided to play a little hard ball.
‘And you, sir what is your name and title, and what right have you to hold me here without any chargeable offence?’
He decides to go for broke. ’I would remind you that I am a citizen of the United Kingdom.’
He could not stop, he was in full flight,
’And I’m sure our foreign office will be displeased when I inform of this.’ Then he could not help himself.
’I am here on their official business.’
The last bit was a step to far, it opened up obvious lines of enquiry. The major smiled.
‘Harry, Harry you are only here to explain who you and what you are doing. You think it not strange that you appear in the town of Bechet as if from nowhere and the only identity you have is a police Euro identity card? And that, I might add, is how we know so much about you.’
Then adding. ’We have been very busy all night.’
This took the wind out Harry’s sales. He tried another ploy.
‘I demand to be put in touch with British Embassy.’
The major laughed, the Councillor gave a thin smile.
‘Harry, they have never heard off you. You are personne non grata!’
Harry’s heat sank, he had no idea what that meant, but it sounded pretty bad. The he had an idea.
‘I claim political asylum.’
The major and the councillor looked at one another. A conniving look passed between them.
’Perhaps that could be arranged.’ Then he added.
‘You will of course spend another night with us!.
Harry felt that hole in his shoe getting bigger!’
Hole in His shoe 46
Off the hook and into bed
Harry spent a sleepless night, palliasse and all. He realised he was in trouble, a ship without a sail. Who was to save him this time? It seemed they, whoever they were, had dumped him.
He had learned the British Consulate was in Warsaw, in Poland, no help there then. He began to think he hade been too cautious in not going for Bucharest, no matter what! He consoled himself that at least he was unlikely to get shot here! Cold tea and colder porridge and he was back in the interrogation room.
‘There have been some developments,’ the major said.
Harry’s hopes rose.
‘But we are not finished with you yet.’
Harry’s heart sank a little.
‘We have been in touch with the Dutch police. It seems you entered the EU unlawfully, but luckily for you a security agent took you under her wing.’
Harry thought of Eva, surely she would not speak for him after the way he treated her, anyway she was Dutch, no help here in Romania.
‘It seems your claim to be an agent for the British secret service is a joke.’
The major and the councillor smiled comically at this at this.
’You still have some friends though. The Dutch will speak for you.’
He smiled again. ’You are helping to break a gang bringing in young girls to exploit them, so they say.’
They both smiled thinly at this as if they knew more than they were prepared to admit!
Harry had nothing to add.
‘It seems to us you are an innocent abroad who has got mixed up with bad company.’
He looked at Harry meaningfully. ‘Like a dead body in a canal, river cruiser blowing up, and being shot at in Budapest.’
He stopped, and broad smile came on his face.
‘But, I like you Harry, a regular James Bond.’
Harry, sensibly, refrained from preening.
‘The sensible advice is to go home, but since you have this ability to be in the wrong place at the right time you may be of use to us.’ He smiled to himself at that as if remembering old times!
‘A car will take you back to Sonia, owner of the Tatt Si Fii hotel at Bechet. A good friend of yours I hear; she has spoken for you. We will get in touch. Good luck, you need all you can get, James Bond,’ he said with a cynical smile.
Harry was at a loss at this - he rarely went backwards, but relished the thought of the feather bed and Sonia’s warm body. Things turned out alright after all, if only!
He shoes felt quite comfortable!
Hole in His shoe 47
Alls well that ends well
In the offices of the Secret Intelligence Service (MI5) a dossier was under scrutiny. It concerned a British national known as Harry English or Parker. He was not known to SIS in UK records. Yes there was a birth certificate but nothing else; no school, no work, no National Health number, no tax records, no phone, no Email, no passport! A mystery man, no less; accident or design? And yet here he was careering about in Europe being involved, or creating mayhem!
The list was a long one;
Illegal immigration.
Dutch crime lords.
Being tortured.
Suspicious death.
Destruction of a bar.
River cruise liner blowing up.
Involved in a shooting.
Disappeared from a cruise liner.
Reported interviewed by various agencies.
Conclusion; Is he is being protected by other agencies?
Why is he doing all this?
And now Romania wanted to nationalise him?
Commander Norton made a simple decision; tail him! Cyrene Radofsci, an English Russian, was given the job. Her problem was; where on earth was he?
Harry knew nothing of this as he travelled back to Si Fii hotel. He pondered his options; stay or cut and run. But, he was suspicious of the major, who insisted he take Harry’s photograph; he had asked for political asylum, perhaps it would be useful to become Romanian!
Harry’s welcome back was not as gushing as it once was. The routine was the same, working together in the kitchen, loving in that feather bed, but the blush had gone off. The girls were glad to see him back; he was an adventurer, a man of mystery, and, they were impressed to see him brought back in a police car! The old lady viewed him with grave suspicion.
And so the weeks went by in harmony of sorts. He realised this was a good hideaway, and thankful for that but Sonia started to speak in terms of ’marriage’! He needed a plan of action, wait on the Romanian authorities, or, make a getaway, but how?
It was a habit of his to walk down to the Danube to while away the hours, and there he saw a way out; a river boat. not a cruiser, but a barge, there were plenty of them. Then one day one stopped at the old quay; he stepped aboard and disappeared again from Bechet!
His old shoes positively gleamed.
Sonia cried for one week and then married one of the policemen!
All’s well that ends well!
Hole in his shoe 48
An old flame ready to deceive
Harry noticed the name Lasta Beograd on the side of the boat’s wheelhouse; wait, wasn’t that the name of the barge he saw in Amsterdam that had excited Olga to go to Belgrade! Will this somehow link him to Olga, in all honesty he could do with her now; he was all alone, stateless, and being pursued by persons unknown.
Thankfully the crew were Dutch, so he was able to engage them with his ’clip clop‘ version of there language. They laughed, and clapped him on his back; ‘have another drop of Schnapps!’ His kitchen skills came in handy, it was a way to work his passage.
Naturally he was conversant with their food; breakfast; easy, basically bread and cheese; tea time; alcohol, beer and wine with a snack!; dinner; basically meat and three veg., plus any old mixture of meats and spices! Oh, and they drink tea or coffee all day long! So Harry became king of the kitchen! And they liked to sing.
Harry, had, by chance, a tenor voice, and he entertained with a melody of English pop songs. They liked him so much so they allowed him onto the wheel house to steer the boat. They invited him to become a permanent member of the crew, and go up and down the Rhine for ever. As attractive as that was he was getting itchy feet.
The barge pulled into Giurgiu, Harry saw a bus marked Bucharest, he saw his chance and jumped ship. The captain shouted after him. ‘Olga’s at the Dacia.’ ‘What.’ ‘Hotel Dacia.’
On the four hour journey Harry had much to think about! He didn’t recall mentioning Olga directly; he had mentioned some of his exploits in Amsterdam; they fell strangely silent when he mention Isabella, but they certainly perked up a bit with his stories of the Pleasure Dome. His only connection he could see was with the name Lasta Beograd, which turned to be a bus company! How this activated Olga he did not know!
Harry got off the bus at stop near the Dacia hotel. An old style building with a stone columned entrance leading on to a reception area where all was polish, sumptuous chairs, fine drapes, and hidden corners, and who should be sitting in one of them, why, Olga!
‘Harry, Harry,’ she in her mock Slavic tone, ’ where have you been, I look all over.’
She waved a glass of what looked like vodka, and patted the seat adjacent to her.
‘Sit down Harry,’ and then in a seductive throaty voice, ’I miss you so much.’
Harry, deeply suspicious of this performance, gallantly kissed her hand. His shoe expanded and nipped a the same time; watch your step!
CONTINUE WITH PART 2