Hole in his shoe 49
Part 2
Old friends reunited
Harry inspected Olga closely; no, she did not look pregnant, he wasn’t sure how many months had passed since he was with her, in Amsterdam, not that he was very conversant with babies and the like. But she looked OK, unless, there was a baby!
‘You are looking well’, he offered as a query.
She looked at him and laughed.
‘Harry you looking for baby?’ He paled.
She stood up and ran her hands up and down her figure, as voluptuous as ever. She chided him.
'Harry I want baby, I find handsome man.’
Then she put her finger under his chin.
‘But you would do!’
Harry wasn’t sure how to answer this, in truth he was always a bit in awe of her. He felt like saying, ‘you should be so lucky’, but he held back remembering their time together on her houseboat. He felt he should establish some command of the situation. Naturally, he had no idea what that was.
‘I was directed here by the Captain of the barge I was on.’
She interjected.
’A very good friend of mine.’
’So you knew I was on that barge. How’s that?’
She smiled.
’Harry, you think barge stopped at Bechet by mistake.’
‘I thought it just stopped there for……’
He stopped. He could see that he was about to make a fool of himself, how could he be so dim?
He added lamely. ’It was very fortunate, yes.’
She took a more serious but mocking tone.
‘So you do not want to become Romanian citizen. Very handy you know, since you are citizen of nowhere!’
In truth Harry had wondered about that, it amounted to a kind of mythical base where he could sort of hide, but he doubted its use to cross borders, he be hard pressed to answer any questions!
‘No, I don’t think so. But why are you here. Have you any info about what Isabella is up to, or what this mysterious mission is? It’s about time somebody came clean.’
And then for good measure.
’And who is this American lady and her henchmen, are they on my side or what?’
This began to sound like an American film.
He pressed on.
’Look we were together in Budapest at the Cocked Hat; that ended in somebody getting slaughtered; you were there and then you weren’t, and,’ he hesitated for effect,’ here you are!’
His voice stopped as if he had thumped a table!
At that moment Isabella walked into the Hotel.
’Hello Harry.’
She looked at them both.
’And Olga. Quite a little party. Can I join?’
Harry felt that hole in his shoe open up. Here we go again!
Hole in his shoe 50
Caught in a fusillade
The morning rose as dark and gloomy as Harry’s feelings. He had spent a restless night, churning over the situation. It was clear to him that he had been manipulated. He was not sure by whom. It seemed that everything that had happened so far had been ordained by a higher power. Each step of the way was not as random as it might have seemed, but it had been a tumultuous ride!
As he showered he took a more positive, if fatalistic view; it is as it is, so let’s get on with it. The three Amigos had breakfast together. Isabella was her usual ‘got it all together’ self; Olga was all self-sufficiency, she knew what she was about, Harry was the cavalier, ready for anything, as if the events so far were all in a days work! Isabella and Olga had continental, Harry had full English; why not Isabella was paying! They were not prepared for what was about to happen!
At a table the other side of the restaurant, in an alcove, sat a dark haired man, idly stirring a cup of coffee. He had the intensity of a man waiting for action. The spoon, held so casually between the finger and thumb of his left hand, moved as if on its own. The Kalashnicov, held more deliberately in his right hand, lay across his knee, under the table, ready for action.
Half way between the diners sat two men. Upright in nature, marine haircuts, motionless, as if on high alert. Harry, looking up from his bacon and egg, recognised them immediately; the American’s henchmen. He had hardly got the fork to his mouth when a boy, in a messengers uniform, shouted, ’message for Harry Parker‘. Harry lifted his arm as if to answer when the fork fell from his hand to the floor and he bent to pick it up. In that hidden second between now and eternity all hell was let loose.
The staccato sounds of the Kalashnicov echoed a cross the restaurant floor. The first burst hit the boy dropping him to the floor. The second burst ranged high and smashed the class window behind Harry! A shard of glass sliced across Olga’s face leaving an open wound. Isabella sat as if mesmerised; she was saved by the responsive sound of a hand gun, a Glock 22, being fired on rapid repeat.
The bullets caught the stranger in the chest, throwing him back in his chair! In that eternal second it was over! Death and destiny moved hand in hand. The Black limousine was at the door. The two seeming CIA agents swept the Amigos, as if in their arms, into the car, and it sped off as if it had never been there. Harry, dazed, fell back into Isabella’s arms, and as if lovers, they were carried to safety.
The hole in Harry’s shoe opened as never before!
Hole in his shoe 51
Fast Escape
The black limousine, carrying the three Amigos, raced north to the foothills of the Carpathian mountains to Betrivan Sanatorium, in the town of Comesti. They were safe for the time being.
In Bucharest police cars raced to the scene of the shooting. They were puzzled as to what they saw. One dead body, of a young man, a shattered window, cartridges scattered all over the floor, and nothing else!
Inspector Alexandri Peterson from the crime squad was first upon the scene. By this time the street had been cordoned off and the crime scene secured. What witnesses there were, were assembled in the kitchen; mostly restaurant staff, and statements were being taken. He asked one of the staff what she saw, a young girl, clearly frightened by what she had seen or heard.
‘I saw nothing, well almost nothing. I was just leaving the kitchen when I was deafened by the sound of gunfire!.
‘Gunfire?,’ asked the Inspector.
‘Yes.’
‘You recognise gunfire?’ asked the Inspector somewhat incredulously.
‘Of course. I was with my family when we escaped from the troubles!’
The Inspector sighed to himself; and one so young.
‘Go on.’
‘It was over in a second, the noise, shattering glass. I was deafened.’
‘Anything else?’ the inspector asked.
‘Well maybe,’ the girl faltered.
The inspector held her shoulder.
‘A car, a black car sped away.’
She hesitated.
‘And?’
‘There were a lot of people in it.’ she faltered again.
The inspector let her go. Crime scene specialists had nearly finished. He asked their leader for a conclusion, any conclusion.
The table by the window was set for three people, a shattered window behind it. Around the table opposite are a number of cartridges, and oddly blood on the table and floor. At another table, half way between the other two, on the otherside of the restaurant, there were‘more cartridges on the floor!
'It looks like a shoot out!’
The Inspector remembered what the girl had said; a lot of people in a black car! Someone had fled the scene - well organised if they did, he thought. Gangster or.....?; He pondered for a moment, there was more to this than met the eye.
He phoned the SIS number on his mobile; hand this over to them he thought; that’s best!
Hole in his shoe 52
A Sour Meeting
The MI6 agent, Cyrene Radofski, arrived at Schiphol airport at just after twelve in the afternoon, she hired a car and drove directly to the Amsterdam police headquarters. She signed in at the desk and was taken directly to the offices of Captain Van Deloupe.
Captain Van Deloupe had certain reservations about MI6, their polite reserve based on their air of superiority got under his skin, so he got a surprise when the agent was ushered in to his office. A tall lady, with the movement and elegance of a ballerina, stood before him. A face of constrained beauty, a firm but rounded chin spoke of compassion and stubbiness; she was probably on the wrong side of forty.
Van Deloupe, a widower, felt a sudden tang of memory; she reminded him of his late wife. He stood, with an uncontrolled feeling of embarrassment, he forgot his manner
He waved her to a seat in front of his desk.
‘Yes?’ he said.
She smiled, completely at ease, and answered in kind.
‘I believe we have a common interest, I am here to investigate where it leads.’
Was there more to that statement Van Deloupe thought; he nearly blushed. To cover that he riffled through some documents on his desk and then opened a file. He looked up at her.
‘Ah, Harry English?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘a name that appears consistently on action reports throughout Europe.’
She smiled again, a wilful smile, and continued.
‘It seems he is on a river cruise.’
And then again.
‘But where is he now?’
‘And?’ he asked in a demanding voice, which he regretted as soon as the word came out.
She was unruffled.
’He is a person of interest to us.’
Van Deloupe stood up, seemingly uncertain how to proceed. He stood looking out the window as if considering what he should say when in fact he was recovering from long lost memories.
He turned,
’Now Madam,’ he started.
She interrupted.
‘Please Captain, there is no need to be so formal; my name is Cyrene Radofski.’
It came out with a certain tartness.
The Captain was taken aback at that name; a Russian! He started,
‘I thought you was from English SIS.’
As he said the words he felt foolish what was he saying?
She rose.
‘Captain, here are my credentials. You will see I am a field operator with MI6!’
She went on,
’clearly it is not helpful me to stay any longer here.’
Then
.’ Perhaps you will advise a hotel for me, and I will move on in the morning!’
He advised a hotel near the station. He sat sad faced as she left!
Hole in his shoe 53
Looking for Answers
Cyrene Rofski (MI6 officer grade III) had a restful night at the Babazan hotel. She was an experienced field officer and knew that fretting about a mission was wasteful. She had learnt to take the tasks in her stride on the basis that they are just jobs! Her report was brief; 'No info so far!'
Standing on her balcony she noticed a black limousine draw up outside the hotel and a slim, but curvy, blond got out.
Cyrene sat at a breakfast bar dinking coffee when the blond sat down beside her.
She was abrupt.
‘You looking for Harry English, is he in trouble?’
Cyrene recognised a fishing expedition immediately.
’Who wants to know?’
She turned, her cool grey eyes assessing this stranger.
‘Just a friend.’ said Eva, for that is who it was.
Cyrene was not to be ambushed.
’Who is this Harry English you speak of?’
‘Oh, someone who came to Amsterdam,’ said Eva.
‘Lots of people come to Amsterdam. Was he special to you?’
Eva hesitated. ’No not really, anyway he has gone now.’
Cyrene was quick onto this. ’Perhaps he left with someone else.’
Eva shrugged her shoulders, and added. 'Who knows?'
Cyrene continued. ‘Do you work here? It really is a lovely city. I love the canals’
She looked up as if thinking.
‘Didn’t someone drown in one of the canals?’
‘I hope they found who did it? I’m told the Amsterdam police are very efficient.’
‘Oh there were some suspects,’ said Eva.
Cyrene put her coffee cup down deliberately as if she had just thought of something. ’Surely not your Harry English, who ever he may be.’
Eva spilled it before she saw the trap.
‘Not Harry, he was just a lad from England. He was incapable of killing anybody.’
Cyrene continued ‘You can never tell with these people. Anyway who cares, Harry got away, didn’t he?’
She swivelled off the bar stool bent down and picked up her bag.
‘On a river cruiser I shouldn’t wonder.’
Eva said nothing. Her effort to find out what was happening had failed.
Cyrene pushed a bit harder.
‘You know I think I might take a cruise. Down the Rhine, is it? Do you know a good cruise line?’
’You know,’ she added slyly, ’I might catch up with your Harry. English did you say his name was. If I do I will give him your regards.’
Eva gave the game away.
’Not on cruiser, he hasn‘t any money.’
Cyrene smiled, her first solid clue!
’He’ll survive, will Harry.’
As she left, she turned.
‘Give my regards to Captain Vandeloute!’
Hole in his shoe 54
Back to Amsterdam
Up in the Carpathians at the Betravan Sanatoria things were not progressing to well. It’s a comfortable spot, the mountains at the back shield the cold winds from the north, and the sun from the south shines on across the lawns, warming the residents in their bath chairs. Sadly, that was where Isabella was, wrapped in a blanket gazing blankly out across the vista.
The shock of the gun fire seemed to have broken her; doctors were cagey about her recovery. From time to time the old Isabella surfaced, alert and ready to take action, and then subside into a comatose state! Heads were shaken, and plans were being made! It was clear that she could not return to Amsterdam, but as every day passed her empire was being diluted. Action was needed.
Ethel, the American, took command.
‘Harry, you must return to Amsterdam and take charge.’
Thoughts stormed through Harry’s mind.
Not likely, I’ve had enough trouble already; I’d like to go home! But…..But, to be a crime lord in Amsterdam did have its attractions. Hold on, you’ve been shot at twice! You are a person of interest to Interpol! But, there is the Pleasure Dome! And he would have a part interest in it! Of course, there would be Blonde Van der Dome; a sweet thought! And Boris was out of the way! Ok let’s test the American, what part dose she play in all this; and what about the mission, what ever that was?
‘Sounds like an attractive proposition, but there are one or two things.’
‘Like what?’ asked Ethel, somewhat archly.
‘Like, whenever something happens you are on hand!’
‘Pure chance Harry, believe me, pure chance.’
‘Yer, yer, like the night in Vienna when the Rose blew up.’
‘Harry an accident. We’ve seen the report.’
‘Oh, so it was a lucky coincident that we were ashore; pull the other one!’
Harry was in full flight.
‘And the little problem at Cocked Hat! Poor old Chuck getting rubbed out!’ He’d heard that in American films.
‘The Romanians offering me citizenship; I recon I should have taken that! So Ethel, which I doubt is you name, what’s the griff?’
‘Ok Harry, we’ll come clean. We are CIA, and we are trying to route out threats to America from infiltration of agents from the Ukraine.’
Harry thought, ‘I’ll believe that when I see it, but so what, if they fund it I’ll go for it.’
Harry caught the 18hr KLM flight to Amsterdam. It was a 3hr flight and Harry had plenty of time to cogitate! He shoe warned him!
Hole in his shoe 55
A new chase is on
The flight from Bucharest to Amsterdam is three hours, which gave Harry plenty of time to ‘assess the situation‘. What was obvious to him was that things were not what they seemed. It occurred to him that he had just been a patsy in all this. It was if from the beginning he had been used to carve a trail for something else. If so he was under the power of some higher being! Ok, let’s think on that, he thought. THE AMERICANS came to mind, if that’s what they were! THEY HAVE ISABELLA! Is that what all this about?
The plane landed at Schiphol; he took a taxi to Amsterdam, straight to police head quarters. It was late; they had to call Captain Vandeloute back to his office. Harry came straight to the point.
‘I believe forces unknown are trying to abduct, if not, assassinate Isabella.’
The Captain looked him sceptically,
’Why would anybody want that?’
‘I believe she is the keeper of a great, no maybe state secret, and some forces unknown want it suppressed!’
‘Harry, Isabella is just a small time crook who has certain influence in Amsterdam.’
He laughed.
’Are you suggesting she is some sort of super spy, or even,’ his smile broadened, ’or even an agent of state!’
He hesitated.
‘Why, I only had dinner with her a few days ago!’
Harry interrupped.
‘Well she’s in Bucharest now!’
‘Bucharest? Why would she be there?’
Harry had a flash of anger.
' Well she nearly got me killed!’
‘Harry, Harry, what are you talking about?’
‘In the hotel Dacre! A shooting! Olga was there as well.’
Captain Vandeloute turned his computer on.
’There is no report of a shooting in Bucharest; hotel Dacre is not even mentioned!’
Harry stormed out of the office. Would no one believe him, perhaps they didn’t care, or was it a plot simply to remove Isabella from the scene? He had to return to Bucharest, but he was back where he started, no money, and no hope! Well, he could sign on as a waiter on a river cruiser, going as far as Bucharest!
He looked at the itinery; 22 nights! Jeese, Isabella could be dead and buried by then! What now? Its 1,400 miles to Bucharest, by car or lorry; five days? Not on! Eva! Now there’s a thought! Could she wangle him out of Sciphol somehow?
It was an uneasy meeting since he had nearly knocked her teeth out; when she heard the story she agreed to help! With her influence she got him a bucket seat! He was back in Bucharest by midday!
His shoes released their nip on him!
Hole in his shoe 56
Bodies disappear
Captain Vandeloute was purposely obtuse with Harry; there are some things he wanted to keep close to his chest, so to say. He had a long term relationship with Isabella, both social and business, and he would want to keep it that way. Some were not quite so ethical as behoves a chief of police! He wanted to keep Isabella close, so he was disturbed to hear that she might be in Bucharest, under some kind of confinement!
He activated the security links that connected to other agencies. He knew all the activities that had involved Harry, but why was Bucharest a blank? He got on the short range radio to the barge that Harry had been travelling on. His instructions were to the point; Locate Isabella in Bucharest! Then he called Eva!
The relationship between the Captain and Eva Bloancamp was quite clear; the Captain policed Amsterdam, although he had wide powers, he was subservient to Eva, who was an agent of the AIVD, Dutch security. The captain knew a lot more than he would let on, but he knew where his boundaries lay; essentially he wanted to hand over the Isabella situation to the AIVD - that’s where Eva came in.
Their phone call was short, and to the point; Isabella had disappeared, and was probably being held captive somewhere near Bucharest, or so his sources informed him, and, are you aware of this? Eva suddenly became authoritive; she told him to leave it alone; she had already taken action, (getting Harry back to Budapest), and Isabella would be returned to his safe custody. The last remark implied that, somehow, the Captain and Isabella were cohorts! The Captain took due note of that, and rung off. He sat back well satisfied!
Getting back to Bucharest Harry made his way to the Dacre hotel. It was still abuzz with, what they called a gun fight, that had taken place. Several of the staff recognised him, and held him in great awe. He was some kind of celebrity, he had lived through a terrorist attack, and here he was, back, as cool as a cucumber!
He asked if they had seen either of the women that were with him in that frightening encounter; no, sorry; maybe in hospital somewhere! He asked how to get to the Betrivan Sanatoria (there was no black limousine this time). Well, there is a bus from Strada Rivioca - it will take a long time; Harry slept most of the way. He asked for Isabella and Olga at the Sanatoria; a stone face receptionist said there was no record of them being there; Americans! No!
The hole in Harry’s shoe opened wide! He feared the worst!
Hole in his shoe 57
A strangers meeting
Cyrene Rofski arrived at Cologne when she received a message on her secure phone; ‘proceed to Bucharest immediate - person of interest there.’ She left the ship, and from Cologne Bonn airport flew direct to Bucharest. In a telephone booth she looked for a local newspaper; she selected Bursa, a Romanin/English newspaper, she then went to the Central Library and searched their web site, and there it was; No bodies found at Dacre Shoot Out.
At Dacre hotel she asked to see the hotel register. For the date of the ‘shoot out’ the page had been ripped out; someone was trying to cover their tracks! She then went to a paper shop opposite the hotel and asked the young girl behind the counter did she remember the ‘shoot out’.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said.
And continued to describe what she heard and saw; a black limousine with five people in it left directly afterwards.
‘The number of the car?’ asked Cyrene, hopefully.
The girl smiled.
’Of course, its on my iPhone!’
‘You are a clever girl, just transfer it to mine.’
Cyrene immediately sent the video to MI6 HQ. There was a fast response, not strictly to correct procedure; 'clever girl -wait!' A good days work Cyrene thought and repaired to the Dacre for a deserved late breakfast!
As she sat their finishing off a cup of coffee who should approach her, but non other than Eva!
‘May I?’ she asked.
Cyrene looked up and recognised her as the girl who had sat next to her In Amsterdam
Cyrene waved her to seat and waited.
‘Is this where the shooting took place, I’ve heard so much about?’
Cyrene took another sip of coffee, put the cup down and waited.
‘It must have been terrible, it’s a wonder no one got killed!’
Cyrene move her cup aside with her long fingers, and, looking up, raised an interrogative eyebrow.
Eva continued.
‘There was a lot of gunfire, look, there, the window it broke. I wonder who they were shooting at?’
She pointed to a window looking out onto the street that had obviously been replaced
‘Who, indeed?’ answered Cyrene.
‘And then, who ever it was, disappeared!’
‘In a puff of smoke, perhaps?’ Quipped Cyrene.
‘Well it’s a mystery,’ said Eva, still digging for information.
‘Perhaps its that Harry fellow you were looking for, you know in Amsterdam!’
Eva relented, and sighed.
’Perhaps we should talk.’
‘Perhaps we should, but I am off.’
She picked up her bag and left
Hole in his shoe No 58
Harry finds a clue
Cyrene received a secure message; ‘Check out barge - locate and follow crew member.’ She viewed it with some dismay; when and were, might of helped! Then she had a thought; follow Eva!
The barge which Captain Vandeloute had telephoned was approaching Giurgio, the town where Harry had got off. Giurgio is some 40 miles from Budapest; an hour and a half journey by car.
Cyrene hired an Avis car and drove as fast as she could to Giurgio, and who should be waiting at the quay, why Eva! She waited in the car; what now? The barge with ‘Lasta Beograd’ on its side pulled into the quay. Eva went aboard. She came off accompanied by a typical bargee, woolly bonnet, long smock, and five days growth of beard! There was gesticulation and argument, clearly a disagreement as who was to do what! Eva had no power here in Romania, so it must have been decided on the basis of ‘the most convenient!’ The bargee expressed ‘couldn’t care less’ acceptance with his hands, and got back on the barge. Eva walked away, clearly in a huff!
Cyrene watched this show, wondering whether it had been put on for her benefit; should she follow Eva, she thought? As an old hand at this game she new better than to rush of on a wild goose chase. There was a chance though; as the barge started to move off she rushed over and shouted, ‘Where’s Harry?‘ The bargee shrugged in that don‘t know way, that was enough! She signalled MI6, ( Person in Bucharest - location unknown). She then drove back and located at the Dacre hotel to wait - you never know, she thought!
Back at the Batravan Sanatoria, Harry was at a loss. Being told that the Americans, Iasabell, Olga, and, himself had never been there was clearly rubbish, but what to do? He had no back up or any sort of help, he had to fall back on his own recourses; he smiled to himself, that’s a joke! OK, time for James Bond!
He waited till all was clear and sneaked in to the main building and to the rooms they had occupied. He knocked on the first door and entered; an old lady was sitting on a commode, he quietly withdrew with a wave of his hand. The next one was empty; he remembered that it was Olga and Isabella’s room. He searched round for some sort of clue.
On going into the toilet he saw a scratch on the wall pointing to the cistern, and there a piece of card, one word on it, ‘Braila’ He had no idea where that was, but clearly he had to get back to Bucharest soonest. He saw an ambulance about to leave; he chanced it, and slipped on board.
Two hours later he was in the Dacre hotel. Unbeknown to him, sitting at a table, was the one person who could help him, Cyrene Profski!
Hole in his shoe 59
What Mission?
It was late afternoon. Cyrene sat at a table outside the hotel enjoying the afternoon sun, and a fine cup of coffee, when who should she see but the blond haired girl who had accosted her a few times, once in Amsterdam, and again in Cologne, Cyrene beckoned her over.
‘So we meet again; Amsterdam, Cologne, and now here, in Romania! My you God you get about; you tourist or something!’ She laid emphasis on the ’something.’
Eva looked a bit uncomfortable.
‘I could ask the same of you.’
‘Oh,’ said Cyrene, ’I am on a fact finding mission.’
Eva looked up at with an ironical look on her face.
’Fact finding is it?’
‘Yes,’ Cyrene replied, ’ I look for unusual features, or characters, you know like odd people?’ Then, somewhat archly, ‘do you know any?’
Eva was about to answer when she saw a familiar figure walking dejectedly toward the hotel. Before she could stop herself she shouted.
‘Harry, Harry, where have you been?’
Cyrene could hardly contain her astonishment; dropped straight into her lap, she thought! Eva, realising that she had blown their cover, so to speak, introduced Harry. ‘This is Harry Parker, a friend of mine from Amsterdam.’
Cyrene decided to open things up a bit.
’Not the Harry Parker I have heard so much about!’
Eva looked at her.
’What do you mean; heard about!’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ continued Cyrene.
She looked at Harry quizzically.
’Tough guy, can dodge bullets, even in this hotel!’
Harry shouted in some exasperation.
’Shut up!‘
He then continued,
‘Isabella and Olga have been taken by the Americans to Braila, wherever that is!’
He rather mournfully produced the card and laid it on the table.
Cyrene coolly answered.
‘Its on the Danube, north from here.’
She had received a message only that morning; ‘Limousine identified- tracking west’
Harry and Eva looked at her in astonishment.
Eva started, ‘how do…..’.
But Harry interrupted her.
‘We must get there fast.’ He looked downcast. ‘But how?’
Cyrene lifted her coffee cup to her lips.
‘There’s a train to Braila, from Nord Cara - leaves at 6 oclock; you can catch if you hurry -take my car.’ She pointed to the Avis rental.
As Eva and Harry scrambled to get in the car, and drive off, with a squeal of tyres, Cyrene lifted a secure phone and said, ’ Mission complete!’
Hole in his shoe 60
The Games afoot
Cyrene experienced a revealing night in Budapest! She was directed to the Sofia hotel- restaurant-nightclub-casino; only preferential guests allowed! There she met a so called Russian prince; she had him marked as a Russian oligarch immediately ; she did not reveal she could speak Russian.
All was intimate conversation laced with flirtation, sweetened by wine and soft candle light. They sat at a table in an alcove. Their fingers touched as the wine glasses were offered intimately across the table, they looked into one another’s eyes, the Russian broke into a soft song of the love for mother Russia.
Cyrene was enjoying herself with this evening of relaxation, when she heard something that made come fully alert! Across the room, what was clearly another Russian, hailed her companion.
‘We will finish it to morrow,’ he said, in Russian.
Cyrene’s companion affected not hear him.
‘Then home to Moscow!’
Cyerene’s companion raised his glass.’
‘Here’s to that then. Isabella will be pleased to hear that, Petrov.’
He accompanied that with a sardonic laugh! Inside.
Cyrene was in turmoil, but she maintained a soft but enquiring smile.
‘Is that a friend of yours?'
Petrov answered.
’No, he is more a business colleague. I think he has had too much to drink.’
She smiled as if clever.
‘I understand ‘Isabella’, is that his wife?’
Petrov stiffened, suspicious! ‘You understand Russian?’
Cyrene affected a laugh.
’Nyet, Nyet, it’s just a a word I recognised.’
Petrov become sly and he revealed a sinister interest.
‘It’s a name best forgotten. Come, let’s enjoy ourselves, the night is yet young.’
Not for me its not, thought Cyrene.
She touched his hand, and, looking into his eyes, and as seductively as possible said, ’I must be away to the powder room.’
She fled the hotel and returned to the Dacre. It was too late to move now. She sent a secure message: ‘Abduction to morrow. Arrange flight.’
At six o’clock she was on a Romanian SIR, (Romanian Security), light aircraft flight to Braila, landing at a private airfield nearby. The game was afoot!
Hole in his shoe 61
Coming together
Cyrene Profski went directly to the George hotel, opposite the quay where cruisers come in, and further down, barges. She chose a room that had a good view in both directions, and settled down to await events.
Harry and Eva arrived at Braila railway station uncertain what to do. In a small Tarinia opposite the station, over a cup of coffee, they reviewed the situation. Their conclusion was they could not trust anyone, but, Eva could still call on Captain Vandeloute for help, but after the indecisiveness of the meeting with the bargee she was not sure of the Captain’s intentions.
The question was; why would Isabella and Olga be brought here? Also Olga’s part in all this was odd, she was Security, but she had seemed to just flit in and out of things. To be honest Harry was getting fed up with the whole thing - what was expected of him?
In a run down part of Braila are dilapidated buildings, occupied by gypsies and the like, and the Paris hotel, a somewhat nondescript place with a worn down look about it. The occupants of the hotel were surprised to see a black limousine draw up outside. Two powerfully built men got out, and, opening the doors, three ladies stepped out and were taken into the hotel.
On the river Rhine there was by chance the convergence of two arrivals. One was the river cruiser Edelwiese, the other was a barge with Lasta Beograd on its side. Cyrene viewed this with some excitement, she could not have been in a better position to see what was going on. She sent a secure massage; ‘In position in Braila - await events - advise action’. She saw passengers embarking from the river cruiser. It looked as if they were going to stay the night. The Barge was also moored up as if waiting for something; curiouser and curiouser she thought!
Harry was talking to Eva.
‘It’s funny, I’m thinking, why Braila.’
‘You know,’ she said, ‘you are right, why come here. I mean they could have gone anywhere.’
‘Well, I don’t think they’re CIA, but its odd you know they have helped me from time to time.’
He looked up at the sky.
‘Suppose they are Russian?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘the Danube connects to the Black Sea, and the Ukraine is not far away. She jumped up.
‘They are going by boat, they can go direct, no questions asked. Come on quick!’
Harry stood on the quay. Good heavens he thought it’s the Edelweiss, and there waving to him was Rika! Another sight caught his eye, the barge with Lasta Beograd on its side. What’s going on? .
Cyrene viewed this with some interest. Action, at last, she thought.
Harry’s shoe , as if warning him, nipped very tight!
Hole in his shoe 62
The day before the night before
Petrov Michalia Gustaf Stranoff was indeed an oliarch, but of a different breed. He was an agent of the SVR, or Foreign Intelligence Service, which operates largely in Western Europe and the United States. Even more, he was an agent with a commission to kill as necessary in his role as extracting agents, or nationals, with information useful to the Russia. His role in Romania was to get the person of interest out of the country back to Russia.
He sat with one leg over a table, swinging a key chain. The Americans sat around a bare table, on Formica chairs. Olga and Isabella were not so casually seated, they lay gagged and bound on a rather grimy double bed.
He spoke as one in command with complete assurance as to what he intended; he was brief;
‘We move them tonight. A boat will pick them up at the quay.’
He allowed himself a smirk,
‘I will be home for breakfast.’
He swung off the table and turned to leave.
One of the Americans asked.
‘Are you expecting any trouble?’
Petrov stopped. He adopted and Americanism.
‘None we can’t handle!’
Harry was nonplussed as to what might be happening.
The Edelweiss, with Rika onboard, the Lasto Beograd barge further down; at this quay! Then the passengers disembarking, getting on a bus, and leaving as if it was planned for them to be out of the way! Then a further shock! A black police van arrived; armed police got out and concealed themselves around the Quay. And then, who appeared to be in charge, none other than the Major from Alexandria!
‘Harry, we come to save you; especially you now Romanian citizen!’
He smiled in that knowing manner associated with eastern Europeans; like before they knife you!’
‘Go on board Edelweiss, Rika wants to entertain you.’
Once again that broad smile!
‘You safe there.’
Safe from what, Harry thought?
He had been directed to Braila by a single word on a card - where was Isabella and Olga? He then had a second thought; Olga! What did he know about her? She had picked him up, entertained him on her houseboat - he felt a sudden urge when he thought of that. Was she up to something in Cologne! She seemed to be helping, or, up to something else, in Budapest?
He looked for Eva: nowhere to be seen! Oh well, he thought, I might as well go onboard the Edelweiss and sample Rika’s pleasures.
His night of dalliance did not last long, that hole in his shoe was about to burst wide open!
Hle inhis shoe 63
A bitter end
Cyrene awoke to the sound of gunfire, she was out of bed in a shot and on her way to the Quay before you could say Jack Robinson!
Harry rolled out of the arms of Rika and was on the bridge before you could say Rule Britannia!
It was unclear what was happening; it was two o’clock in the morning, all was dark other than spot lights coming from head torches. Suddenly the clouds cleared and the scene was illuminated by the moon.
There was the raw sound of a powerful outboard engine, and down river could be seen the wake of a power boat going at full speed. Harry was all of a tremble, what an earth was going on? He looked down, he saw the major nodding his head in such a manner as to accept some thing. What had gone wrong thought Harry? Something had certainly gone wrong.
Rika had opened the searchlight and he could see Eva cradling Isabella’s head in her arms. She looked up and shook her head. The tall girl appeared; the one who was at the hotel. She was talking to the major. Their nodding heads spoke of some agreement.
The Major and his men got in the Police van and drove off.
What now Harry thought?.
They brought Isabella on to the river cruiser and laid her out in the lounge. She looked in a bad way, blood pouring from a wound in chest; those ample bosoms had not saved her! As dawn broke she passed away.
The American lady and her cohorts disappeared!
Most Secret.
Only for those who need to know On the night of (……….deleted) at location in Romania. A Russian agent with devastating information on the UN response to current Russian threat escaped by means of a power boat which was tracked to the Bay of Sulina where it disappeared. There was one casualty.
Agents at the scene report gunfire and some confusion. The Romanian Security say they are unaware of such an event.
Harry returned to Amsterdam on the Edelweiss. He was not welcome. Even Eva spurned his advances. There was nothing for it; he returned home; his ex girl friend was married, has three children and lives on a council estate.
He often wonders about Olga - where is she now? He often thinks of Isabella; a mother figure in more ways than one!
In the records at MI6 his exploits are noted as convenient distractions in a failed spy retention .
Harry has a new pair of shoes; is that the beginning of a hole, we shall see!