Max & Olivia Box Set

by Mark A Biggs

  ‘But there is another story. A third Janus Key was made and is in the hands of those who may seek to exploit the technology, if, that is, the Janus Machine ever resurfaced.

  ‘If your Max and Olivia are indeed trying to retrieve Janus, then a battle of epic proportions will follow.

  ‘As I said, this is just a story and you must believe what you will.’

  Professor Drew finished telling her story and Detective Wells and I looked at one another.

  ‘Do you believe the Janus Project stories?’ asked Detective Wells.

  ‘Do you believe in the Holy Grail?’ retorted Professor Drew. ‘It matters not if the Grail exists; it has touched man and history throughout the ages regardless. So beware of Janus.’ With that remark she stood, making it obvious that our time with her had come to an end.

  With the meeting over, we walked outside and back towards the car.

  ‘Do you get the feeling she knows more than she’s saying?’ I asked.

  ‘Inspector, I think everybody knows more than they say. An occupational hazard.’

  Returning to the police station, we were greeted by the news that a green 1960 Jaguar had been sighted by a patrol yesterday. It was apparently broken down in Lostwithiel. A few phone calls later to the local car repair garages confirmed that we had the car and that the owner was picking it up in an hour’s time, at 11.30am.

  It took only another thirty minutes for our team to ring accommodation places near to where the car had been sighted. The enquiries revealed that three older people, a man and two women, had booked into the Kings Arms Hotel, initially for one night, but had then extended their stay to two nights.

  ‘What do you think Detective?’ I said. ‘Do we wait until they pick up the car and follow them to where they are going, or do we go in now?’

  ‘I have just got off the phone from the Yard. It seems the Spooks and Europol have taken an interest in our Max and Olivia and we are to use all resources to apprehend them. It’s just after 11.00 now; there’s no way we can get there or organise any special units in time. We will have to rely on the local police intercepting them when they pick up the car. I also think we should raid the Kings Arms Hotel, at the same time. The best we can do is to coordinate the operations from here.’

  ‘I agree, but we will have to lift the ban on radio communication. With luck the police presence will be a sufficient deterrent for whoever else is seeking them.’

  The unexpected interest of Europol and the British spy agencies gave weight, in my mind, to Professor Lacy Drew’s Janus story. A mixture of concern and dread for Max and Olivia swept over me. ‘Did you tell them, the spooks, that we think we know where they are heading?’

  ‘No.’

  Detective Wells and I were seated in our newly appointed offices at the police station looking up at the speaker which would broadcast the police radio channel to be used in the operation.

  With only twenty minutes to set up the operation and with limited resources, the local police had decided to monitor the garage from outside. They hoped to intercept Max and Olivia as they arrived to pick up the car. At worst, they would intercept the car as it left the garage. The hotel team was to raid the hotel the moment the car team moved and intercept either the Jaguar or the people.

  ‘Jag one in position,’ hissed the radio, followed by, ‘Hotel one in position.’ Then silence.

  Detective Wells and I could do nothing but sit in nervous anticipation. Like the radio we too were silent.

  ‘Green Jaguar leaving workshop.’ The radio went silent.

  ‘Go, go, go!’ came the voice of the local operational commander. ‘Intercept the car!’

  Detective Wells looked over towards me. ‘We’ve got them.’

  ‘In pursuit,’ came the radio.

  ‘Not yet,’ I said.

  ‘It’s 80mph on South on Castle Hill Road.’ In the background could be heard the sound of the police siren as the pursuit car driver spoke.

  ‘You have authority to continue with the pursuit,’ came the commander’s voice.

  Silence and a long silence.

  The radio abruptly came back to life at first with the sound of the siren. Then, perhaps a second or two passed before a voice said, ‘We have come to grief. We are okay but have crashed into a cemetery. The Jaguar is continuing south on Castle Hill Road.’

  More silence.

  ‘Pursuit two we have a visual on them, south on Castle Hill Road.’

  The commander voice said, ‘Speed?’

  ‘It’s 75MPH—it’s a narrow country lane.’

  ‘You are to terminate the pursuit and follow at a safe distance. We are blocking the B3269 North West of the Castle Hill Road intersection and we have another vehicle coming in from Tywardreath to block the B3269 south of the intersection.’

  The silence seemed to last an eternity before; ‘Tywardreath road block in place.’ Next came, ‘B3269 North road closure in place.’

  Again we waited.

  ‘Pursuit two we are at the B3269 intersection and heading south towards the Tywardreath road block.’

  ‘This is the Air Support Unit,’ crackled the radio. We are tracking south above the B3269 and have pursuit two in view.’

  Silence.

  ‘This is Tywardreath road block. The Jaguar has stopped 50 metres from us.’

  ‘Hold your position. Do not engage,’ came the local commander’s voice. ‘You are to wait for pursuit two and Air Support.’

  ‘This is Air Support; we have a visual. The vehicle is stationary. Pursuit two is a couple of minutes away.’

  Detective Wells and I looked at one another but said nothing. It was a long two minutes.

  ‘Pursuit two. We have the Jaguar, one female occupant.’

  Detective Wells reached over to the radio microphone and, in a voice that displayed some urgency, said, ‘Can you identify the occupant?’

  ‘Elinor Grange,’ came the reply.

  ‘Can we have an update on the Kings Arms Hotel?’

  ‘No sightings ma’am,’ came the unwelcome response.

  ‘What now?’ I said to Detective Wells, all the while harbouring a little admiration for the tenacity of Max and Olivia, which was perhaps betrayed by the slightest of smiles as I spoke.

  ‘We close down everything; everything coming and going from Falmouth and the Helford River. I want it more secure than Fort Knox. We know that they don’t use mobile phones so we check all the phone booths nearby and the pub to see if we can work out where they have gone. They must have rung someone for help.’

  ‘They could be hiding at Lostwithiel?’

  ‘True, but I doubt it. I’ll have Elinor brought here. Let’s find out what she knows!’

  ‘In the helicopter?’ I said.

  ‘No, they’re still down there somewhere. Once we know what we are looking for I want Air Support on hand.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Grave

  Max

  ‘Max, this place hasn’t changed in seventy years. The view of the river and the sea is still as beautiful and unspoilt as when we first came here during the war.’

  ‘I remember, Olivia. It is truly wonderful,’ I said, looking out over Helford Passage on what was a vividly clear day. ‘Do you recall lying on the grass gazing out over the river and looking down on all of the ships and landing craft in the build-up to D-Day?’

  ‘I do, Max.’ Olivia took hold of my hand and gave it an affectionate but sombre squeeze.

  ‘I sometimes long for those days. The time when we were still young and our whole lives stretched before us.’ Feeling a little melancholy, I added, ‘We’ve had a good life, you and I. Have I been a good husband? Has life, you and I together, been what you hoped for?’

  ‘Max, Max,’ said Olivia in soft and tender voice. ‘It was here that we first made love, the night before another one of those suicide missions which were guaranteed to shorten the war, this time to the Bay of Biscay. You were going close to the U-boat pens at La Rochelle. I didn
’t think you would come back and made a promise to God, if you lived, I would love you to the end of my dying days. I’ve kept that promise and you have been the bravest, kindest and most loving man I have ever known.’ Taking a breath, Olivia continued in her mellow tone, ‘I don’t want to go back, Max. We can’t go back, not now. I want—I want us to die together, while we are still free.’ Turning to look deep into my eyes and taking hold of my hand again she said, ‘Promise me you won’t let them take us back.’

  ‘I thought you were happy at the home?’

  ‘I can’t forget the terrible, lingering way in which some of our close friends died. I don’t want a death that someone else determines for me. I want to choose my own passing. I want to choose what happens at the end of my life. I’m frightened we may experience the unbearable suffering of a terminal disease and that no one will assist us to die if that happens. It’s more than a fear of being chronically and terminally ill.

  ‘We survive in the home, but that’s not the same as living. Tell me how we added value or made a contribution. When did we do anything constructive other than go through the routines that sustained the meagre biological life we had left? The conversations and the stories we tell are the same day in day out. There are no new experiences to share. If it were not for you, there would be no love. We are cared for but not loved and without love there is no life.

  ‘Death is the last intimate thing we do and, when the time comes, I want to share it with you. I can’t go back now, knowing what we know. We’ve had a good life and should leave on our terms. Thelma and Louise driving over the cliff, exiting in style.’ She paused, then added, ‘Are you ashamed of me?’

  ‘No, I’m not ashamed. I envy your courage and surety. Not Thelma and Louise, a bored waitress and a disillusioned housewife. That’s not our story, but I love the imagery.’ The injection of a little humour broke the sombre moment and, in silence, we stood, looking out across the passage.

  ‘We should walk back to the church and see if we can find the gravestone,’ I said.

  It took a few minutes to make our way along the coast track and return to the entrance of the church yard. Hesitating at the gate, I looked up and read to myself the Cornish inscription which hung above the church lynch gate. “It is good for me to draw nigh unto God”. I promise Olivia; I won’t let them take us back, I thought. ‘Are you ready?’ Taking Olivia by the hand I walked through the gate and entered the church grounds and cemetery.

  On a cold dreary day, the old stone building, seemingly unchanged since the twelve hundreds, could have been eerily detached if not spooky. The graveyard, with its weathered, unloved and forgotten gravestones, could have been a bitter place of indifference. Today, overlooking the mouth of the Helford River, it was a splendour to behold, an ancient wonder, a custodian of time and history, offering sanctuary to those interred within. Almost immediately I understood the clue, seeing a stone headstone fallen on a grave. Approaching the site I was disturbed to see numerous graves with toppled stones. ‘This is going to be more difficult than I thought.’

  ‘We are looking for a toppled stone cross,’ Olivia reminded me.

  Surveying the surroundings, we saw only one choice, but first we were drawn to walk the uneven ground among the forgotten, stopping to read the gravestones and pondering the lives of the people who, in their absence, still brought life to this most remarkable of places.

  Our survey over and, looking one final time out over the river, we turned towards the church and the toppled cross which beckoned. With each step toward the cross, back up the uneven hallowed ground, hope, eagerness and apprehension held our thoughts. Was this the clue? How would we know if it was and would we understand it?

  Reaching the cross we realized, with all certainty, that this was the clue we sought for, written on it, worn but visible, was our code word, “Claude DUVAL”.

  Died 1723

  Secret Kingdom of Fife

  “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”

  ‘Do you know what it means?’

  ‘I’m not sure Olivia, it’s probably another one of those bloody cryptic clues. Where’s Elinor when you need her?’ At least, being a vicar, I know where the passage comes from; it’s John 4:10. And the Kingdom of Fife is easy.’

  ‘Scotland, as we thought,’ interrupted Olivia.

  ‘More precisely, the tunnels outside of Anstruther,’ I replied. ‘The ones we sometimes used during the war. What’s Elinor to tell the police if she is caught collecting the Jaguar?’

  Exactly what we discussed, Max. As much of the truth as she can with the exception of the cryptic clue and Cliff.’

  ‘Do you remember if we said Janus was in Scotland?’

  ‘We did Max; remember when you tossed the coin?’

  ‘I did. That doesn’t seem like such a good idea now. With luck, if all’s gone well, she will be waiting for us with the car at the Kings Arms and her knowing about Scotland won’t be a problem. Let’s copy every detail from the cross just in case the clue is more than the words. Then I think we should get out of here.’

  Both Olivia and I copied what we saw so as we could compare later, minimizing the chance of one of us missing some important detail. Then we headed back around to the front of the church. As we rounded the building we were stopped in our tracks. The police were talking with our ride. Quietly backtracking and keeping out of sight, we remained hidden but could just overhear the conversation.

  ‘We are setting up a road block just down the road from here but, before we do that, we are just checking that the people we are looking for are not here. Have any of you seen cars or other visitors since you have been here?’ said the police officer.

  Olivia and I held our breaths and waited for the answer.

  ‘No, just our group,’ came an unresponsive and uninterested reply from one of our guides, who with his leather jacket off, revealed huge biceps tattooed with skull and crossbones… an intimidating sight.

  ‘Okay, have a nice ride.’ With that, the police officer returned to her car and drove off down the road, I assumed to set up the road block.

  ‘Elinor must have been caught. How else would they have known to come here?’

  Olivia nodded.

  With the police car gone, we casually walked out of the gate, pretending we had not seen or heard the police. Approaching the motorbike riders and speaking to none of them in particular I said, ‘It hasn’t changed at all,’ turning back to look at the church. ‘This is a fantastic tour; thank you for agreeing to bring us here.’ Then, in a raised jubilant voice I called aloud, ‘Let’s ride Olivia,’ while throwing her a leather jacket from the back of the Harley Davidson she was pillion riding.

  Putting on the helmets of our respective Harley Davidsons, we mounted pillion. The black leathers, insignia and helmets of our riders made them look menacing, as did the sound of five Harleys barking into life, intruding on the serenity of the picturesque setting. Within seconds we roared down the road and gave the slightest sign of acknowledgment as we passed through the police checkpoint before rumbling into Mawnan Smith.

  * * *

  Inspector Axel

  We were no longer alone. Our makeshift control room at Exeter Police Station was abuzz with people: officers following the various leads that might divulge how Max and Olivia had left Lostwithiel.

  ‘Ma’am,’ I heard a young police detective call, a person whose name I had not yet learnt; ‘I think I have something. Last night a call was made from a public pay phone on the corner of Cutt Road and the A390 in Lostwithiel. This was the first time the phone had been used in three months. The call was to Cornwall Harley Davidson Pillion Rides. They have confirmed a booking to pick up two people from the Kings Arms Hotel this morning, for a full day ride in Cornwall. They were also joined by three other Harleys, friends so the business owner said, riding because it was such a nice day to be on the road.’

 
‘They certainly like to stand out,’ I said to Detective Wells who nodded in agreement before adding, ‘At least they won’t be difficult to find; five Harley Davidsons.

  ‘All right team,’ she said in an excited voice. ‘Let’s put it out there, tell all our patrols to be on the lookout for any person riding a Harley Davidson, but in particular any with pillion passengers and riding in a group.’

  ‘All we have to do now, Inspector Axel,’ she said, turning towards me, ‘is wait. I can’t imagine this taking long.’

  ‘Ma’am,’ said the man whose name I did not know, ‘Our people at the Mawnan road block spoke to a group of Harley Davidson riders at the Mawnan Church earlier today. They didn’t see Max or Olivia, but admit to not checking the church grounds. They later waved the bikes through the road block thinking they had already been checked.’

  In a voice that betrayed her annoyance, Detective Wells responded, ‘How long ago?’

  ‘Twenty minutes, ma’am.’

  Looking at a map of Cornwall flattened on the desk, Detective Wells muttered to herself, ‘How far can you go in twenty minutes?’ Then she said aloud, ‘Stop everything coming and going from Cornwall. I want Air Support to sweep west from Truro. If they had gone towards Falmouth we should have had a report. I don’t care if it’s a hippy wagon, I want it stopped and searched. Two octogenarians can’t be that hard to find. Do I make myself clear?’

  A united ‘ma’am’ came from those gathered in the control room.

  ‘And now we sit tight,’ I said to Detective Wells, in a voice that was both cheeky and thoughtful.

  ‘Let’s get a coffee while we wait. Contact me if there’s any news,’ she called as we moved towards the door.

  Walking together in silent contemplation, it was refreshing to leave the building and feel the warmth of the sunny day. Not five minutes had passed before Detective Wells’ phone rang.

  ‘Yes?’ she said and then fell silent, listening to whoever had called. Hanging up the phone she turned to me and said. ‘The helicopter has five motorbikes in sight, so we should get back.’