Max & Olivia Box Set

by Mark A Biggs

  When Monya spoke, Claudia smiled warmly. The conversation was temporarily halted as a waiter put a meal in front of Claudia and the other waiter did the same for me.

  ‘My dear, things are going well but I do need you to go to Dubrovnik a little earlier than we were planning, just to ensure it stays that way. We’ve been monitoring Professor Akihiko, the head of our cyber team. There are some anomalies in his profile. Nothing significant on its own. Recently he twice walked to work using a different route and stopped for coffee at a new café. The following day he reverted to his usual pattern. He occasionally forgets his mobile phone and he did so on both of these days. You see, Claudia, on the first anomalous day he ordered the wrong coffee. A mistake with his order possibly, or was he was nervous, on edge? He knows that we watch him and it would be inconvenient if he betrayed us. Have one of your chats with him, let him know that I am concerned and tell him that we will be watching him closely.

  ‘I want to know what risk he poses and if any of our cyber operations have been compromised. No one must know of the blockchain project and how we feed the IT community, to our advantage, of course. Our source code must form the foundation for the new technology, especially when the banks start “chunking” their transactions. If he has been disloyal I will kill him myself but, if he is being blackmailed, well that may be to our advantage. I will meet the other Brotherhood members soon and they will wish to know that their investment is progressing nicely. Your visit to Dubrovnik will be a health check. Examine all of our cyber-operations, not just the blockchain project, understood?’

  ‘Yes, Monya,’ answered Claudia, lowering her head slightly.

  ‘Good. After Dubrovnik, I have another opportunity for you.’

  I ceased eating and observed the conversation. No attempt had been made to hide their secrets and I was being ignored, as if I didn’t exist, which did not bode well for my future.

  ‘An opportunity,’ Claudia repeated, ‘by which, you mean a problem.’.

  ‘At our house in Macinec.’

  Macinec. That’s the town where Olivia and I found and freed Lucia. This is the same syndicate, operational after twenty years and using the same house.

  I felt angry.

  How could this be? We shut that place down. Stay calm! I whispered to myself.

  I took a slow, purposeful sip of wine and let the liquid swirl around my month to savour its flavours before swallowing gently. My composure returned using this simple performance, which went unnoticed. I focused my attention on the interaction between Claudia and Monya. Something was different. I wondered if Monya sensed it.

  ‘Some of the girls aren’t being well prepared. There have been complaints from some of our important customers. I would like you to stay there for a while to help Anna and make sure she understands what we expect. I would like you there before the next shipment arrives at the end of next month. Visit Dubrovnik and then have a little holiday before you go. You will have time. Stay on the yacht when you finish your work at Dubrovnik, yes? You have earned it and I know how much you love sailing around the Greek Islands, up and down the Adriatic coast. One of our favourite things, after all. I won’t be able to join you this time, my dear, although I will still fly down on Saturday for the reception. Linda will also be joining you at Dubrovnik, I want her to take over from Anna at Macinec, eventually.’

  ‘Anna?’ asked Claudia.

  ‘She can stay at Macinec, for now. If you think she can’t work with Linda, you know what to do.

  ‘Now my dear, what about Max! Perhaps you can enlighten me as to why he is here, enjoying my hospitality?’

  This is it.

  I was not afraid. I desperately missed Olivia.

  I want to be with her when I die.

  ‘It was a split-second decision.’

  ‘So I have heard, out of character, don’t you think?’ replied Monya coolly.

  ‘His, and Olivia’s, fame grew as we hunted them across Britain. When the media realised that they were the eighty-five-year-olds who rode a motorbike and sidecar around Europe, the interest in them was insatiable. I had a dread that I would create a martyr if I shot him. A rallying point for the people of Britain and perhaps other parts of the world against us – organised crime. I thought it wiser to take him with me and let time fade their memories. We can dispose of him when we are ready or let him die of old age: Max passed away peacefully of old age the headline would read. For us, he is forgotten, as are we.’

  It took me a few seconds to comprehend what Claudia had said, it was not what I was expecting.

  Why the change? Once again, she is rallying to my aid.

  I wasn’t out of danger. Monya was revealing little as he placed his knife and fork on his plate, picked up his glass of red wine and took a long sip.

  ‘Martyrdom can be inconvenient, even dangerous. You are my favourite, Claudia, but this is not to go wrong. We are not in the business of running a nursing home. Take him with you, he can stay at Macinec for the time being. He looks harmless enough but don’t let him out of your sight until you reach Macinec.’

  ‘Come Claudia,’ said Monya, standing and reaching out his hand, ‘I’ve missed you.’

  Claudia responded by taking Monya’s hand and raising herself from her place at the dining table. For the first time since arriving, she stole a sidewards glance at me. The same look as the one that I awoke to that first morning on the submarine. With it, something stirred deep within me, a nagging feeling.

  I know this woman. Who is she?

  Monya’s gaze followed Claudia’s and came to rest on me.

  ‘The staff will take care of you,’ he said. ‘Make yourself at home but don’t do anything silly.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want me to let him out of my sight,’ said Claudia with a giggle.

  ‘Starting tomorrow,’ he replied, while touching her lightly on the bottom.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Eiffel Tower

  Olivia

  The sun was setting and twilight shrouding Paris as we left our hotel to entrap our final guest for Tuesday night’s dinner. From the Eiffel Tower, following the tree-lined footpath along the Quai Baraly in the direction of the Australian Embassy, stalls line the street. It’s a pretty, park-like area, with the street stalls nestled between the trees on the right and the Emile Antoine Sports Stadium on the left. If you reach the Bir-Hakeim bridge, then you’ve gone too far. The covered stalls sell tourist wares, food and cheap art. The retailers face a footpath which runs alongside the sports stadium and back onto a bike path that runs parallel to the main road. Street sellers add to the market stalls, trying to offload their counterfeit tourist wares like cast Eiffel Towers of all sizes, hats and an assortment of trinkets, all neatly laid out on cloth. When a warning is given of police approaching, the street sellers pull cords attached to the cloth creating a bundle that is thrown over the shoulder to be set up again once the danger has passed. The Eiffel Tower precinct is notorious for its pickpockets but not at this street market. This is the home of a much more lucrative criminal con: The Shell Game. This is one where the victims need to feel safe enough to have their money-filled wallets out on display.

  The shell, or three cups and ball game, is probably one of the oldest swindles of all time. Some believe it dates to the Ancient Greeks, or earlier. The fleece requires an operator and confederates and it’s impossible to win. Yet, every night, naïve tourists walking through the market, part easily with their hard-earned cash to the tricksters.

  There are many variations to the game but tonight it was the traditional three cups and ball. The ball is placed under one of the cups so that it can’t be seen. The cups are shuffled in plain view of the spectators. The players are invited to bet by choosing the cup that they think holds the ball. The confidence trickster rigs the game by sleight of hand and the ball is moved during play and replaced as required. To entrap the unsuspecting player and to convince potential players of the game’s legitimacy, accomplices, posing as partici
pants, win a few games while intended targets look on. On some occasions, if the confidence trickster believes that a player has deep pockets, they’ll allow the player to win before beginning the scam.

  Tonight, we were in for a treat as the full con was on display.

  Many of the onlookers watching the game were part of the scam and our operator was using the multiple player version of the trick where a confederate and victim play the swindle together. Traditionally the confederate is female as men don’t like being beaten by women. The game is rigged for the woman to succeed, encouraging the man to continue playing and betting. Psychologically he wants to beat the dealer and the woman who is beating him. Watching the foolish man play, forking out money in pursuit of his chauvinist pigheadedness, I wonder if Max feels ashamed of his gender sometimes? Even knowing how the scam works, I marvelled at the operator’s sleight of hand. Aware that I must not watch the cups being moved, because that’s the distraction, and that I must keep my eyes fixed to the centre for the swap, I still didn’t see when it occurred.

  Once, when Max and I were in Westminster in London, England, I thought I would con the trickster. This was the first and only time I played the game. Having, from a safe distance, scrutinised the scam being played out, I moved closer and watched an accomplice win two straight games before leaving, saying she wanted to go before losing her winnings.

  ‘Anyone else want to play?’ called the charlatan.

  I allowed my gaze to meet his.

  ‘Come on Madam, see if you can take my money too. I’m having a difficult day. You women are fleecing me dry; much better eyes than the men.’

  I came forward and he placed the ball under the centre cup and then started his shuffle. From what I had seen, he was not allowing a first win to a real victim to entice them into a higher bet. The trap was being sprung on the first try. On every occasion that I’d watched, it appeared to the victim that the ball was under the middle cup, but it had always been the one on the operator’s right. The shuffling stopped and the three cups were in a straight line in front of me.

  I moved my finger towards the middle one, then hesitated, pointing to the cup to his right, saying, ‘What the heck.’

  ‘Oh, hesitation!’ said the operator loudly, teasing the crowds, ‘should she have gone with her instincts or is she right and it’s under this one?’

  He pointed to the cup I had chosen.

  ‘Will she win the cash?’

  Holding up the money, he waved it about, for all to see. Then as quick as a flash he lifted my chosen cup to reveal no ball. And in a continuous motion he turned over the middle cup and there it was.

  Once he held up the cash, I knew that I was in trouble because that was the distraction for his sleight of hand. My £50 lesson – it’s impossible to win. But, I don’t mind being conned when I know I’m being conned – and I was well and truly done.

  The Inspector and I left the spot from where, at a safe distance, we’d been watching the game and walked back towards the Eiffel Tower. We then doubled back, this time taking the cycle path that ran behind the market stalls. Having already walked along this path on the way to observe the game, we knew that a minder was standing behind the operator, out of sight. He’d concealed himself between two of the market tents and was in a perfect position to watch the game. He, like other minders we’d met, was a tall man. This one was heavily set and intimidating, a figure more at home guarding a brothel than a shell game. He looked out of place, at odds with the environment he was guarding. Our earlier reconnaissance hadn’t uncovered other minders which was reassuring considering his size.

  We now knew seven people were part of the game and they were the ones we could identify. The warning signs were clear and we knew it was going to be a risky exercise. Attaching a tracking bracelet to this minder might prove to be the most dangerous part of our venture, so far. The Inspector expected no trouble from the minder once he produced his police badge but we decided not to approach him together. I’d remain a tactful few paces behind the Inspector, out of sight and hidden between the trees. At any sign of trouble, I would be able to rally to his assistance and brandish the pistol which was hidden in my handbag.

  From the safety of my vantage point, I watched as the Inspector moved towards the man. He spoke and the man turned and faced the Inspector as he approached. I saw the police badge being held up and the minder, on cue, put his arms out in front of him. The Inspector snapped the tracking bracelet onto his left wrist without encountering any resistance. With no warning, the minder swivelled to his right and grabbed the Inspector by the throat, lifting him off the ground. Startled, I broke cover and headed to his aid.

  Advancing, I heard the minder growling, ‘You thought I was on my own. That was very stupid of you.’

  From nowhere, two burly, flat-headed minders appeared and moved to the assistance of their companion. Inspector Axel struggled to break free. Both of his hands gripped the arms of the man who was trying to strangle him.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ I said, speaking to the strangler and his fast-approaching friends, ‘I suggest that you let the Inspector go.’

  The thug holding Inspector Axel turned his head, peering in the direction of my voice, and saw my pistol, which had been hidden in my handbag, pointing in his direction.

  ‘Now please,’ I added.

  He let go of the Inspector who, when his feet touched the ground, took a step backwards, drawing his pistol as he moved.

  ‘I wondered where the old hag was. I thought it was past your bedtime, or that you’d run out of incontinence pads and couldn’t come out.’ The minder laughed as he spoke. ‘We were waiting for you, but I should have guessed the Inspector couldn’t come without his granny for protection.’

  As the man talked, he was joined by his colleagues and I moved in to stand next to the Inspector. In the background, I saw other people, those who had been part of the scam, leaving the game and moving in our direction. This was turning nasty. We had to leave, and fast.

  ‘Well that’s most pleasing and we are glad that you were expecting us,’ said Inspector Axel calmly, holding up the envelope containing the picture of Claudia and the invitation for dinner on Tuesday night at the Eiffel Tower restaurant, ‘Then you will know what this is. As much as we enjoy your company, I think it’s time we were moving on. Before we go, I will just leave this here for you.’

  He placed the envelope on the ground.

  ‘Now we bid you a fond goodnight.’

  The minder laughed at the Inspector’s comments and then looked towards his colleagues who looked as equally bemused.

  With our pistols pointed in their direction, we walked along the bike track towards the Bir-Hakeim bridge. I couldn’t sustain walking forwards while simultaneously pointing my gun backwards so had to leave covering our rear to the Inspector. On our left two of the men who had been following were shadowing us using the footpath which ran in parallel to the cycle track. Even taking the Inspector’s arm for assistance, I knew that I couldn’t walk fast enough to outrun our pursuers. When we reached Rue Jean Rey, the bike path would merge with the footpath and I knew that we would be caught in a pincer movement. Luckily, as we arrived, a throng of around a hundred people were pushing past and around each other. We concealed our weapons as we reached the crowd and plunged headlong into the crush.

  The mob was a blessing and a curse. The crime gang could use it to their advantage by knifing us and walking on, anonymous amongst the pack. Shooting us was an impossible proposition for our hunters. A small benefit, given our predicament. Stealing a quick glance back, I caught a glimpse of the men as they mingled with the crowd.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I said, struggling to catch my breath but, before the Inspector could answer, I continued, ‘We could pull our guns and face them; that would bring the police!’

  ‘What about finding Max? You would be deported,’ replied the Inspector. ‘We still have the upper hand. With the tracking beacons and stealing the Ferrari, they ca
n’t be certain we’re operating alone. They seem content to follow us while we are in this crowd or maybe they’re checking we are on our own. But they will try to take us out when the opportunity arises.’

  As we approached the next intersection, near the Bir-Hakeim metro station, the number of people on the footpath increased. The area was a hive of activity, a busy tourist spot with eating places, restaurants, fast-food stores and cafés spilling onto the side walk stretching around the corner, all filled with people.

  ‘Let’s wait them out here,’ I suggested to the Inspector, pointing to a vacant table in a busy outside café.

  He nodded his agreement and we took a seat. Seeing us, two of our chasers drifted past and settled on a table at the other end of the café, with a clear view of where we were seated.

  ‘Now what?’ asked the Inspector. It was more of a question to himself than to me.

  ‘Red wine?’

  My answer must have taken him by surprise because he laughed and shook his head.

  ‘Why not? Red wine seems as good a plan as any.’

  As he spoke we noticed two police officers patrolling the street accompanied by two army personnel. They were crossing the road, moving in our direction.

  ‘Wait here,’ instructed the Inspector, before striding toward the patrol. I looked to our assailants who guessed that we were seeking assistance. One, realising I was peering at them, lifted his hand, held two fingers in the shape of a gun, moved it towards his head, pointed it at his temple and mouthed Bang. Glancing away, I found Inspector Axel, and watched as he produced his Police ID and then pointed towards our pursuers. They’d left and were heading back towards the Eiffel Tower but not before kicking a chair at my table as they passed.

  ‘Come on,’ called the Inspector, beckoning me to join him with the patrol.

  By the time I reached him, Inspector Axel was thanking them for their assistance, intending to go on without their protection.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said, and we left their sanctuary, eager to return to our hotel, preferably safe and unseen.