Max & Olivia Box Set

by Mark A Biggs

  ‘I was there when you shot Elinor and Detective Wells in Mawnan cemetery and it was most likely you who caused the crash in Poland that almost killed Olivia and me. Yet, I have seen you show mercy. We are all complex, Claudia, people made and formed from our experiences, which is why I want to ask for your forgiveness. Forgiveness for the hurt that Olivia and I have caused you.’

  ‘Don’t preach at me,’ I snapped, before once again quelling my anger. ‘I’m not one of your Sunday parishioners.’ Then in scornful laugher I added, ‘Sweetie, were you really a priest or was that just your cover as a spy?’

  ‘I’m not talking about religion. If you can’t forgive you will forever be the victim, blaming everyone but yourself for whatever wrong befalls you. Seeking revenge because of what someone did, or didn’t do. Forgiveness isn’t about forgetting or excusing but, by forgiving, you are accepting the reality of what happened, rather than being bound by it. You become the master of your own destiny, as someone once said.’

  ‘Pathetic,’ I mocked. ‘If you are going to throw around other people’s quotes, you should at least know where they come from. Sweetie, it’s from Napoleon Hill and, if you really trying to pull at my heart strings, why not try Nelson Mandela, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. I’m no longer that little girl. I am Claudia. So, stop this now and it’s time you woke Melanie-Jane again.’

  ‘You’re well-read but you still haven’t answered my question. Why didn’t you shoot me?’

  ‘If you must know, I was about to pull the trigger when I recognised you, from Macinec. It was unexpected, I was unsettled and I couldn’t go through with it. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t really matter, because here you are.’

  ‘Yes, here we are! Do you know, Claudia, you’re not angry at me because of Macinec. You’re angry because you cared.’

  Max turned away from me, placed his hands around the pilot and shook her gently.

  ‘Melanie – Melanie-Jane, you need to wake up.’

  We had flown clear of the last mountain and I felt my hands relax on the wheel. Glancing at the compass, I saw that we were tracking 225 south west, our intended course. The terrain below had become a little less rugged but seemed an impossible landscape on which to land. Off into the distance, the Mediterranean was coming into view. My heart started to race as I deliberated on what I was about to suggest.

  ‘I’m going to fly out over the sea, look for a spot where we won’t be seen and ditch the plane into the water. We’ll not survive but our secrets will go down with us.’

  I eased forward on the wheel, frightened of crashing prematurely, but wanting to lose altitude.

  ‘See,’ said Max, calmly considering the situation. ‘You do care, a misguided loyalty I grant you, but loyalty nonetheless.’

  ‘You make me laugh, Max. Don’t you ever give up? Crashing into the Mediterranean isn’t my road to Damascus. I’m not going to have an epiphany, or dramatic conversion just before I die—please God forgive me for all my sins and by the way I’m sorry about all those people I killed, oh and the stealing. Don’t forget the tax evasion and being a despicable person – Amen! Can I have eternal life now? Sweetie, what a load of rubbish! I’ll leave that kind of hypocrisy to people like you.’

  I glanced at the compass then eased back on the wheel, levelling out ready to fly over the sea. When Max did not reply, I peered across at him, disappointed that our argument had come to an end. Then, our eyes met and he smiled.

  ‘Can you promise me one thing Claudia, if we walk away from this? Your knowledge of Shakespeare, poetry, the classics and religion, it’s not what one expects. Not just because of what you do, but where you are from. I would love to know the story, so promise me that you will tell me.’

  I laughed again, but before I could respond to Max, I heard a groan coming from Melanie-Jane. She was coming around.

  ‘Is she awake?’ I asked.

  He didn’t answer me but instead started chatting to our pilot.

  ‘Welcome back, we were becoming worried. You still have to tell me all about Basil, your crazy dog.’

  I saw Melanie-Jane smile when he mentioned her dog.

  ‘We have cleared the mountain range and the Mediterranean is in front. It’s time we thought about putting this baby down. Do you think you can do that?’

  ‘I can’t use my arms and legs,’ replied Melanie-Jane. ‘I have some movement but they are weak. I can’t hold the stick or use the rudders. I can try and talk you down.’

  She turned her head towards me but she was looking at the compass and other instruments and not me.

  ‘Excellent, we are on the right heading. The altitude is too low because we need to make a turn, and we are carrying a little too much airspeed. Considering everything, we are in excellent shape. Claudia, you see the compass in front of you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I answered.

  ‘Good,’ continued Melanie-Jane. ‘We are going to make a gentle right turn in two stages because we don’t want to bank. I want you to ease the plane to the right by turning the wheel until the compass reads 270. Slowly, now.’

  Cautiously, I turned right.

  ‘That’s it,’ I heard the pilot say encouragingly. ‘Ease up a bit – very good – now a little more, okay that’s perfect, we are coming up on 270 so level off. Very good, our airspeed is still good and we didn’t lose much altitude. Now for the next part. Again, I want you to ease her to the right until the heading reads 310.’

  I took another deep breath, focused and felt a feeling of control wash over my body.

  ‘Here we go.’

  As we approached the heading 310, I straightened the wheel.

  ‘Okay,’ said Melanie-Jane. ‘Max, I want you to pull back on the throttles, those levers in the middle, very gently until I say stop.’

  I could see Max from the corner of my eye following Melanie-Jane’s instructions. As he pulled back on the throttles, the engines changed tune and I felt the aeroplane slow.

  ‘Now Claudia,’ continued Melanie-Jane, ‘ease the nose down. We are beginning our landing.’

  ‘Where?’ I inquired.

  ‘Soon you will be able to see our runway but, before we can land, you need to attend to our landing sequence. On your right, you will see some levers, next to the throttles. They are the slats and flaps. In a minute, I am going to get Max to give them a couple of clicks, which will allow us to fly at a lower speed without stalling, the speed we need for landing. In front of you is an airspeed indicator. With help from Max, I will keep that in the green for you, so that you don’t have to worry about the plane’s speed. When I put on the flaps, I want you to push forward just a fraction more on the stick, but not yet.’

  From the window, the runway came into view. The terrain below was now rugged and was moving closer as we descended.

  ‘Okay Claudia,’ Melanie-Jane instructed, ‘here we go.’

  Max applied the flap, causing the plane to slow and continue its descent towards the runway.

  I loosened and then tightened my grip on the wheel, flexing my fingers as I did. Unexpectedly, the plane rolled, dipping to the left and then to the right and then back to the left. At the same time, it dropped and I could tell that we were not going to make it to the runway. In front, a red light started flashing and a cockpit alarm sounded. With the plane pitching one way and then the next, I moved the wheel to the right to correct the wings when they dipped to the left and then to the left when they dipped to the right.

  ‘Hold the stick still!’ commanded Melanie-Jane in a loud rasping voice, still affected by the drugs. ‘Power Max, give me power!’

  Like a waking giant, the engines roared to life, causing the plane to shake as it rolled.

  ‘More power,’ she demanded. The side to side rolling eased but the ground raced to greet us. ‘Pull back on the stick.’

  I instantly obeyed and with millimetres to spare we scraped over the trees.

  ‘Landing gear, Max,’ was her next command. ‘There on your
right.’

  The plane shuddered again as the landing gear descended and locked into place. We were straying too far to the left and would miss the runway.

  ‘Claudia,’ ordered the pilot calmly, ‘correct the drift. I want you to steer to the right and Max will power down.’

  The tone from the engines changed once again, the roar becoming a hum.

  ‘Stick forward. Claudia, bring your feet together, there are two pedals in the middle. They are the brakes. Wait for my command.’

  I did as she had instructed.

  ‘Bring the stick back,’ she said next as we cleared the trees and were now over the runway. ‘A bit more, that’s it. Max, power down, power down. More please.’

  THUD and then a screech as the wheels under the wings hit the ground.

  ‘Nose down, all the way. Power off. Brakes, squeeze the brakes.’

  The change in the sensation of speed was immediate the moment we hit the tarmac. The plane now raced along the bitumen like a car out of control. The end of the runway was fast approaching.

  ‘We’re not going to stop!’ I cried.

  ‘Be buggered if we are going to die after all of this,’ swore Melanie-Jane. ‘Max, pull the throttles all the way back and put her into reverse.’

  The engines came to life again but this time they were almost deafening in their roar. I joined the chorus by pushing harder against the pedals and saying.

  ‘Come on, come on, slow down.’

  The end of the runway was seconds way and we would be sent hurtling into the trees if we did not halt the forward motion. At the last moment, the plane’s front wheel smashed into a hole and we came to a rest.

  ‘Power off, Max,’ came Melanie-Jane’s voice.

  She then gave a deep sigh and said, ‘We are down. Well done everyone and welcome to Dubrovnik.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Venice

  Jean-Marc

  ‘Inspector, Inspector!’ Olivia called urgently.

  ‘Lady Olivia, you must really try and practise. I am Jean-Marc, your private secretary,’ I replied with a yawn, having been woken from a slumber.

  ‘Yes, yes, from now on I promise. But Jean-Marc,’ she said unhurriedly yet with a touch of exasperation showing in her voice. ‘Turn around and look at the TV headlines. A bomb has exploded at the Rome railway station. Do you think it was that suitcase, the one I encouraged you to open?’

  “Encourage” is not how I recall it.

  Before I had a chance to answer, I watched as our photographs, from CCTV footage taken at the station, were being displayed on the screen accompanied with the caption: Nationwide search underway for suspected train station bombers.

  ‘Well, that’s taken a nasty turn,’ I said. A statement that caused Lady Oliva to smile and for me to look back inquisitively.

  ‘That’s exactly what Max would have said,’ she replied and I could tell that she was thinking of him, missing him as we faced another apparently insurmountable obstacle to his rescue, being wanted by the Italian Police.

  At the mention of Max, I hesitated for a second before taking the opportunity to ask the question that had been on my mind for a while.

  ‘Have you thought about why Claudia would take Max with her? I wondered if you had met her before?’

  Olivia wasn’t surprised by my question – she may have asked herself the same thing.

  ‘You’re not the first person to ask me that,’ she said. ‘Stephen did during my debriefing. At the time I said that I didn’t know but I have a nagging in the back of my mind that won’t leave me. The more I examine her photo, the more I feel that I’m missing something important. Claudia killed without mercy when we were in Cornwall, so she must have had a reason for taking him. We know nothing that would be of interest to her. There must be a link between us and the answers on the tip of my tongue but it won’t come. I’m sure it’s important but, in the meantime, my good secretary, we should concentrate on how we’re going to get ourselves out of the Venice railway station. The police will be everywhere at Venice and they have our images.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about the same thing but, other than leaving on the wrong side of the train and making a break for it, I am at a loss. No disrespect intended, that option would be difficult at your age.’

  ‘As Max would say, Jean-Marc, I have a cunning plan.’

  ‘Why am I not surprised?’ I said, smiling as I shifted my weight to the back of the seat, ready to listen to what I imagined was going to be something unexpected.

  I had chased Max and Olivia across Britain and they were ingenious in the ways they avoided capture. My favourite was when they concealed themselves as pillion passengers on the back of Harley-Davidson motorcycles with burly bikers as their drivers. It didn’t occur to our police at the road blocks to look for two eighty-seven-year old’s wearing black leathers and riding astride thumping machines, they simply rode right on past and it was rumoured that they even waved.

  ‘Can you reach the small travelling case?’ asked Lady Olivia, pointing to a piece of her luggage stored overhead. ‘When I went shopping in Paris, I took the opportunity to purchase a few things, just in case we needed to blend in,’ she said smiling, which I immediately knew meant, “Stick-Out”.

  I rose, took down the case and placed it on the table in between us. ‘Where, may I ask, did you go in Paris?’

  ‘Do you require an address or the name of the shop?’

  ‘Let’s start with the address; consider it a test of my shopping knowledge.’ I said and, in a teasing voice, added. ‘Places of note for the discerning Paris shopper, m’lady.’

  ‘Number 8 Rue Madame.’

  ‘Lady Olivia, that one is not ringing any bells, I must confess.’

  ‘Well done, Jean-Marc you’re right on two accounts,’ she said, giving me a wry smile.

  Her statement took me by surprise and I stared back blankly trying to make sense of the clue that had been thrown my way.

  She nodded towards the case and I opened the lid, revealing liturgical vestments. A black priest’s cassock, a wide-brimmed hat and white collar. Searching underneath, I found clothing for a nun, but not the full black habit. Instead it was a blue tunic, white shirt and a modest blue veil. In addition, there were two pairs of black shoes. I looked up in astonishment.

  ‘You can’t get the good old-fashioned nun’s habit by walking in off the street. They are made to order, or so the man behind the counter told me. I could have gone to a fancy-dress shop but an astute observer would have been able to tell the difference. Anyway, the church is modernising, so I am a contemporary nun, which is bit of a hoot at my age.’

  ‘Don’t you think a nun and priest going on a cruise together may seem a little odd?’

  ‘Odd? Not in the least,’ replied Lady Olivia. ‘They will think you are my carer or my doctor. I would be a real cougar if it were lover. But anyway, by the time we board the ship we will be Lady Olivia and her private secretary again.’ Olivia continued, her manner becoming serious, ‘There’s no time for idle gossip, we will arrive in Venice Santa Lucia station in ten minutes. I suggest we change and take ourselves and our luggage to where the economy meets the business class carriages. With good fortune, people will be milling around the door and when the train stops, we can slip off with them, hidden amongst the crowd.’

  I wanted to remind Olivia of what Stephen from MI6 had said, about being a grey person, going unnoticed. Her strategy of being obviously different had worked before and it was too late to argue with her. Before we changed, I couldn’t resist asking about her pun.

  ‘Your little joke, Lady Olivia, or should I say, Sister Olivia. That the shop address was not ringing any bells and you replied that I was right on two counts?’

  ‘Was it that bad, Jean-Marc? Perhaps because Max was a priest, I think everyone will understand a little religious joke. You confessed that “it was not ringing any bells”. When you said, I must confess – confessions – and then, not ring any bells – the bells
rung during the Catholic Mass, before the consecration and the showing of both the Eucharistic Bread and chalice. You see, both are references to religion, priests and nuns.’

  I sighed, and shaking my head said. ‘Lady Olivia.’

  * * *

  We both changed and I was surprised by how well the new disguises hid our identities.

  Sister Olivia, as she now was, looked unrecognisable and I faded from view in my religious orders.

  It’s strange how priests are both visible and invisible simultaneously.

  Our bags were now fewer in number because, following the flight from Paris to Rome, we had each ditched all but one suitcase and Olivia’s travel bag and elegant cane. We made our way through the carriage to congregate with the other passengers disembarking at the final stop: Venice Santa Lucia.

  The train slowed and finally came to a stop. Rather than the pushing and shoving we had expected, the button on the train exit was pushed for us and the horde of passengers waited as two other travellers lifted our luggage from the train and placed it on the platform before returning to help us down.

  When I booked the cruise, the website had said that ten cruise ships were due in Venice on this day. It recommended pre-booking of a taxi to the cruise port because of the expected high demand. It was no surprise that the train station was like an ants’ nest with countless people scurrying around. We stood still for a few minutes, surveying the scene. The police were manning all the exits but did not appear to be checking documents, but as people walked past in single file, they examined them intently. Along the platform, I saw luggage trolleys with the names of the cruise ships attached to them.

  ‘Come on,’ I said to Sister Olivia.

  I dragged both of our cases, leaving Olivia to manage her travel bag, and went over to the porter standing next to the trolley with our ship’s name on it, enquiring as to what the signs meant.

  ‘Twenty Euros each, Father and we will take your bags to the cruise ship for you. When you get on board they will be waiting outside your stateroom door. All I need is to see your boarding ticket. If you have printed the luggage tags, that would be fantastic, otherwise we can make them for you.’