Max & Olivia Box Set

by Mark A Biggs

  Jayde Akihiko, like her husband, was fifty-nine but, while he was taller and plumper, she was shorter at 166cm and neither slim nor fat; a Goldilocks build, she had liked to joke with her friends. If not dyed blond, her shoulder length hair would have been grey like most other women her age. Were she a famous actress, the tabloids would describe her as “aging gracefully and kindly.”

  The Akihiko’s met while studying at the University, fell in love and married not long after graduating, aged twenty-two. She studied teaching, elementary education and he progressed to a Postgraduate Diploma in IT and Mathematics. Two years later, she became pregnant and gave birth to Peter. After their son’s birth Jayde chose to work part-time, wanting a balance between family and work. At that time, her husband had a job at the University from which they graduated, studying for his PhD. They’d wanted a larger family, but it was not to be and Peter was their only child. As time went by, her husband became a Professor at the University, giving them a comfortable life. The price paid was longer working hours and extended periods of travel. Although she enjoyed being at home with Peter, she also looked forward to her days teaching. But with the Professor’s long hours and travel commitments, if she stayed in the workforce, it would have been difficult to manage home and family unless they took on a nanny and engaged a housekeeper. Reluctantly she resigned from work. As Peter grew, so did her free time, which she quickly filled with friends, the gym and an array of activities. Such was her schedule, she privately resented it when her husband was home, interfering with her routine. When Peter eventually left for university and then married, she was surprised how much she enjoyed being an empty nester, although she also looked forward to becoming a grandparent, the final rite of passage, or so she told the Professor, before the relentless merry-go-round of GP visits, as they try to hold off the inevitable decay into old age.

  The routine of life had become a reassuring constant for Jayde. The dreams of youth to travel the world and conquer far-off seas and mountains were a distant memory, but she wasn’t resentful. On the contrary, she was content. A girlfriend had once called her boring. Am I? she wondered. But nothing lasts and life turned upside down for Jayde when the Professor came home one evening, announced that he’d resigned from the university, that they were moving to Europe and that he would work for a Russian Billionaire called Monya Mogilevick.

  Surprisingly, the hardest thing about leaving the United States hadn’t been Peter and her grandchildren, but parting with Otis, her British bulldog. Arriving in Europe, she had felt empty and alone even though their wealth increased substantially. Sensing his wife’s depression, the Professor encouraged her to fund the airfares of girlfriends so that they could visit her from the United States. It worked, for, with the time spent organising and then accompanying visitors on sightseeing trips across Europe, her sense of doom lifted. Something else was changing too; for the first time in their marriage, the Professor began working normal hours. Buoyed with a new-found confidence, they took trips together, which she had organised. Then the invitations started arriving, to stay at a French or a Swiss Villa. Perhaps, a weekend sailing the Mediterranean on a super yacht or other extravagant expeditions. Their new life consumed them and they lost contact with the past, their previous friends no longer fitting.

  In those early years following the move to Europe, Jayde, during restless nights, had questioned the source of this wealth; later, she’d come to like it, no, love it, happy to strut about like a prima donna, sipping Champagne on private yachts while watching the Monaco Grand Prix.

  Not a naïve woman, she ceased to ask her husband about his work, since he commenced working for Monya. It was not because, after 37 years of marriage, that their relationship was waning; the answer might frighten her, better not to know.

  Before Saturday night, when she accompanied the Professor on board the Lelantos, she had suspected that he worked for organised crime. As a way of dealing with her occasional twinges of guilt, she chose to adopt a policy like that of the USA on military service by gays, bisexuals, and lesbians: don’t ask and don’t tell. She hadn’t asked and he didn’t tell. When they arrived at the party, to be whisked away by armed guards, to a private stateroom for their protection, she hadn’t enquired. Nor did she query when he told her that they were fleeing Dubrovnik for Russia. Now, in the rear of a 12.5-meter Kingtough Fast Interceptor Boat, of military heritage, not that she knew what type of boat it was, as they sped away from the Lelantos following the explosion, the chickens were coming home to roost.

  ‘What’s your name? I mean, how should I address you?’ she heard her husband ask loudly, talking over the sound of the boat as it raced across the sea to the guard who seemed to be in charge of the escape party.

  ‘Commander,’ came the dismissive reply.

  Unperturbed by the cool response, Professor Akihiko continued, ‘May I ask where we are going?’

  There was a slight pause while the Commander considered his response. ‘My apologies, Professor and Miss Jayde, you can call me Simon. We must keep information on a need-to-know basis. It’s not that we don’t trust you, but if we have to split up and one of us is captured, we don’t want to make it too easy for the authorities to find the others. What I can tell you is that we are heading for Preveza on the Greece coast for fuel.’

  Jayde thought for a moment before asking a question she didn’t expect the commander to answer. What she was really doing was starting a conversation that she and the Professor had delayed since they first moved to Dubrovnik. ‘Excuse me, Commander… Simon,’ she said while giving an inquisitive, shy smile. ‘Who, may I ask is chasing us?’

  Without wanting to appear dismissive, he answered, ‘I’m sorry, Miss Jayde, but I’m not at liberty to say. Perhaps, in the circumstances, this may be something you should discuss with your husband. But I must warn you, don’t be surprised if, like me, he is not at liberty to say. Now you must excuse me because I have work to do.’ In his left hand, he was holding a warm coat, which he held out towards Jayde. ‘You might want to put this on. As we increase speed, it may become breezy and you’ll be cold in that dress.’

  Why did I call her Miss Jayde? Involuntarily, he shrugged his shoulders, which answered his own question. He didn’t know and hoped the Professor and his wife hadn’t noticed his movement.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jayde while taking the coat before looking at herself and what she was wearing. The Professor hadn’t told her that they wouldn’t be returning home after the party, so what she was sporting was all she had. Claudia and Linda offered fresh underwear, which she had taken happily. They had also offered other items from their wardrobe. While underwear was forgiving of size, their clothes were not. So, here she was, seated on a high-speed escape craft, surrounded by heavily armed guards wearing a knee-length, light blue cocktail dress with accompanying Armani handbag. Slipping the jacket on, she was torn between laughing at the absurdity of the situation and crying at its seriousness. Whatever the case, she felt fleeting regret for what she had become. Miss Jayde, as the Commander called her, knew that life was once more about to change.

  When the Commander left them, re-joining the other guards in the wheelhouse, Jayde and her husband were alone. Jayde turned to her husband and, in a voice that told him she wanted the truth, said, ‘What have you to say?’

  Placing her hand in his, he said, ‘My love, it’s best if I don’t tell you too much.’

  Annoyed, she rebuked, ‘I know you work for the Russian Mafia.’

  He thinks I’m stupid.

  ‘Look about you, Professor.’ She always called him Professor when angry. ‘It’s a bit late to say best I don’t tell you. I demand to know. Who is after you and why? Tell me or I swear… I swear to God I will jump over the side.’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ he said giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

  ‘Try me,’ she snapped, pulling her hand from his.

  ‘I work for Monya.’

  ‘I know that,’ she interrupted.

&
nbsp; ‘He’s Russian Mafia and the head of twelve syndicates called the Brotherhood, who from time to time, do favours for the Kremlin. Some of those favours involve the cyber world, which is where I come in. One of our recent activities for the Kremlin upset the Americans and the CIA paid me a visit in Dubrovnik. They wanted me to become an informer, threatening to have Peter arrested if I didn’t cooperate. Monya was suspicious and sent his lieutenant, Claudia, to talk with me. She knew about the CIA and I thought for sure I was dead. What saved me is a project I’m working on. It’s worth tens of billions of dollars to the Brotherhood. Rather than kill me, Claudia decided to take me to Russia. Because it was likely that the CIA was monitoring my movements, Claudia was careful not to alert them of her plan. If they knew I was planning to flee, Claudia said they would try to grab me. I thought her plan was ingenious; we simply go as guests to the reception but don’t leave. Once on board, she had said we’d be safe. My love, please, understand that I couldn’t tell you. Everything had to seem as though we were just going to a party.’

  ‘Is that who destroyed the boat? The CIA?’

  ‘Who can know for certain, but you would think so.’

  ‘Are you telling me that the CIA was prepared to kill me and everybody else on that boat because of you?’

  ‘It looks that way.’

  ‘And Monya and his Brotherhood?’

  ‘They want me alive.’

  ‘What if they think the CIA is going to capture you?’

  Professor Akihiko didn’t answer. Instead, he stared into the eyes of his wife.

  ‘They would kill us both, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about Peter and his family?’

  ‘I think Claudia has them.’

  ‘That bitch,’ exclaimed Jayde. ‘How could you let Peter and his children get mixed up in this?’ But before he had a chance to answer, she continued, ‘Why would Claudia have them?’

  ‘It was for their protection. Remember the CIA said if I didn’t cooperate, they would lock Peter away for life. They were going to fabricate a crime and provide the evidence to convict him. If we ran, Peter had to as well.

  ‘Will they kill Peter, Bella and the children – Sammy and Jade?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Does it matter? I mean the Mafia, the Brotherhood or the CIA.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know?’ repeated Jayde, becoming increasingly agitated. ‘It’s one thing to risk our lives, but how could you do that to our son? And the grandchildren?’

  ‘It will be ok as long as we can make it to Russia.’

  ‘Russia? Are you out of your mind? Our only hope is the CIA and confess everything, then we do as in the movies. We get new identities and start again.’

  ‘What about Peter?’ the Professor asked his wife.

  ‘They won’t hurt them if the CIA are breathing down their necks.’

  ‘You don’t know the Russian Mafia, my love. If we go to the Americans, they would kill Peter in retribution. The Mafia is above the law, and don’t think that they are afraid of going to jail because they are not. They run them. The only safe place for us and Peter is in Russia.’

  Jayde was angry, unsure of the target of her vexation. She had known for a long time that her husband was breaking the law and had chosen to ignore it. She liked the money, prestige and glamour, never believing that this life could turn deadly. It was, she thought, as much her fault as his. So how could she now blame him? I have sold my soul for thirty pieces of silver… She understood that her husband was a weak but kind man. If we are going to survive this crisis, I’ll have to take the lead. She was certain of it. Whatever it takes, Jayde, she whispered to herself grimly. Whatever it takes!

  The Mediterranean was as flat as a plate glass window as they skimmed effortlessly across its surface. Staring silently into the distance, Jayde contemplated her options. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Commander asking them to move forward to safer seats. ‘It’s about to get bumpy,’ he said, ‘as we begin the high-speed run in towards the coast.’

  Despite the good conditions, the Professor and his wife became nauseous as they were thrown about, the craft racing across the water at 55 knots. Their first stop, as Commander Simon had said it would be, was the port of Preveza on the Greek coast. It was larger than Jayde expected, thinking the Commander would choose a small coastal village for fuel. Then again, she considered, maybe it’s best to hide within a crowd. Preveza had a commercial harbour and a marina, which is where they were to dock. Studying Preveza as they approached, Jayde could see that it was a tourist hub. Looking out over the sprawling buildings, guessed the population to be about twenty thousand. An opportunity for escape may arise sooner than she’d expected.

  ‘Commander, might we have some time ashore; for toilet, clothes, freshen up and, perhaps, a bite to eat?’ asked Jayde.

  Simon, weighing up the risk of capture, thought for a moment. From the ship’s radar, he was comfortable that they weren’t being followed. With the next leg of the journey taking them some 250 nautical miles, an hour on shore was probably acceptable. ‘Of course, Miss Jayde. One of my men will escort you,’ he said, giving her a knowing smile.’

  ‘And my husband?’ she said matter-of-factly.

  ‘He can go ashore with another of my men. Unfortunately,’ he said, giving her a sympathetic smile, ‘you can’t go together. It’s necessary for your own protection. I’m sure you understand that.’

  Jayde had naively hoped that an escape was a simple matter of going ashore and asking for help when she saw a policeman. She couldn’t do that if she wasn’t with her husband. As if the Commander was reading her mind, he added, ‘I’m not sure what your husband has told you, but our employers are keen for the Professor to arrive safely. If you were mistaken in a belief that you needed help, perhaps thinking of asking someone, say the police, for assistance, well, let’s just say we wouldn’t let that happen. From looking at you, I can tell that you are not the kind of person who would want innocent bystanders to get hurt. Permanently. Do we understand each other, Miss Jayde?’

  ‘Perfectly, Commander,’ she said, returning an insincere smile.

  ‘Please, call me Simon.’

  The shore excursion was uneventful, and, wearing the jacket the Commander had given her over the top of her party dress, she hadn’t looked overly out of place. If she were going to attempt an escape, they didn’t pass anyone in authority. Not the Police, coast guard or army. Just locals and tourists going about their business. No one who could help. An hour and a half after docking, they were all back on board and heading out to sea for the next part of the journey. She hadn’t been permitted to buy a change of clothes.

  From Preveza, instead of staying close to shore and passing under the causeway, which connected the Island of Lefkada to the mainland, they chose the longer route around the Island to its west. The Commander said that if the authorities were searching for them, the passage between Lefkada and the mainland provided limited options of escape if they were challenged.

  After Lefkada, the boat headed east, passing the tip of the islands of Kefalonia and then headed on towards Ithaki. From there, Commander Simon was intending to track back towards the Greek coast, passing the Island of Zante on its inside. All was going according to plan until they were approaching the northerly tip of Ithaki. It was there that one of the two marine 6.6 Litre diesel engines that powered their craft failed. Although the likelihood of the other motor breaking down was remote, after consulting his men, the Commander decided that the vessel was compromised. If they were confronted, it would be difficult to outrun any adversary. Studying the maps and charts, he made the decision to continue the journey to Turkey and then onto Russia by land. They would have to put ashore.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Professor

  His mobile phone rang and the call identification said unknown number. Monya hoped it would be Leonard, his Kremlin contact. ‘Yes, he said,’ answering the
call. It was Leonard.

  ‘Monya, I have good news; the Professor is alive. The bad news is, your crew have engine troubles and are making for the Greek port of Astakos. Our sources tell us that the CIA are heading there too. You understand the Kremlin won’t allow the Professor to fall into the hands of the Americans.? We’ve dispatched an extraction team. Astakos will become a crowded place, especially if you try and reach him as well.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘We estimate it’s an hour and half before they make port. Our team is two hours away. As for the CIA, I don’t know, but a couple of hours at the most.’

  Monya wanted to ask Leonard how the Kremlin knew that his escape crew were having engine troubles. Satellite imagery and radar could easily track the Professor’s progress but knowing of the mechanical problems and the port they were heading to was another matter. There was only one answer: someone in the security team with the Professor was working for the Kremlin, or maybe more? A hazard, he thought, from employing past Russian special forces, and a mistake he would have to rectify for the future. This was a complication he could do without. If he dispatched a team to Astakos, could he count on the Professor’s guards? There was little point in speculating, the commander of his extraction team would need to make those decisions once on the ground. Monya could ill afford any more mistakes.

  ‘Thank you,’ Monya said politely, before hanging up the phone.

  The Mafia Brotherhood had invested hundreds of millions in Monya and the Professor’s cryptocurrency venture. The project, Monya promised, would return billions, through a backdoor they’d built into the blockchain source code. ‘Cryptocurrency and interbank transfers will all use these blockchains.’ he’d pledged. ‘Imagine a future where we siphon off a minuscule amount, unnoticed, undetectable, from every financial transaction in the world. You’ll have more wealth than you can ever imagine.’