Simpers felt a pang of anxiety. He knew from his superior's phrasing, that he was about to have his hypothesis demolished.
'Those two fools… no, not fools, clever fools, had a habit of making things up if the facts didn't fit their version of events. You should have checked, Simpers. Being stuck on a liner two thousand miles from Westbay is no excuse for failing to cross-check that investigation – so you can forget that nonsense. You're barking up the wrong tree,' spat Pimlico.
Simpers thought the admonishment was harsh, even for Pimlico. Perhaps, he thought, the Chief Inspector's mood was, after all, being influenced by the presence of other senior staff.
'Chief Inspector,' said Agapov in a calming voice that broke the tension between Pimlico and his subordinate, 'I can see why the Detective Inspector might think the thief would want to off load the diamonds at Port Said. Let us not be so hard on Mr Simpers.'
Simpers was mesmerised at the effectiveness of Agapov's voice as a calming influence. He used a bewitching combination of guttural pronunciation and voice modulation to make every syllable count.
'I have some information for you, Detective Inspector, that I think will help you to refocus your investigations,' added Agapov.
The detective gathered his senses from the beating he'd taken from his superior. He listened intently to what the Russian had to say.
'You see, there is a man. A very rich man indeed, who thinks he is a direct descendant of Czar Nicholas II. He has spent millions of dollars trying to authenticate this claim. And in my country, well, perhaps in any country, money talks. In this case, money buys bloodline,' explained Agapov.
'I'm not sure I–'
'Don't interrupt, Simpers,' interjected Pimlico. 'Please, Colonel, continue.'
Agapov gave a clipped nod of his head in recognition of the Chief Inspector's request.
'This man, let us call him zabluzhdeniye odin; the deluded one. He believes the gems are rightfully his.'
'Are you saying, he actually thinks they're his inheritance?' replied Simpers.
'That is exactly what I am saying, Detective Inspector. Of course, people with money don't dirty their own hands. He will have paid to put somebody on that ship, and it is they who will take all of the risks. Whoever they are, they may not even know who they are working for. Of course, that makes your job all the harder,' added Agapov.
Simpers' mind was working overtime as he processed the information provided by the Colonel. He also now understood why the beating he'd taken was so savage, and the steps – whoever was responsible – was prepared to take to be rid of him. Westbay hadn't seen much trouble that could be proven to have had a Russian connection, but he had friends in the London Met who knew what such people were capable of.
'Do you think one or more members of the ship's crew could be involved in this, Simpers?' said Pimlico.
The detective hesitated before answering. The last thing he wanted was yet another tongue lashing from his superior.
'The truth is, Chief Inspector, there's no way of knowing for sure. The Commodore and I are working our way through the crew files, but with over 800 on board, it's a time-consuming task,' replied Simpers.
'How much attention can the Commodore give you? Is there nobody else aboard to help? asked Pimlico.
'None I'm prepared to trust,' replied the detective. 'In the absence of evidence to the contrary, I discount no one. In any event, the Commodore is copied in to every electronic communication that's delivered to, or sent from, that ship. Believe me, he knows everything that happens onboard.'
'He may well know everything that happens, Simpers, but it's the who that we are interested in, isn't it,' said Pimlico.
Simpers knew his superior's comments were well made, and as usual, laser focussed.
'Colonel Agapov,' said Simpers, 'you referred to our mutual friend as the deluded one. Do you know his real name?'
The Colonel hesitated before responding to the detective's question. Even in the short time Simpers had known the man, he thought his sudden reticence odd.
'Yes, I know this man's name. But for everyone's safety, and in particular, yours, it is better that he remains invisible. Believe me when I say, whether you know his name or not, it will have no bearing on your ability to solve this case,' replied Agapov.
Simpers felt his frustration levels increase. He understood the words the Colonel was speaking. What he couldn't accept was what he regarded as vital information being kept from him.
'I must insist, Colonel…' said Simpers.
'You must insist on nothing, my friend,' replied Agapov, without changing his demeanour or raising his voice in the slightest. 'All you must do, Detective Inspector, is accept my word on the matter.'
Silence descended on the room as Simpers and the Colonel exchanged stern glances. The others watched the verbal sparring with professional interest.
'So, where does this leave us, Simpers,' said Pimlico.
'Whoever is responsible for the theft must fit three criteria,' said Simpers, before continuing, 'First, they had to have inside help to secure the exhibition room and gain physical access to the alarmed showcases. Secondly, the means to secure the gems on board. And thirdly, a foolproof way of getting the diamonds ashore, knowing we would have put a ring of steel around the liner from the moment the theft was discovered.'
His assessment met with the agreement of all present. The gaggle of nodding heads told Simpers so. It was a gesture that also boosted his self belief.
'Brigadier Baako, is there anything you would like to add?' asked Pimlico.
'Only to say that we are in close contact with the Commodore, and we have plain clothes officers on board. In addition, there is an undercover officer on every tour bus servicing the liner, and every taxi driver entering the port area is known to us. One last thing, every person and everything leaving that ship passes through our own x-ray scanner. If they attempt to get those diamonds off on Egyptian soil, we will find them.'
Simpers was shocked to hear the steps taken by the Egyptian authorities. He had been told nothing of their work, by either the Commodore, or his superior. He checked Pimlico's facial expression. His lack of surprise told Simpers all he needed to know.
'Sir James, that just leaves you,' said Pimlico.
Simpers looked at the Major General. It had only just occurred to him that until now, the man had uttered not one word. Instead, he had observed without changing his countenance, or offering an opinion of any sort.
'Thank you, Chief Inspector. First of all may I thank our Russian and Egyptian colleagues for their truly sterling work. It is a tribute to our shared aims that we have been able to cooperate on, what I am sure you will agree, is a most delicate matter.'
Simpers felt himself bristle at the clipped diction that could shatter crystal. He instinctively railed against the privilege that churned out those such as the Brigadier General.
'My superiors are most concerned that the matter is handled with the utmost discretion. I would go further in suggesting that rather than cause a diplomatic incident, they are prepared to see the diamonds lost. Now…'
'Lost? What in heaven's name are you talking about, when you say lost,' replied Simpers with incredulity.
'As I was saying,' continued Sir James, 'now when I say lost, I mean, of course, misplaced. I know you will share the view of my superiors that a total loss would be unfortunate, and it is something not to be considered.'
Once again, Simpers observed group head-nodding in play. Was he the only one to be totally bemused by Sir James' convoluted speech pattern, he thought.
'When you say, 'your superiors', who exactly are you talking about?' asked Simpers.
As he spoke, he noticed Pimlico beginning to bridle.
'Detective Inspector, it's not for you to…' began Pimlico.
'That's quite all right, Chief Inspector. Your man has every right to ask such a question,' interrupted Sir James.
It was Simpers that bridled now. He felt patronised. It was as if he were a serva
nt of Pimlico's at some 18th century dining table.
'Suffice to say, Detective Inspector, that my superiors have a historical interest in Czar Nicholas II and his family. It is their earnest wish that the objects we have been discussing this morning come to no harm. Indeed, that they should be returned to the family's safekeeping, so to speak.'
'Are you telling me there is a Royal…' said Simpers.
'As I say, this is a family matter,' replied Sir James.
Simpers resisted the urge to probe further, not wishing to compromise his understanding, or display an ignorance of history. He glanced at Pimlico. His superior's body language told him not to push matters further.
'Well, gentlemen, thank you for meeting here today. In particular may I thank you, Brigadier Baako, for so generously hosting us, and of course for accommodating my Detective Inspector. Simpers grimaced at the memory of his night in the cells. Brigadier Baako smiled at the detective, shook his hand and chuckled quietly to himself.
'Before you go, Simpers, I should say that I expect you to solve this case before my briefing to the Chief Constable in Westbay next week. Do we understand each other?' said Pimlico after quietly taking his subordinate to one side.
Simpers knew there was no point discussing the issue with his superior. The detective merely acknowledged his superior’s order.
As Simpers went to leave the room, Sir James called him back. They now stood alone in the bleak space.
'How is Ms Wright-Morton doing?'
'You know Pippa?' replied Simpers.
'Oh, wheels within wheels, you know. I heard she was taking a cruise and I thought I'd ask after her. You know how it is,' said Sir James.
Simpers knew exactly how it was.
'She's fine, I think. As for taking a cruise holiday. Well, that depends on what you mean by 'holiday' as far as the diamonds are concerned,' replied Simpers.
'More of a busman's holiday, wouldn't you say,' replied Sir James.
'A good sort, Pippa. It's all about people who know people. Do we understand each other, Detective Inspector?'
Simpers didn't respond. He recognised power when he saw it.
Double Dutch
'Good to see you back on board, Mr Simpers. Did you have a good visit to Cairo?' said the Commodore as he accompanied the detective along the Sun Deck of the enormous liner.
'Well, it was certainly eventful. Oh, and I met someone you know,' replied Simpers.
'I see, who was that?' replied the Commodore
'Brigadier Baako Adofo,' offered Simpers without further comment.
'Ah, I see. You may, perhaps, be wondering why I didn't take you into my confidence about my discussions with the Brigadier,' replied the Commodore.
Simpers glanced at the senior officer with a look that owed more to petulance than intrigue.
'The CEO of the cruise line ordered me to keep it from you. It sounds odd, doesn't it. Here I am in total command of the ship, yet unable to be fully open with you. You see, Simpers, as well as having responsibility, I'm also legally accountable for almost three thousand souls. I can't afford to do anything that would put any of them in danger,' said the Commodore.
'Poppycock,' replied Simpers as he halted his progress along the deck and turned to face the ship's master. 'You didn't trust me, did you?'
'Don't be ridiculous. Do you not think we had you checked out at the highest level before you set foot on the gangplank?' responded the Commodore. 'If I might give you a little advice, check you've dusted the chips off your shoulders each day before you meet the world, Detective Inspector, your mood will improve no end.'
Simpers was about to respond, but decided, instead, to allow the Commodore's searing comments to percolate into his consciousness. The detective knew he was prone to self-doubt that manifested itself as being defensive. Whenever he gave the matter any thought, blurred mental images of his childhood filled his head. It was, he had always considered, somewhere he didn't want to go.
'Anyway, the measures you asked me to put in place to ensure the gems didn't leave this vessel, well, they meshed perfectly with the steps Baako established. I therefore decided there was no reason to raise the matter with you. So, shall we move on, or will you continue to sulk?' said the Commodore.
Simpers knew from the tone of the Commodore's voice, and body language, that he was holding out an olive branch. He also knew that the Commodore would only go so far in making the first move. Simpers recognised it was now up to him to repair any damage between the two men.
'Yes, I see your point,' said Simpers.
'Well, I suppose that will have to do as far as an apology goes,' replied the Commodore. He smiled. As he did so, he moved closer to Simpers to dominate the space. 'Ticketyboo. Let's get on with the day. We shall leave the port around seven this evening. Will you join me for dinner?'
Simpers was relieved at what could have ended as a damaging encounter, had ended civilly.
'Thank you for your kind offer. I'd be delighted. I'll see you at around eight thirty. Thank you, Commodore.'
***
As Simpers wandered around the ship, he watched crew members being put through various safety drills. On the quayside, others were busy using rollers attached to long poles, repainting the hull's rust-stained paintwork caused by the ravages of seawater.
He contrasted their labours with those on holiday as they milled about the luxurious liner. With most people still ashore, the ship felt almost deserted. Here and there, couples held hands and dawdled along the never-ending decks. Others, dressed in shorts and trainers with the obligatory earphones in place, scuttled along the decks as if the ship was on fire.
Now on the inside of the vast ship, Simpers meandered through an endless succession of bars, lounges and bistros. He passed a small group of passengers as they made their way into the cinema to watch, with supreme irony, Simpers thought, Titanic.
As he continued his stroll down the sumptuously decorated thoroughfare, he passed the half open glass door of a show lounge. As he did so, he noticed a man addressing a group of about twenty passengers on a subject, which was clearly holding their attention. Simpers stopped, turned and walked back a few paces to read a sign attached to the door. It read:
Drake's Book Club
Guest speaker: Simon Fellowes
Book of the day: River God by Wilbur Smith
Intrigued, and at a loose end, Simpers wandered into the room and took a seat just inside the doorway. The detective was impressed that the topic of the day was designed to coincide with their stay in Egypt. The thrust of the book was that of a young slave in ancient times, risking all to save the Princess that he served. The audience seemed enthralled as the lecturer explained how the book had been constructed to keep the reader excited and interested.
'Particularly fascinating, is the length to which the author went in ensuring historical accuracy,' said the lecturer.
This was beginning to interest Simpers, since he much preferred to deal with facts, rather than hearsay.
'See how powerful the written word is in painting a picture of the time,' continued the lecturer. 'Imagine putting your finger on a map, then conjuring up a few words that painted pictures in your mind. What would those words say to you about the place?'
The lecturer's words shocked Simpers, as if he'd been plunged into an ice-cold pool.
What was it about those letters he'd seen on the atlas when he'd first joined the ship? He thought.
Unable to let go of the conundrum, Simpers left the room as quietly as he had entered, and made his way to the library.
Entering the quietness of the space, Simpers couldn't help imagining it as the library of a 19th century country house, Simpers drank in the atmosphere. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves made from the finest American red oak lined two walls. Books of all sorts filled every available inch. Some were encased between leaded glass doors, others lay haphazardly awaiting rearrangement.
At a table to the side of the entrance doorway sat a middle-aged woman
dressed in a tweed suit. Simpers couldn't believe that such people still existed. He wondered whether in executing her job as librarian, she'd been required to wear such archetypal dress. The hair swept back into a bun, and the narrow rimmed glasses that sat low on her nose, completed the caricature.
In another corner sat a man reading his newspaper. He held the open broadsheet in front of him, so that only the tips of his fingers cradling the paper, and his trouser legs, which terminated in well cared for black brogues were on display.
Simpers turned his attention to the immaculate cherry-wood veneered table on which sat the great atlas. He walked silently across a small space and took a seat on the table. Before him lay the document that had intrigued him for so long. Since he had last seen the imposing volume, it had been thumbed many times. The pages he was interested in took some time to find. Then, there it was. The ship's cruise itinerary displayed as a series of straight red lines, which pivoted about each of the ports the ship would visit during the cruise.
The detective's index finger traced a line showing their visits to date, the ship's current position and where it was to call next. Istanbul.
His eyes were inextricably drawn to the handwriting he'd seen when he first looked at the coloured plate. It was written beneath the name of a place they wouldn't be visiting. Yalta.
H2Vn
Simpers racked his brain as he tried to make sense of what his police senses told him might be a code.
'Have you a book on the Crimea?' asked Simpers as he distracted the librarian from the frenetic pace with which her fingers pounded the keyboard in front of her.
'The Crimea?' replied the woman. Her smile, and obvious interest in his question, convinced Simpers holidaymaker interaction with the woman was a rare event.
'You do know we're not visiting the Crimea on this cruise, don't you,' she added.
'Yes, yes I know that. But there's a couple of things I'm interested in and I just want to double-check,' replied Simpers.
With three clicks of the keyboard, the librarian flashed up a shortlist of book titles on her computer screen.
Diamond in the Blue: D.I. Simpers Investigates Page 21