'And here's me thinking you're from communist stock,' replied Simpers.
'Not at all, Detective. My grandfather was a Cossack. I am from White Army stock, we fought against the Bolsheviks,' said the Colonel, proudly.
'Then how come, in heavens name, did your father manage to get himself posted to the Russian embassy?' replied Simpers inquisitively.
'Not everyone was a communist, you know. To paraphrase, no dictatorship can cower all of the people, all of the time. You'd be surprised what went on.'
'Might that explain why you seem to have such a close relationship with said James…' Simpers was halted in his tracks by the Colonel.
'Let us not pursue this,' said the Colonel abruptly. His smile had vanished and his countenance stern.
He reflected for a moment before adding, 'I do apologise, my dear Simpers. Now, I was telling you about the Livadia Palace, wasn't I?' The Colonel's demeanour had once more flipped and had returned to its former levity.
'It is a most beautiful palace. So sad, though. So many pictures of Czar Nicholas and his family. There are also photographs of them being cheered and celebrated by the local population. Have you ever considered, dear Simpers, how easy it is for those in power to manipulate populations? One minute the crowd cheer you, the next, they want to tear you apart.' The Colonel's words were spoken with a downward inflection at the end of each sentence. Sadness cloaked him.
'Anyway, I'm sure the Czar enjoyed the Palace, at least for a short time – and it does have wonderful views over the Black Sea.'
Simpers studied the Colonel. He saw a vulnerability not evident before.
'Would you like more coffee, Andrei,' asked Simpers, trying his best to snap the Russian out of his melancholy.
'What a splendid idea, dear Simpers. And Turkish delight, too I think,' replied the Colonel, touched at Simpers' thoughtfulness.
Several minutes passed, during which the two men sat quietly. They watched the world pass by in the form of tourists following colourful umbrellas, held high by tour leaders.
'I don't suppose Yalta has its own herds of griffins does it?' said Simpers.
The Colonel paused and looked at Simpers, his delicate cup poised halfway between the table and his lips.
'Griffins? What on earth possessed you to mention griffins? Have you been reading one too many of those Harry Potter books?' replied the surprised Russian.
'No, I haven't. It's just… well, a couple of days ago, I received a note from the thief. It was in a box with a glass copy of one of the diamonds… long story, I'll explain it to you another time. Anyway, the note said that once the diamonds were off the ship he… I'm assuming it's a he… would enjoy a holiday and afternoon tea with the griffins. I've been racking my brain ever since to make sense of it. I have to say, it's stumped me.'
The Russian drained the last of his coffee and, coveting a solitary cube of Turkish delight, lifted the confectionery from its paper doily and placed it into his mouth with relish. A split second later he stopped chewing, and caught the detective's attention by placing his right palm gently over Simpers' left wrist.
'You're not going to believe this, but…'
'And you're not going to tell me there is indeed a herd of griffins holed up somewhere in Yalta, are you?' interrupted Simpers.
'Not so much a herd, but the courtyard within the Livadia Palace is lined with marble benches, and…' continued the Colonel.
'…And?' said Simpers.
'Will you please stop doing that, dear Simpers,' replied the irritated Russian. '…And, those benches have armrests in the form of griffins. I studied the architecture of the Palace when I was at Cambridge. Nostalgia you might say.'
It was if a light bulb had gone off in the detective's head. Suddenly, energy surged through his body.
'Do you know, Andrei, it's beginning to make sense. The graffiti in the atlas pointing to the Palace. Afternoon tea with the griffins – in the Livadia Palace. That's where the exchange is going to take place. What we need to know now is when, and how,' said Simpers.
'Well, we sail at seven. It's 1pm now,' replied the Colonel. 'I suggest we get you back to the ship so that you can brief the Commodore. I'll make myself busy with a few phone calls.'
***
'Give those two another shot. That fool copper is back onboard. I want that woman and her sidekick kept out of the way… Shut up, I don't care how dangerous it is. Keep them sedated.'
The man replaced a telephone handset and disappeared into the vastness of the cruise liner.
A Tender Parting
'Sir, please follow me. The Commodore asks that I escort you to the Bridge.'
The two gold stripes on each cuff of the young woman's tunic told Simpers she was a second officer, and that she specialised in ship navigation.
'Thank you,' said the detective as he followed the officer down a short corridor with the door at the end which looked identical to the state room doors the pair were quickly passing. Punching in a security code, the second officer turned the doorknob and stood to one side to allow Simpers to pass through.
'There you are, Detective Inspector,' boomed the Commodore. 'So glad you could join us. Do come and look at all the toys I get to play with every day.'
Simpers was taken aback at how large the Bridge was. He had a vision from the films he'd seen as a teenager, that showed half a dozen men crammed into a tiny space as they fought off all manner of enemy. Instead he now stood in an expansive space. To his front was a wall of glass, each section of which had its own windscreen wiper. Lining the front bulkhead just beneath the windows sat a thick teak countertop the spanned the full width of the Bridge, from which sprang an array of information screens that raked back to the windows at 45°. Two large leather swivel chairs were positioned in the centre of the bridge. Between them rested the control desk from which every aspect of the liner’s progress was controlled. Simpers noticed a narrow wing on either side of the Bridge, each of which had a bank of monitors and controls that mirrored some of the information available on the liner's main consol.
Simpers was surprised that so few crew controlled such a massive liner. He counted six members of crew. Each had clearly defined roles and all deferred to the Commodore.
'No, cannot do that. In my judgement it will not be safe and there is no need for us to take that risk,' said the Commodore as he turned in exasperation to the detective. Seeing Simpers watching what was going on, he excused himself from his sparring partner and sidled over to the detective.
'He's the Port Pilot and he wants me to take the ship out by moving forwards at 45° away from the quayside. I've told him it's dangerous because the liner tied up in front of us is less than thirty feet away and with a fifteen-knot wind from behind, we risk being blown into the back of the damn thing. The man doesn't seem to understand that we have an azipod at the bow and stern. With those, we can push off at 90° to the dock. And that's what's going to happen,' asserted the Commodore.
A few seconds later the Commodore settled into one of the swivel chairs, scanned the ship's control settings and gave the order for the ropes that tethered the huge ship to the dockside be slackened so that they could be lifted from the moorings and then retrieved back into the ship. In the other swivel chair sat the Quartermaster, ready to take his orders from the Commodore. Simpers stood fascinated as the ship began to move effortlessly away from the dock. As it did so, and officer on either wing read the display and shouted the wind speed and its direction every several seconds. The Commodore made adjustments to take account and what he was hearing. A few minutes later the magnificent liner was in the main shipping channel and making its way out into the sea of Marmara.
'Thank you for your assistance, Pilot. Deputy Captain, please lay in our course. Quartermaster, you have control,' commanded the Commodore.
'I have control,' responded the Quartermaster. At the same time, the Deputy Captain took the seat that the Commodore had but a moment before, relinquished.
***
'Yes, of course, I do understand. But as for Amelia and Jonathan, no I'm afraid no news,' responded Simpers. He paused momentarily and looked back towards the fabled city and fixed his gaze on the Blue Mosque, which shone serenely against the darkening evening sky.
'It's a beautiful place, isn't it,' said the Commodore as he took up his position beside Simpers leaning lazily against the deck rail.
The two men spent several minutes without speaking. Instead they were each lost in their own thoughts as the mighty vessel sliced effortlessly through a calm sea.
'Detective Inspector,' exclaimed a familiar voice, 'you're a stranger, these days. What have you been up to?'
Simpers turn around to see Pippa smiling back at him.
'You do look down, what on earth is the matter?'
The detective explained the curious disappearance of Amanda and Jonathan and that he was at a loss as to what could have happened to them.
'By the looks of you, my little policeman, you're not in the mood for dinner in a noisy restaurant, are you? Why don’t you come back to my cabin and I’ll have room service something up for us,' offered Pippa.
'I take it I'm not invited to your little soirée, so I'll take my leave of you both and leave you to it,' commented the Commodore, his face betraying the amusement he found in Pippa's nickname for the detective.
Simpers was finding it hard to enter into the spirit of the moment. He still felt raw from their previous encounter. But he remained intrigued and attracted to the woman, despite his best efforts to dispense with such feelings.
***
'This isn't what I would call a cabin, Pippa,' said Simpers, as he followed his dining companion into her accommodation. 'Forgive me if I'm wrong, but judging by those windows, we are directly under the Commodore's day room, aren't we?'
'Well yes, I suppose we are. I always have this cabin when I'm onboard,' responded Pippa casually without any hint of pomposity.
Simpers looked around the luxurious space. He reckoned the accommodation must have enjoyed six or eight times the floor-space of his own cabin. In addition, it had an open stairway that led to an upper gallery, comprising of a large bedroom and ensuite.
'Would Madame and Sir like an aperitif before ordering dinner?'
Simpers was startled at hearing another voice. He turned to see a dapper man of around fifty stepping into the lounge from a side room that he hadn't noticed.
'Ah, James. Thank you so much and yes, I’d love my usual. Mr Simpers, what can we get for you?'
It was in situations such as this that the detective felt uncomfortable. He had no idea about the etiquette of pre-dinner drinks. He wanted a pint of Saddleback. He knew that was probably out of the question.
Sensing the detective's social awkwardness, Pippa made a suggestion:
'James makes a marvellous gin and tonic. How about that?'
The dapper man didn't wait for the detective's response, and instead, gave a slight bow from the waist, turned and retreated to the side room.
Simpers remembered the last time he’d drunk gin. The lost twelve hours which followed convinced the detective never to touch the stuff again.
'You have a butler?' Simpers asked, unable to conceal his surprise.
'Oh, it comes with the state ro… er, cabin,' replied Pippa with just a hint of embarrassment.
'I think you were going to say, stateroom, weren't you?' offered Simpers, clearly enjoying his companion's discomfort.
As the butler busied himself dressing the table for full silver service and checking with the galley that his charge's dinner order was in hand, Pippa and Simpers stood side-by-side gazing out of the windows that overlooked the bow of the ship. Simpers nursed his gin and tonic, reluctant to taste the potent liquid. It certainly deserved its nickname, mother's ruin, he thought. And thought it could be equally labelled, policeman's ruin, if his previous experience of the beast was anything to go by. Nevertheless, as the conversation flowed and became increasingly relaxed between the two, the detective found himself sipping from the lead crystal glass – and enjoying the sensation.
'So, are you having any success on chasing your gems villain down?' enquired Pippa as the butler gestured for them to take their seats at an exquisite ash-wood dining table. As James poured sparkling water into two lead crystal glasses, Pippa leant forwards to engage the detective.
'So what will you do once this case is over, my special Bobby?' asked Pippa.
Simpers' eyes flashed to the butler, whose eyes and attention remain solely on his duties.
'To misquote my mother; Pippa-me-darlin,' said Simpers, 'I suspect you been briefed by the Commodore, and Colonel Agapov, and know just as much about this case as I do. So, perhaps we can dispense with the silliness,' replied Simpers.
Pippa flashed the detective a disarming smile, lowered her head and blinked her ample eyelashes at the man.
'And you can stop that nonsense, too. You know as well as I do that whoever took the diamonds will make their move over the next few hours. We have CCTV watching every bit of the ship and we’re taking particular interest in the Deputy Captain. But again, to continue with the misquotes, my special Pippa, you also know that, don't you?'
As soon as Simpers uttered the words he regretted them. He thought he’d learned his lesson from gin the last time. It seemed he hadn't and that his tongue was more pliant than he had intended.
Pippa's demeanour didn't change as the detective spoke. In that sense, Simpers knew he had been on the money with his assessment of the situation. Nevertheless, he was feeling increasingly at ease in her company, despite the disappointment he'd experienced those few days earlier.
As dinner progressed and the wine flowed, eye contact between the pair intensified and the body language of one increasingly mirrored the other.
'Would you like to see a show after dinner?' asked Pippa.
Every fibre of the detective's body said that it wanted to be near Pippa. The professional part of his brain told him he had to be about the ship watching, waiting, hoping that the diamond thief would show themselves.
Simpers was lost in thought as he tried to make sense of the two forces fighting within him to decide who would dominate; his emotional or professional intelligence. At first, he didn't hear the words Pippa had started to say:
'It’s an Elvis tribute show called Love Me Tender. It's a great show. It starts at 10 o'clock, or 22:00 hours as you bobbies say, and…'
'What did you say?' responded Simpers, his mind and body suddenly alert as if he'd had the fright of his life.
'What do you mean, what did I say?' replied a clearly surprised Pippa.
'The show, the show,' repeated the detective, his state of agitation increasing by the second.
'What, love me tender, or 22:00 hours - or 10 o'clock. What in Heaven’s name are you getting so hyper about?' said Pippa.
Simpers lifted the napkin from his lap and threw it onto the table, before pushing his chair back and springing to his feet. He looked at his watch it was 9:55pm.
'By the Hetti-mon,' exclaimed the detective.
'By the Hetty what?' replied Pippa, as she looked at the supercharged detective without understanding a word he had said.
'The studio. That pad. 'Ten22'. That's it, they intend getting the diamonds off the ship using Tender 22 at 10 o'clock. You're absolutely amazing!' said Simpers, shouting in his excitement. The detective moved around the table to where Pippa sat. He copied the butler's bow from the hip, but only insofar as it allowed him to plant a glancing kiss on his dinner companion’s lips. At least he had intended it to be a glancing pass. Their eyes locked. She held his cheeks
between her open palms. The kiss lingered for just a second or two, but it made Simpers feel more alive than he'd felt for too many years. They pulled apart, eyes still locked. The encounter had surprised each of them for different reasons.
'I, I need to…' Simpers gestured with a lazy arm towards the state room door. You've no idea how important your words…'
As Simpers made for the door, leaving a perplexed but smiling Pippa still at the dining table, a deafening signal came over the ship’s loudspeaker system. Simpers was rooted to the spot, Pippa's eyes were fixed on the detective. They counted the bursts of sound and couldn't believe what they were hearing.
Seven deafening short blasts, followed by a longer blast of sound.
It was the general emergency signal. No warning had been given saying that it was an exercise, instead, the signal repeated, again and again.
Even in the isolated position at the front of the ship, they could hear a panicked hubbub in the corridor outside. Simpers opened the stateroom door to a scene of chaos. Passengers were scurrying down the narrow passageway, some holding their lifejacket, others attempting to put it on as they ran. Some older passengers seemed frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do.
Simpers shouted at Pippa to get a lifejacket and make her way to her designated muster station.
'I have to go, something isn't right. The alarm sounding within minutes of when I think the diamonds are going to be offloaded is no coincidence. I have to find the Deputy Captain, he is responsible for this.'
In a split second, Simpers was pushing himself unceremoniously through the throng of passengers and confused crew members. His aim – to make his way out onto deck seven, from where he knew the tenders would be launched.
The scene on deck was one of mayhem. It was clear that despite safety drill at the beginning of the cruise, many passengers had ignored the instruction to wait in their designated place of safety. Instead, with the ship's loudspeaker system still wailing the general emergency signal, more and more cruisers crushed onto the deck.
Diamond in the Blue: D.I. Simpers Investigates Page 24