by Verner Jones
Toni having finished a late breakfast had several hours to kill before he was due to meet Henrick and Celine for their midnight flight from Schiphol airport to Aberdeen. He went to the reception and retrieved the bag from the hotel’s safe. After removing sufficient funds for the trip he returned the bag and instructed the receptionist that he was checking out today but would be returning in two or three days time and could he leave his valuables in the hotel safe until he returned. The receptionist obliged and promptly re-locked Toni’s bag back into the safe. Toni decided to shop for more suitable party clothes and take in some of the sights of Amsterdam; anything to take his mind away from the nervous anxiety that was building within him. He turned and made his way to the exit.
Zoran scrutinized the front of the Victoria hotel. Its elegant façade and ornate stonework shouted out luxury. He decided to check out the less costly hotels first believing two star convenience rather than five star luxury was more Popovic's style. He ignored the door and resumed his walk along the Damrak. Moments later Toni with a guidebook in his hand pushed through the hotel doors and stood on the promenade viewing the street and deciding on which way to go. He saw a man with one arm walking in the crowd as he looked around, then having made his decision turned in the opposite direction towards the station where he could easily get a tram. As he walked the image of the man reoccurred in his thoughts prompting a vague recollection that he knew the man from somewhere. As quick as it came the thought lef unanswered, and Toni caught a number 24 tram with a promise later to visit Queen Beatrix’s palace.
All day Zoran had paced the streets of Amsterdam, quizzing, questioning and flashing the photograph he had of Popovic in every hotel foyer and guesthouse he came across. No one had seen him. At one stage he thought he saw Popovic crossing a road and had approached the man, in frustration, spinning him around on his heals, only to find a bemused face and a verbal protest from the stranger in front of him. He quickly apologized and left abruptly leaving the man shaken and straightening his clothes. It was close to 10pm when Zoran found himself back on the Damrak opposite the Victoria hotel. He admired the architecture for the second time that day and decided before going back to his accommodation he had nothing to loose in trying there before retiring for the night. Zoran approached the front desk and a man wearing the hotels maroon crested blazer, sporting a quiff of blond hair and immaculately manicured fingernails, took the photograph that Zoran offered him. After careful scrutiny he informed Zoran in an effeminate tone that he knew of the man and that he was staying in the hotel. He knew this because he had witnessed him drunk a few evenings ago along with another associate and a woman who was struggling with them towards the elevator. ‘Very distasteful,’ he said. Zoran's tired feet suddenly had new life in them. Zoran asked for the room number. The manicured fingers checked the register and reported that his friend had checked out that day. Zoran cursed. The quiff raised his eyebrows and proceeded to replace the register. Zoran was about to ask if any forwarding address had been left when the quiff said that his friend would be returning in a few days as he had left luggage in the charge of the hotel. Zoran thanked him and turned to leave. With a smile bordering on flirtation the quiff said it was his pleasure to be of service. Zoran ignored the remark jubilant in the fact that he had found his adversary, and promised himself that when Popovic returned from wherever, he would be waiting for him.
Toni met with Henrick and Celine at the Grachtengordel apartment at 9.30pm. Celine was looking devastating and seemed to Toni to be in high spirits. Celine was a man’s woman and liked to dress to please, although she had toned her image down somewhat since snaring Henrick, the thought of partying with a famous rock band for the weekend rekindled her flamboyant dress sense. Henrick was impartial to Celine's appearance. What made her happy made him happy, though he gave Toni a reproving look when his gaze towards Celine lingered longer than it should.
Henrick threw the car keys over to Celine who caught them with an excited whoop. “Thank you darling.” Celine kissed Henrick and hugged him tightly. With his obvious pleasure beaming across his face, he relished her attention like the star at the final curtain call.
“Now I am going to chauffer us all to the airport and you two can sit in the back like important people do.” Toni looked confused. Celine, focused, left the apartment picking her coat up on the way. Henrick said, “Just humour her. She is excited about the trip.”
“Of course, Henrick,” said Toni obligingly, and each of them took a case of Celine’s and descended the stairs. Celine was stroking her fingertips over the hood of her new BMW 320i silver convertible casting admiring glances at the contours of the bodywork. With mixed feelings she located herself behind the steering column. She didn’t like the thought of leaving her man alone in Amsterdam and had broken a promise to be with him that day to go on the trip with Henrick. She consoled herself that when he saw her new car, the one he had always wanted, she would be back in his favour again and they would enjoy good times together like they used to.
Henrick and Toni reached the pavement. Celine’s joy had returned and she waved eagerly for them to get in.
“New toy. Got to keep them happy haven’t you.” Henrick's tone was almost apologetic and he quickly walked to the rear and put both cases and Toni’s bag into the boot. They sat in the back as requested. Celine drove with obvious enthusiasm. She was like a Roman candle, colourful, sparking life, exciting, with a big bang to conclude. With Henrick the source of her pleasure, the big bang wouldn’t be long in manifesting itself. Lucky Bastard, thought Toni and engaged his thoughts onto more important issues.
At Schiphol airport they fulfilled all the formalities and vacated passport control and headed to the departure lounge. Several short naps later they were being greeted by Stipe at Aberdeen airport. Stipe had reserved rooms for them in the Crest and Feather in Inverurie, a former refuge for weary coach travelers of bygone days whose stables had been converted into comfortable accommodation with a listing in a good hoteliers guide. Its occupants now being tourist on route to the castles of Scotland, or the world famous ‘Whiskey Trail’. For Stipe, the Crest and Feathers offered a safe place to work from. Celine was still on a high. It was a great adventure for her and if there had been anywhere open late where they could party Celine would have persuaded the weary heads to join her. Instead the Crest and Feathers remoteness gave them the nights sleep they all needed. Toni watched as Celine, bubbly and attentive to Henrick, split to go to their room. He consoled himself that within 24 hours they would have the Mostel Star and then he too could have a woman like Celine.
15
In the morning before Celine and Henrick had risen, Stipe, Marta and Toni breakfasted early and selected a corner out of the way of the other guests and went over again each of their roles in Stipe's plan. Stipe handed one of the two mobile phones he had purchased to Toni having installed both numbers in the memories. He gave the sedative powders to Marta. Across the room Stipe saw Henrick, drawn in the wake of Celine, whose low cut blouse was attracting the attention of the now full breakfast room. They joined them at their table. They concluded their conversation and made room for them to sit, replacing their serious mood of a moment ago with smiles and hugs when Celine and Henrick reached them. Coffee arrived for all of them. Stipe guessed Henrick had ordered it. He was anxious to have a moment without Celine being there to confer with Henrick the details of his plan. Henrick catching the look from Stipe that said send Celine away, politely asked her if she would fetch one of his cigars from their room. With only mild protests Celine complied. With just the four of them in earshot Stipe said,
“Here is the key Henrick to the second hire car. It is a blue Ford parked under a clump of trees out front. We have to be careful when I arrive at Cullen Castle dear Celine is not in the vicinity, otherwise she will be curious why I am not going to the castle with you and may come over to talk to me. We can’t risk any slip-ups at what is a crucial time. Henrick just make sure you are dancing or something
with her away from where I will be.”
“Don’t worry, I will keep her out of harms way.”
“Good. We’ve overviewed our roles. I suggest when Celine returns we drink up and make for Cullen Castle and I will see you all later.” There was unanimous agreement. Marta leaned forward and kissed Stipe. As if knowing her thoughts he said,
“Don’t worry. You will be fine. Remember what I told you and nothing will go wrong.” Celine returned and after explaining to her that Stipe would not be coming to the party but would be joining them tomorrow, they departed. Celine it seemed was prepared to accept anything Henrick told her.
Cullen Castle sat in ten acres of fertile greenery with a few tall buildings in the town centre eleven miles away, the only other structures that were visible, apart from a few scattered farm buildings. On the approach to the castle Stipe veered off and headed for the town. He had a few hours to kill until nightfall. The rest drove to the entrance where a steward, who after helping unload their cases, parked their car around the rear of the building. They stood in the shadow of the castle. Marta could almost hear the clash of broad swords caught on the wind as it gusted over the open glen and through the battlements; echoes of battles past. For a moment she thought she saw a soldier bearing arms on the castles turret, but closer inspection revealed a man with bagpipes preparing his stage. This place gave her the creeps.
Several of Mo’s entourage busied themselves around the guests, fetching and carrying and generally organizing. A woman of official status with greying hair bunched and clipped back with a sprung comb came from the main entrance and cordially greeted them. She introduced herself as Mo’s personal assistant. Locating their names on a clipboard she apologized for Mo not greeting them himself and proceeded to show them to their rooms, giving a run down of the inventory for the day. Henrick and Celine’s room was on the second floor opposite what the assistant said was Mo and Stella’s room. Down corridors with stone floors and high, heavily timbered ceilings and several flights of stairs later, Marta found herself being shown into one of the top rooms in the castles turret. Toni took the other one opposite her. The room had a four-poster bed and heavy tapestry curtains that went from floor to ceiling following the cylindrical shape of the tower. She looked out of the window down over a tiled roof that Marta guessed was an addition to the structure and into the main entrance below her and the fresh arrivals. The event was building momentum.
They gathered as arranged forty minutes later in the main hall where Mo, now that he was a laird, was wearing the tartan of the Mac Kinnocks in the form of a kilt and Stella, reluctant to let go of the rock star image was all trinkets and hippy chick with dyed blond hair strengthening the image. Henrick fronted the group and approached Mo.
“Henrick my man. Good to see you.” He eyed Celine with obvious approval. “Glad you could make it.” Henrik introduced his family. “Well what do you think of the place, Henrick?”
“I haven’t seen much of it, but what I have is very impressive.”
“I’ll get Stella to show you around later. In the mean time we are serving up haggis and stuff in the sword room and my main man here, Jimmy,” Mo put his arm around the man wearing the wax jacket, “is taking a small party after lunch down to the stream to induct his group into the finer points of salmon fishing. You two can join him. What do you say?” Not wanting to offend, Henrick agreed for the both of them. “Good. Well, Jim, take these two and get them kitted out with whatever and I’ll take these two with me.” Mo slipped his arms around Marta and Celine ending the conversation with Henrick and walked off in the direction of the sword room.
“What about after lunch we go and join in the clay pigeon shooting? There is something very sexy about a woman holding a rifle.” His eyes were on Celine as he spoke. Celine agreed. With a world famous rock star on her arm she would try anything he suggested.
The buffet consisted of a host of celebrity faces that Marta could only put names to half of. There were film stars, rock stars and a host of influential people the numbers of which were growing steadily as the lunch progressed. The sound of shots fired on the front lawn prompted Mo to lead a small group including Celine and Marta to join in the clay pigeon shooting. After brief instruction Marta took her turn then feigned a bruised shoulder and excused herself from the group at little cost to the others. With most people occupied or still lunching, Marta proceeded to explore the innards of the castle becoming familiar with the location of Mo’s bedroom, the proximity of her room to his and the layout in general. Satisfied she could find her way around easily, Marta rejoined the group as the competition was concluding. Stella had gathered with interested parties for the final of the shooting on what had developed into a crisp sunny day. Marta manoeuvred close to Stella and as her group segregated into competitive teams, Marta stood beside Stella and struck up a conversation. They bonded quickly. Lacy garments were no protection against even mild westerly winds and when Stella shivered Marta gave Stella her jacket who accepted it with gratitude. In a short space of time they were friends. Marta had made herself known.
With the conclusion of the shooting, Stella’s friends rejoined her. Marta excused herself preferring a short nap before dressing for the gala evening and left for her room, seeing Celine ensconced with two members of Creatures from the West. Nice to be popular, she thought.
Marta closed her bedroom door behind her and exhaled deeply. She sat heavily on the edge of the bed and chewed on a fingertip, wondering what Stipe was doing and wishing she could be with him. Strengthening her resolve she decided to take the nap she had lied to Stella about, an exercise to steady her nerves.
Marta woke to the sound of the bedroom door being gently tapped. Still clothed, she slid off the bed temporarily unsure of her surroundings and opened it letting Toni into the room. He was smartly dressed all in black looking anxious that Marta wasn’t ready. He informed her that it was 9.45 and that the party had started to liven up and that they should be downstairs by now. Marta showered and dressed and within fifteen minutes managed to look chic and desirable. She collected her clutch bag and feeling renewed from her rest let Toni take her arm. With all nerves dispelled they descended the stairs confirmed in their new roles as jewel thieves ready to act their parts.
The crowds had gathered in strength in both the main hall and the sword room. Marta noticed a large buffet table centrally located in the sword room with professional caterers carving and dispensing food. Half the crowd was seated, eating, while in the main hall small groups stood quaffing champagne, engaged in conversation. Music from a sound system that Marta couldn’t see was revving up the atmosphere, while on a stage at the end of the hall technicians were adding the final touches for a bands live performance. They mingled with the guests and located Stella, tracking her movements. With the flow of a spring tide Stella progressed around the hall stopping briefly for conversation and admiration by her guests of the Mostel Star that was laying dazzlingly around her neck, a champagne glass tottering in her hand. Celine was with Henrick, Mo and all the members of the band, sufficient distance away as not to be a menace. Stella was enticed away from one social circle by the group from the clay pigeon shoot. Marta spotted her opportunity and with eye contact signalled Toni to be ready. Discreetly Marta slipped the sedative powders Stipe had given her into the palm of her hand, lifted a flute from a passing waiter, and left the room for a quiet corner and mixed them into the champagne. With conviction she joined Stella’s circle.
“Hi everyone,” said Marta briefly acknowledging the group. “Hi Stella. I just had to come and look at Daddies handiwork now it has a perfect showcase. You look fantastic. The Mostel Star is you Stella. It’s beautiful. Here I’ve brought you a fresh drink.” Marta took the almost empty glass from Stella’s hand and gave her hers. A waiter passed and Marta placed the flute onto his tray and selected another for herself. She turned to the others continuing her plaudits, “Don’t you all agree. Have you ever seen a piece of jewellery crafted so beautifully?”
The admiration of Stella and the Mostel Star continued with Stella giving all the gossip about its origins to eager ears. Marta listened and watched wishing she would shut up and drink her bloody champagne. Stella paused for breath and started on the fresh glass. She drank half. Seizing the moment Marta proposed a toast to Stella and three quarters of the glass was emptied. Stella continued talking for a few more minutes, only her speech was becoming slurred and the group was looking quizzical at her. The room developed an orbital feeling about it and to everyone’s surprise Stella crumpled to the floor.
Marta pushed her glass into the hand of the person standing next to her.
“Stand back everyone. Give her some room. Marta knelt beside Stella accompanied by two men who were standing with her. She went through the motion of checking her vital signs, pulse, eyes and gently tapping her cheek trying to arouse her. One of the men said, “ She looks ashen. I don’t like the look of her.”
“You’re right,” Marta said.” I think we need to call a doctor. Her pulse is racing. She could be about to have a seizure.” That moment two bodyguards arrived on the scene along with Mo and his assistant.
“You two pick her up gently and take her to her room.” Marta addressed the assistant. “There is a phone in the entrance hall. I want you to go and call the local GP and get him to come over here immediately, I don’t think we should take any risks.” Marta stood as one of the men lifted Stella. “Don’t worry, Mo, I’m a nurse. I’ll go and take care of her until the doctor arrives. You need to stay here with your guests. I’m sure she will be all right in a while. Probably the excitement just a bit too much for her.”