by Verner Jones
“You’re right.” Mo nodded to his assistant who was waiting for his approval before acting and then trotted off to the phone in the main entrance.
“Take her to her room and stay with her. Thanks err…”
“It’s Marta.”
“Yea, thanks Marta. You don’t mind staying with her?”
“No, but send the doctor straight up when he comes okay?”
“I’ll have a man waiting for him so there will be no delay.” Marta left with the bodyguard while Mo ushered everyone back into the party rhythm. Toni watched the assistant return from calling the doctor and followed her to within earshot of Mo and heard her say the doctor would be over in twenty minutes. Toni casually left the room and located the telephone the assistant had used and unobserved pressed the redial button. The doctor who had taken the call was just about to leave his home when the call came through. Toni asked whom he was speaking to and found out it was a Doctor Bell. He apologized for having disturbed him earlier and told him that he was not needed now at Cullen Castle as one of the guests was a doctor and that he was taking care of the matter. Relieved that he didn’t need to make a journey and reassured by Toni that the person concerned was recovering, the doctor thanked him for the call and returned to his fireside TV. Toni slipped outside onto the drive and called Stipe on the mobile phone.
“Hello Stipe?”
“Yes. How is it going?”
“Good. Stella has been taken to her room and Marta is with her. They are expecting you in 20 minutes. You’re name is Doctor Bell and a man will be waiting at the main door for you.”
“Good work. Now go back into the party and make sure that Celine doesn’t see me arrive.”
“Alright. Good luck.” Toni hung up and rejoined the party unnoticed.
Stipe arrived suitably dressed in tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows, spectacled and carrying his doctor’s bag. After introducing himself to the doorman he was ushered upstairs to Stella’s bedroom. Stipe pretending not to know Marta quizzed her as to the circumstances of Stella’s condition whilst opening his bag and taking out his stethoscope. He examined Stella with Marta giving an explanation in the background. Concluding his examination Stipe told the bodyguard to open the window slightly to let some fresh air into the room. Stipe prepared an injection and administered it to Stella. He was about to tell the guard that he wasn’t needed here when Mo entered the room. Surprised, Stipe reassured Mo that Stella had suffered a mild feinting bout brought on by the days exertion and that he had given her a sedative that would make her sleep for an hour or two, after that she would be fine. Satisfied, Mo ordered the guard to wait outside Stella’s room until she came around and to fetch him when she did. Marta looked at Stipe, the concern etched on her face. This wasn’t part of the plan. They were supposed to be alone with Stella and Stipe was to leave with the Mostel star in his bag. Stipe ignored Marta’s stare unable to do anything about the developing situation.
“I have to thank you Doctor for coming out so promptly, off duty and all that. You will stay and have a drink before you go?” Mo left the room with Marta and Stipe following. The guard took his position outside the door.
“Well I am on call but I do have my pager. I suppose one won’t hurt.”
They rejoined the party. Mo beckoned a waiter and organized a drink for the Doctor then left. Stipe scoured the room for Celine. She was mingling with a band of women with her back to them. Stipe and Marta talked small talk until Mo was sufficient distance away. With urgency Stipe said, “Casually locate Toni and meet me out front in five minutes.” Stipe took his drink and waited in a darkened corner of the front courtyard. Moments later Marta and Stipe emerged, a psst, psst sound located them to the shadowy corner where Stipe was lurking.
“We have a big problem now that the guard is with Stella. The injection I gave her will only keep her sedated for a couple of hours. We have to get rid of the guard and somehow get into the room. We need someone to lure him away.”
“Don’t look at me Stipe I could never do that.” Stipe thought for a moment. Toni said, “What if we let Celine into our secret and persuaded her to collaborate with us. She is the obvious candidate to seduce the guard.”
“Yes, her room is opposite Stella’s. She can take him into her room and in a moment’s distraction get the key from him and place it outside her door where we will be waiting. We get the Mostel Star and leave the key over the lintel so Celine can retrieve it and replace it into his jacket,” said Marta.
“Optimistic, but if we time it right I think it will work. Only one thing. We can’t leave Celine more than 20 - 25 minutes alone with the guard, otherwise he will become suspicious if Celine is not fulfilling her seductive promise. You will have to interrupt them and catch them together in her room. Celine flees embarrassed and you promise discretion to the guard and it is as if he has never left his post,” said Stipe.
“Do you think she will go for it?”
“Only one way to find out Marta, you go inside and bring her to us and we will put it to her. If she doesn’t then we can kiss the Mostel Star goodbye.” A moment’s pause heightened the tension between them.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” Marta left for the main hall.
Minutes that seemed an eternity later, Marta emerged with Celine, arms linked and with Celine being quizzical.
“What surprise have you got for me? You shouldn’t tease me Marta. Is it something Henrick has put you up to doing?”
“Not really Celine,” said Marta, wishing she had used a different ploy to extract Celine from the party as she looked around for any uninvited ears or eyes that might be observing her journey. They reached a quiet area in the corridor. Stipe and Toni emerged from the shadows to a bewildered Celine, who seeing Stipe, sensed now that something was out of the ordinary. Quickly, Stipe immersed Celine into their plan telling her everything, and then he outlined what he wanted her to do. Her expression travelled from initial shock, through risk assessment, to interested party. She thought of all the things she could buy her man back in Amsterdam and how happy she could make him with her share of the money and then agreed, with images of Hollywood heroines forming in her mind. They separated and went back into the party.
Celine with practiced ease had the guard in her room within five minutes. Marta and Toni sat half way up the staircase occupied in conversation whilst keeping a watch for any stray guests that deemed it necessary to venture along the corridor. If that happened, Toni would warn Stipe, who with doctors bag in hand, was waiting concealed but in view of Celine’s door. Fifteen minutes passed and no key was forthcoming. Another five made Stipe anxious. Five more made him go to the door and peek through the keyhole only to glimpse Celine standing leant against the end bedpost with the guard, arms around her, caressing her neck.
“Shit!” Stipe stood and paced hurriedly to the end of the corridor, caught Toni’s attention and beckoned both of them to join him. Marta, keeping up a front of high spirits, stood with Toni and after scrutinizing the crowd below them, decided no one was watching and climbed the remaining stairs anxious to know what was happening.
“Celine hasn’t been able to get the key away from him and it looks that she will soon be over committed. We’ve lost. We will have to forget the Mostel Star. You will have to go in the room, Marta and rescue Celine.” Marta thought hard.
“Wait Stipe. We still have a chance.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen. We can’t get the key from the guard, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get into the room. My room overlooks the roof of this corridor. Remember you made the guard open the window in Stellas room. You two can go along the tiles and tie a rope to something. Toni you can lower Stipe down, slip in through the window and the Mostel Star is ours. Celine can hold out for another ten minutes I’m sure. What do you say?” Stipe looked at Toni who nodded his agreement.
“ We need a rope,” said Toni.
“Quickly, to my room. I think I can provide th
at.” With a brisk pace Marta led the way to the top of the tower. Once inside her bedroom she picked up a chair and ran towards the window. There were four thick braided chords attached with hooks to the top of the curtains.
“Hold me while I take these down.” Toni put his hands around her waist and Stipe took another chair and started to help Marta. The four braids when tied together made a decent length. Toni and Stipe tested its strength, and gulping at the drop below them, climbed out of the window onto the roof. The night air had coated the tiles with a patina of sea mist. Stipe’s first footstep saw him slither down the roof on his backside before the fabric of his pants rubbed rough against the tiles and stopped his decent. Marta gasped and turned her head away from the window, hands covering her eyes. When she returned to her observations they had reached the dormer above Stella’s window.
“Where can we tie the rope? There’s nothing here.” Stipe looked for something, anything to fasten the chord too. Nothing.
“Toni listen. Wrap the rope around you and lay flat on this side of the dormer. I’ll go over the roof from the other side. So long as the rope doesn’t cross over the ridge tile on your side I will be safe. I would have to pull your body over the roof before I could fall. If you stay flat I'll be fine.” Toni followed Stipe’s instructions. Stipe, his heart pounding, lowered himself, and in an abseiling style, walked down the wall to Stella’s window with just a short length of rope to spare. The window was two arms length to his right. A sudden feeling of ‘what the hell am I doing here’, flashed through his mind as he realized the difficulty of actually getting in through the opening.
Laughter below him stiffened his spine. He couldn’t look down even if he had wanted to. He waited motionless while the laughter went in doors. With hands and feet that were numbing Stipe crabbed his way over to the window only to be thwarted from reaching his destination by the rope chaffing against the bargeboard. He crabbed back again, a pendulum in an involuntary swing. Fatigue was teasing his fingers to loosen their grip. The thought of skull crunching on stone kept them tight. With desperate legs Stipe lurched one more time towards his goal, flicking the rope free from the bargeboard as he traversed the wall. This time he reached the open pane and sandwiched it between his legs simultaneously letting go of the rope with one hand. He reached inside grabbing the hem of the curtains. Losing balance and disorientated, he released the grip on the rope and twisted and contorted his body falling heavily off of the top of the opening onto the windowsill, the latch digging deeply into his ribs. With legs dangling outside and hands gripping for dear life onto the curtains, Stipe rolled backwards into the room with the grace of a herd of stampeding bulls and a bang louder than a thunderclap.
Stipe lay motionless, expecting at any moment Stella to wake or someone to come through the door. Instead the silence that was chased away returned in strength. Stipe eased himself up. In the dim light of the bedside table he saw Stella, still, in her drug induced sleep. Setting the disturbed furniture straight and rubbing his bruised ribs he tiptoed over to Stella’s side. The Mostel Star lay tantalizingly close on Stella’s exposed neck. The chill of the night air had permeated through the room, but Stipe still found himself sweating as he released the clasp and pocketed the necklace. Taking the quilt on the bed he covered Stella guarding her against the cold; technically speaking she was still his patient and although he was robbing her, he still had some ethics.
Stipe looked at the door and wished it was unlocked then turned towards the window, his only way out. The rope hung limp out of reach of his grasp. Looking around the room he saw nothing that he could hook it with. Turning his head to the stars he called Toni in a barely audible tone.
“Toni, Toni.”
“What is it?"
“Try and flick the rope closer to the end of the ridges so I can get a hold of it.” The rope danced to a silent orchestra twirling just above Stipe’s head. Standing precariously on the window ledge Stipe caught the threads and wrapped them around his wrist.
“I’m coming up brace yourself.” Toni took the strain digging his toes against the lip of the tiles. Stipe climbed on top of the window and with arm over arm and feet scratching for a grip against the stone wall he pulled himself up and over the barge board and sprawled himself flat onto the tiles, exhausted. Toni peered over the top of the ridges.
“You okay Stipe?”
“Yea, but I feel as if I’ve aged about ten years. Let’s get off this roof.”
“You got the Star?”
“It’s safe in my…” Stipe checked his pocket only to find it empty. “ Damn it. It must have fallen out while I was climbing back up.” Both men inched to the edge of the roof and looked into the courtyard below. There hanging like a Christmas trinket was the Mostel Star a few feet above the ground on a rose bush. “Jesus, what next?”
“Come on, Stipe. We have to get back inside quickly.” When they reached the tower window Marta appeared and helped them through the opening. Stipe looked bedraggled and breathless, his shirt was ripped and moss stains covered his jacket. He left it to Toni to explain events to Marta while he tidied his appearance.
“Well nothing has changed. We keep on with the plan. First we have to clean you up and then you two return to the party while I rescue Celine. Stipe, you have to get the Star and leave.” A quick brush over saw Stipe looking like a doctor again. Separately Stipe and Toni took the stairs down to the main hall. Toni rejoined the party. Stipe made quietly for the main doors. An inebriated, authoritative voice called to Stipe
“Wait up there. Where you going?” Stipe froze. A hand accompanied the voice and rested on Stipe’s shoulder. Stipe turned around to see Mo teetering.
“How is my gem then?” Stipe’s first thought was he’d been rumbled.
“Have you checked on her doc? When’s she gonna come and join the party?” Stipe calmed himself.
“She’ll be asleep for a while longer , then you’ll have your Stella back as good as new.” Stipe clasped Mo’s shoulder.
“And don’t you be going drinking too much either. I don’t want to be called back here twice in one night.” They shared a moment’s humour. Stipe tapped his bleeper and said,
“Have to go now. Another patient to save.” He turned and walked to the door accompanied by Mo who had linked his arm around Stipe’s shoulder.
“You’re a grand man doctor. Thanks for coming out and looking after my Stella.” Mo left Stipe in the doorway, lulled back into the party by a beckoning voice. Stipe walked across the drive towards his car spying the Mostel Star hanging like a ripe plum. With a steady step he reached the rose bush, stretched up and retrieved the necklace, and dropped it safely into his doctors bag. His lips curled upwards mimicking the half moon. A hot bath and a double brandy were only an hour away. Stipe promised himself that when he reached the Crest & Feather he would have both.
16
The sun was in retention unable to penetrate the grey morning clouds that were threatening an early morning downpour over the terminal at Schiphol airport. It was cold enough to make you shiver and wish you had worn an overcoat and a jumper instead of just a jacket. Stipe edgy from only having a few hours sleep, raised his collar to shield his neck and collected his luggage from the carousel. He kept his shoulder bag close by his side. The Mostel Star lay inside clipped in a black presentation case and neatly wrapped in pink foil, a gift for his fiancé and he had a receipt for £150.00 stolen from a Scottish gift shop to show proof of purchase, just in case he was stopped and his baggage checked. He chose the green exit and sailed through holding his breath like a free-apnoea diver until he was clear of the terminal. He headed straight for the taxi rank and a waiting cab. A bell chimed the hour somewhere across the city. He looked up. The gothic spire of a church pierced the horizon. It made him think of Quasimodo in the film the Hunchback of Notre dam, the cold, his hunched frame, and his aching ribs the probable spur for his obscure thought. He checked his watch, 7.15. The sun would break through by mid morning. It would be
an Amsterdam with open arms when his quartet arrived. Stipe opened the rear door of the cab, chucked his hold all to the far side and sat centrally in the seat.
“Where to?” The driver sat impassively waiting for the reply. Stipe gave him the address of Celine’s apartment on the Grachtgengordel and slumped back into the upholstery. He would have a chance to catch up on his sleep before they arrived. Two hours sleep was not enough for any man no matter how fit they were.
Stipe felt a hand brushing his dark locks to the back of his head. In normal circumstances it would have been a very pleasant way to be brought back into the land of the living. His unfocused eyes only saw a stranger sitting on the edge of the bed and he shot upright startled from his sleep. Marta withdrew her hand and called his name.
“Stipe! I’m sorry darling I didn’t mean to startle you.” He leaned forward in touch now with his surroundings and recognizing the familiar face.
“Marta, you’re back!” He pursed his lips and put a hand around Marta’s neck and pulled her to him. The embrace lasted brief seconds before Celine entered the room interrupting their reunion. Toni followed with Celine’s cases.
“Hello, Stipe. How are you feeling? Don’t let me disturb you two. You give him one hellovva big hug, Marta he deserves it. You all do. I’ll go and make some fresh coffee. Don’t be too long getting reunited.” Celine gave a knowing laugh and ushered Toni out of the room. Their gaze turned back to each other. Marta moved closer and wrapped her arms around Stipe’s naked waist. A bruise the size of a cricket ball made him flinch as Marta squeezed him. Marta pulled away noting his discomfort and spotted the dark patch on his side.
“Is that from last night?”
“That and a few others.” Marta pinched his cheek.