by Verner Jones
“You’re right. I don’t like it. What are we going to do about him?” Stipe thought for a moment.
“I think we should at least move to another hotel. That way we’ll be safe from him. It should give us enough time to get the statue and return to Amsterdam before he has been able to pick up our trail again.” Heads nodded in approval. “That said, I think we must check out a Morgan & Morgan Auctioneers. Henrick seems to think that’s our best hope of locating the statue. Let’s pack.”
They gathered their belongings and checked out of the hotel. A half a mile across town the taxi they had ordered dropped them on the pavement outside a less prominent, but on first impressions, a very clean establishment called The Salisbury Arms, the owner of which happened to be a close friend of the cabbies and who rented rooms above his pub. They took the only two rooms that were available and settled into accommodation that had low ceilings with old wooden beams as supports and uneven floors. The cabbie had told them the pub was over two hundred years old and that they served the best pint of bitter in the area. Stipe was impressed and would have inquired further if not for the preoccupying thoughts of Zoran out there looking for them.
Stipe decided to take an early evening stroll to clear his head and focus his thoughts. Marta opted to come along with him while Toni took a bath and said he would wait for them to return, and then they could sample the bitter that the cabbie boasted of, along with whatever was on the menu. He forced a smile as they left. Zoran too was floating in the back of his mind. He locked the door as they left.
They walked aside a busy road that was fronted with antique shops and pavement café’s with French sounding names, old things for sale blending with a new style of living. A side street beckoned and they entered. An old man was playing songs on a mandolin. There was urgency in his fingers as if he had a limited time to complete his repertoire and was running late. His wife waited on, thanking any person who dropped a coin into the hat on the floor. They stopped and listened for a while before venturing on into a tree fenced Mini Park, after first receiving a thank you from the old lady.
“Do you think they still love each other, Stipe?”
“Who?”
“The old couple back there.”
“Well if they were man and wife, then probably. You don’t stay with someone to that sort of age if you were not in love to start with.” Marta tightened her arm around Stipe’s waist.
“That’s how I want us to be when we are older.”
“What, playing a guitar on a street corner?” Marta dug him with her free hand.
“Not like that, silly. Still in love.”
“Are you now then? I mean…”
“Yes I am. I ‘m in love with you and I want to be with you always.” Stipe stopped and faced Marta.
“ You know I feel the same way about you too. It’s just with everything that’s happened, my parents being killed and, well I, I didn’t know how to let my feelings be known to you.” Marta closed the space between them and kissed him fully on the mouth. Stipe reciprocated the action. Slowly and rhythmically their lips moved as one, fusing love’s bonds between them. When they separated both were sure of the paths that the rest of their lives would take. Whatever they would face, they would face it together. Marta was sure because the dread of her ordeal at the hands of the rapists in Zepa no longer hovered like a terrifying spectre. Stipe had chased them away. Stipe because he was able to remember his parents as they were in the happier times before the war, and that it was their wish for him that he would marry and settle down. Now he felt that he could.
“You know, Stipe I would be happy with you whether we were rich or poor. Look at the old musician and his wife.” Stipe turned and observed the couple. The old man had managed to complete his performance and was busy, along with his wife, packing his things away.
“They have a simple life. I would be happy with that. I mean we don’t have to go on with this any more if you don’t want to.” Stipe took her hands in each of his.
“I know what you are saying, and I am tempted to agree with you. But there’s a lot of money at stake here and I think I know how we can get it. Let’s give it one more try. I would sooner have you as a wealthy man than one who can’t give you the good things you deserve. Come on, let’s head back and I’ll outline my plan to you.” Marta slipped her arm back around his waist and turned towards the Salisbury Arms. If that’s what he wants then it’s what I want too, thought Marta.
22
Morgan & Morgan was situated on the bank of an estuary of the River Thames. Marta stood on the embankment looking up at a row of six stone arches that were once probably used for boat storage, ships chandlery and things generally connected with being on the water. Now they were sealed with large wooden-slatted doors secured with a reassuring size of padlock, with a sign over the centre written in Olde English script that said, ‘Morgan & Morgan warehouses.’ A concrete slipway slanted down to the waters edge, now defunct of its original use, except for the occasional launch by small pleasure crafts or windsurfers. Instead thought Marta, it was now the access for delivery and collection lorries into the storage area. Above the arches was an old Victorian building, maybe a storehouse or a shipwright’s workshop in a previous era. Marta guessed it was now the nerve centre of the auction house with its spaces converted to sales rooms and offices. Marta looked over the building observing entrance and exit points. It was daunting; its walls seemed to curve around her in a fish-eye lens view kind of way. It was a fortress. It forced a deep sigh from her lungs. Marta looked at Stipe and Toni.
“Let’s take a look at the main building.” In silent agreement they strode towards the slipway and up to the road level.
Henrick’s advice had indeed proven to be accurate. It had taken Stipe only one phone call to discover that Morgan & Morgan were the auctioneers dealing with the sale of the late Mrs. Stavells’s valuables. A clerk had offered to send a catalogue of the forthcoming sale for a small fee to Stipe. He declined the offer. The clerk also told him preview days were being held on Wednesday and Thursday, today and tomorrow. Stipe queried the clerk about the jewel encrusted globe and the availability of viewing it prior to the auction only to be informed that the viewing date had already passed for that item, and that the most valuable items of the late Mrs. Stavell were being held by Securicor Security Services until the day of the auction. The clerk went on to say that the sale commenced at 9.30 sharp on Friday. Registration and a bidding number were required to take part in the auction. The clerk was emphatic on the last two points. Stipe thanked the man for his kind co-operation and hung up. Stipe had no need for a bidding number, but had every intention of walking away with one of the lots.
They reached the top of the jetty and turned into an open space with the Morgan building in front of them and to the right. On the left and fronting the building was a square cobbled area used for car parking and turning vehicles. A waiter was preparing a few tables in front of a pavement café opposite. Two men of rugged appearance took seats at the table and ordered something from the waiter. They appeared to be focusing their attention on the three of them. Stipe stared back and the two guys started to engage in conversation as if Stipe didn’t exist. Stipe chided himself for being paranoid. Nobody new they were here only Henrick. The end of the road terminated with a stone perimeter wall, at the bottom of which some 20 feet below, the river flowed timelessly leaving a smear of algae where the stonewall joined the water. Marta peered over. A man started paddling his canoe in the general direction of the opposite embankment. The smell of the sea stimulated her imagination. Ghosts of ships long sailed and creaking rigging seemed to echo from the distant bridge, in reality, only the wind whistling occasionally through the girders.
“Well, what do you think, Stipe?” said Toni. Stipe spied the canoeist paddling across the river. He craned his neck over the wall looking along the embankment. He spotted a pleasure boat rental a few hundreds meters along the river.
“If we pull this off
I think I’ve just found a fool proof way of getting out of here. Marta was startled out of her reverie and turned to face them.
“What do you mean?”
“We go hire a boat, moor it at the bottom then cross the river. It’s the equivalent to being miles away from here by road.” Toni looked at Marta.
“Okay lets do it.” Marta retracted herself from the wall edge and joined her comrades.
“Marta, you stay here, we’ll be about 30 minutes until we get back. Hold my rucksack until we return.”
“Okay Stipe.” Marta leaned back against the wall and continued her reverie with the river trying to take her mind of the impending events. Stipe squared up to the warehouse looking along the roofline of the four-storey building and down to the pavement level. He turned his head towards Toni.
“They must sell an awful lot of stuff to afford this place.” Stipe smiled. “Come on, lets go and have a look at what boats are on offer. The two men at the café watched them walk away and focused their attention on Marta.
Stipe and Toni returned a short time later with Stipe on the oars and Toni manning the tiller. Not exactly James Bond thought Marta, but the river was not too wide and only ambling along. Marta guessed they could cross it quite easily. The boys moored the craft and rejoined Marta. They acknowledged each other. Stipe took the rucksack from Marta and they started for the entrance of Morgan & Morgan.
Once inside they found a helpful assistant who sold them a brochure and directed them to the first viewing room. Items were still being brought into the auction room and placed in various positions of convenience. Stipe noted that the men carrying the goods wore a uniform of green overalls.
“Take a look around and get a feel for the place, and see if you can find the statue. I’m going to have a word with the delivery guys.” Stipe left Marta and Toni to wander around the room pretending to be interested parties in the auction. The room was filling quickly. There was going to be a lot of interest in the auction of Maria Stavells’s chattels. Stipe saw two removal men pause at the threshold of the service entrance down a wide corridor at the end of the room that led to the unloading area. They lit a cigarette each and took an unofficial break. Stipe headed towards them and drew a cigarette from a packet as he came alongside them.
“Have you got a light, mate?”
“Yea, sure.” A man about twenty five with pony-tailed hair and a look of disinterest, offered him his clipper. His colleague, a youth only just out of school with a look of inexperience about him, concealed his cigarette in the canopy of his palm and hastily stood upright from his leaning position against the wall, unsure whether he was about to receive a reprimand or not. Stipe lit his cigarette listening to the older guy resume his conversation while observing everything. The young man relaxed. His cigarette re-emerged and he lazily returned to his leaning position. On their overalls was a company logo, an articulated lorry with Tuckers Shippers and Removals emblazoned in red italics on its side, making the image look as if it was speeding. Stipe offered the lighter back to the youth.
“Looks like you guys have got your work cut out today.” The youth looked across to Stipe and took the lighter from him.
“Yea, we have. This is the first break we’ve had this morning. There are three different auctions on this weekend and we have to move the stuff for two of them. A load of bankrupt and surplus plant and machinery and a house full of antique furniture from some old actress whose died. We always seem to get the heavy stuff while the regular guys who work here handle the easy loads.”
“Never fair is it. Been working long for this outfit?”
“ Not really. We’re from the agency. We’re contracted to Tuckers three days a week to shift the auctioneer’s lots. Monday and Tuesdays I do a regular run to Scotland and back delivering containers, everything from fridges to cat food. Better than lugging all this heavy stuff about by hand.” Stipe searched visually in the back of the open removal lorry while the youth answered. He located what he was looking for hanging on the back of the open door.
“ I bet it is. You ought to have at least a couple of more men helping you. It looks like a lot of work for two men.”
“Well the agency normally sends more hands, but two guys let us down today. It’s left us struggling. Ah well we’ll get through it in the end. We always do. Right Carl?” The youth stood upright, his chest sticking out. Both men dropped their cigarette butts onto the floor and crushed them.
“Yep.”
“See you around, pal.” The two removal men left Stipe and clambered up into the rear of the lorry. Stipe eyed the spare overalls hanging on the rear door and turned to go back into the building via the outside perimeter. He noticed two Securicor guard vehicles were parked in front of the lorry. When he rounded the corner of the building he stopped and waited a moment and then peeked around the wall at the two removal men. He watched them, occasionally giving a cautious eye behind him to see if his actions were arousing any undue attention. The two men in the café were starting to leave, their departure abating any anxiety he had felt over them. Feeling safe he continued his observations. The two removal men eventually came down the ramp of the vehicle struggling with a large antique sideboard and entered the passageway. Stipe gave them a few seconds to establish their journey to the salerooms and then briskly walked to the rear of the van. He crouched and shot a glance at the removal men who were preoccupied with the safe transit of their cargo. They were a good halfway along the corridor, too far to notice him slip inside the trailer. He guessed he had two maybe three minutes before they returned. He checked his watch. Seven minutes past the hour. Quickly he took the overalls off of the trailer siding and folded them into a small package and secured them in his rucksack. With haste he turned to face the inside. His eyes washed over all the pieces of furniture and boxes looking for anything that could be useful. A sack barrow was hanging on hooks on the trailer wall. He promptly removed it, checked again that the coast was clear, then continued searching looking for anything that might aid him in his quest. There was an empty carton with protruding straw packing and a couple of removal blankets on the floor. He put the blankets in the box. Instinct told him they would be useful and he should take them too. He checked his watch. A full two minutes had passed. Seeing nothing else of value, he casually removed himself and the barrow and carton from within the vehicle as the two removal lads turned the corner at the top of the corridor. Stipe wheeled his haul around to the far side of the van, which was concealed from their approach to the trailer and waited. The two lads oblivious to Stipe standing only feet away located their next box and continued on another journey up the corridor.
Stipe felt the colour return to his cheeks and his breathing return to normal. He waited for them to disappear into the halls and then re-entered the building along the same corridor, wheeling the barrow. A sign on the second door informed him he was outside the gents’ toilets. He propped the barrow with the carton against the wall, entered the toilets and found an empty cubicle. He went in and locked the door behind him. He waited for the only other person to leave and then climbed over the partitioning into the next cubicle cracking his ankle on the toilet pan as he dropped to the floor. He winced and gave the ankle a brisk rub while cursing under his breath. He left the toilets with the rucksack locked in the cubicle. Being careful not to be seen by the removal men, he rejoined Toni and Marta in the sales room.
The saleroom was bristling with punters checking out differing lots, talking on telephones and generally vying for a good position to be seen by the auctioneer. The auction staff was hurrying around getting last minute details sorted before the auction started. Everybody who seemed to have any authority in the saleroom were all scurrying around except one. Marta saw Stipe approach. He was limping.
“What happened to you?” said Marta, indicating with a tip of her head at his knee.
“I had a slight mishap with a toilet pan.” Marta didn’t know exactly what he meant and dismissed it.
“ Is
it bad?”
“No, just bruised. Find anything in here?”
“Well we’ve looked in all the sale rooms and its just as you said it would be. Take a look over there.” Stipe looked in the direction her eyes were indicating to. In the corner of the saleroom behind the auctioneer the jewelled globe was positioned on a black velvet-covered table on a raised stand, ready to be wheeled out onto the auctioneers platform. The only person not rushing around who had any role in the sale of the goods today was standing next to the table wearing a Securicor guards uniform.
“What about the other salerooms?” said Stipe.
“We saw two other guards standing next to other important items that are listed as being Mrs. Stavells entries. The good thing though is where that guard is standing with the globe; the curtain behind him has a connecting corridor to the second saleroom. It’s a concealed area that links the two salerooms with a curtain at each end.” replied Marta.
“How do you know that?”
“Toni popped his head in to have a look and was politely told to move away.”
“ I think if we are going to do this there won’t be a better time than now what with all the commotion going on around us. Are you ready?” Marta sighed deeply. Toni flexed his fingers.
“Follow me. I’ll explain the details on the way.” They reached the toilet entrance with Stipe agreeing everyone’s role. It was a plan thought up in brief back in the hotel room and finalised on location. Most people would call it ‘winging it’, but with the lack of any other option, what Stipe had outlined back at the hotel and detailed to them now, had a good chance of working.
Stipe and Toni went into the toilet taking the carton with them leaving Marta with the sack barrow. Stipe emerged a minute later with a carrier bag and gave it to Marta. Marta crossed the passageway into the ladies toilets found a cubicle and changed. They all emerged within a minute of each other. Marta wearing a black tailored skirt suit, metal framed spectacles and an official looking clipboard with the sale details attached to it. Stipe had a guards uniform on very similar to the Securicor guard. It concerned him there was no official emblem on the outfit but it had been the best he could get in the time they had. Toni wore the removal mans overalls. Toni took hold of the barrow and with an air of confidence they followed Marta with a brisk pace towards saleroom number two. Marta acted out a fake conversation with Stipe gesticulating mildly as if giving instructions. They approached the black curtain and without hesitation drew it aside and entered the passageway between the two salerooms. Marta closed the curtain fighting hard to restrain her limbs from shaking. There was one other couple at the far end steadily removing a vase from its packing case. Unable to loiter around until the passage way emptied the three of them approached the two employees not knowing quite what to expect. When they were a few feet away the couple stood in unison holding the vase between them and entered saleroom one. Marta glanced at Stipe who urged her forward with his eyes. Stipe nodded to Toni to peal off from them and wait in the corridor. Marta caught the curtain, aiding the couple through the entrance, and Stipe to emerge. It looked as if they had all entered the arena as one group. Marta quickly took stock of the auctioneer’s podium and any officialdom in the immediate vicinity. The auctioneer and his assistant were engrossed over the rostrum shuffling papers and cross-referencing data. The room buzzed with a cacophony of conversations. No threat was imminent only an air of excitement prevailed. Marta with a flash of inspiration standing close to the security guard spoke in the general direction of the couple,