The Voyage of the Golden Handshake (14 page)

Udi looked from the heavy safe on the floor to the hole in the wall. As he peered at it, he noted the occupant of the next cabin staring curiously at him. Quickly he hung a coat over the gap and retreated.

‘No worry, sir. I get engineer, sir,’ and with that he left.

‘Udi!’ shouted Albert as the attendant scuttled down the corridor. ‘When he’s here, get him to fix the door, please. The wife and I are going on deck for some air.’

When they returned one hour later, the Suite door opened
so quickly that Albert was catapulted into the room. He looked into the wardrobe where there was a new safe with the door swinging open. On the table was a message.

Sir, madam. If you call at Reception the precious things from your safe are in plastic bag. Happy to help sir. Udi.

‘Damn good ship, this,’ said Albert as he hobbled back across the room. ‘Damn good ship. But from now on we put our valuables under the bed, luv.’

Alice nodded, and the ship with her valuable cargo of contented cruisers continued on her way to Naples.

It was part of the job description of the Security Officer to keep a low profile and Arthur Chub did just that. Arthur had been recruited for the
Golden Handshake
by Harry. He had had a career in the Royal Military Police and for a year or so after leaving the Service had worked as a security officer at Wigan Gasworks. This post he found to be both poorly paid and unsatisfactory, as all he had to do was wear an ill-fitting uniform and check those who entered and those who left the premises.

In his new post at sea he was responsible for the total security of the ship and had a small team of loyal workers reporting to him. He stressed that every suspicious activity must be reported, no matter how slight. The initial difficulties with the card system had caused him tremendous headaches, and he was still not happy with the passenger-list, even though they had been at sea for several days.

When the alarming news of the attempt to steal Albert’s safe reached him, he immediately suspected that there was a stowaway on board and ordered a discreet search of all the lifeboats. No one was found, but Arthur remained unsatisfied. He wondered
if he ought to visit the scene of the crime, but he did not want to go against the express wishes of a Balcony Suite passenger so he kept his distance. Unfortunately, when the problem was first reported to the engineer by the cabin attendant, Arthur had been fast asleep after sitting up late in yet another fruitless attempt to work out who was and who was not on board. By the time the report of the attempted theft reached his desk, the safe had been replaced and the scene of the crime considerably disturbed.

Once again he issued a confidential circular saying that he must be contacted personally, the moment any suspicious activity was discovered or reported. He was totally unaware of the visit to the ship by the Russian gangsters and the Italian ‘insurers’. The Captain and the Admiral had kept this whole matter very quiet, and that was how it would remain. As for Lady Veronika - well, Chub had written her off as a complete lunatic of the kind one often finds on cruise ships. He would have been greatly intrigued had he known of her colourful past, spent in the wilds of Siberia.

Naples, known to him as a place where crime was not totally unknown, caused him concern, and he had asked Fred Batty to slip in a few words of caution to passengers who would be going ashore. Even so, someone was bound to have a wallet or handbag stolen. He was thankful that passports were securely held on the ship, as trying to replace those documents was a total nightmare.
So, Arthur Chub, ex-military, ex-gasworks, sat in his tiny cabin awaiting Napoli and struggling with incomplete passenger-lists whilst, out on the deck, carefree passengers played deck quoits (now resumed again as a fresh stock of quoits had been unearthed), and leaned over the rail as they had seen people do in brochures, or just dozed in their cabins, happy to be sailing towards a romantic location so frequently eulogised in verse and song.

The next morning, Alice woke early and did her best to remember the Italian language she had learned the previous day. It was strange, but before retiring last night she seemed to be quite good at it, but this morning her mind was a blank. As for Albert, it wasn’t worth asking him anything as he paid no attention at all when the charming Enzo was conducting his class. She consulted the notes she had made on the back of waste paper that Enzo had handed out for note taking. She had scribbled
pizza
and
pasta
. Those words were familiar as she had used them often enough in Grimsby, but never had she said ‘Ow do in Italian to her neighbours.

Getting ashore was not too difficult, but as the couple were checking themselves out of the ship they were approached by a uniformed man they had not seen before.

‘Mr and Mrs Hardcastle,’ he said genially. ‘A very good morning to you.’

‘Aye,’ said Albert. ‘It’s a grand day, of that there’s no doubt.’

‘I assume everything is well with you both?’ the man then asked.

‘As well as can be expected,’ said Alice. ‘Although I don’t care for the tea much.’

‘Ah,’ he replied. ‘It might be the water. Water affects the taste of tea very much.’

‘It’s those damn tea packets,’ Albert stated. ‘Useless, totally useless.’

‘Is all well with your suite - a Balcony Suite, I believe?’

‘Yes,’ Alice answered, ‘we like to travel that way. So much more comfortable, you know.’

‘It is indeed,’ rejoined the officer. ‘If one does not mind the little extra climb then one is well rewarded with great comfort.’

The officer seemed reluctant to let them go. ‘Is everything working well in the Suite?’ was his next question.

‘Aye,’ Albert said impatiently. ‘Come on, Alice, we will have no time to see around if we continue to linger here.’

The officer smiled politely. ‘Have a lovely day,’ he said, secretly irritated at not having been able to extract some details of the alleged attempted theft from the Suite.

At the car-hire booth neither Albert nor Alice needed to have had the slightest concern about language problems. The couple ahead of them were conversing with the clerk in faultless English. They approached the desk with confidence.

‘We want a car,’ said Albert.

‘That is what we are here for, sir,’ replied the desk clerk. ‘Would you like a Mercedes? A lovely car and most suitable for cruise passengers.’

They examined the price-list and the car offered was about twelve times the cost of the Cinquecento they had been advised to hire.

‘Well, we are Balcony Suite passengers,’ said Alice, ‘and normally we would hire a car and a driver.’

Quick as a flash the clerk jumped in.

‘Oh, we can arrange that without any difficulty,’ he replied. ‘In fact, I would drive you myself.’

‘Very kind, I’m sure,’ said Alice. ‘But today my husband insists that we hire a car he drove when he was a young man - a Cinquecento.’

Albert looked startled. It was only two days ago that he had first heard of the vehicle, let alone driven one.

‘Ah, I see,’ the man replied, slightly crestfallen. ‘We have just the thing for you.’ He completed the formalities and directed them to a park outside.

‘
Numero
Venti
,’ he said, forgetting his English for a moment.

‘Eh?’ queried Albert.

‘Oh, my apologies, sir. Number Twenty, Vehicle Number Twenty.’

Outside, a very large number of cars were parked. After much searching they found Vehicle Twenty, a minute vehicle
which Albert immediately likened to one of the dodgem cars that he had seen at the fairground in Grimsby.

‘Thee were right, Alice,’ he said. ‘I did drive this sort of contraption when I was a lad.’

They squeezed in and tried to understand the controls, which were nothing like the controls on Albert’s car in Grimsby, nor one of the dodgem cars for that matter.

‘See what the manual says luv,’ said Albert as he looked for the ignition.

‘It’s all in a foreign language,’ she told him as she thumbed through the glossy document. ‘I don’t see one word we learned from Enzo yesterday. Not one word.’

After half an hour of precious time had elapsed, Alice returned to the booth which was now closed. Back at the car, she noted a youngish man in a sharp suit unlocking a Cinquecento parked nearby.

‘Bon afternoon,’ she said politely.

He stared at her. ‘
Non capisco.
’

‘Bon journal,’ she tried next, thinking that she might have got the first greeting wrong.

‘Speak English?’ he enquired, to Alice’s relief.

She said that she did, and within a moment or so the car was started and they were on their way.

It would be kind to the reader of this book to pass over the details of Albert’s venture onto the highways of Naples. Apart
from having to be constantly reminded by Alice to keep to the right, which he just about managed to do most of the time, he was constantly alarmed by vehicles darting in front of him, and drivers gesticulating - and not least by his unfamiliarity with the controls of the vehicle. They were both so occupied in attempting to preserve their lives that the scenery around them went totally unobserved.

‘Remember where we are going,’ said Albert as they left the city behind them. ‘We have to get back, you know.’

Obediently, Alice did her best to scribble notes on the scrap paper she had brought along but, as the car was bumping up and down, and also as every sign was in Italian, which she had difficulty in recording, her directions were not altogether legible. They approached a high point overlooking the bay and a totally exhausted Albert suggested that they call a halt and take a breather. They pulled off the roadway by a small path that led towards a viewing-point.

‘While we are here we might as well walk up there,’ said his wife. ‘After that we can go back to the ship. I’ve had enough.’

They secured the car and set off toward the summit.

It was a lovely view. Below them was the town, which looked strangely attractive from this height and, of course, there was the bay with the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean to complete the picture.

‘Now that
is
nice,’ said Albert as he surveyed the scene below
him. ‘Very nice indeed.’

‘Best be getting back,’ said Alice after a while. ‘I dread the journey, don’t you? They are like madmen on the roads here.’

Near to where the car was parked was a small café and, had their language skills been greater, they would have stopped in for a drink. As it was, they decided against this and proceeded towards the hire vehicle. As they approached, Albert stopped in his tracks.

‘Is that our car?’ he queried.

As it was the only car in the area, and in the place where they had left it, Alice replied that it was very likely their car.

‘Then look at it,’ said Albert with a pained expression on his face.

‘My God!’ cried Alice. ‘It’s got no wheels.’

They rushed towards it and clearly on the windscreen was a small sticker with the number Twenty visible.

‘What in God’s name has happened here?’ asked Albert. He looked around desperately. Some distance away, a family group were picnicking. Sitting at tables outside the café, several more people sipped drinks. Albert felt panic approaching.

‘Alice,’ he said, ‘as you speak Italian, try and explain the problem to the chap in the café. He might be able to help. I’ll guard the car.’

Alice, as near to tears as she had been for many a year, and clutching her scrap of paper with her Italian words written on
it, went into the bar. An elderly man stood behind a gleaming espresso machine which made a furious noise as he prepared a coffee for a patron.

‘Bon Bon,’ she said, completely forgetting the customary form of greeting in Italian.

The assistant didn’t reply but turned around, took a packet of confectionery from off the shelf and handed it to her. She stared at the packet of sweets and handed them back.

‘No, non,’ she stumbled. ‘My car no wheels. I need four wheels.’

Not knowing what the Italian was for wheels she drew four circles in the air with her hands.

‘Wheels, round like pizza,’ she said. ‘Quantro.’

She had almost got the Italian word for ‘four’ right but not quite.

The waiter seemed delighted and his face lit up. He gestured to her that she should sit outside and he would bring the order across. Alice rejoined Albert.

‘It’s all right now, luv,’ she said soothingly. ‘He will bring four wheels for the car in a moment.’

Albert puzzled as to how a café in Italy would have four car wheels in stock, but there was no telling what these foreigners would get up to so he said nothing. Fifteen minutes went by and then they saw the waiter approaching.

‘I can’t see the wheels,’ he said anxiously.

The waiter came closer and beamed at them both before placing before them four pizzas and a full bottle of Cointreau. Albert and Alice gawped at him in disbelief.

‘What’s this?’ asked Albert as he examined the bottle. ‘What have you done, Alice? We can’t run the car on booze and pizza.’

The waiter presented them with a bill and reluctantly Albert paid it with the money he had changed on board that morning.

‘This is a right carry-on,’ he mumbled as he took a bite from one of the pizzas. ‘What on earth do we do now?’

There are times in life when guardian angels seem to take pity on the poor mortals whom they are charged to protect and, for Albert and Alice, such a moment had arrived. For who should pull up in front of them on a scooter but the very officer with whom they had spoken on leaving the ship. He recognised them instantly.

‘Ah, Mr and Mrs Hardcastle,’ he said. ‘Enjoying some light refreshments, I see.’

Immediately they poured out their troubles to him, and who better to listen to those troubles than the ship’s Security Officer. In no time at all he had contacted the car-hire company and arranged for the sorry couple to be driven back to the
Golden Handshake.

‘I always said this was a damn fine ship,’ said Albert that evening, now safely back on the ship and ensconced in the safety of the Balcony Suite.

‘Aye,’ said Alice, as she packed the unwanted bottle of Cointreau into a suitcase.

‘It’s not bad, Albert. It’s not bad. But as for Naples … ’

She said no more and neither did her husband.