Waves of Murder (20 page)

Rome

S
itting watching TV with a salad dinner, Cecila Moretzi recognised the face of the man who changed 200,000 euros into notes of 1,000 euros. She had thought it a little strange and had sought permission from the manager who came out of his office and asked for identification. Jon showed him his Irish passport, and said that he was in Italy to buy second-hand Ferrari’s or Maseratti’s. The manager’s face lit up and praised the fact that he wanted the best that the Italian motor industry could offer, ‘Yes,’ he said to the girl teller, ‘it’s okay. Molte grazie,’ he said, going back into his office.

“Hello (in Italian), is that the police?”

“Yes,” said the deep male voice.

“I have to report the sighting of a wanted murderer who was pictured on TV news, I work in the ‘Bank Roma’ and this man came in to change some large amounts of money that totalled 200,000 euros.”

“What was his name?” the policeman asked.

“I don’t know but he showed his Irish passport to the manager.”

“Okay,” he said, “we’ll come to the bank in the morning, first thing, thank you for the call,” he said, and hung up.

The captain of the local Polizia showed Cecila the photo tele image of Jonathan Weston, “Is this the man?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Was he using the name on the photo?” he asked.

“I don’t know, the manager looked at the passport.” They were joined by him but he couldn’t remember the name. He apologised and could only confirm the face and that it was an Irish/European one.

As he walked out, he said to himself, “Should be serving pizzas!” He laughed.

St Petersburg

“H
e’s been seen in Rome,” he said to ten of his agents, “GO AND GET HIM OR DON’T FUCKING WELL COME BACK,” he screamed. Vasili Kashnosky normally meant what he said. The men were on large bonuses but their lives were their main concern, and they went about the business with brute force to anybody that stood in their way.

Two private jets were waiting to take them to Rome and closer to Jonathan Weston, but where would they start? The underworld of Rome might be a good place. They started asking questions in St Peter’s Square, the Romas were targetted. “Have you seen this man?” he asked one, who knew immediately who they were and his blood chilled a little.

“No, but you see that man sitting at the end table of the cafe, he might be able to help.”

Once again the Russian asked, “Have you seen this man?” as he showed him the photograph.

“Yes,” the Roma said, “I sold him an Irish passport three days ago,” he replied. He too knew who they were, and shivered slightly.

“What name was the passport?” he demanded. The Roma took a piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to the Russian. “Keiron Robert Pearce, good, if you are right you will be rewarded,” he said, and walked away.

The Roma wondered what would happen if he was wrong, perhaps the industrial cattle carcass grinder that he had heard they use, he shivered again, more violently.

The Cesaro Roma

T
he first port of call was Naples, to go to Pompeii. At this sight-seeing point Jon (Keiron) could see any likely candidates. The buses were lined up for the journey to the ancient site, among the passengers he spotted a woman about 40 years old. What attracted him was the diamond encrusted Rolex and a twin row diamond bracelet with a necklace to match. Nice, he thought, I wonder what else she had? He looked at her hands for rings, none, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any. He kept reasonably close as they wandered around the ruins, what she was wearing was about 80 thousand quids worth, he guessed, still plenty of time to find out! With about 3,000 people on the ship, if all went well with any future plans, no one person would be missed for a long time. But first he would have to get to know her, his luck kicked in when she stumbled on some loose ground and almost fell. However, she did drop her camera which Jon retrieved from the grey dust and wiped with his red handkerchief, after steadying her to her feet. “Why, thank you,” her American accent said with a smile. “Do you speak English?” she suddenly asked.

“Yes, I am from that part of the world,” he answered, putting on a very slight Irish accent.

“Ireland, right?” she almost shouted, smiling.

“Yes, Dublin,” he lied.

“I’ve never been to Ireland,” she said, “I hear it’s beautiful.”

“Oh yes,” he said, although he’d never been there either! They seemed to keep together for the whole sight-seeing trip, but Jon kept out of the sight of vision whenever she took photographs. Towards the end of the trip she put her arm in his, she definitely fancied him, he thought. Back on the bus they sat together, and once aboard the ship again they agreed to meet at 7 o’clock in the Palermo bar. It was an informal night, Jon (Keiron) wore white slacks, white shoes, no socks and a navy silk shirt. It would be the first time she would see his blond hair, and as a woman she would know that it was dyed. A fedora hat would look wrong.

“Hi Kieron,” Liz from New York said. Jon stood and suggested that they take a corner table. Good old American straight talking kicked in when Liz asked, “Why do you dye your hair?”

He laughed, “I’m an actor.”

“An actor!” she said loudly.

“Yes, I’ve been doing part of a James Bond movie at Cinicenta, in Rome, but I’m finished there now, until shooting resumes in, wait for it, New York! I play the part of a Swedish villain’s henchman,” he lied.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, “I’ve got me a James Bond villain.”

“Shush!” he said, looking around and laughing, “can we keep it under wraps?”

“Sorry,” she said, “Oh, by the way, I’ll have a champagne cocktail please, shaken not stirred!” she burst into uncontrollable laughter. Jon ordered her drink and a scotch on the rocks for himself. She, apart from the necklace, bracelet and Rolex, was now wearing a ring on her opposing marriage finger, the right hand. It was an exquisite single stone surrounded by sapphires, big ones, in all about 9 carats adding up to at least 150 grand. Very nice, he thought, and started to wonder how he could get his hand on them, but first gain her confidence. Wine her and dine her, and if she wants, sleep with her.

They thought the ‘Ionian’ restaurant would be nice for dinner, Jon found it difficult to keep up the Irish brogue, but after three champagne cocktails she didn’t notice any change in his speech. Dinner was typically Italian and very good, the service impeccable. Jon insisted on signing the bill for everything and then realised that the dinner was inclusive. She reached across the table and asked quietly, “Is my little James Bond having a good time?” as she took his hand and rubbed his fingers in a very suggestive way.

“Yes,” he said, forgetting his Irish brogue, “he’s having a very good time!” He had learned that she was a divorcee from Yonkers, New York State, but also had an apartment in Manhattan. Her poor ex-husband had borne the expensive brunt of the divorce through his philandering.

“Good,” she said, “let’s hope it gets even better!” she laughed and winked. He thought, was this woman a re-incarnation of Helen Smithson, returned to haunt him?

Three large casinos, quite a choice, four night clubs and bars, amazing he thought. “What deck are you on?” Jon asked.

“I’m one below the promenade deck,” she replied, “nice and quiet.”

Good, Jon thought, not too far to drop. The devil was rising within him and he couldn’t help it, diamonds had a very evil effect on him. They sauntered through the atrium and through the shopping mall, still buzzing with shoppers, and walked into one of the night clubs. The ‘Ionian Nights’ was super luxury, lovely waitresses wearing very short skirts and skimpy tops, thighs and tits abundant he thought, and laughed inwardly. “Okay, handsome Irishman,” she said, “I want you to help me boogaloo until I can booga no more,” she laughed. She was amazingly attractive, a cross between Doris Day and Grace Kelly with the figure to match, almost as tall as Jon, in heels, gorgeous he thought, and was very happy for her to be on his arm. Heads turned as they took a table in the corner, as far away as possible from the gyrating bodies. Above the loud music, Jon ordered a champagne cocktail, “No, no,” she cried, “a bottle of the best French champagne,” she insisted with a wicked smile. Tonight she was wearing the necklace, the bracelet, the watch plus the ring, the very expensive beautiful sapphire ring, and another single diamond, about 4 carats. Her dollar tally had gone up to about $200,000 plus any cash she may have. He thought, the devil’s ride was gaining momentum! There was quite a long time to go, but he had perfected a plan in his mind. He would wait until the last port of call before doing the evil deed and be off the ship and away before she was missed. He wasn’t too bothered about being seen with her because he had now counted 110 tall blond men on board, and whenever he spotted CCTV he was either wearing his fedora or he covered his face with his hand as if he was coughing. He thought of his hat, but he had seen a lot of them on the ship.

“Okay honey,” Liz said, “let’s make some moves James Bond baby, my booga needs some looing!” she laughed after at least two flutes of Dom Perignon. She stood, took his hand and pulled him on to the dance floor. At one o’clock Liz fell on to the seat at their table, “That’s it,” she said, “I’m bushed. More champagne!” she said, and poured the last two glasses that were left in the bottle. A waitress came, bending over to clear the table, she smiled at Jon and displayed the most beautiful pair of bosoms. Jon smiled and passed her 10 euros, Liz grabbed the bill for the champagne and signed it, “My turn to pay,” she said.

“Do you gamble?” Jon asked Liz.

“No, not really, but I seem to be lucky at roulette,” she replied, “my ex showed me how to go red black and double your bet each time. It certainly worked in Monte Carlo, but that may have been just beginner’s luck. We won $10,000, he kept it of course!” she replied, and laughed, “but I got it back with interest,” she added and this time laughed uncontrollably. This was all music to Jon’s ears, cash would also be very desirable, but his eye was on her very expensive jewellery. They went into the large casino on what was called the ‘pleasure deck’. Two casinos to choose from but the big one seemed busier, with Americans and Russians placing large bets. Fuck me, he thought, just look at that lot, he saw the most amazing diamond collection on a huge woman sitting on the other side of the table. The diamond necklace with a huge emerald resting between her enormous cleavage, plus three or four diamond rings, a diamond bracelet and a square, diamond encrusted, Cartier watch. She must have been 18 stone, and 70 years old, but to Jon she was the most desirable woman in the room! The black mist started to descend as he ogled the gems, he would murder Liz and the fat lady, or just rob the obese one. Plenty of time to reach a decision, romancing the second female would be out of the question. She must have been wearing half a million quids worth, and the way they caught the light told him that they were the ‘Real McCoy’. He smiled at her, she ignored him and just tidied and counted her huge pile of high-value chips, at least 20,000 euros he mentally calculated. Diamonds and cash, he started to salivate, the evil one was working inside him.

Liz’s red and black system didn’t work, they both lost. Leaving at about 2.30 am, Jon walked Liz to her suite on deck B. They stopped at her door, “Thank you for a fabulous evening, honey,” she said, “call me at about 10 o’clock.” She pecked his cheek and went into her room, she wasn’t as gushing or as keen as his previous ‘ladies’ had been, but there was plenty of time, plenty of time indeed! She would succumb sooner or later, he said to himself.

Jon called Liz at 10 am, “Hi honey, is it ten already, I’ve not had a good night, strange vibes and dreams, must have been too much champagne!” She said, “see you in the Mall coffee shop in an hour.” the phone went quiet.

They spent most of the afternoon on the sundeck, after a salad bar lunch. “Do you like sex in the afternoon?” Liz asked.

Jon almost choked as he said, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, do you like sex in the afternoon?” she repeated, putting down her book.

“Er, yes,” he said, “but it’s been a long time,” he said.

“It’s been a long time for me, morning, noon or night!” she laughed. She stood up from her sunbed, picked up her bag, book and towel and said, “c’mon honey, it’s party time,” she said, and pulled him up by his hand. Stripping off her black bikini quickly, once inside the suite, she went into the shower and after about a minute he heard, “C’mon in baby, the water’s lovely.” They soaped each other and kissed passionately, she spent a long time rubbing suds into his groin which had the desired effect. His erection was almost immediate and she fondled it slowly while he gently held her breasts and slowly rubbed them with soap. Without drying, they fell on to the bed and began their supreme fornication. Unlike his previous conquests, her orgasm was only a very long sigh. They lay panting for about five minutes, “You know when I said do you like sex in the afternoon, I meant the cocktail!” she laughed, “but that was better! But now we will have an afternoon cocktail,” and in her nakedness went over to her mini bar and took out a bottle of Moet and poured two glasses. Lifting her glass and chinking Jon’s, “It’s five o’clock somewhere!” she shouted, laughing. They finished the bottle and once again fell on to the bed and fell into a drowsy embrace and were soon asleep. At 9 o’clock they woke and decided they would order a room service dinner, they had time to dress and make themselves respectable before there was a knock at the door. Their food was wheeled in on a trolley, the steward set up the table and served dinner from silver service beautifully, and received 20 euros. He thanked Jon after he signed the bill. After a good dinner they sat on the balcony watching the stars and the full moon. Liz had poured two large balloons of brandy, and they enjoyed the silence, just the quiet lapping of the waves against the ship broke the ambience. They didn’t speak, just gently sipped the cognac. Jon stayed the night.