The Voyage of the Golden Handshake (12 page)

‘Come on, old chap,’ the Admiral said, ‘the game’s up. You can take off that disguise right now.’

Visibly startled, the doctor shrugged and removed the gauze from around his face.

‘I’ll pack my bags,’ he said, ‘and get off in Monaco. Sorry, Admiral, but I have been a bit of a fool at certain times in my life.’

The Admiral wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a small tear appear in the eye of the medic.

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Admiral Harrington in his best commanding voice. ‘We can all make mistakes. That’s human. I’ve made my fair share although I’m not prepared to reveal them now. Get me out of here and continue with your duties. I think you’ll make a very good ship’s doctor.’

For once in his life, Doctor Stuart Hackett was speechless.
All he could say was: ‘Thank you, sir,’ before stepping backwards and nearly knocking himself out on the low doorway.

‘Hold on, old chap,’ said the Admiral. ‘We need you, you know.’

And they did - but that’s a story for later in the voyage.

The Admiral made a full and complete recovery from his unfortunate encounter with the deck quoit and was now able to leave behind cabin service and resume dining in the main dining room with the other passengers. This was a considerable relief to Roger Hallworthy, the Staff Captain, who had been landed with hosting the Captain’s Table night after night. Naturally, once the Admiral was back on the scene, passengers were falling over themselves to dine at his table.

The main bonus of the accident was that the Admiral now had completely resolved the issue with the doctor and Harry was relieved of the responsibility of finding another medic to replace him. Doctor Hackett seemed to have moderated his habits since being reprieved and, although the Admiral was under no illusion whatsoever that the man’s personal problems were resolved, he was reasonably confident that things would not be as bad as he had formerly feared.

Albert and Alice had now begun to settle into the cruise, despite the challenges they had encountered. As they had nothing to compare the cruise with, having hardly set foot outside
Grimsby for most of their life, they imagined that all cruise ships experienced similar issues, and that these were just a normal hazard facing those who chose to holiday on the sea. To a certain extent they were right. All cruise ships
did
face problems - and the Public Relations departments of most of the Lines were active much of the time, attempting to keep stories out of the news rather than the other way round.

Fred Batty, despite an inauspicious start to his destination lecture series, continued to be cheerful. His long solitary years spent on an AA motorcycle had made him very resilient, and having come up against every possible problem that could ever affect an internal combustion engine - and dealt with them using an ordinary set of tools - he had developed considerable innovative skills. Immediately after his first lecture, when the technician had made such a pig’s ear of the slides, he had gone into the control booth and sorted it out using only his brain and a screwdriver.

Never having been a gambling man, nor super-rich for that matter, Monaco held little interest for Fred, but he had to swot up on the Casino and on the government of the Principality. To add interest to his lecture he recorded a verse or so from the ditty ‘The Man Who Broke the Bank in Monte Carlo’, and planned to play this at the start of his talk. He was frustrated at having his lectures put on the programme at eight in the morning but, as he was told that the timetable was not negotiable once they had
set sail, he accepted the situation with reasonable equanimity.

There were slightly more people at his lecture on ‘Monte C’ as he called it, partly because he had buttonholed one or two people and offered them the points he might win at the quiz conducted each afternoon by the Cruise Director. Passengers were told that there would be a glittering array of prizes available for them at the conclusion of the cruise, but exactly what these prizes were was known only to the Cruise Director. At this early stage of the voyage, Enzo himself had no idea what they might be, but the thought of a prize was sufficient to add to Fred’s disciples.

Captain Sparda was slightly worried. Not that the recent events had unduly disturbed him. His days on the Messina ferry had equipped him to deal with all eventualities, and as for working with awkward customers - well, he had had to knock along for years with his ‘insurers’ from Sicily. What worried the good man was that since fresh supplies had been taken aboard in Gibraltar, he was beginning to put on weight. A daily diet of beans, although monotonous, had ‘kept him regular’ as the saying goes, but now that bacon and black pudding had made their appearance, even in a couple of short days he had noticed an increase in weight. For an Italian this would be a curious diet, but the Captain was married to an English wife who had instructed him in the correct way to eat breakfast! It would not have been dignified for him to be seen jogging around the deck in his ex-Italian army
shorts - ‘Bombay Bloomers’ as ex-Indian Army regulars called them - so he took to doing isometric exercises on the bridge. He would frequently startle the Staff Captain by suddenly falling to the floor and doing several quick press-ups, or when speaking to the helmsman, clench and unclench his fists in what the helmsman first thought was a threatening manner.

It was when he suddenly dropped to the floor one evening in the dining room, having temporarily forgotten where he was, that the Admiral suggested he must take a little more control of himself, otherwise the passengers would become unduly alarmed. In fact, that very same evening when he had clenched his fists in the presence of the Maitre D’ he was fortunate not to receive a straight left to the head from one who had been a boxer during his days in the Army Catering Corps.

Weight problems aside, the good ship
Handshake
was now set on course for Monaco, home of the rich and famous, and playground for the playboys of the world.

The Staff Captain was in command, and Captain Sparda trotted here, there and everywhere, frequently scanning the horizon with his telescope. Eventually Monaco was sighted.

‘My heavens,’ said Sparda. ‘Just look at those yachts.’

The crew on the bridge duly noted the most amazing-looking vessels moored against the quay. One in particular was cruising in a haphazard fashion as the owner attempted to impress
the bevy of young women gathered around him at the helm.

‘Some of those private vessels are as big as this ship!’ exclaimed Roger.

‘My God. Look at that fellow’. A gleaming white monster bearing the name ‘
Petersburg Pride
’ was racing towards them. Seemingly, it was under the command of a swarthy-looking individual chomping on a cigar and wearing a nautical cap positioned in a rakish manner on his head. He was surrounded by several bikini-clad maidens who were laughing and giggling at the antics of their hero. The Staff Captain attempted to change course and managed to do so, but not before the
Petersburg Pride
had caught the fenders of the
Handshake
leaving a long black mark along the side of the errant sailor’s yacht. Immediately the cigar was removed from the mouth of the oligarch and he began to shout across at the crew. He wasn’t speaking in any language that the bridge party recognised, but they guessed it might be Russian.

This whole scene had been witnessed by a group of cruise passengers who had, as was their custom, gathered on deck to watch the arrival of their ship in port. Sir Archibald Willoughby and his formidable wife happened to be amongst the group. They had an apartment in Monaco and also many business interests there. The
Petersburg Pride
was now directly alongside the
Handshake
and the shouting and threatening gestures continued unabated.

Suddenly, a voice from the deck of the
Golden Handshake
pierced across the bows of the
Pride
. It was that of Lady Veronika. Although she had confined herself to monosyllables on the
Handshake
, now she showed the extent of her vocabulary in a long stream of incomprehensible invective. Not content with mere words, to the amazement of all, she leaped from the
Golden Handshake
onto the deck of the
Pride
, ran towards the abusive helmsman and smacked him soundly across the head. The startled fellow fell backwards down the stairs and Lady Veronika was seen following him, as the bikini-clad beauties scattered screaming. This resulted in a loud burst of applause from the observers on the
Handshake
, mingled with shouts of ‘Well done!’ and ‘That’s put him in his place.’

A few moments later, Lady Veronika appeared on deck and with another leap returned to the safety of her ship, this time to tumultuous applause from more passengers who had gathered to view this unique spectacle.

The Staff Captain gently eased the vessel forward, leaving the
Pride
motionless in the water. Thus they entered Monaco harbour.

‘This is a damn hilly place,’ muttered Albert to Alice, as they struggled upwards from the ship to the town.

They had yet to discover the system of escalators which connected one level to another, and so were obliged to do what he
described as ‘mountaineering’. At the time the
Golden Handshake
called into port, Monaco was in the process of being torn down and rebuilt. Some of the charming old buildings were being demolished in favour of new build and, although in some instances the facade of the old building was kept, it felt to many that the town lacked character.

‘Someone is getting backhanders for all this,’ said Albert sagely as they walked past a half-demolished building.

The only thing Alice wanted to see was the Radio Monaco building for, as a youngster in the 1960s, she had listened to this station under the bedclothes, along with Radio Luxembourg and Radio Caroline. The couple had been directed to the site, only to find like so many others before them that the building was gone - replaced by a modern hotel. They wandered on past some apartments curiously named ‘La Shakespeare’ and wondered why it was that the English bard had got a block of flats named after him.

‘Damn Frogs,’ said Albert, grumpy after so much climbing. ‘They’ll ruddy well pinch anything.’

‘If you had been listening to Mr Batty this morning,’ Alice reproved him, ‘you will have heard him stress that the residents of this place are
not
French but Mohicans.’

Albert laughed, although he did not know that Alice had got the name completely wrong.

‘Indians then,’ he quipped. ‘Come on lass. Let’s get back to
the ship before they raid us, eh’.

Only a few hours were left in port and Captain Sparda was not keen to linger as he feared that the evil-looking foreigner with whom Lady Veronika had dealt in such a satisfactory manner would be seeking revenge. When news of the illegal boarding of the Russian yacht reached the Admiral, he was gravely alarmed and immediately sought Harry for his wisdom. Harry suggested that they should leave as quickly as possible, but as passengers had disembarked and been told to be back at the ship at a certain time, they could not leave before then. The hours ticked by and nothing was heard from the authorities. In the late afternoon, about an hour before the last returning passenger was due to board, Captain Sparda was informed that three foreign-looking gentlemen were anxious to see him and that they were waiting at the foot of the gangway.

Before inviting them on board, Captain Sparda conveyed the intelligence to Harry. Fortunately, Admiral Benbow was on board and immediately came to join the Captain in a small room off the reception area. Within a few moments three
muscular-looking
types appeared in the doorway. Even though it was a mild afternoon they wore long black coats and broad-brimmed black hats pulled well down over their foreheads. Captain Sparda invited them in. To his alarm, two entered but the third stationed himself in the doorway, completely blocking it. The
Admiral looked nervously at Sparda as the two giants refused a seat.

‘Good afternoon,’ began Sir Benbow politely. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?’

The pair did not answer but fixed a glassy stare on the two cruise specialists.

‘Will you have a drink?’ enquired the Captain. ‘Tea perhaps, or something stronger?’

Once again there was no answer.

Finally, one of the pair spoke.

‘The woman. Where she? Bring here. Now.’

Captain Sparda pretended to look puzzled. Although he knew immediately that they were looking for Lady Veronika he denied that he knew what they were talking about.

‘Bring woman now!’ shouted the bear and banged an oversized fist on the little table. ‘Now, or I eat you.’

Captain Sparda was not sure whether the giant said ‘beat’ or ‘eat’, but neither prospect appealed. He gave a wan smile and picked up the telephone. Outside the office he could hear the sound of passengers returning and realised that in a very short time indeed, the vessel was due to leave Monaco.

‘Harry,’ said the Captain as the ultimate fixer picked up the phone. ‘Three gentlemen are here with me and the Admiral in the reception office. They say they want me to bring them a woman. Do you have any idea what they are talking about?’

Harry knew only too well what they were talking about. He had had dealings with Russian thugs before - and not all the encounters were pleasant.

‘I think I do, Captain,’ he said calmly. ‘Kindly ask them to come to my office and all will be well.’

The Captain replaced the receiver. ‘My executive agent says he knows just what you require, and if you will come with me to his office he will meet you there.’

The bruisers looked at each other and then nodded.

‘OK, go,’ said the vocal visitor. ‘Quick.’

Subject to the curious stares of the returning tourists, Captain Sparda and Admiral Harrington moved swiftly along the corridor in formation. One bruiser led the way and received directions from Sparda behind him, who was walking alongside Harrington. Both were followed by the two remaining evil-looking types. Harry Parkhurst was waiting at his office door and immediately ushered the party in.

‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I do understand what you require, and as we have to leave Monaco in a few moments I think we ought to say what we have to say quickly. We cannot apologise enough for the misdeeds of one of our spirited passengers. So perhaps you had better meet her and deal with the situation in your own way.’

As he said these latter words, a side door in the office opened and out jumped several men sporting hand-guns and shouting
in Italian. The giants looked around and there were several more sharpshooters stationed behind them.

‘Down!’ the armed men cried. ‘On the floor -
pronto
.’

The Russian heavyweights were sat upon and efficiently frisked for weapons. Several weapons were found and immediately thrown out of the door, to be collected by yet another Italian who had appeared from nowhere. Within a few moments the three Russian visitors were frog-marched down the gangway and into waiting black Mercedes cars. Once inside the vehicles one of the Italian group waved at the ship and then the vehicles departed without a further word.