“There he goes now,” said Lila to Maxim, who was relaxing in a deck chair. Maxim hopped up to the rail, and both of them watched as Mark, casually swinging a small duffle bag, threaded his way among the workers and cargo. He headed towards a quiet area near the stem of the ship, where piles of material waiting for shipment had created a labyrinth of streets and avenues on the broad dock. For a while Mark leaned against a stack of spooled wire and watched the men on the dock as they unloaded Athenia’s cargo. Occasionally he looked at his watch. At precisely two P.M., he suddenly turned, walked into one of the “avenues,” and disappeared from sight behind the piles of stacked material. There was nothing Maxim and Lila could do except wait. In no more than three minutes he reappeared, coming out from behind the same pile of stacked material. He sauntered back towards the ship, still swinging the duffel bag, which seemed to have gained some weight.
“He didn’t even have to leave the dock area,” commented Maxim. “The bosses at Para Clothing must have greased the way for the payment to get past the guards at the dock gates. Well, that’s as much as we can do here now.” He took Lila’s hand. “Let’s see if we can get some transportation and take a tour of Odessa.”
The return trip from Odessa to Istanbul took a little over two days. No one but Maxim noticed that Lila seemed a slightly different person from the one who had taken the first half of the trip. She seemed happier — younger. She was acting the part of the loving wife on her honeymoon so well that at times Maxim felt almost embarrassed, but when the door to their cabin closed, Lila let it be known that the curtain to the play was down for the day.
On the evening before their arrival in Istanbul, Maxim and Lila left the dining room immediately after dinner, saying that they wanted to have one last look at the setting sun of the Black Sea. Normally they would have stayed to oversee the bridge game that took place every evening between Mark, Nigel, and the two Americans. As soon as they left the dining room, they went to their cabin where they picked up an empty shopping bag. They checked to see that no one was around, then walked forward to the ladder that led to the upper deck where Mark’s combination radio shack and cabin was located. Maxim unhooked the chain across the ladder that held the sign “Crew Members Only” and rehooked it behind them. The sound of their footsteps as they climbed the ladder was covered by the dull chugging of the ship’s engines. Lila’s handbag held a small assortment of hardware that made picking the lock to Mark’s cabin a minute’s work. The bridge game would keep Mark busy for the next two hours, but Lila kept a lookout on deck while Maxim searched the cabin. He finally emerged, carrying the now bulging shopping bag.
When they returned to their cabin, Maxim emptied the shopping bag on his bed. Out poured a colorful display of neatly bundled packages of German marks, American dollars, Swiss and French francs, English pounds, and Japanese yen.
Maxim let out a small gasp. “What do you think this would add up to?”
Lila looked at the currency with loathing. “It doesn’t matter. We are going to do what we decided to do. It was your idea.” She carefully put the packages of money back into the shopping bag, added the two heavy glass ashtrays that were in their room, tied the shopping bag closed, and handed the bundle to Maxim. Maxim gave a small, sad sigh and took it outside. The white spot of foam it made as it hit the black water quickly disappeared in the darkness.
Two days later, Pierre Fernet welcomed Lila and Maxim into his office, where tea and cake for three awaited them. “Congratulations on a great job, you two,” he smiled. “Your first assignment together, and you completed it very well.” Fernet poured the tea. “Our offices in Istanbul and Bucharest have relayed your information about the pallets to the local police departments, and I’ve notified the Ukrainian police. They were very thankful. I won’t be too surprised if those newly formed Russian states decide to join Interpol soon.” He picked up his teacup. “But I’m sorry you weren’t able to find out anything about Alex’s death.”
“Pierre,” Lila said, “there was something that wasn’t in our report that we think you might be interested in — if we can tell you off the record.”
“Off the record? Yes, I am interested.”
Lila told Fernet of Maxim’s analysis of Alex’s message and of their subsequent actions aboard the ship. When she had finished, Fernet’s round face puckered with a questioning look.
“You could have turned the money over to the Turkish authorities. You didn’t have to destroy it,” he said.
“True,” said Maxim. “But if the money were turned over to the authorities, it wouldn’t be long before the narcotics traffickers found out about it. This way, when Mark finds the money gone, and no way to account for it, he’ll realize that his bosses will assume he took it. There are no excuses that would be acceptable to that bunch. He’ll have to try to ‘disappear.’ ”
“And,” continued Lila, “with the smuggling method exposed, the money unaccounted for, and Mark gone, the ‘big boys’ of the smuggling ring are going to put two and two together. They’ll assume that Mark sold out to the authorities and took off with their money. Their assumptions will be wrong, of course, but that won’t help Mark any. Those smugglers are going to make sure that Mark pays — with interest — no matter where he goes. I’m sorry if I sound cynical, Pierre, but in this case I think the criminals will dispense a more accurate level of justice than the English courts could, under the circumstances.”
Pierre Fernet leaned back in his chair. His puzzled look had been replaced by a grin. “Criminal justice, eh? — with justice dispensed by the criminals. Well, what you two did was definitely not by the book, but as far as this department is concerned, you’ve fulfilled your assignments. It’s lucky for you that Interpol is a private organization and not part of the Turkish government.” Fernet took a slow sip of his tea. “Lila, remind me never to let you get angry with me.”
“I could never be angry with you. You let me have this assignment, and you introduced me to a wonderful partner.” Lila turned to Maxim. “I hope we work together again — soon.”
Pierre Fernet looked at the couple in front of him sipping their tea and smiled. They looked like anyone’s youngish grandparents. “You will,” said Fernet. “I am quite certain you will.”
Never Bite the Hand that...
by Don Marshall
“Mr. Nickolas,” called young Andrew as the mortician tamped the last shovelful of earth over his most recent customer.
“Mr. Nickolas, is this grave marker correct? It reads kind of odd.”
“Odd, Andrew? In what way?”
“Well,” Andrew hesitated, fingered his celluloid collar so as not to appear stupid. “Uh, it reads,
“Isn’t that a bit strange, Mr. Nickolas?”
“Well, yes, Andrew. I must admit I took some liberties with his name. It should read DRACULA; however, not wishing to alarm folks hereabout, I carved the first two letters to suggest a medical background.
“One might accurately describe him as adept in the art of hemotherapy, a method of blood transfusion. The latter portion of his name, acula, seemed appropriate... acu is a Latin adjective meaning sharp, needlelike, or pointed. In this particular case, la reads as an exclamation of wonder or astonishment rather than the sixth note in the diatonic scale.