Counterpoint (17 page)

Max dropped the subject; Carla was
getting uptight about it. Perhaps she secretly hoped she was
related, but could not stand the thought Amy might have been loved
more than her. Well, whatever the reason, it was his secret, and
one better kept, for the moment at least.

“By the way Carla” Max said, “we must
get some money to Mrs Bryant and her family, I will try and get a
flight to the Greek Island of Poros in the next day or so.”

Having booked the flight for Saturday,
he phoned Mrs Bryant to let her know he was planning to visit her,
and had a gift and a message from her late husband. She was
intrigued and wanted to know more, but Max said he could not
discuss it over the phone, only that he was at her husband’s
bedside when he died, and he was honouring her husband’s deathbed
request.

Manuel looked up from the digital
phone, scanner, and grinned at Atsoo. He had been monitoring all
Ocean Raiders calls from the hired yacht moored close by.

***

Athens was particularly hot that day
and the 10-kilometre journey by taxi to Piraeus, to catch the ferry
to Poros, was tiring. Both Max and Carla were glad to feel the
cooling breeze, off the sapphire blue Aegean Sea, as they waited on
deck for the hydrofoil to cast off.

Max recognised the brown faced, bearded
man with his rather stressed Japanese girlfriend, and greasy
looking male companion, as the party that sat near him on the
flight from Malé. Max often speculated about the lives of fellow
travellers, when he was bored with his journey. The three always
looked nervous and furtive, and seldom engaged in conversation with
each other. The Japanese girl was probably about 22 and tended to
cling to the bearded man, who clearly dominated her. Perhaps he was
a father figure in her eyes; he was, after all, twice her age. Max
suddenly realised how hypocritical his thoughts were, wondering
what the young girl was doing with an old man!

Where did the greasy looking man fit
in? The two men were apparently working together, judging by the
way they reacted to each other; the bearded man was undoubtedly the
boss. They dressed like tourists, but travelled light, no more than
a small knapsack each. Another thing that attracted Max’s attention
was that apart from the older man, the other two looked familiar,
but could not place where he might have seen them before.

Poros, is typical of many Greek
islands, reliant on tourism, where the main town is developed
around the harbour. Its restaurants and small shops face the sea
and the small white houses, rise up the steep rocky hillside
behind. Somewhere, there in the maze of narrow lanes and side
streets, was the home of Mrs Bryant.

Max had phoned ahead from Athens
airport, and agreed to meet Mrs Bryant at 5:00pm sharp, outside the
Sack of Jewels, a little jeweller’s shop, opposite the ferry
landing. Mrs Bryant would then lead them back to her white terraced
house, on the hillside.

The hydrofoil ferry docked in good time
and having spotted the jewellers, the couple went into the
restaurant nearby for a long cool drink, out of the blistering
sun.

Max whispered to Carla. “Seems the
Three Musketeers that travelled all the way with us from Malé, want
to drink at the same restaurant we do. There are a dozen places
either side of us to choose from.”

Carla replied, “Two other men have come
here from Malé as well, I am sure they are the police; it’s the way
they talk to each other, and watch what goes on. They are
interested in the three you’re talking about, I reckon.”

Checking the time, Max said. “Better
drink up, we’ll go and meet Mrs Bryant.”

Max paid for the drinks, and they
ambled over to the jewellers, towing their cases behind them.

Mrs Bryant was punctual and
apprehensive; her tense facial muscles deepened the worry lines on
her forehead and around her mouth. She was still an attractive
woman, in her early Forties, normal build, smooth, light-brown
skin, melty dark brown eyes, and long black hair. She spoke perfect
English, with a slight Greek accent. After introductions, she
suggested leaving the suitcases at the small hotel around the
corner, where Max and Carla could stay overnight. After booking,
they went with Mrs Bryant.

The steep climb up the narrow cobbled
streets and stone steps, in the heat, made Max puff a bit, the
ladies however, showed no signs of tiring. Carla never seemed to
tire, and Mrs Bryant must be used to it, he thought.

Eventually, they reached her little
house. It was deceptively large inside, narrow and deep; the ground
floor was on three levels. It was comfortably cool inside and
although dark, because of the small windows, they could see it was
spotlessly clean. They sat in the living room, whilst Mrs Bryant
stepped into the kitchen, to get them cold drinks.

There was a faint sound of footsteps
along the stone passage, coming towards them. Max and Carla looked
up in amazement at the brown-faced man who walked in. He was
holding his finger to his lips, warning them not to make a sound.
The Japanese girl and the other man, pushed into the room as well,
looking around them nervously.

Brown face pulled a knife, as Mrs
Bryant entered the room from the other end, carrying a tray of
drinks. She gave a stifled scream as she noticed the three new
visitors. It was not just the knife, that startled her, though it
should have been enough, it was the man holding it.

“Manuel,” she gasped. “How did you find
me?” Then she looked at Max accusingly.

Max answered her look, “I don’t know
these people, they have travelled on the same plane and boat, but
we don’t know them.”

“You do!” Hissed Rafael, the greasy
looking man. “You killed my brother, Jose and nearly killed me. We
were the two divers following you up from the Zenobia.”

“Ah! So you were out for a quiet
night-dive, not after a certain lorry wheel we had recovered?”

Manuel raised his arm, barring
Raphael’s sudden lunge towards Max. Rafael moved back and fell
silent. Max could see the matter of Rafael’s dead brother was just
placed on hold.

Manuel motioned Mrs Bryant, with his
knife, to sit down, and she did so.

“I have come for the diamonds,” he
directed at Max, “Where are they?” He demanded, pointing the knife
at Max’s throat.

“They’re not here,” Max snapped
back.

Manuel backhanded Max across the face,
and through teeth clenched with pent up anger, growled, “Don’t mess
with me, I have chased after these damned stones for years, and I
want them, now!” Max raised his hands, gesticulating he honestly
did not have them with him.

Another swipe knocked Max back into his
chair and made his nose bleed.

Max could see there was no way out of
this; no smart move or heroic action was possible. “OK! OK! The
jewels are in the safe deposit boxes of twelve banks in Cyprus.
Most of one of the 12 packets we took out of the tyre has been
sold. I have a banker’s draft for €2.5 million here in my pocket,
it was for Mrs Bryant. The rest is in my bank, all €3 million. I
can write a cheque for it now if it will help?”

Manuel sneered. “You’d better be
telling the truth because Rafael will stay here with your girl and
Mrs Bryant. You will come with Atsoo and I to Cyprus, to get the
stones. Any tricks and you will all die.

Max stiffened as two more men eased
into the room behind Manuel and the others. Manuel sensed something
and glanced round. One man grabbed Manuel’s knife hand jerking it
up, his other arm encircled Manuel’s throat, and they staggered and
swayed as Manuel tried to turn the knife on his attacker.

The second man grabbed and struggled
with Rafael.

Max leapt up, and kept Manuel’s knife
pointing higher, and away from anyone. Atsoo grabbed Rafael’s knife
and stabbed wildly at the man holding Manuel.

Seeing the second knife raised against
him, the man twisted Manuel to face it as Atsoo struck. The thin
blade penetrated Manuel’s chest easily, right through his heart.
Atsoo screamed with shock at what she had done, she had killed the
man she loved, not saved him. Rafael broke free and snatched up
Manuel’s fallen knife, and slashed at the jugular vein, of the man
who had held him.

Max leapt at Rafael, and they fell to
the floor. Rafael fell awkwardly and tried to save himself,
smashing his temple against the sharp corner of a massive
sideboard. He fell dead on the floor. Atsoo snatched up the fallen
knife and attacked Max. A deafening explosion obliterated the
sickening smack of a 9 mm bullet, as it punched through Atsoo’s
skull.

Mrs Bryant stood silent, gun smoke
curling from the barrel of her Browning, as Atsoo fell dead onto
Rafael.

Carla rushed past Mrs Bryant into the
kitchen and returned with a towel. Rafael had nicked the neck of
the man who held him and blood was spurting from the wound. While
his colleague applied the towel, and administered first aid, Max
used his mobile phone to call for medical help. Mrs Bryant calmly
took over the call in Greek, explaining the situation and giving
the address.

The uninjured man explained he and his
wounded colleague were from Interpol and had been following Manuel
and Rafael. They were investigating the death of Rafael’s brother,
Jose. Their only suspects were all dead, so what part did Max,
Carla and Mrs Bryant have to play in all this.

Max thought extremely quickly and
explained how Manuel had murdered Mr Bryant and that he and Carla
were delivering a deathbed message, from her late husband,
personally. The police officer noted all they said, and when the
local police arrived, explained all that had happened. Whilst, not
under arrest, Max and Carla had to stay on the Island and surrender
their passports, until the police cleared the matter up.

Two days later, the police told Max and
Carla they were free to go home. They would charge Mrs Bryant with
the killing of Atsoo, but in view of the circumstances, it was a
formality and she would be free to return home.

Max gave her the bank draft, and the
message from her husband, that he loved her and the two children
very much, and how sorry he was that he had ruined a good life
together, by getting involved with smuggling diamonds.

She took the message stoically; she had
loved her husband with all her heart, in spite of his failings. At
last, she could get on with life without substantial hardship, now
that she had money.

“Well, my love!” Sighed Max. “It’s time
to go home, back to your hideaway and see how the statuette looks
on your hall table.”

“Yes, I think we might have outstayed
our welcome on the Ocean Raider,” replied Carla. “I’m surprised we
haven’t heard from Sam, perhaps we are out of work,
permanently.”

The plane touched down at Malé airport,
and Carla phoned ahead for the launch to take them to the ship. It
would be 4 hours before they could be picked up, so she called Amy
to see if they could visit. Amy was thrilled and said she would put
the coffee on. A water taxi took them and their luggage to David’s
boat, where they were warmly greeted, by Amy and David.

The girls instantly went into natter
overdrive, whilst David poured drinks and talked about his and
Amy’s future plans. Both Max and Carla avoided mentioning the
extreme elements of their recent visit to Poros. It was just as
well David and Amy felt they had a full and exciting life, it gave
them plenty to talk about, and they did not pry into the gaps in
the others’ tales.

Max overheard Amy ask Carla if she knew
anything about her parents. “Nothing at all, ” she replied, “I
don’t even remember much about my foster parents, I lost touch with
them when I went a bit wild.”

Amy went on to mention the curious
visit from a woman claiming to be researching the psychological
effects of adoption, especially with twins.

“I was 19 at the time and having a
fantastic time with older men, so I didn’t think too deeply about
it. She visited regularly for nearly six months, and we became
quite close. Strange really, I often wished she was my mother; I
had an affinity with her like no other person I had met. Anyway,
she was going back to Italy, somewhere in the north I believe, just
for a week and then would come back and see me. She said she had
found out something rather interesting that concerned me, and
needed to check it out! Well, she never came back. Just shows how
thoughtless some people can be. I got all keyed up about what she
had to tell me, and then nothing! Lana Green was her name.”

A chill ran through Carla at the sound
of the name, then she matched her age with the death of the Duke’s
wife, Carla would have been 19 then. Amy saw Carla’s mind was
racing, her face with a fixed expression of disbelief, her bright
blue eyes darting as the facts and possibilities flashed through
her brain.

“What’s the matter?” Said Amy
concerned. Carla did not appear to hear Amy; she spoke over
her.

“Was Lana Green elegant, very
attractive, blond hair in long ringlets and with blue eyes that
seemed filled with love?”

Amy gasped, “Well, yes, yes she was
just like that. How do you know?”

“You’ll never believe this Amy, but I
know who she was.”

“Who was she? What do you mean,
was?”

“She is dead!” Replied Carla sadly. “If
it is the same person I am thinking of, gosh, it can’t be, but
everything matches, dates, northern Italy, her description,
everything!”

David realised he was talking to no
one; Max was listening intently to the girls.

Then it dawned on Max. Lana Green, the
beautiful woman in the portrait in the Duke’s office must be Amy’s
mother. They looked so much alike, apart from the hairstyle. Amy
and Carla are exact genetic matches so Lana must be Carla’s mother,
as well!