Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
A Sequel
by
Joel
Seq 18:
Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned: Mark Henry Foster The story-teller: Newly graduated. Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams His well-proportioned boyfriend. Trainee Solicitor Francis Michael Foster Alias Toad/Gobbo Mark's younger brother Adam Benjamin Carr Mark's cousin: History don Ivo Richie Carr Ditto, as his twin: safely married diplomat Sophia Carr Their mother in Dorset George Carr Their father: A farmer Victoria ['Tory] Carr Ivo's wife Lady Mary Machin 'Tory's mother Mr James Marriott Head of Legation Andrei zu Glottenberh Rothenian Army Officer [Special Services] Lucasz Voynovich Rothenian Army Officer [Signals Division] Professor zum Adamszberh Rector, Rodolfer University Dr Dietrich Schreiber Music Faculty staff: Rodolfer U. Frau Schreiber His wife Yniold Schreiber Their son: 17 Father Artur [Dr Wendel] Archbishop's Secretary Dr Claude Valentin Organist: St Vitali Cathedral Strelzen Fraser (Fido) Doggett Plant hunter and 'Yogger Stag' Brett Baldry Ditto Ignasz Zendener The hotel manager in Strelzen David Vinodosj Taxi driver: Probably secret police Tomas, Igor, Frantischek; Hotel receptionists: Gymno students Herr Kusterin Intendant of the Opera House Herr Diesselhorst A shifty Minister of the Interior
After the Performance:
I looked at Tris. He said nothing. We waved at Tomas who was still oblivious, deep in his book, and went upstairs.
Tris shut the door carefully. "He recognised him. Must have."
He handed me the envelope and I took out a second copy of the photo. It was quite clear. A blow up of almost a full length snap of a burly, very hairy man, with a thick circumcised dong, very noticeable even at the distance the photo had been taken. Yniold must have quickly pressed for zoom. Whoever it was needed to be avoided if David had disappeared off so fast. Still we could be comforted that things were now in someone else's hands.
We undressed and hung our clothes up carefully, washed and inspected each other's not so red but browner backsides, and soon we were safe in each other's hands. Our loving was slow, quietly impassioned and twice we released our spurting juices to the other's safekeeping. Although Tris's bed was narrow we lay entwined and slept.
We both woke as there were sounds from next door. I glanced at the illuminated clock on the television. It was one fifteen.
"I think our friends have a guest," whispered Tris.
They weren't too noisy but we had almost a grandstand view, or grandstand hearing, as we eavesdropped on three lads having an intense, very sexual session. From the very audible comments it was clear that Igor had started by giving the lads simultaneous blow-jobs while they were urging him on. 'My turn!, 'O my God!, 'Oh! Just like that!' were just three of the repeated phrases we heard. That didn't last long as there was then a short period of almost silence where we could just hear Igor giving instructions. After that he was quiet, but grunts of pleasure from the pair, we thought, meant one of them must have been fucking him while he was sucking on the other. Of course, this interrupted our sleep and caused another pair to be pleasured. "Herrengasse," Tris whispered as we arranged ourselves for that strategy which from thenceforth would be known as that! Next door were still at it, whatever and with whom, when we, exhausted, dropped off again.
Sunday
However, bright-eyed if not quite bushy-tailed, we were up and ready for breakfast next morning at half eight. No sounds from next door, so whether Igor was still in residence we did not know. Downstairs in the lobby were several new guests. Grouped round the reception desk was a small party of fairly elderly men and women who must have arrived the previous afternoon while we were out. Ignasz was haranguing them in German while another late middle- aged couple were studying the map of the city on the wall. They were unmistakably American. "Whadda say we take that tram and find a caff-eh?" I heard the elegantly coiffured lady say. Tris, ever the gentleman, said we would be going to a very nice cafe quite near which we had checked would be open on Sunday mornings. "Oh, you're English!" trilled the lady, "I do love your accent!" Tris, a quick learner, did the Rothenian head bow and didn't comment about her accent. The husband said, "You're a gent!" and both followed us out.
Sadie and Bertram were from somewhere way down the East Coast and were doing a small tour of 'Eu-rop' for three months to celebrate their retirement and were including Rothenia as Bertram's great-grandfather had emigrated in 1896 at the age of eighteen and had done well in the clothing industry. Yes, they would be visiting England in time for the Edinburgh Festival and the Tattoo there. Oh dear, Alistair Ross would not be happy! Over breakfast we did manage to distinguish for them the various parts of the United Kingdom and 'Edinboro' was safely transferred back to Scotland.
They wanted to know about us and were thrilled when Tris said I would be giving part of the recital at the Cathedral on Wednesday. "My, just listen to that, Bertram," she said, "And you just play that old thing in our church." Bertram then explained 'that old thing' was a five- manual monstrosity given to their branch of strict Calvinistic Protestantism by a super-wealthy stockbroker in the late 1920's just before the Wall Street crash and they had no money now to maintain it properly, except for a few stops on the Great and Swell. "Darn thing needs an axe taken to it except we love the look of it!" All in all they were a delightful couple and nodded sagely when we said they should visit Cambridge where we would be living when back in England. Bertram said that place was sure on their itinerary together with Stonehenge and Buckingham Palace. As we parted outside the cafe Sadie asked, very seriously, "You boys together?" Tris said we were, and I wondered what would come next. She smiled. "Our son Jerome has a good partner. Twenty-five years next year. Not many marrieds stay that long. Be good!"
We agreed they were a very friendly couple and obviously had come to terms with a gay son. "But did you see the hotel key Bertram was holding?" Tris asked. I shook my head. "Two hundred and three." Wow, we laughed and hoped their room was the other side of the study room next door.
The morning was free for us until lunch so we strolled around looking at old buildings, many under repair after years of neglect. We had marvelled at the gilt and plush at the Opera House the previous night and had been told the place had survived unscathed but unused during the War and the German occupation. It had then been lovingly restored under the Communist regime who used the place as an advert for their system. "We had to do as we were told," the Intendant had said quite openly, "I had to conduct many things which needed to go in the fire. The week after the May Revolution I conducted Fidelio and the people wept as they were free like the prisoners!" He looked at Dr Schreiber. "Since I became in charge we welcome all people. Dietrich has come from Cologne to be here and at the Rodolfer and we have two other permanent conductors, one is from Canada and the other from Sweden. No English, but now the King is here, perhaps!"
We mused on what we had heard then and at the dinner with the Rector. A country which had survived depredation and occupation, now happier and freer but with malign forces still around. Again, the people we saw looked contented and friendly. We were used now to the greeting which all expected and gave. Quite suddenly there seemed to be many more people around and some were hurrying. We assumed as it was Sunday they were off to church and just before ten we heard bells ringing out. We stopped for coffee at eleven and then walked southwards again. Yes, near the end of Klimentgasse was a typical English church. This was the Anglican church Mr Marriott had mentioned. As we passed we could hear the sounds of a hymn being sung. 'For All the Saints' We hummed it in harmony as we walked up Postgasse and sat in the sunshine in a small park watching the old ladies, who had probably been to an earlier service, walking by and exercising their small dogs. "I do hope Mischa is OK," Tris said and we giggled in memory of the poor dog and its predicament.
We were slightly early as we reached the flat. Ivo opened the door. "They're here," he yelled back, "They can finish laying the table." To us, "She's overdone it again. There'll be eight of us. All the Schreibers and us lot." He grinned. "Young Yniold's through there helping his Mum. He looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth but what did you do to him yesterday?" We didn't respond as a cry of "Ivo!" came from the interior.
Again the aromas were heavenly. And the lad who appeared then was heavenly, too. Yniold had a tightly tied apron on and was carrying a large spoon. "Mr Carr, my mother wants you to cut the meat."
"'Carve the meat', and say hello to our guests, urchin! And get back before the gravy boils over! And when you've done that see the wine glasses are clean!"
"You are so kind to correct my English, Mr Carr," the urchin said with a straight face. The countenance changed and the eyes twinkled. "Welcome, Sirs, to the Carr residence. Mrs Carr is in the drawing-room." He bowed his head and we responded and he led the way, showed us the door of the drawing-room and disappeared off giggling.
'Tory was sitting on an ordinary chair. She was laughing, too, as she must have overheard the repartee. "Sorry, shan't get up. Welcome to the Carr residence! Of course, that's him," she said pointing at Ivo. "Back to the galley, slave! You know your place."
"Women," he muttered, "And tomorrow I'll have to cope with two more!"
'Tory raised her eyebrows. "So will I!" She pointed to the sideboard. "Help yourself to drinks. All the usual and I mustn't have any. In fact, nothing. It's a bit awkward lumbering around and I keep intake to the minimum." She breathed out. "The midwife was in earlier and says I must be overdue and she'll give it until Wednesday. 'Nuff about me. I hear last night was a great success and you two were on telly again looking most suave. Bit theatrical that kissing the books but I bet that's made sure the bid for extra grant for the Opera House will go through. That Minister won't dare oppose it now and especially after all that free advertising." She laughed, then held her belly. "Mustn't do that too much." However, she sniggered. "Bet you didn't know he's part owner of that outfit. No wonder he was grinning all over his face."
"He winked at us," Tris said.
"Is that all!" She tried hard not to laugh. "The slimy whatsit would have had you dancing round a pole in that other pit of misery he half owns and we're sure he's involved with some rather nasty porn movie making as well." She became very serious then. "He's not the only one in that sort of business. Ivo managed to ship back a couple of sixteen-year-olds who were lured over here with the promise of a lucrative career in entertainment at some other place. Luckily the girls were spotted ringing the door bell by a watching cop, but things were hushed up because there was no proof he had anything to do with it." She sniffed. "Ivo thinks there's also someone fairly high-up involved with a tribe of underage boys they know are being hired out. Unwanted sons of the Albanians and Romanians who've settled on the outskirts of the town. Still, enough of all that. Mustn't gossip but I just wish I could do a bit more to help. Anyway...," She pointed to the sideboard again. "...help yourselves."
We mixed up a G & T each and helped ourselves to nibbles. Poor 'Tory was obviously suffering. She breathed heavily again as we sipped our drinks.
"I can tell you, if you men had to go through this, babies would be delivered with the milk in the morning ready for school next day!" She did laugh and then winced. "Whatever it is objected to that. That kick would have been straight over the cross-bar."
"Rugger type or ladies' soccer?" Tris asked.
"Sexist beast!" 'Tory said, "Wait until I tell my husband!"
"What's that?" Ivo said, coming in brandishing a large carving knife. Tris moved sharply to stand behind 'Tory. "Oh him, some sarky comment no doubt. He was always trying to muscle in on sweet little Adam and me! Anyway, can't stop. Mrs S wants to know where you've hidden the garlic whatsit."
'Tory raised a finger and tapped an invisible line three times. "Third drawer from the right, left-hand side."
"Ta, ducks, you're a treasure." He was off waving the knife in three-time.
"You've got him domesticated," I said.
"Didn't try. Believe it or not his mother must have trained him." She snickered. "And you two'll have to learn quickly if you take that flat."
"No problem," I said, "I'll buy him a copy of Mrs Beeton to start him off."
Before Tris could drop any unseemly bon mots about 'Beat-on', 'Beat-off', the doorbell rang.
"I'll go," I said and, still clutching the glass, managed to negotiate the double lock on the door. It was Dr Schreiber and a most beautiful young lady. This must be Isolde. It was. Yniold's beauty but in a truly feminine guise.
"Please come in," I said, "Everyone's busy."
"I hope we are not late. We have been practising and time went." He stood aside on the top step. "My daughter, Isolde."
My head bowed and we shook hands. They came past me and I closed and re-locked the door.
"A good night last night," Dr Schreiber said as his daughter went through and she was introduced to Tris by 'Tory. We tarried in the corridor. "Yes, Herr Kusterin is very happy and that Minister was pleased, too. It wasn't the scores! It was that bag!" He laughed.
"Yes, Ivo told us about the bag. One of the boys in the hotel gave it to us."
"Good." He wrinkled his nose. "We have a word in German for that Minister but it is rude." He leaned forward confidentially. "Arschlecker!"
I didn't need any German to translate that. He confirmed it.
"He says 'Yes sir, no sir' all the time and nothing is done. A bad mistake he got elected. We think money. Still, he told Herr Kusterin we shall have all our grant for next year."
We went into the drawing-room where he was greeted by 'Tory. He bent over her and kissed her cheeks three times. From the look 'Tory gave him he was a great favourite. She mouthed 'drinks' at Tris. After supplying him with a G&T and his daughter with a dry Martini Tris joined me.
Dr Schreiber bowed his head in thanks then pointed at Tris and me. "But you must learn how to greet a lady. No more English cold fish shake hands hello hello." On each of the words he flapped a disdainful hand.
That Isolde was used to him was obvious. "Father! You embarrass." She turned to us. "He does that all the time. We have two nice Japanese young men in the orchestra and he said the same to them. They were too polite to say anything. It was lucky Herr Heldnstejn our concertmaster was there and stopped him as he said they should practice on the bassoon he was holding up and they should think it was Frau Fischer who had welcomed them. She is the Justice Minister's wife and is very thin."
'Tory knew the Minister's wife. She made straight up and down movements with her hands.
Frau Schreiber appeared at the door. "Is he causing trouble again?" She came and stood in front of her husband shaking her head.
Dr Schreiber put his hands up defensively. "If these young men are to live here at all they must learn. The head bow is correct. Very formal. But we are 'offen', you say 'demonstrative', no? They will learn."
Yniold then appeared, apronless. "Papa, please come. Mr Carr wants advice on wine." He looked at his mother. "I have finished." He was eying the bottles on the sideboard.
"Der obstwein," his mother said, "Genug!"
Tris went over to the array of bottles and didn't need prompting and gave Yniold a more than half full glass. "Genug?" The lad smiled. Tris held up a finger. "Mind you don't spill it. You might have to lick your fingers." That wasn't lost on the participant in yesterday's revels. His chest heaved and the glass shook precariously. Luckily none of the others took any notice and there was a bit more chit chat while our drinks were consumed. I thought, as my stomach began to rumble, it must be getting close to time to eat.
Ivo was next to appear. "Her Majesty didn't pack a gong for us so I must just announce dinner is served."
We filed through with 'Tory on Tris's arm. I followed with Frau Schreiber while Ivo waited for Isolde. Yniold brought up the rear and I heard him ask Ivo 'What is 'gong'?"
Lunch was quite superb. We started with roundels of stuffed smoked salmon with fingers of a fine white bread. Dr Schreiber had chosen a light white wine which complemented the delicate flavours admirably. Talk was about everything, Cambridge, music, Italy, the new monarchy, and this continued all through the meal. We only stopped talking as each course was brought in. The main course was presented on a large serving plate with thick slices of just pink lamb on a bed of roast vegetables with a side dish of rosti potatoes and an aromatic gravy in an engraved silver gravy-boat. "Family heirloom." 'Tory said, "One of Mum and Dad's wedding presents." A light red wine accompanied that course. Lovely.
I think we left the table after two more courses somewhere about four o'clock when 'Tory, who had eaten sparingly, announced she had better rest a while. Ivo escorted her to their bedroom but insisted we continue chatting in the drawing room. Frau Schreiber poured more coffee. We heard that Isolde had studied in Paris and in Berlin and was moving steadily up the ranks in the cello section and she also played when needed in the local symphony orchestra based at the Rudolfinum. She said it was quite hard work as she had few evenings free and there were plenty of rehearsals, too, but she was looking forward to August when the opera house closed. Her boyfriend was an oboist and she envied him as he didn't have to carry a large instrument around. Still, they were going to Spain to relax. I said we should be going to stay at my Uncle's villa in Italy. A thought. "Have you plans, Yniold?" He shook his head.
"I must work ready for my last year at the Gymno. I have the Bacc to take and after that I will have to study more."
I would have to discuss my thoughts with Tris.
Around six we said we'd better go. 'Tory was still resting as we popped into the bedroom to say cheerio. "I think things are hotting up," she said as I kissed her.
"Help will be at hand tomorrow," I said, just wondering again about the arrival of the two ladies.
"Bugger off!" she said in a most unladylike manner, grinned and grimaced.
We'd offered to help clear up but Frau Schreiber said the family would do that. We thanked Ivo who just gurned at us as he was carrying out a tray of cups. "The urchin will see you out." We both gave the urchin a hug and a peck on the cheek. "Tomorrow afternoon you can practice your English!" Tris said as his clinch ended.
"Oh, fuck!" said Tris when we reached the safety of the pavement, "That kid'd break anyone's heart."
"I just hope his friend Pyotor doesn't break his. But who can tell. He's sure to find someone."
But then, we were lucky. We knew that, but we'd heard tales and seen a few broken hearts at the Club. And there were the ones who never seemed to settle. Did they want to? Were they satisfied with a constant succession of one-night stands, or a couple of weeks, or a month? Sadie and Bertram's son Jerome, twenty-five years! That was something to aim for!
The early evening was warm and balmy as we strolled back towards the hotel. Tris said he'd given Ivo the other copy of the snap taken by Yniold and he'd said he would pass it on. As we approached the hotel a bulky figure was sitting on a seat near the tram stop reading a newspaper.
"Down here," said Tris, "We can use the back entrance where they park the cars."
I think we got in unnoticed. Igor was on duty. He did look a little puffy around the eyes. "Tomas is not well. I am here," he announced. "He has something to eat in the night and he sicks down there."
No, Tris, do not give a lesson! No good. Tris was there and in five minutes Igor had got the hang of which end certain words applied to, but had also confessed he had stayed the night and Brett and Fraser were now good friends of his. They were upstairs resting as their friends were going home in the morning. "I will see them tomorrow."
We went upstairs and lay and reminisced. A perfect day except I had to do a bit of laundry. I did Tris's too. Four pairs of pants each. Luckily we had decided to wear tanga briefs so washing those was easy enough. I squeezed out a tee-shirt each and rather sweaty short- sleeved cotton ones, too, and hung them in the shower to drip and dry. Domestic life!
Tris was looking at the list of plants we had been given to search for. "Jerzy said he and whatsisname would be flying in tomorrow. I suppose on the same plane as the mothers. Do you think they'll get on?"
"I don't think they know each other," I said.
"Fool!" he said clicking his tongue, "Lady Mary and Aunt Sophie!"
"We'll just have to wait and see. I can't think that my Aunt wouldn't get on with anyone. Think of Ulvescott. She and the Sheik were great buddies and he and the Colonel went down to the farm last Easter and Uncle George got the old boy driving a tractor. Adam said it was all they could do not to let him try out hand-milking a cow. I think she even threatened to take them both to a Woman's Institute meeting to give a talk to the ladies."
"Yeah, but two women and a new baby?"
"It's not there yet and I think 'Tory's not the type of person to stand any nonsense."
He waved the paper at me. "You can contact Jerzy tomorrow afternoon before the Cathedral and see if he can arrange to meet us at the Botanic Garden on Tuesday. We'll have to work out how much we say."
"Tell them everything. We don't know which of the herbs and things are the ones really wanted. Just ask if any or all are available and where. Jerzy said he and Tad would ferry us around. It's just a matter of meeting up with them and I have their handy numbers."
"OK, that's Tuesday sorted. Now tomorrow we're meeting Yniold at the Spa in the afternoon and then we go to the Cathedral."
"No cultural sightseeing? And we?"
"Don't think I'm letting you loose with young Anton in the organ loft!"
"And whose little peck on the cheek lingered longer."
We both laughed. Then decided we would read a while and later go the bar just down the road for a goodnight drink and decide on where we would wander in the morning..
Tomas was back when we went down. He had a glass with some concoction in it which he was sipping. "I have shits," he said, "Do not come near. I have washed hands."
While I stood and commiserated with him Tris slipped back upstairs.
"Try these," he said on his return and put two Imodium capsules on the desk. Tomas eyed them suspiciously. "It's OK. They will stop it."
Rather hesitantly Tomas picked them up and swallowed them with a draught of the liquid. He put the glass down and gazed at it with a look of utter distaste. "I think I like shits better than that my Mutti give me." He looked up at Tris. "They stop it? Thank you."
Tris said we were going for a drink at the little bar.
"Good bar. Yes, you will like. Have Strelzen beer."
I said I thought Igor was on duty.
"He go off. He say he need sleep. Hunnh, so he did not sleep last night. Too friendly I think. Typischer Russian boy. But he is good boy most time."
We left the unmerry rambler who was obviously under the influence of his mother's concoction.
The bar was quietly busy. Two glasses of cool weissbeer and I was ready for bed. Ready first for quiet contemplation of Tris's 'beauty' and he of mine! Boastful!
Monday
Half-past eight and the German party were already outside and climbing into a mini-bus. Sophie and Bertram were chatting to Fraser. Ignasz was explaining something to a new couple who I guessed were Swedish from the flag sown on the man's rucksack. A different lad was putting new leaflets into the information rack at the back of the lobby. Tris went over and picked one up. It was in English. 'Scenic Tour to Zenda'
"Wouldn't mind doing that sometime. 'Prisoner of' and all that." He turned it over. "Full day starting at the Raathausplatz. We saw that yesterday. Perhaps next week before we see you know who, eh?" He passed me the pamphlet.
The lad had been listening. "That is good. My father drives the autobus."
Oh, my! Another young Rothenian hunk! A familiar Rothenian hunk. Mouthy boy! He recognised Tris and went crimson. "I am sorry," he said, "I say rude thing. Please forgive?"
That look of contriteness wouldn't have disgraced the most consummate actor but this was real. Tris held a hand out.
"I don't know what you said." Bloody liar! Unless Yniold, bless him, had mistranslated deliberately. Not to worry. Tris was gaining another adoring admirer. They shook hands. "And your name is?"
The seventeen-year-old hunk was putty in Tris's hands. "Frantischek," the lad said huskily and I bet he just about creamed his jeans as Tris deliberately, I swear, squeezed his hand. The lad's mouth opened slightly as Tris then moved his grip slightly and gently stroked the back of the still outstretched hand. As the kid gazed up at him Tris smiled, then drew his fingers down to ring and caress the boy's thumb. I'd heard of chickens being hypnotised by drawing a finger on the ground in front of them. This chicken was hypnotised! Tris repeated 'Frantischek' and there was a further caressing now of the meaty part of the thumb. "That is a good name. My friend's brother has the same name. He is Francis."
If there hadn't been a first ejaculation, the lad was even nearer now. He was certainly under Tris's spell. His gaze was still fixed on Tris.
"You on television. Famous - like Beckham."
Query, or statement?
"Not as famous as my friend." Another bit of thumb stroking and the lad's mouth opened a bit more.
Oh, Tris! Don't drag me into another possible seduction. You already have Yniold, Tomas and Igor eager to fall at your feet and lick you from toes upwards and we haven't been here a week yet!
Frantischek smiled as he looked at me. Oh God! Where do they make them? OK, my feet are quite clean, I had a shower this morning. I'll just kick my sandals off! I was ready!
"I saw you. Very famous. Like Vill-iam. You with Minister."
At least one up on Tris here! Prince William I assumed!!
"No, I'm just a student," I said, trying to defuse something which could only end at this rate with a three in bed romp as Tris was not having the lad to himself! "Are you a student at the Gymno? With all your friends yesterday?"
The smile was still there. "Yes. All my friends. All good." He nodded. "We go to Spa all the time. That was good game, no?" I said everyone enjoyed themselves. He nodded. "We like Spa but not nice alone. Together OK. We just laugh at funny men." He looked back at Tris. "Fat man said were you friend. Karl knows what he want and say 'Fuck off!' like in American film. Huh! Fat hairy man no good." He snorted. "He want fuck or suck. He get fuck off quick!"
Interesting. Must be the same one and he seems persistent. What was he watching us for? The boys thought he was after something else. With one of them.
Tris was enjoying himself. "Not good to go with fat men, eh? Friends OK?"
The youth was quite open to his new-found confidante. "Friends OK. All time." He shook his head and lowered his voice. "Not fuck."
Before he got on to a fuller description of wank-happy escapades I had to extricate Tris. I wanted my breakfast. "We will go to Zenda sometime," I said handing the brochure back to Tris.
The lad hadn't finished. "Tell me. I come. I show you good things. We have good time."
Tris nodded. "Yes we would like that." Was that the Royal 'We' or was I included? "We must go now. We need breakfast."
The two Swedes were still asking Ignasz questions which he was answering patiently. The others had gone. Frantischek continued with his task as we went out.
Tris was laughing. "What is it about the boys here?"
"You seem to have an evil influence on them. They're dropping to their knees round you like flies."
"I like that. No, they could be our Baker Street Irregulars. They see and hear things and they're pretty savvy. Much more than I think I was at their age. All I was told was don't take sweets from strangers and no one ever offered me anything so I thought that was a load of rot."
"'I was a stranger and ye took me in'" I said, "In more ways than one!"
"Don't blaspheme! But, yeah! At seventeen we were pretty advanced, though, weren't we?"
I had to agree. But I hadn't been offered sweets by anyone as well.
Fraser and Brett were already eating. There was no sign of Sadie and Bertram so we joined the pair and waited for the waitress to come over.
"Gotta draw our horns in a bit," said Fraser, "Had to fork out eighty euros Saturday night because Barry fucking Collins and his knobhead brother bought a drink for some bitch in the bar they went to first after our meal. We were walking past and saw them arguing with the barman. He'd said it was champagne she had, but they said it was more like fizzy water. Of course that pair had spent out, so we had to rescue them and pay it. Never told Yogger or he'd have done his nut. He'd warned those dickheads about scams but they'd just ordered it for her. Ugly cow, too!"
"That means we'll have to go by bus if we find where this place is," said Brett. "We got Ignasz to phone the Botanic Garden and they'll see us at eleven thirty and we've promised Igor we'd buy him lunch today."
Good recompense for a night of pleasure! We didn't let on we would be going to the Botanic Garden sometime. Anyway, breakfast was good and we all got touched by the waitress! So to exploration.
We'd had a quick look at the map and decided to do a round tour. We'd suss the Botanic Garden out first and saw it wasn't too far. Turn left off Lindenstrase and just walk until a road called Gartengasse.
On the way we saw the Rudolfinum, the concert hall. There was a visiting chamber orchestra giving two concerts this week and a Mozart festival the whole of next week. Something to visit if we had time. Across the road from the Botanic Garden was a park and we could see the back of the royal palace. We walked down the road towards the centre of the city and saw a squad of soldiers going through marching drills on a parade ground. We stopped and watched. Very smart. I wanted to see the tee-shirt shop which Tris had described so spent time snooping in the window. I was most undecided if I should buy the one for Frankie displaying 'Trust me I'm a gynecologist' but Tris said I shouldn't as that was the American spelling and should have the 'ae' diphthong in it. Actually, I think he was a bit worried my Mother wouldn't approve. Anyway, if I bought Frankie one I would have to splash out for others for his pals. "I teach Physics and this is my Hadron" for statistical Jack. Oh, and for Pugsy "Little things please little minds. I need a big mind."
"No, you're not buying any," Tris said, moving on and looking in the window of yet another cafe, with inviting tables outside, "If they come here they can get their own. I'm not going to be responsible for Bozo trotting round wherever with 'Fancy Man I do' all over his chest. Let's get some coffee and one of those sticky bun things there. It's just on eleven and I need food."
Good idea. I said we'd better learn some of the language and then we'd know what the buns were called. Tris, the true Englishman abroad, said no need, just point and hold fingers up to show how many. Anyway, the coffee and buns were excellent and we sat in the sunshine watching the shoppers go by and acknowledging the numerous people who stopped and smiled and did the head bow. I supposed we were two handsome hunks and they recognised beauty when they saw it. I was just going to suggest we had a look at the Minister's sex shop when my mobile buzzed. It was a text from Ivo. 'Urgent asap news views and sarnies'
I showed it to Tris. "'As soon as possible' and I don't think the main reason is sandwiches." I texted back 'OK'.
"Come on then, better get there," Tris said and went over to the cash desk. The young lady cashier giggled when she saw him.
"Have a nice day," she said as she handed him his change.
"Natives seem very friendly today," Tris said as we started on the route towards the Legation, "I thought my flies might be open but I checked!"
"Don't be disgusting. Otherwise I'll get you that tee-shirt with 'Hand Lotion Supplies. Open Flap Below and Squeeze'!"
At the entrance gate to the Legation the soldier came smartly to attention as we approached. He marched us smartly to the side entrance where the lady secretary was behind her desk. Another one all smiles. "Mr Carr is in his office, please go straight in."
Ivo was on the phone as we knocked and then went in. He nodded towards a couple of chairs and pointed to two newspapers on the desk. The top one was open at a picture of Tris and me at the Mapplethorpe exhibition. Luckily taken in front of photo of a flower and not the polyester-suited black dick. The second showed a large photo taken in the Intendant's box. There I was, shaking hands with the Minister, who was smiling unctuously at the camera and not at me. In the background Tris and the others were quite recognisable. The captions and accompanying text were in Rothenian so we would have to wait until Ivo finished his phone call. He was responding in Rothenian to whoever was speaking and was looking quite serious as he took notes. He put the phone down, breathed out, shook his head, then laughed.
"First things first. You've made quite a splash in our muddy waters." He pointed to the first paper which Tris was holding. "Need a translation?" Tris nodded and handed the paper to him. "In brief it says gorgeous here..." He pointed to me with his free hand. "...is here at the invitation of the Rodolfer University to present his mathematical findings and you, lovely thing, is accompanying him and both enjoyed the exhibition. Best thing is that Uncle Francesco's logo is in full view over your manly breasts. I have already e-mailed a copy of the photo to Aldo to tell him to get his skates on and take up publicity here for the firm." He held up the other paper. "You, sweetie pie,..." This to me. "...have made a real hit with Mr Diesselhorst our esteemed Minister for everything." He picked up a piece of paper from the desk with his other hand. "Other than a possible invite to choose anything from his shop there is an invitation to the Ministry for another photograph session. It's OK, no nudity involved."
"When's this for?" I asked.
"Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock."
"But he's got a recital in the evening and he'll be having a final practice," said Tris. Tris was really caring for me.
"I know," said Ivo, "But please bear with me. I'm in the middle of some rather delicate negotiations with said gent over some rather valuable imports. We're in direct competition with another country, which shall remain nameless but snails and frog's legs might be a clue, and at the moment we are favourites. A, he wants to keep in with the King and, B, we think he's had a lucrative sideline stymied in some way by officials there. Not sure, but I'll leave it like that if I may."
"So Mark is to be used as a pawn because some sleazy porn merchant has lost out on a deal," said Tris.
Ivo nodded. "I'm sorry but I have to do things I don't always approve of and I have to live with the consequences. I mustn't judge. I have to organise things to best advantage. I'm being as frank as possible, but c'est la vie as that lot say. All I can say is that Mark will not be asked, or required to do anything, he doesn't feel comfortable with. Miss Grant, our Under Secretary, will be there. She comes back off leave tomorrow and she knows the score." He looked at me. "I'm not pressurising you, but would you do this?"
I looked at Tris and I knew he was unhappy. He was straight as an arrow and, although he hadn't said anything, I knew he distrusted the man just from meeting him on Saturday night. Tris nodded. I knew he'd weighed it up. Do this. With everything else going on, do not alienate.
All I said was "Yes".
Ivo said nothing but my curt answer was sufficient.
"Let's move on to other things," he said. "There are three particular matters which I have to tell you about and none must be discussed outside here. OK?" I think both Tris and I shrugged. He smiled. "I'll be as straightforward as I can but again, neither Mr Marriott nor I are fully in the picture because of all the various groups and factions in this more than strange country and the struggles for supremacy. We are quite aware that there are very strong religious forces at work. There are also very strong beliefs and anyone who wants to cause waves can do so easily by invoking past events and there have been recent things happening which might cause problems if they are aired abroad. There are also a number of criminal groups who have filled in the gaps left with the changeover of regimes. As you know, drugs, prostitution and people trafficking are only three of the areas of great concern here. " He shook his head. "I feel sometimes as if I'm sitting on a gunpowder barrel just waiting for someone to light the blue touch paper. Still that hasn't happened yet, but...." Here he looked very serious again. "....things have happened over the weekend which could be worrying. Let's start with the first thing."
He opened a folder and held up a copy of the photo Yniold had taken.
"We've been asked not to take any notice of this man. He's under suspicion anyway. He's a police officer, but is supposed to be on sick leave. The Adjutant was very interested when David showed him the photo. That section have been worried for some time about information getting leaked out to one particular faction. They do not want him warned, so, if he still follows you, please take no notice. He is now under surveillance, too. The Adjutant emphasized you are not in danger from him. It was him on the phone just now."
Ivo picked up an envelope and held it up.
"The second thing is this. On Saturday evening a well-known boss of a criminal group was admitted to a private hospital. Actually he had been left at the gates and was almost unconscious and delirious. When they got him in they found his right shoe was full of blood. He'd been shot through the foot. He had no shirt on and his back was criss-crossed with cuts as he'd been beaten as well. His trousers were open and he began to scream as he came round a bit, not from the shot in the foot as they'd given him a local for that. It was these..." He opened the envelope and tipped out a clear plastic envelope. In it were three elastic bands. I recognised them! "....they were very tightly wound round his dick and balls. So tight, in fact, they think they'll have to remove a testicle. Recognise them?"
I nodded. "Yes, they're the ones I used to hold the sock round the pencil box."
"Yes," said Ivo, "The sock plus the lid of the pencil box were extracted from his rectum, a broken pencil was stuck up his urethra and your pair of compasses were stuck through his foreskin so he'll have to be circumcised as well."
Poor Tris. I turned and looked at him. He was not his usual colour. Ivo saw what his description had done. He got up and came round the desk and held Tris's hand.
"Sorry old mate, but I had to tell you. This sod organised the airport heist. He didn't know what his gang were looking for other than a box. They were instructed not to open anything but just deliver it if found. The Adjutant was here when I arrived this morning and said they'd been trying to find out who was behind it all. This one had been paid in advance and it was the wrong box so whoever it was ordered the punishment, but he's too scared to talk."
Poor Tris still looked a bit sick. I went over to him but he wouldn't let me hug him. I could see that Ivo was also upset because he'd caused Tris such distress but I realised he had to tell us as much as possible.
"Could we stop for a while?" I asked. "It's all a bit upsetting. I know you've more to tell us."
Ivo nodded. "I agree. There is more and I have to ask your co-operation. I think we all need a cup of tea." The great British panacea!!
The very motherly secretary was called and tea soon appeared. She took one look at Tris and said a walk round the grounds was needed as well. We did so and we were rather amused as we realised poor Ivo was in for a bit of a tongue lashing. She knew what was going on and probably thought he'd been a bit too descriptive. But Tris was still concerned. "What the fuck have we landed ourselves in?" was reiterated several times as we walked in the garden.
I kept quiet. Somehow I knew we were basically safe. In fact, we might be the catalysts for a cleanup of some kind. It was a strong feeling which I knew I couldn't express adequately in words. A stupid thought hit me. Perhaps a tee-shirt with 'Trust me I have a premonition'!! All I could say to Tris was that whatever happened we were in it together but we would survive and I was sorry if I seemed to have led him into things. He gripped my arm. "It's nothing to do with you," he said, "I know there are things out there beyond us. But you are so precious to me I don't want you harmed, that's all." Under the shade of an arbour I turned and I did hug him and we kissed.
"You're so precious to me as well," I said as we parted. "Let's get back and hear the rest."
Ivo seemed very subdued when we got back to his room. The lady secretary, Mrs Crane, had made more tea and the promised sandwiches were on plates. I felt she wanted to give Tris a motherly hug but she smiled at him as she went out and just held his arm for a moment. Tris was even more relaxed after that.
"Just had the Adjutant on the phone again. He was on about the third thing we've to discuss. That's the phone bug. He's had his signals people trying to track the receiver but there's a problem. It's some sort of very up-to-date device. Whatever it hears is recorded and then the signal is transmitted randomly in exceedingly short bursts. This means they can't get their equipment lined up on it. It needs much more sophisticated apparatus than they have. He's convinced there's something really going on."
I just wondered. If something was going on the implication was either someone at a high level, or plenty of money, was involved. Should I mention Andrei's friend in the Army Signals? He surely wouldn't be behind any conspiracy but he was definitely Andrei's lover. Andrei was seconded to Ivo. Was he really spying on Ivo? I couldn't believe it. But, was there any rivalry over the succession to the monarchy? I didn't really know enough Rothenian history. I knew Andrei was from a very old Rothenian family. Would he be part of a family that might think they had a prior claim? Was Ivo's office bugged? Was his home bugged? If Tris needed a walk then so did Ivo.
"I think we all need a breath of fresh air," I said, "Come on, Ivo, I saw a little park over the road, lets take the sandwiches and eat them there."
Luckily Ivo had enough savvy not to question me. "Come on Tris," he said, "If you feel sick there's plenty of shrubbery over there. I'll carry the sarnies, we don't want you coughing your guts up over them."
A third member of the group realised something might be up. "I'll make sure you receive the full force," says Tris.
"OK, OK," said Ivo as we settled on a bench and each chose a sandwich, "And what has the bear of little brain to say?" He, of course picked the biggest smoked salmon one.
"All in the open," I said, "And the way you were hesitating towards the end I think you may have the same thoughts."
I outlined my ruminations. Ivo was nodding all the time.
"Good," he said as I finished, "I have been thinking along the same lines and James Marriott has, too. Firstly, we used Andrei's pal some time ago to sweep the Legation and he found two bugs. Old ones put in by the Russkies it would seem. Privately, I had a contact in the Ministry of Defence at home send a sweeper a bit after that. No one other than James and I knew why he was here. The cover was he was an old pal from Cambridge. He found nothing and he used the most up to date equipment and he left a little device which I have in my desk. That does a sweep at random and sends the results straight through our system back to the Ministry back home. Again, only James Marriott and I know about it. Nothing so far."
"That doesn't prove they're not involved in anything," said Tris.
"I agree," said Ivo, "But there's other things. You heard Andrei say he and Lucasz were from opposite sides of the fence, both Rothenian, but one Germanic, the other one Slavic. To be that close means only one thing which you two know only too well. Love. And a very special love. Unless one or the other is a really devious and dedicated bastard, or they are truly in some plot together, the probability drops. However, it might rise. The monarchy had to be legitimised, as it were. Again, the history is cloudy and more than a bit murky but the Glottenberhs are related, but without an obvious heir in precedence, to Rudi Burlesdon." He shook his head again. "If any of this were true I wouldn't care to be in either of that pairs' shoes if their fellow officers ever got wind of anything. Disembowelling and quartering would be a very late stage of what would befall them. The officer class are behind Rudi near enough one hundred per cent in my opinion. There might be a few whose promotions have got stuck, but not enough to make waves."
"But," said Tris, "Is there anyone else who might gain at the level of what's left of the aristocracy?"
Ivo shook his head slowly. "Who can tell? There are monarchists in France. The Spanish monarchy has been restored. The Italian monarchists raise their little heads above the parapet occasionally. There are families here with long histories who have lost much or everything in the last ninety years or so. Look at Curt's. It would only take a disaster, an assassination perhaps, even money, to trigger something. History is full of such occurrences. But, I think I would trust that pair."
He smiled. "I'm grateful to you, Mark, for raising it. We've raised it and pondered it and have set little tasks, you might call traps, but nothing. 'Tory would know, I'm sure, if anything was amiss. She knows quite a few people at the Palace now and I think she would have picked up any vibes at that level. My opinion is the problem is at a lower level than a grab for the monarchy. It is a sheer craving for power. Who, or what, or even which country, we don't know. This country is a crossroads and always has been. Anyway, Andrei is coming with me to the airport to meet Mum and her Ladyship. As it's private we'll take a taxi. Can't be seen using Government money on mothers and mothers-in-law! I'll be quite blunt. I like Andrei very much... Really as a friend... ...I think he and I are very much alike, we get on so well... ...All I hope is, that the friendship's not misplaced."
Well, we had plenty to digest other than the delicious sandwiches. Was there any way to be sure of loyalties? I, too, had taken to Andrei. There was something indefinable about him.
As we sauntered back into the Legation I commented we still had a busy day. Meeting Yniold at two, practice in the Cathedral at six and dinner with the Valentin's after that.
Ivo laughed. "That boy! He said he liked it when I called him 'urchin', it was better than 'polisson' which his Grandfather in France calls him. I pretended to mishear and said 'polisseur' and the brat blushed. A word to describe a certain little habit you might guess."
"You're cruel," said Tris, "If you came to the Spa with us you would see he was well equipped for such an activity and at seventeen well versed in technique, I guess."
Tris was hoist with his own petard. "A good judge are you?" asked Ivo, "Plenty of experience yourself, eh?"
"Bollocks," said Tris.
The soldier in the box by the gate saluted us and Ivo spoke to him in Rothenian. He was smiling broadly when Ivo had finished the conversation. As we approached the entrance door Ivo said he'd asked him if Captain-Lieutenant zu Glottenberh was one of his officers. "'He is the best. Only the best serve the King', he said, and I said I was very pleased to hear that. I knew he was one of Andrei's regiment, but he's not in Andrei's particular troop, so if there were rumours, or anything, I don't think he would have been so positive. Only a crumb, but we must collect them."
"Oh, who'd be a diplomat," said Tris, "I don't envy you."
Ivo stroked his beard. "Most of the time one copes."
Mrs Crane was at her desk and as she saw Ivo she held up a piece of paper.
"Good," she said, "I just wondered if the lads had gone."
She gave the sheet headed 'Memo' to Ivo.
"Well, well," he said, "Very interesting. Father Artur phoned to say the Palace Librarian will be available at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. He will meet you at the side entrance opposite the end of Gartengasse if that is convenient."
I looked at Tris who just shook his head in wonderment. "Of course we'll be there," I said and Ivo gave me the memo to take.
He looked at his watch. "Andrei should be here soon."
Ivo's last words as we left the Legation were "Don't forget. Spa to the Cathedral Mount is one euro on the tram!"
To be continued: