‘Short speech or long speech?’ I whispered.

  He simply shrugged. ‘Up to you.’

  A lady moved into position, and I assumed correctly that she was an interpreter since she had a microphone in her hand.

  A little nervous now, I closed in on the podium and held both sides. ‘Prime Minister, distinguished guests, thank you for the medal today, and for honouring my actions at the aircraft crash. And I take this opportunity to thank the two forest workers behind me, because without them the survivors may have perished.’

  The lady interpreter did her bit.

  ‘That day I rescued seven people, some known to me, but I wish that I could have assisted more off the plane.’

  The interpretation was given.

  ‘If I had just a few more seconds, a minute perhaps, I could have saved many more. But some believe that the timing was not down to me, that there was some … divine intervention.

  ‘Some think that it was timed so that I would find the baby and rescue her, and … I’m glad that I did rescue her, she has brought a ray of sunshine into my life.’ I pointed at Luka and the baby as they stood to one side.

  ‘I like feeding the baby, and at the hotel I’m teaching her to swim, and she loves the water.

  ‘But these recent days of good recovery have been saddened by the death of one of the survivors, Peder, a German with a Swedish fiancé, and had I been handed one more minute I could have taken her off the aircraft.

  ‘He could not cope with his loss, his fiancé pregnant, their hopes and dreams of the future lost. Sadly, it appears that he got drunk and drove his car off a cliff; no more pain for him.

  ‘I met with his father, and his father does not blame me for the shortage of minutes handed to me that day. And having rescued the baby just in time, my grandfather’s family suddenly intersected with the events at the aircraft crash.

  ‘Katerina Mary Kholman died at six months old in 1943, a reason for grief in her father – a German Army officer, who then took my grandfather off a train heading to the death camps in Germany.

  ‘A week ago, his grandson rescued Katerina Mary Dubov on a hillside, an odd symmetry. I am not a religious man, I am not affected by these odd events, and I shall continue as before – my focus being on my charity work in England.

  ‘And I’m now also involved with a charity here in Italy, and grateful of the assistance of Bishop Armani and the Vatican, and my poster sales here – of Luka and the miracle baby – will raise money for that charity.

  ‘That charity will mostly renovate old buildings so that the homeless and the poor have somewhere to stay, a similar project to one that I’m carrying out in England.

  ‘That charity will ask for volunteers in each town, especially men skilled in building and decorating, perhaps retired men who can give a few hours a week to help us.’

  I glanced down at Luka and waved her up with the baby, a shock for her, but the assistants led her up. Stood nervously next to me and in full view of the audience and the TV cameras, I kissed her on the head and put an arm around her.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is a young woman without sin. A young woman that was forced out of her home and into prostitution, forced to take drugs, and one that was raped repeatedly by men as she lay unconscious.

  ‘But maybe we can follow the example of Jesus when dealing with our desires to stone prostitutes.’ I paused, and I gave a sweeping hand gesture towards the audience. ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’

  The vast audience started to clap, and then stand and clap, the baby staring out and not crying as I held her small hand.

  Taking the baby, Luka’s eyes moistening as the roar of the applause echoed around the vast cathedral-like room, I held up the baby and placed her chubby legs on the podium. On cue, she smiled and gave a shriek.

  ‘Thank you for your time today,’ I finished with, leading Luka down after presenting the baby to the Prime Minister, and to the forest workers, who got snapped holding the baby. Down at the lower level, I handed the baby to a surprised Bishop Armani, who held the baby and got himself filmed doing so.

  An Italian TV crew closed in. ‘Mister Roskov, you will work here in Italy with the new charity?’

  ‘When my time allows, yes, because here you need to change your attitudes some. The people of Italy must never forget that it was Italian men paying to rape an unconscious young woman on drugs. What kind of sick bastard does that?’

  The lady interviewer recoiled some before I walked off with Luka and the baby, the Swedes in tow. And I could see the contessa in the audience with some of her family.

  There was a large reception party, food and drink, and I chatted to the military medics again and thanked them, the powerful and the mighty in Italian society here, many keen to chat, and keen to hold the baby – and to be snapped doing so.

  The Prime Minister spoke reasonable English, and we chatted for ten minutes about many things, not least my hotel in Corsica; his family had visited already.

  A new bishop approached with Armani, an older man. ‘Mister Roskov, you … kissed a prostitute on the head and ask that … he who is without sin cast the first stone, yet you claim that you are not a religious man…’

  ‘I use your own words against you, Bishop, and point out the hypocrisy of Italian society, the nice public face and … what goes on behind closed doors.’

  ‘All societies have a public face and a private face I’m afraid.’

  ‘They do, yes, but we can at least stop the public face from stoning women like Luka.’

  ‘You shift the sin to the man, not the prostitute, an interesting approach for someone so young.’

  ‘The sin is with the men, and without the base desires of men there would be no prostitution. Some say, like Bishop Armani here, that evil is as evil does.

  ‘Luka is not evil, the sin was done to her, and she is a good example of how our society fails such girls, and once soiled with drugs and prostitution it’s a hard road back for such women, but they only need a helping hand to leave behind a lifestyle that they hate – and wish to leave behind.’

  He nodded. ‘We help reformed prostitutes in South America, so we can claim the moral high ground here, yet we’re humbled in the presence of the real showman.’

  I hid my grin. ‘Showman?’

  ‘You’re the marketing expert, not us, and the images of you kissing Luka on the head will be seen far and wide - the forgiveness of her sins.’

  ‘I don’t think I have the authority to forgive anyone, Bishop.’

  ‘You have the media behind you, a powerful force, yet you don’t use it for your personal gain.’

  I recalled what Rolf had discussed with me. ‘Well if you guys need to hire me you can do so, messages to get across to the faithful and the … less faithful followers – so long as I agree with those messages. And I do make a great deal of money, so I have some personal gain.’

  ‘The path you have taken, the words spoken and deeds done in respect to Luka and the baby are … exactly what we might have desired, yet you did not have us in mind and – I’m led to believe – you are a hardened cynic.’

  ‘A realist, yes, and a student of history. But I’m also discrete, and if people sleep better at night thinking this a miracle … then fine, I won’t remove their false comfort.’

  ‘You had Bishop Armani hold Luka’s hand, and now you present her on stage as being without sin. You are indeed the capable presenter.’

  ‘I did what I felt was right, not a moment’s regard for the Catholic Church I’m afraid.’

  ‘Then I hope our accidental synchronisation remains.’

  ‘You may get another boost when a Catholic priest is seen helping escaping Jews in the movie about to be made.’

  ‘You were waiting the facts…’

  ‘I will make sure a priest is seen.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I want us to help each other, and I want the new charity here to reach other countries, the idea that Christianity is about helping the poor and needy more than singing loud in church.

  ‘So I’ll bend a few of my own rules, alter a few facts, to assist you in the hope that you will assist me in my European charities.’

  ‘You would nudge us to do what we have always done, so you do not demand much of a price.’

  ‘Then we shall have a fruitful symbiotic relationship, the poor of Europe assisted,’ I told them.

  ‘You will promote the charity, TV appearances?’ he asked.

  ‘Any chance I get.’

  ‘Yesterday, a fellow bishop said to me: only Roskov could find the baby. I think I am starting to understand what he meant.’

  With that cryptic note they left me, time to chat to the Swedish ambassador about legal action from the families. He did not think anyone would want to stop me making the film.

  Stepping to the forest workers, I finally had the chance to hand them both thick envelopes of cash, large Euro notes that the contessa had handed me. The men, and their wives, were grateful.

  Money is power

  Back at the hotel, and Trish called. ‘The Sun newspaper just called me, and someone donated seven million Euro, an Italian bank.’

  The face of that new bishop came to mind. ‘Fuck me they’re keen.’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘Don’t repeat this, but … it may be the Vatican.’

  ‘The fucking Vatican!’

  ‘Calm down, woman. They … like what I do apparently, but never repeat that.’

  ‘What will you do with it all?’

  ‘Build a prison for starters, then a hostel in Derby, Coventry and Nottingham.’

  ‘Vatican money … on a fucking prison?’

  ‘Yep. It’s a funny old world, ain’t it,’ I quipped as I hung up.

  In with Rolf, who had watched it all on the room TV, I sat and let out a sigh. ‘The Vatican are keen, keen that I continue doing what I do, and … someone from Italy donated seven million Euro to my charity fund in the UK.’

  ‘It was the Vatican?’ he puzzled.

  ‘Not sure, but I met a more senior bishop who … hinted at things.’

  ‘Perhaps the contessa, she is worth a billion, and you saved her life.’

  ‘She hasn’t said anything.’

  ‘And may not, since you may try and give it back.’

  I nodded. ‘How was my speech?’

  ‘Fine, as usual, and you took the words of the Bible and shoved them right down the throats of the Italians. Still, you are correct, and Luka was the victim, now about to be made a saint thanks to you.’

  ‘They don’t make people saints till after they’re dead,’ I quipped.

  Rolf told me, ‘They are rushing through the posters, which could be in shops here in days, and will be advertised in newspapers from tomorrow, mail order purchase.’

  ‘I aim to widen the charity, starting with Denmark, an easy sell, then Sweden, then the UK.’

  My phone trilled, Trish again. ‘Calm down,’ I cut in first.

  ‘Your medal ceremony is on most all European channels, just hit the States; I have five TVs in here - I check for our adverts.’

  ‘Get a secretary to help you.’

  ‘Just hired one.’

  ‘Good. And when they do extra things for me, bill me some of the time, or the charity.’

  ‘I will, yes, but I’m making good money from you, just stop crashing planes and worrying me.’

  ‘I’ll try, I really will.’ Call ended, and I told Rolf, ‘My award ceremony is on every European news channel, and in the States.’

  ‘Such exposure must somehow be turned into cash - while we have such exposure.’

  I nodded as I considered that. ‘What about the man we came to see?’

  ‘I have been in touch on the phone, but … he has been in a state of shock.’

  ‘Invite him here, and let’s close the damn deal we came here for, eh.’

  ‘I will invite him here tomorrow, he has a holiday home here on the lake.’

  ‘Why hand me more shares?’

  ‘You saved my life and handed me back my family, and … if I am not around I know that you will take good care of Ingrid and the twins.’

  I considered that. ‘I would anyway, with or without the money. What about the tax?’

  ‘You pay tax annually when you take a dividend or sell the shares, inheritance type tax is not an issue yet. If I put the house in Stockholm in Ingrid’s name, she does not pay tax till she sells it.’

  ‘The house … is not in her name?’ I teased. ‘You’re married!’

  ‘I bought it in my name.’ He shrugged.

  I smiled. ‘I was thinking today, that … many a religious Italian may buy my film DVD by mistake, thinking it a religious film.’

  ‘They will be in for a shock, a shock at Claudia’s boobs.’

  ‘Is she filming now?’

  ‘Yes, the first few days, but she has spoken with the twins and Oleysa, and Olga. And Monique will do a walk-on, she reported.’

  ‘We found much work for Monique?’ I asked.

  ‘A great deal, the customers love her.’

  ‘We can sign up Maria, she has a natural beauty.’

  ‘She does, yes. Have you given her a massage yet?’

  I shot him a look. ‘No. But it would be no great hardship if I did, the twins would not need to nag me.’

  ‘Who did they nag you to give a massage to?’ he puzzled.

  ‘Claudia, Jenny. I pretend that I don’t want to do it, so they nag.’

  ‘Pretend?’

  ‘I can’t be seen to be wanting to give a beautiful girl a massage with a happy ending, I need to maintain my pretence of being a gentleman – and loyal to the twins.’

  He shook his head at me as I hid my grin.

  Today was the day to have our stitches taken out, and what I considered would be quick and simple turned into ten minutes of torture, a few rude words uttered. The doctor from the hospital was in attendance and he checked my scars, happy with them.

  Afterwards, and making a note not to have stitches again, I sat with Brad and I dictated character speech for the script and he typed it into his laptop, Brad being a fast touch-typist.

  At 9pm I made time to look again at Miles O’Grady’s book, and by bedtime I was exhausted, a quick shower and to bed, snuggle time, which was fast becoming my favourite kind of time.

  Roskov Italiano

  The next day the man we had come to see turned up with his team, all dressed smart, and all in awe of me – which was annoying. My own team were now dressed smart for the occasion, and the smart room with the bookcase now had tables and chairs, snacks and drinks.

  The main man, Antonio, still had black hair despite his age, his son a right poser of an Italian playboy. They had brought three models, none of which appealed to me; they were all a bit false and the make-up was too heavy.

  Handshakes done, introductions done, and our guest opened a large file of documents and photos. First photo was of a proposed nightclub, but I said we would go visit it if we had time before we left Italy.

  He detailed capacity and facilities, Rolf asking about emergency exits and current licences. At the moment there was a large café on the ground floor, a large kitchen not being fully utilised, and a large storeroom that was mostly empty.

  Above it sat a wine bar, two entrances but no elevator, and above that sat an empty storeroom. Each floor was as big as the new club in Copenhagen, so there was plenty of room.

  I began, ‘The problem … is that the ground floor is suited for a restaurant, yet people sat eating don’t want to be disturbed by guests walking in.’

  Antonio showed me the photo again. ‘Here there is a small building next door, empty, two floors, and it could be joined, an entrance here to the upper floors.’

  ‘That would be better, yes. And what about the status of this second building?’ I asked.

  ‘It is empty, and can be bought or rented. This street has many popular bars and restaurants, but there are a few empty buildings still. The owner of this second building will be glad of some money.’

  ‘Do you know the rental prices?’

  ‘I will ask today, he will be glad to see the building used.’

  ‘We’ll try and have a look at both buildings before we leave Italy. This second building could be the poker rooms, top floor.’

  ‘I have been to your club in Stockholm and I played poker, yes, the rich men like this.’

  Rolf asked financial questions, and we had a look at figures, rental costs and footfall numbers expected. The one good thing about the location in Milan was that daytime trade would be good nine months of the year, passing tourist trade to be picked-up by the restaurant and wine bar.

  Rolf would factor that tourist trade into his spreadsheet, and since the club would have ‘Roskov’ above it on a big sign we expected the attendance to be high, if not manic.

  When asked about the three models, I bluntly told a surprised Antonio that I did not like them, and did he have a portfolio? Sat with his portfolio, I picked out ten women and he would make them the backbone of our joint ventures, two women I picked out as coming to work with us in Stockholm some of the time.

  Call made, and Maria came down from the house. I introduced her to Antonio and his team, and I informed them that we would sign up Maria for part-time work, but that he could make use of her in certain circumstances, and that she will be treated like the contessa’s favourite granddaughter, or else.

  The words had hardly left my lips when Maria slapped Antonio’s son, a loud slap that stopped dead everyone in the room.

  I stepped in and faced the son, a right poser. ‘Make that mistake again and your father loses all our business and our goodwill.’

  Antonio hissed at his son in Italian as I exchanged a look with Rolf. Facing Maria, I asked what he had said.

  ‘He offer me to share his apartment in Milan. He is a pig.’

  Antonio finally re-joined us.

  I told him, ‘Keep your son away from our models, or it will cost you a great deal of money. And if he insults the twins I’ll make sure everyone in Italy knows about it.’