Antonio stood shocked. ‘I will deal with him, and … I apologise to the lady.’

  ‘Perhaps he is not to be greatly involved with the new club,’ I suggested. ‘We don’t want our guests upset by anyone.’

  Antonio tried to control his temper. ‘I will … limit his role, if you wish.’

  ‘We wish,’ I bluntly stated. ‘Or we walk away. Go back, and in a few days we’ll try and visit the buildings and your offices - if we can do so without a crowd outside, and Rolf and I can look at the figures and make some plans.’

  Angered still, he bowed his head and led his team out, the twins wanting to kick the son in the balls.

  With our guests waved off, I faced Rolf. ‘You said he was a friend of yours…’

  ‘For thirty years, and he is a good man. His son … is a bit of a playboy.’

  ‘He could create legal problems for us, claims of sexual harassment, and we don’t need the bad publicity.’

  Rolf responded, ‘I will make it clear in the agreement that the son does not play a role, or upon the father’s death inherit the right to play a role in our businesses. And the son is married.’

  ‘So much for the sanctity of marriage in Italy, eh.’

  Back at the computer, I worked on the book editing, good progress made, three hours spent with Brad later, scenes of the crash fleshed out, the character speech down, and he now had the all-important crash scene done.

  Lucas called me at 7pm. ‘We now have four computer programmers to work on the traffic jam software, and they make progress. They have been to Northern Logistics already, and they make a custom programme for them, but so far we don’t bill them.’

  ‘That’s OK, we’ll make a great deal of money from this, and we need Northern as a test bed and example. But see if we can get the devices for our own few vans, so that we can test them.’

  ‘I suggested this, and we can do it, yes. After you wrote down the model for how it might work, Northern make a small call centre, and all their drivers had mobile phones and the devices fitted but not working yet.

  ‘Now, a driver pushes a recall button on his mobile as he drives, a speaker above his head with a microphone. He tells the call centre his ID number, where he is, and the state of the roads, an accident or simply slow moving traffic.

  ‘A minute or less later the device beeps, then a computer voice reports the road issues, so this way they test it.’

  ‘Contact Northern, and ask for me that they find a local courier company, and to offer the devices free - and that the drivers report issues. The more people reporting accidents the better.

  ‘When I’m back I’ll chat to the police and get them involved, then the Prime Minister, it helps the country as a whole.’

  ‘When are you back?’

  ‘A week more here I think. Me and Rolf, we can walk OK now, no reason to wait around apart from the fact that it’s a great hotel in a great location. But listen, the traffic jam project, push it along quickly, sit and discuss ideas with them. And what about buying these devices?’

  ‘They are custom made, each device is currently a hundred and twenty-five pounds plus VAT.’

  ‘Buy in bulk and force the price down.’

  ‘Northern suggested that they buy in the parts and do it for themselves, because the supplier … not so great.’

  ‘Fine by me. Find a room, some technicians, and buy the components in bulk, hundred at a time.’

  ‘Our technicians here can do it, it’s not so difficult, just one specialist, some test equipment. We buy what is already available and put it in a box. Only complicated part is the GPS, the software we create downloaded in machine code, to fix the position and trigger a message.’

  ‘Make a start please, straight away. But how busy are you with the rental contracts?’

  ‘I hire a lady, accounts trained, and she does most of the contracts now. We have custom software from Evergreen, to keep track.’

  ‘Good, but make sure we have copies of all data away from the units.’

  ‘I take a disk home, and I email Rolf a zip copy each week.’

  ‘This custom Evergreen accounts software … it’s good enough?’

  ‘Yes, and Chris is good with it, all wages and costs in it - the purchase ledger. The sales ledger is custom from Evergreen, to run monthly rental costs.

  ‘We get bank statements, and we have to check that the payments arrive each month, and that takes time now, so a third girl will be hired for that.’

  ‘How many units rented now?’

  ‘All of the insurance giant is done, four thousand units, and after that a total of another three thousand units.’

  ‘So … the bank statements are quite long then?’ I teased.

  ‘Fifty pages or more,’ he sighed out. ‘But some customers pay in bulk, others itemised.’

  ‘And the Swindon operation?’

  ‘They do excellent business, a good team now, very busy. Shall I increase the wages of the manager there?’

  ‘Do you think it appropriate?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, he works extra hours and makes us very good money.’

  ‘Then yes, do as you see fit. And tell Northern Logistics that I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘They see you on the TV, they know exactly where you are, everyone knows that – even the Eskimos know that.’

  I smiled. ‘And the comments in the British media, about a miracle?’ I asked.

  ‘Not so much the miracle talk here, but they describe it and show your grandfather’s story. My wife’s family all think it a miracle, and in Spain they talk about it a great deal. And in Israel they show the documentary about your grandfather.’

  Call ended, and I asked Rolf to contact Swedish Airlines, and we would shoot the advert for them very soon.

  At the end of the day, midnight to be precise, I was exhausted, but I had now been right through Miles’ book. I had left notes in red for him to look at, and I now emailed him the copy back.

  Easing into bed, the twins were asleep, but Frieda moaned as I hugged her, and it was as if she was dreaming about sex. Not being one to disappoint a lady, I fingered her for a minute before I forced my cock in from behind, more of a moan issued.

  But I moved very slowly – not least because of a few shooting pains, and that slow movement took ten minutes or more for Frieda to finish. I had been holding it and now released myself but quietly, wondering if someday soon I would release my swimmers for real.

  When playing with the little chubby lump I was happy, but having kids would affect our business model greatly, so for now my keenly competitive swimmers would not find the door open to them.

  Welcome back, Mister Roskov…

  The next morning we took the twins and my police escort to a small airfield near Milan, and that airfield had a small but suitable check-in area, Swedish Airlines already having scouted it and paid to film here.

  Camera set, actual SAS employees in uniforms set, SAS signs up behind them, and I dragged my luggage to the desk, placing down my passport and ticket.

  The lady stood. ‘Welcome back, Mister Roksov.’

  ‘Cut!’

  Over ten minutes we filmed three takes, and afterwards I was filmed both dragging my luggage inside the terminal and walking off towards Security. It was a wrap, we were done, and I was a few quid better off, the actresses and crew thanked, snaps posed for.

  Back at the hotel I called Trish, and she would invoice SAS, a one-off with no usage. But I got the feeling that it would get plenty of usage, the airline’s reputation to rebuild.

  Trish had a long list of US chat shows after me, but I would wait for the thirty-day limit on my last chat show to expire first. And that show, it had reportedly been screened to a large audience, the ratings very high.

  The one approach that I had been interested in was the British satirical news show, Have I Got News For You. Trish would send them my keen agreement to attend, especially coming up to the next election in Britain.

  Sat with Brad again, we planned out the escape of my grandfather based on what we knew to be fact, but some dramatization was inevitable, not least the German officer grieving the loss of his daughter, and then discussing grabbing a Jewish child with his wife.

  We would add in the German SS sneaking about and asking questions, the tense escape to west Denmark, and the real-life action escape by sailboat at night. That boat would be filmed landing in a sleepy English harbour, the local British soldiers shocked by the German officer in uniform blatantly tying-off his sailboat.

  His interview by wartime British Intelligence officers would be scripted, and I suggested just what would have been asked and answered, Brad typing it into the script on his laptop.

  I had typed up my own life story, a condensed life story since I had not done much yet, and Brad had added the scenes to his script, starting with my first day in work at the glass factory.

  Brad’s creation of what might have happened with my family’s escape from Russia would be historically authentic, but a dramatization none the less. The names would be correct, and the actors’ ages and appearances would be carefully chosen by the studio people.

  Brad would, in a few days, fly to Copenhagen and talk to the best man alive to consult with for Roskov family history, Henrick Roskov’s aging father.

  I had made a call to Biggs at Mi5, and a man from the Defence Department had called me back, that man being an expert on the Second World War and on old records. And without having been asked yet, he had found the wartime records of the interview of the German officer, Kolhman.

  That record was available for Brad to inspect on his return to Britain, but I was warned that they had released it to the British Press already – just not why they had done that.

  I called Trish, and she had a copy of The Times newspaper’s detail of the interview. Kolhman had stated that he had lost a daughter, that my family had willingly given up the boy – my grandfather, and that he had fled when neighbours questioned who the boy was.

  Unfortunately for the British Government, there was a note attached to the interview from British Intelligence, stating the facts gleaned about the death camps, and that the detail was not to be released to anyone but was to be covered up.

  I called Miles O’Grady and discussed it with him. He told me, ‘The British Government knew about the death camps from 1937 onwards, and we had cracked their radio codes, but our government said little about the camps other than as propaganda early on in the war – the massacres as the Germans moved into Russia and the Baltic States.

  ‘And during the war they said little either, no public debate nor condemnation of the acts till 1944 and arrest warrants for the Nazi for the death camps.

  ‘There was nothing they could have done, it’s just odd that a propaganda goldmine like the death camps was not used more against the Nazi.’

  ‘As you said, Britain could have done little, so why hide it?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s the question, no answers from Churchill in his memoirs other that what was already publically known. Some thought that reporting the massacres was a mistake, because such reporting in the First World War had been proven false later on.

  ‘But given what happened it is odd, in that Churchill wrote his memoirs years later yet failed to describe the Holocaust.’

  ‘What was he ashamed of?’ I wondered.

  ‘Not doing enough probably. That and that fact that Jews were interned in Britain not left to walk the streets, but the British Government was afraid of spies - and most all of the Jewish refugees spoke only German!

  ‘But how the hell could you have such German-speaking people living next door to you or walking down the street? There was also the fear of communism, and communism was seen as a Jewish revolution, troublesome Jews overthrowing the Russian monarchy in 1918 when Britain still had a monarchy.’

  ‘They had to be interned,’ I agreed. ‘Not walking the streets speaking German during a war with Germany - and being attacked for the wrong reasons. But we did take in large numbers…’

  ‘We did, and then we tried hard to shove them over to America or to Israel in 1945. They were not so welcome here, and I think Churchill was happy to see them all head for the new Israel.’

  Talking with Rolf the next day, we made a choice, and we would fly back to Stockholm soon and get some work done. That talk of work was paused as two of the Italian models I had selected turned up at the hotel, with their bikinis, Maria on hand, so I posed around the pool with the three new sign-ups, the two Italian models from the agency being hot babes.

  They also had a natural look without the make-up plastered all over them, which was what I liked about them. That and the hot bodies.

  I was tanned now after all my time around the hotel pool, and I posed with Maria then with all three girls, in and out of the pool and attracting looks from the other guests, Rolf to send the images to a few chosen outlets that would pay, such as our German publisher. Trish would try and sell a few copies.

  The Swedish magnate would, today, take his family home but by train via Switzerland and Denmark, an overnight sleeper cabin booked. The Swedish surveyor admitted to being very bored, and he would fly back. I handed him cash for his trip.

  Carter would come with us to Stockholm, his resignation now registered with London, who could not technically accept it whilst he was unwell and being treated by doctors. They would grant him sixty days leave, on condition that he saw the doctors at some point.

  Both Rolf and Carter could walk, Carter being better than Rolf in his range of available movement, Rolf still using a crutch all the time. But Rolf was swimming three times a day and feeling much better. And Ingrid was complaining, that Rolf was complaining, and that he was wanting to be back in work.

  One thing left to do was to visit the Italian Army Medics, and I had made a call via the contessa, so that afternoon I led the Rasmussens up to the camp with a police escort, Luka and baby in tow with the social worker.

  Down from the bus the parade was called to attention, and as I held the baby the officer in charge saluted me, or us, so I held the baby’s hand and saluted back, the parade descending into raucous laughter – all caught on film by the TV crew present.

  I showed the baby to the officer, then the ambulance staff, posing for many snaps as the twins spoke to many military medics in Italian. They showed us around and detailed what was here, which was not much, and after a quick chat to the TV crew I thanked them all collectively and we headed back.

  The baby’s salute made the national TV news, which made us smile as we packed up and considered the dangers of flying home. But we had decided that it had to be done, or we would have no business left; going everywhere by train or boat and never visiting America.

  That evening we got the minibus the short distance up to the contessa’s huge house, Luka now moved in with the baby – as well as the social worker, a party thrown for us, the contessa’s family totalling over sixty people, forty of them present tonight.

  That family album included several politicians, a few judges and a few rich businessmen, one army officer - a colonel, and one police chief. I had dragged Brad along, and he got into a conversation about wartime Italian partisans with the judge.

  The father and stepmother of Peder turned up as requested, and the contessa knew their restaurant well; they would now visit the contessa on a regular basis. The twins made a fuss of the parents, Olesya having flown back today; work to do.

  Rolf got into talking business with Peder’s father, Gunter, and Gunter owned several nice restaurants in Germany, a deal struck whereby he would pay us a modest fee to be seen in each place. It was good to see Rolf back in work mode.

  It was also good to see Maria in an expensive black dress that showed her midriff and some leg. ‘Wow, you look great,’ I told her, embarrassing her. ‘Definitely a career in modelling.’

  ‘If it is not too much, my parents are … cautious.’

  ‘Which means that they’re good parents, and that they want the best for you, and that they don’t want someone like me to give you a massage.’

  She blinked, and hid her smile. ‘You have a bad back, to be giving such a massage.’

  ‘Yes. But soon, if you join us on a photoshoot, you get a nice massage, a … welcome to the team.’

  She went red and lowered her head, her controlling parents just a few steps away. ‘The twins invite me to Stockholm.’

  ‘Ah, but did they tell you we all walk around the house naked?’

  She frowned. ‘No..?’

  ‘Good, because that would not be accurate.’

  She slapped my arm.

  I added with a grin, ‘We walk around naked on holiday.’

  ‘You will fly back?’

  ‘Yes, Swedish Airlines, SAS.’

  ‘You are afraid?’

  I sighed out. ‘It has to be done if I want a life. But we all fly together so – if the plane goes down – there will be no one left grieving.’

  She lowered her head. ‘I miss my cousin, we were good friends.’

  ‘Time heals, so just wait for the pain to ease. And you have a new sister in Luka, and a niece in the baby.’

  ‘My friends all ask about the baby, they are jealous that I can see the baby anytime.’

  ‘Good practice for you, changing the nappies, for when you have your own kids.’

  At the end of the night I gave the contessa a big hug, and she could stand now with a walking stick. We would come back and visit her, not asking her to come visit us – she was elderly.

  I said goodbye to Luka, but I did invite her to Britain, assuming that she could travel with the social worker. She promised to eat well and rest plenty, and to exercise, and she would start again her typing lessons, which she had once started but lasted just a day at.

  A fear of flying, almost

  The big day finally came around, and although I was not afraid I was … apprehensive and cautious, and wanting to book an exit seat. Rolf was nervous but resolute at the prospect of flying again.