Roskov Book 6 Read online

  Ricky Roskov

  Book 6

  Copyright © Geoff Wolak

  Written in April, 2021, from an idea first formed in 2006.

  This book is a work of fiction, technically accurate in the detail of geographical locations, and the time period history.

  Email the author: [email protected]

  www.geoffwolakwriting.com

  Aftermath

  The tearful lady guest looked up at me as I threw a shadow over her on the roof of the villa. ‘Oh, it’s you. Didn’t realise you were here.’

  ‘Are you … OK?’ I asked.

  ‘Sorry, just … had a bereavement.’ She looked away, as if embarrassed.

  ‘Time heals, and so does talking about it – so they say.’ I pulled up a chair and waited, taking in the fantastic view, the woman British, seemingly in her early forties, and a little overweight.

  She finally began, ‘I … had a family, husband and two kids, and … they crashed the car and died. Then, years later I … got married again, he had a daughter already, and we were happy, and … they drowned, he went in after her, a river.’

  I glanced down at the distant rock pool. ‘And now you think that God is against you, when it’s just random chance. What you need is a new family, a ready-made one, a big dose of love. And I just happen to have one – the family. But tell me, why come to such an expensive place?’

  She lowered her head, as if ashamed. ‘I … saw the pictures, it looked very nice, and I wanted a quiet place, and … I … got a big pay-out from my husband’s death.’

  ‘Which you feel guilty about, but you shouldn’t. Come on, come say hello.’ I stood and waited, and she finally stood.

  In the sticky heat, I led her down and to Rolf and Ingrid at the pool bar and pulled out a seat for her. ‘This lady lost her family, came here to get away. I’ll be back later.’

  Concerned, if not a little paranoid, I went and found Carter near the top pool. ‘Run that woman’s name, I’ll get it from Michelle. She seems genuine, but … you never know.’

  He did run the name, the woman had indeed lost two families, and she was “clean” as far as links to criminal gangs went. Sat with her and Rolf, she detailed for us an horrific tale, Ingrid mortified.

  At 5pm the twins “needed” a massage, since they had been jogging and swimming to tone up, and their fit eighteen-year-old bodies were aching, apparently.

  With the twins face down, the door closed and locked – and with me wondering where Jenny was, I started on the ankles as I knelt between them, and this massage would be part therapeutic and part pleasure.

  Well practised these days, I worked the legs with both hands, alternating back and forth between the twins, one hand on each twin much of the time, two hands for the shoulders – since they were “aching”.

  Forty minutes later they turned over, cute grins for me, and I worked up the legs and to the thighs, getting a low moan from my unpaying customers, and I was soon starting on the pussies. And despite the number of times we had done this they were still reacting like innocent young girls.

  Frieda came first, a characteristic loud moan from her, so I mounted Rita, who moaned as I eased a stiff cock inside a wet pussy, and she embraced me as if this was our last day on earth. Thrusting away, I was doing this for my pleasure, and we kissed passionately until I need to gasp for breath.

  Thrusting in felt good, it felt very good, and I wanted to possess and to consume her whilst at the same time wanting to force my cock in so far that it came out of her mouth, an odd mix of care, passion, and wild lust.

  I came to my own loud moan, but I kept going as she hugged me tightly, two sweaty bodies slipping against each other, and finally I flopped between them, a hug being the natural next act in the chain of events.

  A glance at the locked door, and I wondered about Jenny, but she had been out. And wondering about Jenny and her state of mind was occupying my thoughts more and more.

  I was up at 7am and sipping a nice cup of tea, the twins still asleep, naked arses seen, a sight to stop and feast over. They had been training hard in recent months and their leg muscles had toned up, so now they were even more sexy, and despite having been together a year I stopped to marvel at the arses and legs as the twins lay asleep on the bed.

  Rita lay on her side, her knees up a little, her pussy lips pushing out, two neat symmetrical bulges, two parallel lines of pink skin seen pushing out a millimetre. I was tempted to get my tongue in, but that would be rude – I might wake them; my girls liked their sleep.

  Instead, I gently parted her pussy lips without waking her, the parallel lines of pink skin examined for a moment.

  Peering out of a crack in the lounge windows, no sounds coming from Jenny’s room, I could see the horses heading back home in a line, so they had already enjoyed their walk - and maybe a swim in the new rock pool as well. I could see six horses and six riders, so it was a full house, four keen guests bracketed by two instructors for safety – should the very tame horses bolt away.

  A glance at Jenny’s door, and I wondered if I should go in and … well, for who’s benefit would that act be? I was not keen to have sex with Jenny when the twins were around, but I had grown fond of Jenny, which added to the stress of the situation.

  What I wanted … was less stress, and I heaved a breath as I took in her door.

  Sat staring down at the great view with a cup of tea, pool boys seen cleaning, I had to wonder what the future would bring. Would I be more involved with injustice cases in the UK, or would I build up the businesses and make adverts and movies?

  I knew which one I wanted to do. At least, maybe I did.

  When Jenny finally stirred I made her a cup of tea, and the twins joined us after using the toilet, bikinis put on, the curtains now opened, the full view available to us to enjoy.

  ‘I saw the horses heading home,’ I idly commented.

  ‘Late for them, but they swim now,’ Jenny noted as she stared out cradling her cup of tea. ‘Usually they go back around 6am or just after.

  ‘I went down when the young horses were swimming, and they need a nudge to get in, but then they seem to like it. Mostly the young ones like to race into the ocean and make a splash.’

  ‘Human kids as well,’ I noted.

  ‘That poor girl, Karen, to live her life like that,’ Jenny sadly noted.

  ‘Some day, maybe, a man may take her seriously,’ I put in.

  ‘She can come to Sweden to visit,’ Rita suggested as she held her cup of tea and stared out.

  I told them, ‘I worry … that the other kids in the home will be jealous and … that the British newspapers will criticise me.’

  ‘There are thousands of kids in those homes,’ Jenny noted as we stared out. ‘You can only do so much.’

  ‘I have more money now, to do more, and I will – in my home town at least. I think … that I’ll use my home town as an example, and maybe people will copy my ideas around the country. I want to create a work house -’

  ‘Work house?’ Jenny queried with a puzzled frown.

  ‘A place for menial manual labour. In Britain, if you get caught for a minor offence you do what’s called “community service”, like cleaning the streets. There’s also a law that says that if you’re unemployed and offered a shit job you’re supposed to do it - or not get the welfare payments.

  ‘So I want to combine the two, but also with a home for homeless people next door, so a drug addict and homeless person is picked up by the police, given a bed, and forced to do some work for pay.

  ‘If I can put fifty of them in the programme, then that’s most all of the down and outs in my home town in one place, food and shelter and some work, some security at night.

  ‘At the moment they’re just left to
wander the streets looking for a scam to work, or some shoplifting to pay for their next fix.’

  Jenny scoffed, ‘Getting addicts back on the straight and narrow is something New Yorkers have been struggling with for decades.’

  ‘I would have them forced to attend, and that’s better than prison for them. They get a bed and a meal, and the chance to earn some money.

  ‘Then I would have a place nearby where the reformed people go, small apartment rooms, meals, and chance to get back on their feet – if they want to get back on their feet that is.

  ‘There is a halfway house in Leicester, but with limited stays before people get turfed out, open just at night, so the inmates all go wander the streets in the daytime causing trouble.

  ‘I would round them up by force - the homeless sat in shop doorways, and I’ll try and persuade the police to do just that, and to send them to me.

  ‘But the thing is … to get a local job you need a postal address, not be listed as staying in a halfway house, so I can list their rooms as apartments maybe.’

  Rita noted, ‘Not many homeless in Sweden, only the drug addicts and idiots. If someone loses a job we Swedish help them.’

  I told her, ‘I would offer cheap rent to certain people to help them get back on their feet, not to stay for ten years. And the council would pay the rent anyhow.

  ‘It’s just that gap, from sleeping on the streets to a council paid house or apartment, help with filling in forms.’

  Tea inside me, I got my gym kit on and went for a run along my neighbour’s access road and back a few times, a sweat worked up. At the rock pool, an old lady swimming, I stripped down to my shorts and dived in, soon doing lengths, but they were very long lengths compared to a normal swimming pool.

  When I halted and eased out, the old lady also halted. ‘How many lengths?’ I asked her.

  ‘Ten most days,’ came accented. ‘Then I come back at 6pm.’

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Switzerland. I was a diplomat.’

  ‘How do you like the place?’

  ‘It is not like a hotel, and very private, so that is good - I don’t like busy hotels.’

  ‘Have you tried the cave room?’

  ‘I may try it, yes, I like a quiet room. And you, you have finished fighting crime?’

  ‘No, just getting started. In England, a newspaper asks people for money for me, and I’ll use it for wrongful convictions. Already it has more than a million pounds in it.’

  ‘I will find it and donate.’

  ‘Thanks. Are you a champion for the underdog?’

  ‘I think we all are, and corruption must be fought everywhere – us Swiss know that. We have a bad history of conspiracies and illegal money, from the war, but still they find hidden money each month and we are again embarrassed.’

  I bid her farewell and jogged off back to the villa, a shower needed, the twins soon making me eggs on toast and coffee as they chatted to Jenny, the kitchen well stocked.

  After eating a leisurely breakfast I went and found Karen in the main building, but a villa would be available for them soon. She was sat stuffing her face with Claudia and the social worker, a few guests in and eating, Carter sat in a corner with a newspaper. I fetched myself a cup of coffee.

  Rolf and Ingrid arrived ten minutes later.

  ‘Late for you?’ I noted.

  Rolf explained, ‘We ate in the small café in the cave, to try it. It is mostly for snacks.’ He turned his head. ‘How are you Karen?’

  ‘She snuck a rabbit into the room,’ the social worker complained.

  ‘Did it make a mess?’ Rolf asked.

  ‘Some poop, which I had to clean up.’

  Rolf addressed Karen. ‘It is OK to have a rabbit and feed it, if you clean up the poop.’

  ‘I’ll clean up the mess,’ Karen suggested. She lifted the small rabbit from a chair beside her for us to see, and dropped it back down.

  I faced the social worker. ‘Ten quid says she gets it onto the plane home.’

  They all laughed. Well, all apart from the social worker, who glared at me.

  Our tragic lady, Fay, came in and joined us, Ingrid making a fuss of her, but Fay had a common interest with our social worker since Fay now gave her time in Britain freely at The Samaritans’ telephone help line.

  Trespassing

  After breakfast, I sat with Rolf, Michelle, and the manager, and they listed for me attendance numbers, and then the minor customer complaints.

  I told the manager, ‘Chase up the builders, or hire someone, more rocks for the rock pool, more fish. It should be a rock pool, not a sandy pool.’

  Michelle cut in, ‘I found a place, and they do live fish for restaurants – all in good health obviously, and they’ll sell us them. So today we could get a hundred fish, shrimps by the million, and a few more of them crayfish type of things.’

  ‘Keep adding food late at night,’ I told her. ‘Especially leftover fish or calamari, till the biologist tells us we have a stable eco-system and that the fish won’t starve.’

  ‘She said that two or three shrimp a day will feed a fish, and we’ve already dumped in thousands, more to come.’

  ‘I need that biologist to scuba dive regular, and to check the health of the animals and to tell us – no more fish, more feed or less feed, or to tell us to get certain types of fish.’

  ‘She said that students would conduct a survey, and they would count fish and crustaceans and … measure the health somehow, so that will all come at some point.

  ‘In the ocean they count live crustaceans as the measure - of a healthy eco system, so they’ll do that here as well when it settles down, a two metre square pegged out underwater and then they count the small creatures and compare that number to the ocean.

  ‘But they said our number should be higher, the crustaceans should thrive, no big predator fish.’

  ‘Well, maybe we should get some big fish,’ I suggested. ‘For people to look at. Octopus?’

  ‘There’s one they caught,’ she told me.

  ‘Lonely octopus. Get more if you can.’

  ‘That live-fish shop would have some.’

  I told the manager, ‘Have a survey done, of the depth of the dirt all around the hotel, and the loose rock, we may build a second rock pool at some point, but I would want it deeper.’

  He responded, ‘Around the villas is two metres deep at most, not much top soil here. But if you go out the gate and on, the valley on the right has deep dirt, they have a water well sunk, twenty metre.’

  ‘Not our land,’ Rolf noted.

  ‘You know the farmer?’ I asked him.

  ‘Yes, we let him send his sheep here for many years.’

  ‘If we built something there it wouldn’t affect his sheep, and he makes some money. Access road could be built.’

  ‘There is a road up the middle,’ Rolf told me. ‘I went to see him a few times, his house is two kilometres up the valley. What would you want to build?’

  ‘A rock pool, twenty metres deep, a few artificial caves made from concrete, and we put in the fish and people scuba dive, ten months of the year, maybe twelve months.’

  ‘The cave divers say that a cave going that way is not so far from the surface,’ Rolf informed me. ‘Perhaps it could be opened.’

  I shook my head. ‘The access would be good, but the fish would swim away and we’d have nothing left for people to look at.’

  ‘So an access place built near a second rock pool,’ Rolf suggested.

  ‘We need to know how deep it could be, and if the farmer will cooperate,’ I began. ‘It would be twenty metres square at most.’

  The manager told me, ‘That valley is four hundred metres wide, so it would be a small building in the middle. Just some sheep nearby.’

  ‘Ask the farmer if he would be interested, and then if we can drill holes and test the ground.’

  The manager nodded. ‘I see him soon. He asks about the water turbine we have.’

&
nbsp; ‘How much electricity do we get from that?’ I keenly asked.

  ‘Most all of it now. So we save money less the capital costs.’

  ‘Good,’ I noted. ‘What about capacity here? It seems quiet - so we could build more villas.’

  Michelle put in, ‘It is quiet, yes, but that’s what people like. But if there were more villas it would still be quiet. Half the people go out to eat a few times during their stay, they visit a few places, so they’re only here half the time.’

  Rolf began, ‘My two friends will finish villas, our neighbour here builds his villa, and Jenny wants a second villa, so that will be about ten more people.’

  ‘Still be quiet,’ I noted. ‘I think we could make a nice family villa or two, below the Gun Room, down near the road, above the new villas. Same style but a bit bigger. Perhaps constructed in October onwards.’

  ‘My friends could fund them, but we do it ourselves,’ Rolf noted. ‘They are a very good investment.’

  I suggested, ‘Big double room for parents, two smaller rooms for kids, one with bunk beds maybe, get a family of seven people in. Kitchen for the mother to cook, table to eat at.’

  ‘Self-contained, yes,’ Rolf noted. ‘Jenny cooked in her villa she said.’

  ‘Your daughters made me eggs on toast this morning,’ I told him.

  ‘They learnt how to do that aged ten, and have yet to advance beyond eggs on toast.’

  We all laughed.

  ‘Some cooking lessons then,’ I suggested with a grin. I faced the manager. ‘The new cave access?’

  ‘The room is complete, to have emergency equipment in it, a phone, a small shower room and kit storage area. They now start the dives at that location, and some men swam back up the other way, passing divers coming down.’

  ‘And the freshwater cavern?’ I asked.

  ‘Goes on forever, into the hills, no end to it. They make three-day trips, some fantastic sights they say.’