Roskov Book 6 Read online

‘Do we charge more for it?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, now each dive team pays more, but it is not a huge profit centre compared to tourists.’

  I told Rolf, ‘If we made a rock pool nearby, it must be open to the public, to get more divers, and to make money.’

  ‘The local paper already reports the rock pool, and the dive school asks that it can soon start to use it for larger groups.’

  ‘Can we … set times, for our customers and the divers, different times?’ I asked.

  Michelle told me, ‘Our customers like early morning and later afternoon, so dive groups could come from 11am to 3pm, but each dive is just forty minutes, so two groups is an hour and a half.’

  ‘Great, tell the dive clubs they come and dive at noon and then at 1pm,’ I told her. ‘We can try that and see. They can start straight away, no one will object to a few bubbles seen.’

  The manager noted, ‘Winter storms could reach the rock pool, water and sand and debris.’

  ‘So … later in the year we make a wall, a metre high,’ I told him. ‘Then push dirt up against it on the pool side, flat on the south side to stop the swells.’

  He made a note.

  Rolf noted, ‘I have seen a few bad storms here in late October, you would not believe what the ocean can look like. It looks like the North Sea.’

  The manager responded, ‘If the storm comes from the south or southwest, yes; I have lived here most of my life. We don’t get so many storms, but they can damage boats. People drown sometimes.’

  ‘Are the weather forecasts accurate?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, mostly, so we prepare for it. In October we remove things from the beach, the glass walls, but these villas are strong, and low down. Last year, and the water in the cave goes up and down ten centimetres, from the storm pressure at sea.’

  I faced Rolf. ‘Can you price up a second rock pool?’

  ‘They are cheap.’

  ‘I’ll make some drawings, so get the builder here and we can chat about it. We need to cover the costs.’

  ‘That next valley looks ugly,’ Michelle noted. ‘Rocks and clumps of bushes, narrow beach full of rocks and old trees.’

  I considered that and faced Rolf. ‘A future purchase, four hundred metres of the valley plus the beach?’

  ‘It can be cleaned up, yes. This place was not seen as attractive land before you had them clean it up. Landscapers, builders and concrete is cheap.’

  ‘I’d build a small complex of apartments, sold to people who might want to rent them out, as here, but I would not let the new guests just walk in here. Over there I would have what this place lacks, a café and a good restaurant, small supermarket.’

  Michelle told me, ‘Nearest small supermarket is ten kilometres, good restaurant is twenty!’

  I faced Rolf. ‘So that place serves this place, not the other way around.’

  ‘I have backers that would keenly invest today, so we don’t worry about the money to build it. I can check planning permission.’

  I asked Michelle, ‘What about shop supplies here?’

  ‘We do a brisk trade, shavers, soap and shampoo, newspapers, then bread and biscuits, butter, stuff like that. Guests can fill in a form and drop it to us, and later in the day they get it, added to their bill.

  ‘Some like to eat in here, some like to hide away, and the families like their mum to cook in the villa. They have microwaves and basic electric hobs, large fridge.’

  ‘The second room here, has it been used?’ I asked.

  ‘We haven’t advertised it much yet, but the divers meet there regular and the caretaker had a family gathering, and a wedding party was held there.’

  ‘Tomorrow night, guest chef, and our group will use it.’

  She made a note.

  ‘Invite our neighbour and his family, the old caretaker, open the bar. And Pascal at the Diver Federation.’

  ‘I was in school with him,’ the manager reported with a smile. ‘And he couldn’t swim and hated the water.’

  We laughed.

  ‘He learnt later on,’ I quipped. ‘How’re the stables doing?’

  The manager reported, ‘They make money, they are happy, and I think they have customers most days. Always someone wants the stables’ villas, to be awake at dawn.’

  I asked Rolf, ‘Did we get any work for Eva?’

  ‘Yes, and she has appeared in an advert, naked on a horse but from behind. Agosto reports some extra work.’

  I asked the manager, ‘Any problems or issues you want to raise?’

  ‘It is as I expect it, some small problems but nothing important, we don’t rebuild the place. We get more people eating at the pool bar than we think, we must make it bigger and more fridges, but it makes money so it is not a burden.’

  ‘And the bar down on the beach?’

  ‘Some days they sell just two drinks, next day forty drinks, but it is mostly quiet. We have one pool boy there, sometimes three at main the pool bar. This hotel, the grounds, can handle sixty people easily, but we don’t have sixty people.’ He shrugged.

  ‘The numbers will increase,’ I told him. ‘And next year will see more, villas finished in the winter time. Almost double the numbers.’

  ‘Still there is room,’ he noted.

  Michelle put in, ‘Jenny’s friends were the closest thing to party animals that we had, and they ate and drank around the pool bar and others joined them, so for three days it was quite busy there.’

  ‘They were well behaved?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, no issues, but they staggered back.’

  ‘There’s a Russian that we know, booked in, so … keep an eye on him if he upsets other guests. If he does, tell him that I’ll put his face in the newspapers.’

  ‘I’ll have sharp words,’ she threatened.

  ‘There’s a security issue that you two need to be aware of, and … not tell anyone. This conspiracy in my home town … the police grabbed houses owned by a Russian, Dimitri Kilakov, worth twenty million. He may want his revenge on me.

  ‘If a Russian books a villa here, check them out, and if a gang of Russians turn up be careful. Smile nicely then call the police to check them out, call me with names.’

  ‘I know the police chief, he will help us,’ the manager assured me.

  A pool boy stepped in, many words gushed out in French towards the manager before he withdrew.

  The manager stood. ‘Police rush to our neighbour.’

  We all stood.

  ‘Call him now,’ I ordered.

  He looked up a number and dialled, a few sentences exchanged. Phone down, he told me, ‘A journalist with a big camera was caught on his land, they beat him.’

  ‘What will the police do?’ I asked, now worried.

  ‘The journalist is deported, our neighbour is not in trouble.’

  I faced Rolf. ‘That photographer was coming here.’

  He nodded. ‘But he would need a very long lens, and Jenny does not walk around naked.’

  ‘So why did he bother?’ I posed.

  ‘I find out,’ the manager offered, and we left him to it.

  Finding the gang around the pool bar, Carter close by and now alert, I told them, ‘A photographer with a long lens tried to sneak in, over our neighbour’s land, and he got beaten up.’

  ‘What can he see?’ Jenny asked. ‘We don’t go around naked?’

  ‘Maybe he thinks we do, some shots of Claudia.’

  ‘Everyone has seen her already,’ Ingrid noted. ‘A distant shot would be worth no money.’

  I faced Carter. ‘When we get his name, run it. Just in case.’

  He nodded.

  Later, the manager reported that the man was a well-known French idiot, often in trouble, a long record of trespassing. And not at all a Russian hitman disguised as a reporter.

  The silver lining

  In the morning the shit started, a British tabloid newspaper “The Star” suggesting that the man had been beaten-up by my staff, or even by myself.

  What the hotel manager informed me was that the man was a French freelancer, and therefore he could not be deported, so the man had been charged with trespass and he faced a fine and a few days in prison, since around here they valued their privacy.

  I called Trish and she read me the article, so I called The Sun, who would run a counter-story, Rolf considering High Court legal action, but that would take months. Besides, if people thought that sneaky reporters got themselves beaten up around here then that was fine by me.

  When a BBC TV crew turned up an hour later I was shocked, that they would come all this way for this. But they hadn’t, they were here to film “Lifestyles Of The Rich” around Corsica, Nice and Monte Carlo.

  I fetched them cold drinks and we set-up on the roof of the main villa, a great backdrop for the segment. I had sunglasses on, a white shirt and jeans, and I figured that I appeared casual and relaxed. But figuring that the sunglasses would make me look like a poser I took them off.

  ‘Mister Roskov, what happened with the photographer that tried to sneak in?’

  ‘We got most of the detail from the news, he never made it this far. East of us is a private estate, and he was caught crossing it, and around here they don’t like that - he could have been legally shot dead.

  ‘What we know came from local news outlets, but this morning the local police told us that the man had a long history of trespass as a sneaky photographer.’

  ‘You never saw him?’

  ‘No, he never got to this property, and if a photographer wanted some snaps I’d invite him in for a cold beer. We have no rules about taking photos around here, more the better, but we would stop someone taking snaps of nude guests on the beach.’

  ‘You have a second British kid here, this one from a London foster home?’

  ‘Yes, from Wembley in London, and despite the plastic leg she runs faster than the adults. She loves the rock pool and snorkelling.’ I pointed at it.

  ‘Is this trip a wind down for you, from the stress of the past year?’

  I took a moment. ‘They say … that if you suppress stress that it doesn’t go away … and that may be true, and I did suppress the stress for a year, I carried on and made sure that the people around me were taken care of and not stressed as well, and my parents are easy to stress.

  ‘I paid other people to investigate because I was too high profile, and by doing so I helped to shield the twins and others from the dangers and the stress.’

  ‘You were conflicted?’

  ‘Very much so. I wanted to be here, with the twins, not worrying about the safety of kids in a brothel in Portugal. I was angry … because that was not my job, we have police for that, just that I couldn’t trust the local police.

  ‘So I put on brave smile for the girls and … I lay awake thinking about how we’d get the kids to safety.’

  ‘They found a second grave site, thirty-four kids so far.’

  ‘The number will rise I fear, it was going on for a long time. Decades.’

  ‘Sixteen Portuguese police arrested, two retired police officers,’ he informed me.

  I posed, ‘How many more brothels are there, in Spain and Greece and Romania? This will never end, just that the people change.’

  ‘The Sun has collected three million pounds for you.’

  ‘They have? Wow. But now I can do some good with it, starting in my home town and then moving outwards. I’ll start a campaign for a gay rape law for sure, and I have ideas for the homeless in Leicester.

  ‘A solicitor has created a charity for me, with the directors of my existing charity for pensioners in Leicester.’

  ‘Will you investigate crime in the future, serious crimes?’

  ‘I … would have to sit down with a few people and discuss that, since I would be giving those people some stress and putting them at risk. If it was just me … then probably.’

  ‘Your documentary broke the viewing records, Monday night in the UK, BBC, ITV and Sky agreed to show it on the same night.’

  ‘I did it in one take, so I hope it was OK; it’s odd standing in front of a green screen.’

  ‘The technicians suggested you did it in one go, no continuity breaks.’

  ‘I did an hour and a bit, then we slotted-in the FBI, then I filmed a second section, the pursuit of Roger Pearson.’

  ‘Twenty-four suicides in Leicester, four murder-suicides…’

  ‘The guilty men knew that the police would get around to them eventually. So I think they had some stress as well.’

  ‘How much did the Prime Minister know?’

  ‘He knew well before we shot Children In Need, he’s a good actor and spy, and he supported me with every request I made, I have nothing but praise for him.

  ‘But when he wanted it wrapped-up quickly, men arrested, I argued the case because we wanted to get the kids to safety first and we wanted enough evidence to make the convictions stick.’

  ‘He granted a delay?’

  ‘Yes, and Mi6 tracked Roger Pearson from Leicester to Portugal, then we had to move early on the kids when a bus turned up to take them … to take them away, or to a shallow grave.

  ‘It was a close call … and it could have all gone wrong, and I was pacing up and down at home, a hundred calls a day to the intelligence agents and the FBI.

  ‘And my newspaper was behaving as if they were just getting the information when we really knew the full story, but we wanted to stay inside the law to start with, and crank up the heat slowly to put pressure on the gang.

  ‘We couldn’t print what we knew because we figured that the kids would just be killed and disposed of, no evidence left behind, so we had the stress of balancing the two aspects – the safety of the kids or getting the truth out there early.’

  ‘You’ll pay yourself back the money you spent, from the newspaper fund?’

  ‘Of course not, I’ll use that money for wrongful convictions. If people are sending me their money then I have a responsibility to honour their wishes – and use it for what it was intended for.’

  ‘It was intended to pay you back!’

  ‘It was called a battle fund, so people think I’ll battle the system, and I will. But if the taxman allows it, I could put the money spent on the investigation down as a charitable donation.’

  ‘Hold there,’ the interviewer called. ‘Can we film you with the kid?’

  ‘Sure, but I’ll check permission with the social worker first.’

  Half an hour later I was filmed walking to the beach, Karen between myself and Claudia, hands held, and at the beach I was seen taking Karen into the water on my back – plastic leg left in the sand.

  Final shot, and Karen was filmed on a young horse that was being well behaved and well held – just in case it was not well behaved.

  The BBC had to rush off, a schedule to keep.

  Back with the gang, Rolf noted, ‘This photographer sneaks in, you get blame in this newspaper, then you film a mini-movie about our hotel for everyone to see. Did you plan it that way?’

  I smiled widely. ‘I paid that photographer to get beaten up, yes.’ I faced our sad lady, Fay. ‘How you getting on?’

  ‘Being surrounded by nice people helps, and the twins are so sweet, so it takes my mind off it.’

  ‘When you get back, I’ll come do the phones with you at the Samaritans.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Why not?’ I posed.

  ‘You’re supposed to have training first…’

  ‘I think they’ll waive it for me.’

  ‘The women callers will be pleased.’

  I faced Rolf. ‘My documentary broke the records in Britain.’

  ‘It has been shown in Sweden with subtitles, to be shown in Denmark soon, today maybe.’

  Trish called as I sipped my cold beer. ‘That American chat show you did, they want you back, good money if it’s an exclusive and if you don’t talk to anyone else for a month or two.’

  ‘I promised the FBI that I would do talks with them, so tell the chat show people that. And that the time limit is four weeks.’

  ‘They’ll show your documentary in America this week, a few channels. And it’s been seen in Australia and New Zealand.’

  ‘Do they buy our posters in Australia?’ I teased.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I just gave the BBC an interview, the girl – Karen - being filmed.’

  ‘I’ll look out for it.’

  ‘Let me know what the reaction is to the snapper getting beaten up.’

  ‘Will do.’

  I took a walk on the beach with the twins and Jenny, few other guests about, and it was great to just relax here, little worry about photographers with long lens – at least for now.

  In the inviting blue water we swam out, then we lay in the shallows, the water close to the shore being warm to rest in. At the quiet beach sundeck we got cold drinks, the pool boy on duty there finally having something to do today, and we sat in the shade staring out. The hours passed quickly at this very slow pace.

  At 5pm I tried the rock pool with mask and fins on, and it was a huge place to swim around in, most of it still sand. But where the rocks were grouped together the fish were plentiful, lobsters seen, and many of the rocks seemed to have things growing on them.

  As I exited the pool, Fay and our social worker started to swim, and up at the pool bar I found Claudia with Karen – Karen now looking tanned.

  I sat, still damp. ‘How is it, being a mother?’

  Claudia gave me an exasperated look. ‘She runs fast, and screams loud, and she never tires out.’

  ‘Wine, give her wine, that will slow her down,’ I joked.

  ‘I am tempted.’

  ‘Karen, how is your holiday?’ I asked as she ate.

  ‘Can I live here?’

  ‘Uh … no, sadly, the police in England say you must live at that house. When you’re sixteen you can come live here. We can take you on holiday, but they won’t let you live with us. Next month you can visit Germany maybe.’

  Squinting in the bright sunlight, I faced Claudia, noting her tanned shoulders. ‘How’s work?’

  ‘They start the TV series in September, already I have script for twelve shows.’