Chapter 4

The Cortina wasn’t a true copy of Tina, my original one, which ended her life bullet-ridden and on the roof of a Lowestoft car yard. Tina Too was tweaked by my pal Grayson, with better suspension, brakes, and some work on the Lotus engine, as well as a competition gearbox and high-ratio differential. She was placid around the city, but very hard to beat on the open road.

Being Canary Yellow, she stood out in a crowd. I had used her several times at car shows as the site of our information table for the club. Bertie actually enjoyed driving her when we went to a country show, and I didn’t expect to have a lot of time behind the wheel for the FOTU display.

When the show weekend came around, Bertie was up to date with his tour organisation, so we had a clear couple of days to enjoy. I took us out of the city, and he took the wheel once we reached the Connects Plus Services on the M11. That Friday night, we slept at the hotel, and went to the display site on Saturday morning.

The gathering didn’t disappoint, with almost a couple of thousand cars lined up. Lena had got there early and saved enough spaces for our club, not an easy job with the officials worrying if there would be space for everyone. None of our club members had entered the concours, as they all had cars that weren’t quite right under the bodywork. We did, however, get a lot of praise from the sightseers, because all of ours were so well presented. With the money our members had, it wasn’t hard for them to have a good car.

I was admiring one of the cars, a Lancia Beta Spider from the seventies, with some of the race parts from the Stratos rally cars, with Hector, a lover of all Italian automobiles.

“Pity we can’t put these in the better rallies, Hector. At least you have your Bugatti collection for those.”

“It’s all very well, Maxie, but it’s having to put up with all those snooty owners that gets to me. At least this crowd appreciate the vehicles for what they are, and not for how much they’re worth. The cars at Blenheim, this year, don’t have a particular make, but I’ve been asked to finish off my Type 55 Roadster for next year. A little bird has told me that they’re working on getting one of the Type 41 replicas over from Italy. We haven’t had them in the country since Goodwood in the mid-eighties.”

“How close is it to original?”

“They’ve used one of the engines from a railcar. It dates from the late eighties and was based in Nice. I heard that they picked up four engines in a scrap auction. The club magazine said that they were building another one of the Royale Esders Coupes like the one in the old Schlumpf collection. Seeing that the original was rebodied in the thirties, it’s a good one to build. A fourteen-foot wheelbase would be hard to get around some of the roads here, so I expect that it will be trucked in.”

“That will be an interesting show to visit. How are they reconciling with the fact that it’s a replica?”

“The owner has refused to have it entered for any awards. He’s happy just to bring it as a display only. Being an all-Italian show, mainly Bugatti, they’ve said that they’re getting an Italian band for the music.”

“I think that’s the band that Bertie will be organising, so I may be there with my security company.”

“It should be a show that’s right up my street, I think that they’re trying to get a sample of every one of the model numbers in a line-up, along with the new models that VW have put out. I may be getting old, but having a car that goes well over two hundred miles an hour but has a problem of where your wives’ handbag is stored isn’t my cup of tea.”

“How close is the 55?”

“Almost there. I need to source a few bits and pieces. I may have to borrow a couple and get them copied. Grayson has some good contacts in that field.”

“He is certainly a good man to know.”

I left Hector and moved along the line of cars, thinking hard. I was trying to remember details of the Royale. It was huge, and the motor was big enough to be used in railcars after the production finished with the war coming along. It was, I thought, a straight eight of more than twelve litres. That, alone, gave enough space to fit a decent sized bomb inside the engine block, especially if it wasn’t expected to be started. Showing it as display only wouldn’t stop anyone wanting to hear it, but there could be someone on hand to explain why it wouldn’t start.

The weekend was good. We gave out a lot of information sheets and signed on a few new club members. I also looked at a lot of delightful cars that brought back memories of my childhood. On Sunday, we drove to Spalding and wandered around the Springfields Retail Outlets, leaving some money and loading bags into Tina to take home. We had a very filling meal at the Pied café and went back to our hotel for a drink, a light tea, and a night of loving.

Monday morning, I rang the number on the Jolenes’ card. Andy answered.

“Jolenes’. Andy speaking.”

“Andy, this is Maxine Woodward. I was talking to Maria when I last saw her about a range of Italian products. I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember any details to let her find the maker. I wonder if she and I could get together and discuss it again.”

“I’ll talk to her, Lady Woodward, and get her to meet you. She’s at the London shop this week. Would you like to see her there?”

“Actually, I’d like to repay her for the snack we had in Covent Garden. It was very nice, and the cake was a little spicy. I think that I’d like to try it again.”

“All right. I’ll get her to email you with a pick-up time. Thank you for wearing our products.”

Tuesday afternoon, I had a text on my phone.

‘PU Wed 10. Wear necklace.’

So, we were going to the basement to talk in private. I printed off all the information I could get on the Bugatti Royale, with a picture of the Esders Coupe and one of the railcar engines. I made sure that my bag was clear of anything that I didn’t need. That afternoon, I took Tina Too back to the lock-up and retrieved the Mercedes.

Wednesday morning, I was outside at the allotted time and Maria pulled up with Lena in the passenger seat. I got in the back, and we went off to Whitehall, going into the underground car park.

Maria took Lena through the security procedure as we tapped our cards on the panel in the lift, got them scanned by the soldier and had our bags checked. Inside the secure room, we were greeted by Rosemary and taken to Justins’ office. We were given drinks and offered seats before he got on with the business.

“Since you were last here, Maxine, we have put several teams into the field to monitor all of the three bands and the roadies. So far, the main result is with Emile meeting with a man that we have already suspected is a member of the FAI, an Italian revolutionary organisation that promotes direct action, which loosely means killing people who you don’t like.”

“That sounds logical, seeing his past-time.”

“The odd thing is that Klaus also met this man in a bar, on another occasion, if only for a few minutes. He didn’t show as a likely killer, given his musical history.”

“I’ve thought about that. The parents have no other children, and she would have been close to being too old to fall. I’ve looked at her internet details and there’s no trace of her taking time out to carry a child. What if Klause was adopted? His birthday was listed as January, ninety-two, and the first time he shows up as part of the family was in twenty-o-five, in high school as a child prodigy. He may have spent time in foster homes.”

“I’ll get our friends in Germany to follow that up. Now, there’s something you want to tell us?’

“Yes. On the weekend, I was talking to Hector at the car meeting. He’s been asked to finish restoring his Bugatti Type 55 sports car, in time for Blenheim next year. He told me that they’re planning an all-Italian show, with a sample of each of the original Bugatti models, as well as some of the later version and other Italian cars. He gave me two bits of other information that relates to what we’ve discussed. They’re talking about having a live band from Italy, and the ‘Che Macello’ band will be in the country on tour at that time. The other thing is that they have been in discussion with an Italian owner of a Bugatti Royale replica, currently being constructed. He has offered to show it as a display only, which means that it won’t need to be started to be eligible for judging.”

Lena laughed.

“That would be a sight to see. If they pack the engine with explosive, it will make one hell of a bang!”

I showed Justin the pictures and explained that the engine was a straight-eight of over twelve litres, and that the sump was huge.

“The other thing with this model is that there isn’t a gearbox attached to the back as we normally see it. Instead, in order to counteract the weight of the engine, the gears are in the separate gearbox in the centre of the car, which creates a second bomb case, and then there’s another driveshaft to the transaxle box.”

Justin and Rosemary looked at the pictures and the other information. Rosemary looked at Justin.

“If what you proposed is correct, Maxine, that engine is big enough to carry a two or three megaton warhead. The blast would totally destroy everything for about five miles, and the fall-out would be a lot wider. It would certainly make Oxford and Bicester uninhabitable for a very long time. If someone was looking towards the explosion, there would be flash blindness almost as far as London, as well as other places up to fifty miles away. I’ve taken in what you said, last time, Maxine, and this would be truly catastrophic.”

Justin took over.

“It’s a good job we have some time to prepare. We’ll keep the teams working on the band members. Hopefully, we’ll catch one of them in the act. If we take the two bands out of the picture, we can concentrate on the new one from Italy. Did you get a name of this Royale owner?”

“No, but I expect that if you talk to the Owners Club, they’ll be able to tell you. It could be as an approach from someone from the Customs to make sure that the imports go smoothly.”

“Look, thank you for this. We’ll get our tactical group looking at the problem. Lena, if you stay, we’ll get you up to speed on this. Maria will take you home, Maxine. I’d like to say that this has been helpful, but it’s going to give me bad dreams.”

Maria drove me home, via her dress shop where I tried a few new things on and only bought one. August and September passed without any upheavals. We had a club display at the Silverstone Festival, with some of our members entering their historic racing cars. Hampton Court and Blenheim were far over my social strata, they passed with just a mention in our club newsletter.

In October, I had a text on my phone, from Maria, telling me that she would pick me up the next morning to show me some new stock. Once again, when she arrived, Lena was with her, and we went to Whitehall again. Down in Justins’ office, he was deadly serious.

“Maxine and Lena, I have a few things to tell you. The first is that the team following Emile were behind him when he left a French venue, as the band was playing, and drove ten miles to the house of a person that we had already identified as a possible target. The target, and the officers in his house, were all wearing stab vests under their jackets, just in case he got into the house.”

He looked at his notes.

“He approached the front door, rang the bell and called out that he was from the targets’ office and that there was important information for him. An agent opened the door, on the chain, to get a spray of gas in his face. As he fell back, Emile barged the door and entered the house, brandishing his knife. The followers, by now, had caught up and rushed inside, catching Emile unawares. He was shot, from the front and back, by the agents, who take no chances.”

I wasn’t surprised that the death was the outcome but hadn’t heard about him dying. Justin continued.

“The agents followed through with an organised plan. They took his body to his car and arranged a high-speed meeting with a bridge support, on the way back to the venue. It was also accompanied by an incendiary device and whispers to the local police to not look too closely. As far as the band is concerned, Emile went for a drive and left the road at speed. He was cremated, for the second time, in a small ceremony and life, for ‘Dominerter’, goes on. The target was told not to say anything, and his home was tidied up.”

Lena nodded.

“The rest of the band aren’t suspect, are they?”

“No. As far as it goes, they seem to be a bunch of lads with just music and sex on their minds. The surveillance on them has been reduced until they do something out of the ordinary. So far, the only one that has stepped out of line in ‘Exarctics’ is Klaus, by meeting a known FAI agent. The Russians are exceedingly regular in what they do. It’s a constant round of martial arts and band work. Their only fun is visiting a few gay bars.”

“Did you find out about Klaus’ childhood?”

“We have done. It took many weeks and some highly placed suggestions to the right people, but we did get his Social Services file from the German authorities. Our good bass player, that has only some minor drug cases against him, is actually the closest one to a revolutionary in the band. He was taken into care in March ’93, by the police raiding the address of Wolfgang Grams and Birgit Hoyefeld. Grams was shot on a railway station while resisting arrest, and Hoyefeld was arrested at the time. He was placed with several families over the years, with all of them reporting that he had a terrible anger and had killed a number of family pets. It was only when they put him with the last couple that he discovered music.”

“What had his real parents done to have them in a shoot-out?”

“They, my friends, were the last two active members of the Baader-Meinhof gang, more commonly known as the Red Army Faction. You may be old enough to have heard about the hijacking of an Air France airliner, which was raided by the Israeli commandos at Entebbe. There were two of the gang helping the hijack. After nineteen-ninety, searches in East Germany discovered paperwork linking the gang to the Stasi, who had armed and trained them.”

“But he hasn’t done anything after meeting the FAI member?”

“No. We’ve pulled all of their bank records, and he deposited a large amount, the next time he was near his bank, so I think that he was getting his payment for a job well done. In that game, you don’t issue invoices. So far, looking at the records, we’ve been able to pinpoint times that the other two have made deposits outside normal band payments, that also correlate with the shooting deaths that we know about. We’re going back to see if we can find the extra payments at times before we had started picking up the assassinations.”

Lena looked at him.

“Justin. I’m not well up with normal spook procedures, but this is looking as if the FAI were controlling Emile and Klaus, but not the other two. If nothing has happened with Elly and Butch, could it be that they’ve been told to go quiet, until after the main attack? Or, at least, if they’re still alive after that.”

“You could be right, Lena, but we’re still keeping an eye on them. Now, the other thing is that we’ve now discovered, from the Bugatti Owners Club and the Blenheim organisers, who will be bringing old cars to the show. Two are out of the UK, and you already know one. Two are from France and are long-time collectors. Their cars will be transported by road and will be held in customs with enough time to be checked. The fifth is that Royale from Turin. We haven’t pushed, but it was suggested that it will come by sea, in a container, leaving from the port of Genoa.”

He looked at his notes.

“The owner is a Count Luigi Spanasiotta. He is a very rich man with several businesses. He has a stake in an agency that looks after musicians, actors, and dancers. It is the one that handles ‘Che Macello’. He also runs an import/export company out of Genoa. That, alone, raises a danger flag. The port of Genoa is well-known for being controlled by two Mafia gangs, who have split the port between them. The Count isn’t known to have any links with those gangs, but he must have to be able to ship things in and out of the port.”

Lena grinned.

“That would make it very easy to have a certain container put on board a ship without any customs inspection.”

“It does, and, unfortunately, also makes it easy to arrive in this country, if enough money is spread around. We can’t plan anything more until we get confirmation on times, dates, and places. If you make an appointment with Maria, as soon as you get more information, we can start planning further.”

We left his office and Maria took us to Soho. I stayed with Lena, and we found ourselves at our usual restaurant, to have lunch. Lena was quiet, until we were on our coffee.

“You know, Maxie, love. I was thinking a big bundle of C4 until he mentioned the other. If that’s the case, it would make much of Oxfordshire a wasteland. We have to stop it.”

I put my hand on her arm.

“We will, Lena, we will.”

I went into the office with her and checked that things were running smoothly. The security side was flat out with the summer tours winding up. We had a few that were set for winter, and we usually called for volunteers over the Christmas period. The investigation part was quiet, but that wasn’t a problem, with all the other things going on.

The car club was slowly getting big enough to take over the other desks. We were organising visits to events, driving tours, track days, and keeping up with new members. We had one girl working full-time on a monthly newsletter, with stories, a calendar of events, and a ‘sale and wanted’ section. She was compiling a list of contacts for parts and automotive work to be added as a Christmas bonus. The biggest part of the club was with owners of ‘kit cars’, the Austin Seven Hillclimb models and the Caterham derivatives, as well as those with the AC Cobra and GT40 look-alikes. These took up more than seventy percent of our office time, and we were now attracting overseas members, so needed to start organising get-togethers in other countries. The turn-over from the club was enough to pay its way and then some extra.

Things, for me, stayed normal, until the end of November. I had a text from Maria to tell me that there was some new, and exciting, stock to look at. The following day, I joined her and Lena on a trip to Whitehall. In Justins’ office, he was very serious, sitting us down without any offer of drinks.

“Ladies, I’ve brought you in because there have been a few developments that you should be aware of. The first is that Elly and Butch are now out of the picture. They were followed to a house where another one of our likely targets lived. They parked some way away and walked in with both carrying guns. It’s a rural area and there are plenty of trees around the house. The agents stayed well back as they split up. They texted the guards in the house that an attempt was going to happen. Elly took up a position where she could see the front of the house, while Butch went to where he could see the side. What is odd that they chose vantage points where the two main rooms that the target used are located.”

He took a sip of a glass of water.

“The French had enough time to set up the trap. They had life-size cutouts of the target. He is a very well-known figure in French politics. They set the cutouts next to the two main rooms and pulled the curtains on a countdown. Elly and Butch both fired at the same time, thinking that they had the shot. That was the last thing that they did. The French have no desire to parade murderers on the media.”

I thought that this was a much deadlier case than anything I had been involved with. He looked at his notes.

“The bodies have been incinerated in a nearby furnace. The guns have been destroyed. Their personal effects were used to create a false trail. They were carrying their passports and banking cards, so a couple of agents, dressed to look like the two, drove their car to a distant railway station, where they bought two one-way tickets to Belarus. The car was left in the carpark, unlocked. The target made an important speech, two days later. On the face of it, the attempt failed, and the assassins have made a run for it.”

I was thinking about that.

“Surely, their controllers would be suspicious. Are you still monitoring their house?”

“We are. A week after the speech, the house was firebombed. The culprits were arrested a few miles away. They’re members of a small wing of the National Rally, a group not known for direct action, more likely to protest. From what I’ve been told, it’s a very small wing, likely to be a lot smaller, by now.”

“No prisoners?”

“No, not with the stakes that this case has thrown up. Stakes that have got a lot bigger this week, which is why I’ve called you in. The Palace will announce a State Visit from the Italian President, set for next August, with a number of the Italian government joining the party. If the planned assassination happens, we’ll be facing an unsure future in this country, as well as Italy losing many of its leaders. Our friends, in Rome, have been made aware of most of what we know, and will be monitoring the revolutionary groups, as well as the Mafia gangs. We have told them that we have it in hand, and that they can move whenever they see a gathering of armed men.”

Marianne Gregory © 2025