Chapter 6
When we went back to the pool, Bertie was snuffling, a sure sign that he was starting to wake up. Jenny grinned.
“He’s a world class snorer. How do you put up with it?”
“He’s much better than he was when I first met him. He wondered why no girl would stay the night, so I told him to see a doctor to fix his deviated septum. I think that he appreciated my telling him the truth. Good earplugs help as well.”
I went to Bertie and gave him a kiss on his forehead. His eyes opened.
“Come on Chainsaw, you need to go inside for a drink before you pop up like a piece of burnt toast. Our neighbours, here, want to employ you as an alarm siren. I told them that you already have a steady job at the fire station.”
Bertie stood up, said hello to Dave and Jenny, and I took him inside and up to our room, where I rubbed cream over him, then rubbed it in with parts of my body.
We had a lovely holiday and went back to London to continue building our financial empire. One of the first things we had to deal with was changing the ‘Che Macello’ tour, to fill in the space that the removal of ‘Exarctics’ had opened. We were able to call on some old friends, the band that had taken Bertie away from me when we had first met. They were big enough to draw the crowds, and I could only hope that the Italians were good enough to make the show worth seeing.
The tour started in late June and finished in London in the middle of August. The gig at Blenheim was the last show for ‘Che Marcello’, with ‘Dominerter’ going back to Europe after the last big show. As far as I knew, there were no criminals in that band, the only one left, with an interesting background, was Klaus. He hadn’t cropped up as certain, just a suspect of the strangling deaths, and, possibly, the garrotting’s.
During January, I heard nothing from anyone, until Maria sent me a text in the last week to give her a call at the Birmingham shop. When I did, she invited both me and Lena to a special showing of some new spring outfits that had arrived. It was for the Wednesday, and to arrive at three and park behind the shop, describing its location. I called Lena to tell her that I would pick her up for the trip north and to pack an overnight bag.
When we arrived, it looked like an ordinary, two-storey house that had been converted. The driveway went along one side and led me to the parking area at the back. I parked the Mercedes between the A4 Quattro and a BMW with very dark side windows. As we got out, the back door of the building opened to show Maria beckoning for us to come inside.
“Good morning, ladies, come on in. Andy’s in the cool room, sorting out some furs that need to be shipped to the owner. I’ve got a customer in the changing room. If you go up the stairs, Dave will meet you in the office.”
We went up the stairs and Dave was there to escort us into a room that looked like our office in the apartment. There was the usual big desk, with the obligatory monitor and a computer on the floor next to it. Behind the desk sat a man who rose to meet us. A man that I’ve met, a long time ago. He held out his hand to shake. I took it and smiled.
“Hello, Professor M. You gave a couple of lectures on terrorism when I was at Hendon. It was fascinating stuff, and a lot of it went way over my head at the time. Since then, I’ve seen more of life and found out that it wasn’t so black and white as I thought at the time.”
He laughed.
“The Maxine Fawcett of then was a babe in arms compared to who you are now, my dear. I’ve looked at the files where you have cropped up as a serious crime fighter. The force was the loser when you were hounded out, but you did get your own back by putting the officer that booted you out into prison.”
He shook Lenas hand.
“You, Miss Sergeant, have a file almost big enough to sit on. I’m very glad to meet a true heroine. You too, are a loss to our armed forces, but I can see why you had to be demobbed. Now, sit down and we can talk about the current case that David has brought to my attention.”
We took a couple of chairs while Dave stood by the door. The professor, or should I just say, ‘M’, sat at the desk.
“Now, ladies. Let me tell you what I know, and then we can expand on that. From what Andy and Maria have explained, there is a group operating out of a command room in Whitehall, that Maria calls the ‘Herb Garden’. It is run by a couple, Rosemary Smith and Justin Thyme. Both of them have spent some years in America, as exchanges with FBI or CIA agents, to learn how the other half operates. That’s where, I think, they were indoctrinated into their radical thinking.”
“That’s what we decided when we had lunch with the Bartons, last year.”
“Since then, my unit has been quietly checking the questions that you asked. The SAGE office is, indeed, tasked with locating areas where they can expand. Greenland and some parts of South America have been made known, publicly, but the idea that they think they can walk in and take over Great Britain is something so crazy that it never crossed our minds.”
Lena grinned.
“Maxie should be writing thrillers, sir. She has a knack of thinking up ridiculous scenes. I thought that her idea of a nuke was over the top, but Rosemary latched onto it as soon as it was proposed, as if it was a wonderful idea.”
“Exactly. It did serve as a viable concept. Now, the PARSLEY group are, we have found out, a hit squad. Whatever he told you about the French, they are no more bloodthirsty than us. They’re made up of very committed paramilitary types, drawn from the various militia groups that have come to the fore. Many have been taken on by ICE as an outlet for their hatred, but the worst of the worst are now roaming the world, taking out opponents to their brand of thinking. Those members of the band doing the killing of the influencers that were supporting their aims were eliminated. We’ve looked at the records, and have decided that Klaus is the other assassin, working for them, and has been stood down so that he drops off the radar.”
“It shows how well they hid themselves, if three were killing one lot and the other was killing the others. It makes you wonder if the two Russians had anything that they were doing.”
“I believe that they’ve been placed in the entertainment industry to monitor anti-Russian entertainers, and to create a list that will be acted on as the Russian expansion continues. The desertion story was just too easy to be true, without help. Now. We’ve had agents in France, examining the Royales in the museum there. They’ve reported that the aluminium gearbox is big enough to contain more than enough of a virus to contaminate an area the size of the Blenheim grounds. Our technical guys have made a mock-up of a drivetrain, taken from dimensions of a real one, and have developed a way that seems feasible. If the motor contains a short-barrel weapon, aimed at the gearbox, it could fire a projectile that would shatter the box and release the virus. It wouldn’t be loud enough to make everyone run, as it could have a silencer. That way, it would take people dropping dead before the alarm is raised. By then, it would be too late to put a lid on things.”
“So, if there was a way we could add an armour plating to the box, we may be able to let them carry on with their plan, up to the moment of the attempt? The projectile wouldn’t need a lot of force to penetrate aluminium. The extra plate would only need to look like the original and be glued in place.”
“Maxine, you really are one of a kind. We’ve decided to go along with what Thyme has already put in place and do the work inside the customs shed. He’ll go through with that, to make you think that the plan has been stopped in its tracks, and it will be, by our people who will be in a container in the shed. They have all the dimensions to make a realistic looking cover, in Kevlar and other material we now have. They’ll have the equipment, on hand, to manufacture something that will slow down the projectile at the muzzle, which they would be able to verify when they see the engine. If it is, in reality, a nuke, then we’ll have the celebrities quietly taken away before the detonation. We could have them all taken into a meal tent, with a coach behind it to take them away. If they’re told, by their own security, that they’ll have to be taken to safety, they won’t question it.”
“What about the plotters? I can’t see that the band has much to do with things, except provide a reason for the Count and his friends to be there.”
“We’ll organise enough manpower to round them up, if they’re still on site. Whatever it is, the main players will be far away, and we can nab them as they escape. If it’s the virus, I’m sure that the band was considered expendable.”
There wasn’t much more we could do except plan, and both of us were given our responsibilities for the day of the big show. Although Hector was the only club member to be invited to the main group of concours cars, there would be at least another fifteen hundred expensive vehicles on the Palace grounds on the Saturday. I would keep close to Maria and monitor the Count, while Lena would be with the tactical team to round up whoever else comes to light on the day. We would both be in the team that looked at the car when it arrived. We stayed the night in a hotel and spent the next morning looking at outfits.
For extra knowledge, we went to see Hector. He was surprised at our request, but he did have a huge library full of Bugatti literature. The thing about the Royale was that it was so long, with the huge engine at the front. Every model had the driver and passengers almost sitting over the rear axle, so the concept of having the gears located under the driving position, connected to the motor by a short shaft, was a simple variation of the normal gearbox. Lena told Hector that we had been bitten by the Bugatti Bug and were curious about this part of the design.
We also looked at pictures of the engines, as they looked towards the end of production, and noted where the drive was, leading to the gearbox. The main thing about the gearbox was that it was quite bulbous, very different to the conical shapes of today. A bullet, travelling just above the drive shaft, would strike it at a slightly inclined plane, so causing more of a tear than a simple hole. We were sure that the team would know all this, but it was good to know what we would be looking at.
That year was quite busy with tours and social outings. We were summoned to Whitehall, just the one time, to be told that the container would be a forty-foot one, and would also contain the Counts’ own transport, a new Bugatti Veyron. The Count would be flying in, with his driver taking the Veyron when the Royale was put on the transporter. The arrival, in Southampton, was a week before the event. Thyme said that we could see the film of the customs shed after the car had left.
The band tour was surprising. ‘Che Marcello’ were really good, in a sort of cheesy way. Maria had spoken to me when I was in her London shop, one day, and told me that the reason for the big turn-over of players was that the three core members were very choosy. Agents had spoken to a few who had left the band, and the main reason was that they were genuine musicians, and not happy with flaunting their pecs to generate fan frenzy.
Being aware of what to look for, I was particularly interested when a big war game session was announced, to take place in Northern Australia and the waters around New Guinea. It would be a combined exercise for the Americans, Australians, New Zealanders and some of the Pacific Islands, and would run for a month. The majority of the US forces would be going from the UK, in early August, leaving their heavy equipment behind, and then going directly home. Another deployment was going to arrive from the US in September and was being assembled.
Another odd thing was visitors complaining about the slow service from the US Embassy, and being told that there were more staff taking leave than usual, but things would be back to normal soon. Whatever normal was in American Embassies these days.
We had a few meetings with Dave and the Bartons, finalising plans. The day that the container arrived, it was taken to the customs shed, along with several others, for X-Ray and possible inspection. Ms’ people had been keeping the shed under surveillance for a week before that. Nothing was done on the first night it was there, and Lena and I were in a container, put into the shed on the second day, with six guys, a box of K-Rations and a Portaloo.
That night, we opened up our container, then broke the seal on the other, wheeling both cars out into an open space. Two guys looked over the Veyron, while the rest of us crawled under the Royale. One guy had a unit, similar to a stud finder, which he passed over the rear of the engine, finding a place that was thinner, big enough for a half-inch bullet. There was a similar thin point on the gearbox. The two places were covered. The engine got a piece of armour plate that was shaped to look like the original engine, and the gearbox had a flexible cover, which was securely glued and blended with the existing unit. Unless the car was up on a hoist, the coverings were undetectable.
Our container was moved, the next day, while the car one was opened two days later, after several others, with the driver getting a bit heated about the inconvenience to his employer, the Count. I was told that he seemed very agitated. In the meantime, there had been one discovery of a huge drug haul, which was probably not in Thymes’ plans. The two cars finally left Southampton for the trip north, with the Royale on a truck heading for Blenheim, with just enough time to be polished up before put in place. The Veyron went to London, to pick up the Count, who was cooling his heels in the Ritz, having arrived two days before.
Lena and I were summoned to Whitehall and shown a film of the cars taken out of the container, the Royale pushed up a ramp and the sump pan removed. The vision was as you would expect of a surveillance camera, in low light, but an obvious bomb shape was taken from the oil sump, after some suspenseful minutes, the sump cover was replaced, and the cars returned to the container, before the team tidied up and got in their own one.
All of us were ecstatic at the success of the operation, and we all had a glass of bubbly to celebrate, with Rosemary proposing a toast to me for saving so many lives. Lena and I were told to attend the event, to help rounding up any of the terrorists. Back at my apartment, Lena and I had a glass of wine and proposed a toast to ourselves.
“I hope we convinced the Herbs that we believed them, Maxie.”
“I think we did. If we hadn’t, we would never have left that room.”
“That film looked good. Not exactly like the shed where we were, but close enough, considering that we weren’t expected to have been there. The car looked a bit off, as if it was a fibreglass body. The whole thing looked like something out of Hollywood.”
“More like Tennessee, seeing that it’s one of their strongholds. What it did do was to put Rosemary and Thyme right into the soup, once the Bartons report to the good guys. We just need to go through with the rest of it. By Monday, we’ll either be feted or dead.”
I didn’t have anything to do at Blenheim until the Friday, which was when the band would be playing in the afternoon, when I would make sure that my security people were all in place and that the band were happy. Bertie and I went there on the Wednesday, seeing that we had special passes, and looked at the concours vehicles and the line of Bugatti’s. We complimented Hector on his 55 model, and I took pictures of all of them, including the Royale, gleaming in the sunshine.
All the distinguished guests arrived on Thursday and were shown around before the crowds that would be here on Saturday and Sunday. They all enjoyed a Dinner, that evening, in the Palace. I stayed in the background, with Maria, taking notes. When the Count arrived, I noted that his driver was Klaus, which I pointed out to Maria.
On the Friday, Andy and Maria were busy with their clothing line, as part of the Ladies Day fashion shows. The models were all ladies of breeding and wealth. And then there was me and a couple of footballers wives. I had to smile when Andy announced me as ‘the beautiful Lady Woodward’. Rosemary and Thyme turned up, that day, and I saw him talking to Lena as I strode along the catwalk. When I was back in my own outfit, I went and asked her what he had said.
“He just told me that there will be agents here on Sunday, to arrest the Count and impound the Royale. He was sure that the bomb would have been detonated yesterday, when the royal family and the guests were here. He has someone following the Count, who I just saw, polishing his car, seemingly unconcerned at the failure of his plan.”
“He obviously didn’t know that we saw the Count at the dinner. I doubt that there’s any of his people still in the country.”
I went to find Maria.
“Maria, I’ve just been told that Thyme has considered the operation over, and that he’ll have agents here to tidy up on Sunday. Do you have people on him?”
“We do. He has a flight to New York tonight, along with Rosemary and three others. They’ll be arrested once they’ve gone into the departure area, by armed officers, and taken to a very secure site. The Count has a flight out of Heathrow, to Turin, leaving at three on Saturday. I expect that the final act will be around one, when the place is packed. Stay with me and we’ll follow him in our car. There will be a roadblock on the A40. If we hold him there, he’ll be panicking about still being so close to the epicentre of the virus distribution.”
Bertie and I did our normal job with the band and their manager, telling them that everyone had been impressed with the shows. They would be playing on Saturday and Sunday, when the bigger crowds were around, and had a tent set up with albums and posters for sale, expecting that their final show in the country would be a good one.
When we arrived, on Saturday morning, the surrounding lawns was being filled with supercars and a lot of very well-off people. In the officials’ car park, I stopped next to the Burnt Orange Audi. Andy and Maria got out and said hello. I introduced Bertie, telling him that I had met the couple in France, last year, and that Maria was now my favourite dressmaker. He had known that I was in the fashion show, yesterday, but hadn’t been given the details.
He went off to make sure the band was all set to play, later on, and Maria gave me a small radio and an earpiece. When I followed her lead and put the earpiece in, I could hear someone directing agents into position. I heard a report that the Veyron had arrived, and saw it parked close to the exit. The Count got out and looked around, especially at the larger numbers that were rapidly arriving. Klause got out and also scanned the crowd. They went off towards the concours area. I stayed close to Maria, and Andy met Dave to look around to see if there were any other threats. The radio gave me up-to-date movements as we walked around. We were having a sandwich when the voice sounded excited.
“The Count has just polished his car and gave it a pat, then walked away with his driver.”
Maria and I walked quickly to the Audi, and she warmed it up. We pulled out some way behind the Veyron. We followed it onto the A40, and I saw a police car with flashing lights by the side of the road as we passed. My radio told me that the road was now closed. That’s when Maria hit the switches for the blues and twos and the Audi leapt forward like a gazelle. We came up behind the Veyron and Klaus sped up. It didn’t last long, though, as we could see a roadblock of four vehicles, all with lights flashing. As we got closer, I could see that there wasn’t any way around it, and that the officers standing on the road were in full armed response gear. I shouted in Marias’ ear.
“That’s left-hand drive. If he tries to reverse direction, he’ll favour the turn to the left!”
Sure enough, Klaus pulled over to the right, and Maria slowed slightly, but stayed where she was. When he pulled hard left, expecting us to be behind him, we were bearing down on his front left wing at a great rate. The impact was enough to send him out of control, into the bank by the side of the road, with the Audi attached to his front end. I got out while Maria was extricating herself from the seatbelt and the airbag. Klaus rolled out of the Veyron, leaping across the bonnet of the Audi, screaming.
“You bitch! Look what you’ve done! We’re all going to die! I’ll kill you first.”
His big hands reached for my neck and Maria shot him across the roof of the Audi.
The police pulled the Count out of the other side. He was panicking and telling them that he had a plane to catch. They didn’t take any notice and put him on the ground, with his hands cuffed behind him. He was starting to cry, telling them that we were all doomed. One of the officers was recording it all. The sound of a siren came from behind us, and an ambulance arrived. The paramedics attended to Klaus, but it was too late for him, his bass playing days were over. Maria started to shake and cry, so I just held her close until she settled.
“Your first time with a shooting? Lena has told me that years on a range doesn’t prepare you for the real thing.”
“I just saw his big hands going for your neck, and I remembered all the strangling deaths. I couldn’t let him kill my model, and my best customer, could I? On top of that, Andy is not going to be happy that I trashed his car!”
One of the armed guys came over and took her gun from her.
“It will be all right, lass. We saw the whole thing. You fired to protect one of your own team. Nice bit of driving, by the way. That Audi won’t be going far. When we break the roadblock down, well take you back to the Palace. I’ve reported that the Count is in our custody. He seems a mite upset.”
“He thinks that this could be his last day on earth, while he’s still here, officer. You’ll never hear the real reason that he’s scared. Take good care of him and keep him isolated. There’ll be others, way over our pay grade, who will take him from you.”
The roadblock was broken down, and the vehicles parked by the side of the road. A recovery truck was called for the Audi and the Veyron, so the traffic now flowing past us would have thought that it was just a crash site. We were taken back to Blenheim, where Andy was waiting to hold Maria. Dave came over to me.
“The gun went off about fifteen minutes ago. We put a camera under the car and there was no hole in the gearbox. We’ll leave the car there until we take it away on Sunday afternoon. I expect that there’s someone in your club who may like to own a replica Royale, once it’s been made safe. They may have to get another engine and gearbox, though.”
“I guess that I’m no longer needed, so I’ll go and talk to a few people and listen to the band.”
“You do that, we’ll be in touch later in the week. Oh! The main herbs are all in custody, and the French and Germans are cleaning up the PARSLEY group, now they know what to look for. In Thymes’ luggage was a laptop with a lot of interesting information. It’s been a good result, overall.”
I spent the rest of the day with Bertie and other club members. I spoke to Hector and asked him if he would like the Royale, if it came up for sale. He thought that he couldn’t afford it, so I laughed and told him that I would put in a good word for him.
Later, that afternoon, Lena and I were sitting in the refreshment tent, both with a glass of wine and a cream cake. We could hear the band playing. She smiled.
“I heard about your car chase, Maxie. The radio were all over it. The police rather liked Marias’ driving. You can now say that you’ve help write off a million-pound Bugatti supercar, as well as depriving a Bugatti Royale of its owner.”
“It was exciting, but just a normal day for an acting Bug Eradicator. How did you get on?”
“All very quiet. I think that the Count was the last one on site, and the band was just a distraction.”
Professor M came over and sat with us.
“Ladies, congratulations on a job well done. We’ve put a camera under the Royale, and the cover on the engine has a big hole torn in it. The gearbox was only scratched, so our boffins think that the projectile was a fifty-calibre hollow-point, which shattered on exit. We’ll keep an eye on the car and collect it on Sunday, when everyone else have left. I’ll be talking to you in the future, after we’ve found out what we were dealing with. This will have to be reported to the upper levels of Government, as it will change our friendship with the cousins, probably for a very long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if we cancel their leases on the military bases and refuse their forces entry to the country. Of course, nothing will be made public. I’ll leave you now, to eat your cake and listen to the band.”
“Thank you, Professor. That band gets a lot better, every time they play. I think that they’ll have a good future. Their own bodies work well, and if they add some more originals, they’ll have an impressive body of work. Listen to that, they’re starting to play an upgraded version of Scarborough Fair. I expect that they have no idea how ironic that is.”
Marianne Gregory © 2025