Jake White The BeginningChapter 8
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Jake White - The BeginningChapter 24 free porn video
St Petersburg station was an impressive building, but so, Jake and Hermione discovered, were the rest of the buildings in the city. And the hotel was wonderful, with first class service, comfortable suites and every modern convenience, and, much to Hermione’s delight, French cuisine.
The next morning after a breakfast of French style viennoiserie, which Hermione found most acceptable, they considered their options. These, or more accurately, this, came down to starting at the police station.
Jake approached the reception desk.
“I should like a cab to take me to the main police station, would you arrange that for me?” he asked the concierge.
“Is there something wrong, sir?” the clerk asked. “I can get the manager.”
“No, no.” Jake told him. “We have a friend who the police may be able to help us find.”
The clerk seemed sceptical that the police would be able, or even willing to be of assistance other than to lock people up, but he called for one of the uniformed commissionaires and relayed Jake’s request. A few minutes later the man returned and escorted them to a cab.
The drive to the police station wasn’t long. The building was the equal of every other one in the city, magnificent, but at the same time it projected an air of foreboding as if the wording above the door said ‘abandon hope’.
Jake paid off the cab, and together they entered the police station.
There was a high desk, and a low, panelled wooden partition confining members of the public to a small area. Behind the desk was a uniformed policeman. Jake addressed him in French, but he shook his head
“Nyet,” and he turned to speak to another policeman. Hovering in the background was a short, but more extravagantly unformed policeman that the second man addressed. He came forward and addressed Jake in French.
“I am Inspektor Aleksandr Slavovich Sikorsky. What do you want?” he said, clearly expecting Jake to be impressed with his rank.
Jake explained that they were looking for George Wills, who he believed to be a prisoner here.”
The Inspektor made a face that indicated that he could not recall the name.
“No, I don’t think I recall name,” he said.
Jake produced a twenty ruble note.
“He is of value to us, Inspektor. While you search your memory, you might also like to see that a donation to the policemen’s benevolent fund is properly deposited,” Jake told him.
The Inspektors eyes lit up. He took the note.
“You will need to speak to Magistrate Vladimir Denisovich Putin,” he said. “I write down address.”
Out side they breathed a joint sigh of relief. Jake hailed a cab and handed the driver the note. He nodded and they got in.
“They’re driving on the wrong side of the road, Jake!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Yes,” Jake replied, “they do that in many places.”
“Victoria told me the French did it, but why?” Hermione went on.
“In the case of the French, sheer perversity I should imagine,” said Jake, “but as to here, I would think it was the French influence, or possibly the Dutch or Prussian. Who knows?”
“Well it seems wrong to me,” Hermione went on, “after all if you mount a horse you do it from the left.”
“True,” said Jake, who was not the world’s greatest horseman.
“Well then, obviously you would have a mounting block by the side of the road, and when you got on the horse you would just ride straight ahead.” Hermione was now in full flight with her theory. “So you clearly ride on the left, you wouldn’t cross the road to ride on the other side would you?”
“Of course not,” Jake confirmed wondering just where she was going with this argument.
“Because there might be someone on the other side doing the same thing, or a coach. That would be awful! You’d have frightened horses and mayhem all over the place,” she went on.
Jake sighed. He could see the logic behind her argument, but he really felt that telling an entire nation, and possibly an entire continent, that they were driving on the wrong side of the road was very far from a good idea.
“Of course,” he said, the cab slowing, “it must be an excellent idea for ladies riding side-saddle.”
“How can that be so?”
The cab stopped.
“Why they’d be able to stop in the middle of the road for a conversation,” said Jake, grinning.
Jake stepped down from the cab. He held out his hand for Hermione, smiling at the exasperated expression on her face.
“Please wait,” said Jake to the driver, hopefully.
“Da.”
“Well that worked,” said Hermione.
Jake rang the bell and the door was answered by a maid.
“Magistrate Vladimir Denisovich Putin, please,” said Jake.
The maid indicated that they should enter. They were standing in a spacious hallway for two or three minutes before a man appeared.
“I am Magistrate Vladimir Denisovich Putin,” he said.
“Sir Jacob White, and Lady Hermione Russington,” Jake replied. “ Magistrate Vladimir Denisovich Putin,” he went on, “We are interested in a prisoner that you have. One George Wills.”
“Sir Jacob White, I remember the case, most distressing, gross indecency,” said Putin. “It was a strange case. Countess Olga Bluitoff made the complaint, but I felt there was more to it. But there it was, a man in a dress and a Countess making an accusation. What do you do? But what is your interest in this unfortunate?”
“His mother is a friend of ours,” said Jake, “and she is extremely worried. He is not, shall we say, quite right. Could it be possible that his sentence be turned into a fine?”
“Hmm ... I suppose it could,” said Putin.“But it would be quite substantial. The crime is considered very serious in Russia.”
Money, thought Jake, and suddenly it goes from dubious to very serious.
“Of course,” Jake agreed. “Very serious. I’m afraid I am unacquainted with the amount of fines that are levied in Russia. Perhaps you could give me some guidance?”
“Indeed, Sir Jacob White. I should think a sum of one thousand rubles would be the level of fine that could be expected.”
“That could be difficult,” said Jake with a shrug. “I am only authorised to a maximum of five hundred. I fear we shall have to leave him in your care.”
Jake had instructed Hermione to keep a completely straight face whilst he was negotiating, and since he couldn’t see her face from his position he hoped that she was doing as he asked.
“Hmm, well I suppose the crime was not so serious, but...”
“I imagine that there would be a considerable saving to the state if you do not have to keep him,” said Jake.
“This is true,” said Putin. “But I do not feel we could accept less than seven hundred and fifty rubles”
Jake sighed. “His mother is a long standing friend of our family. My mother would be most distressed if I do not return with him. I shall have to pay the additional fine from my own pocket.”
“I am sorry that you have to do that, but as you say ... I will write a release for you. Take it to the police station and they will hand him over to you. There is a ferry leaving for Danzig tonight, it would be well, Sir Jacob White, if you were on it. The Countess is a very influential woman.”
Jake handed the Magistrate seven hundred and fifty rubles.
“If you see the Countess, Magistrate Vladimir Denisovich Putin, you might suggest to her that visiting England might not be a good idea,” he said.
The Magistrate smiled. “I shall tell her when I see her next. I cannot guarantee, however, that she will take any notice. My niece takes little notice of anyone.”
Lydia went into the nursery to see when the girls would be ready. She was greeted by what appeared to be a party. The girls had been quite subdued the night before, obviously unaccustomed to the situation they found themselves in. But this morning they were getting along well with Maudie and Betsy. The other children seemed to have taken to them too.
The previous evening when Victoria arrived home Lydia had told her about the girls.
“You won’t need me to produce grandchildren then,” Victoria laughed.
“I most certainly will!” her mother told her. “But these need some clothes, new dresses and under things.”
Victoria had told her to take them to the workshop in the morning, and they would sort it out.
“How are the girls this morning, Betsy?” Lydia asked.
“They’re perfect, mum,” said Betsy. “They’ve even been helping with the little ones.”
The four girls were now standing quietly in a line, watching Lydia.
“Good morning, Mairead, Aisling, Aoife, Clodagh,” she looked at each girl in turn. They burst out laughing.
“Mairead,” said the first one
“Aisling,” said the third.
“Aiofe,” said the fourth,
“Clodagh,” said the last one who had been second in line.
And then. “Goo mornin, Nt Lyja,” they chorused.
“Oh dear!” said Lydia. “I got you all wrong. And who taught you to say good morning?”
“I did, mum,” said Maudie.
“Well that was very good,” Lydia told her. “Now, I’m going to take you to get new dresses,” she said to the girls.
The girls looked at each other. Betsy took Mairead’s hand and put in in Lydia’s.
“She’s always the leader, mum,” she said.
“Oh!” said Lydia. “Yes, they’ve no idea have they?”
Lydia moved towards the door and the girls all followed, holding hands. There was a giggle behind her and Lydia turned to see Maudie grinning.
“It’s like when the circus came to town, mum,” she said. “You know, the elephants.”
Lydia laughed, and led them downstairs and out to where the carriage waited. The uniformed footman lifted each girl in turn into the carriage, before assisting Lydia.
Victoria had already warned Siobhan and Roisin that the girls were coming, and they had been joined by their mother Kaitlyn. No one had given a thought to the fact that Kaitlynn, being Irish probably spoke Irish. She greeted them in Irish and they immediately started chattering.
“Girls, girls! One at a time,” she said, laughing. “Now, we’re going to make you new dresses and we’re sending out for some underclothes for you,” she told them. “These are my daughters, this is Siobhan and this is Roisin. They’ll measure you and you can choose the material for your dresses.”
The girls were now jumping up and down excitedly.
“I will leave you to it, Kaitlyn,” said Lydia, laughing. “You seem to have it all in hand. I’ll return later.”
Jake and Hermione got back into the waiting cab.
“Police station,” said Jake, and the cab moved off.
“I had a job to keep a straight face in there,” said Hermione. “But that seemed to be an awful lot of money.”
“Could have been worse,” said Jake. “There’s just under ten rubles to the pound. By the time we’ve finished at the police station it’ll probably add up to one hundred pounds. Then there’s all the travelling expenses. So it’s going to take him some time to pay that off.”
“You’re going to make him pay?” Hermione was somewhat surprised.
“Probably not,” said Jake.
They arrived at the police station and once again went through the dread portal. This time Inspektor Sikorsky, who was still hovering behind the partition, came to meet them. Jake showed him the release paper.
“I understand that it will be expensive, Inspektor Aleksandr Slavovich Sikorsky, but would it be possible for him to be delivered to our hotel?” Jake already had his wallet in his hand.
“It would be possible, Sir Jacob White, but as you say, expensive,” said the Inspektor, holding out his hand. Jake counted notes into it until the Inspektor smiled.
“Konstebl’ Eklsov,” the Inspektor turned and growled loudly. “Take release and get prisoner. Then take him to gentleman’s hotel. We’ll be glad to get rid of digusting pervert.”
“Da, Inspektor,” replied the constable and hurried away.
“About two hours, and he will be with you, Sir Jacob White.” said the Inspektor.
“Thank you, Inspektor Aleksandr Slavovich Sikorsky. A pleasure to do business with you,” lied Jake, smiling.
Two hours later Jake and Hermione were sitting in the foyer of the hotel waiting, when there was a commotion outside. A moment later the commisionaire came in and spoke to the concierge. The concierge indicated Jake. Jake stood up immediately and followed the commisionaire outside where he found the constable and George. George was quite definitely in need of a bath. The constable indicated that his job was over, and Jake told George to follow him. The concierge was clearly not happy, but was mollified by yet another exchange of bank notes.
“We’ll clean him up. Next time you see him you won’t recognise him,” Jake told the concierge. He was quite certain that with a dress on and his hair done, Gina would be back with them. And if the concierge recognised him Jake would be very surprised.
Back in their suite Hermione took charge of cleaning up George. She sent him into the bathroom where he bathed. When he next appeared, wearing just a towel, he smelt considerably sweeter. She had sorted out one of her dresses that should fit, and the appropriate under garments.
Once George was in the bath, and Hermione had sorted out clothing, Jake went out to obtain the passages on the ferry for Danzig. He was lucky to get two adjacent, if expensive, cabins on the main deck. He returned an hour later to find Hermione on her own.
“Where’s Gina?” Jake asked.
“She went out, said she had to collect something, and wouldn’t be long,” Hermione told him.
Whilst Jake was trying to think what Gina could possibly be doing, the door opened and the missing person came in accompanied by a porter. He was carrying two large cases which he put down in the centre of the room. Jake automatically tipped him.
“You can tell us what you’ve been doing and what happened later,” said Jake. “Right now we need to get to the ferry.”
Jake had been quite correct, the concierge failed to recognise Gina.
A little later the cab dropped them at the gangway of the ‘PS Wellenreiter’. They were shown to the two adjacent cabins in the deck house aft of the paddles. Hermione had not been too happy about the allocation of cabins, since she had to share with Gina, but she appreciated that an appearance of propriety would be best. The ship, Jake noticed, had a very abbreviate rig, the German designers clearly felt the their engineering would not be prone to breakdowns. Within the hour they were under way, the paddles thrashing the water, and the smoke stack emitting a continuous plume of dark smoke.
Dinner was served as St Petersburg disappeared astern. The cabins were clean but somewhat utilitarian, and the main saloon, where meals were served, was fitted out plainly, but of good quality. Hermione was not surprised by the fare provided, since this was a German ship. Large helpings of sauerkraut, with a choice of sausage or pork chops were the order of the day. Well, probably every day. The latter had a wide band of fat, and they decided that they were best left to others. Large steins of pale beer were served with the meal, so large in fact that Hermione and Gina had difficulty in lifting them. However, the slightly cloudy wheat beer they contained was excellent and refreshing. There were a number of other passengers, several couples, and men travelling alone. The only one who stood out was a darkly clothed man wearing a broad brimmed black fedora. Hermione joked that he looked like a spy. After they had eaten they decided to take a walk around the deck before retiring. Jake now proceeded to question Gina about what had happened.
“She was nice to start with,” said Gina, “but she gradually became more and more bossy and demanding. Then suddenly she told me we were off to Russia. That was all right, but when we got to St Petersburg we had an almighty row and she left me at the station. So I put my trunks in the left luggage place, and then I went out of the station. Before I could sort out what I wanted to do I was arrested. When I got before a magistrate he told me I was charged with gross indecency and I would go to gaol.”
“And that was it?” asked Jake. “You never saw her again?”
“No, but she sent someone to see me, and he told me that if I returned her property then I would go free. I didn’t believe him. She would make sure I rotted in gaol. So I wrote to mama.”
“And she wrote to me,” said Jake. “And here we are. So what was this property?”
“Photographs.”
“Perhaps we’ll have a look tomorrow and see,” said Jake.
They arrived back at their cabins, and Jake wished Hermione and Gina good night. He had to think about Gina’s story. It was very strange.
Not too much later, around midnight, Jake heard a sharp crack. He’d heard that before. Hermione’s Derringer. Seconds later he was tapping on her door.
“Who is it?” Hermione asked.
“Jake.”
The door opened and Jake stepped over the coaming. Hermione stood to one side with her Derringer in her hand, Gina to the other side, white as a sheet. Between them, on the floor, was the dark-clothed man. There was a small hole in his forehead. His hat was lying on the floor to one side of him. On the other was a very large revolver.
“Was that luck, or had you been practising?” asked Jake.
“Practising.”
“What happened?” Jake asked.
“He was in here when we came back,” said Hermione. “He grabbed hold of Gina and threatened me with that gun. His French was appalling so we pretended we didn’t understand him.”
“I didn’t understand him anyway,” said Gina.
“So he turned to the cases and picked one up,” Hermione continued. “When he turned back I shot him.”
“So you did,” said Jake thoughtfully. “But why?”
“I should have thought that was obvious!” said Hermione, rather piqued.
“No,” said Jake. “Why was he here?”
He turned to Gina.
“Would you care to tell us what you think?” he asked.
“Photographs,” said Gina. “It must be those photographs the bitch got me to take.”
“I take it the bitch is Countess Olga Bluitoff?” asked Jake.
“Yes.”
“And there is nothing other than the photographs?”
“No.”
“So where are the photographs?” asked Jake. “And try telling us in one go, I’m getting a little tired of having to drag it out of you whilst you put our lives in danger. We’ve travelled halfway across Europe, and paid out a lot of money to get you released.”
“You didn’t have to!” Gina sniffed, near to tears.
Jake looked up and examined the deck head.
“No, we didn’t have to,” said Hermione. “We did it because your mother is worried sick, and we remember when you were pleasant to know. And now you owe us an explanation! So where are the photographs.”
“The plates are in that bag. They’re sewn into the bottom.”
“So when you went out after you were dressed, you went to get them?” Jake asked.
“Yes.”
Jake had a flash of insight. “And they were in the left luggage at the station, where you’d hidden them?”
“Yes.”
“So why didn’t Olga go and get them?”
“She didn’t know where they were.”
“And so she had her uncle you put in prison until you told her?”
“Yes.”
Jake laughed.
“And she obviously didn’t tell her uncle why she wanted you locked up. Well, well! Sometimes you can play your cards too close to your chest!”
“What are we going to do about him?” Hermione asked indicating the body.
“Tip him over the rail, I should think,” Jake replied. “I don’t want to have to answer any awkward questions.”
Jake opened the door and looked out. He looked both ways. He could see nothing, but the deck was only lit with a few oil lamps which were only just bright enough to show where they were. He went back, caught hold of the corpse by the shoulders and dragged him to the door. He dragged him over the coaming, across the narrow deck and lifted him over the rail. Hermione and Gina came out as the corpse toppled over and fell into the sea. Hermione was carrying the hat. Jake took it from her and spun it out over the sea.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I rather liked that hat!”
“You don’t usually keep souvenirs of your victims,” Jake grinned.
The grin faded as someone behind them chuckled. Jake turned to see one of the single men who had been not far from them in the saloon.
“Does she shoot many men, Sir Jacob?” he asked in English, but with a definite French accent.
“Not many,”Jake replied. “But you have the advantage of us, sir!”
“Commandant Denis du Sang-Frappe of the Sûreté,” he bowed. “In case you wondered the man you just slipped overboard was known as Vasilek. It translates as a large fly.”
“Bluebottle?” offered Hermione.
“Yes, that would be right,” said du Sang-Frappe thoughtfully. “You would be Lady Russington. I believe. And this young lady is, of course, the cause of the problem.”
“Problem?” questioned Jake.
“Sir Jacob, your exploits in Ireland are well known to the security agencies of several European powers. We all like to keep an eye on what is happening in England, who knows when it might be to our advantage? I know you will claim to be an ordinary business man, but when you suddenly decided to charge off across Europe it was noticed, and I was dispatched to see what you were up to. And here we are, Vasilek knew what he was after, and since he was in the employ of Countess Olga, and you now have her photographer, I am quite sure that there are photographs involved. Your high speed departure from France, Mademoiselle Wills, leads me to believe you have something of great interest to my government. I am right, aren’t I?”
“And if there were to be something?” asked Jake.
du Sang-Frappe made an open gesture with both hands, which, together with a shrug of the shoulders, spoke eloquently enough.
“If it belongs to the French government then it should be returned to them.” he said. “You would not want to be arrested should you set foot in France again. Mademoiselle Victoria, of course, might be regarded as an accessory. One can never be sure. There are also other people on this ship who are interested. Some of them might be a little less diplomatic than I. Vasilek was a little too chivalrous for his own good. And he was carrying that ridiculous cannon. A threat he couldn’t use because of the noise. Others might use quieter methods.”
All eyes focused on Gina.
“We do not reach Danzig until midday the day after tomorrow,” said du Sang-Frappe. “Perhaps, since it is late we should meet tomorrow, after we have consumed whatever barbaric banquet the German chef provides for our petit dejeuner.”
“Agreed,” said Jake.
“Then I shall wish you bon nuit, mademoiselles, Sir Jacob.”
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