Tim The London Taxi and The Golden Teddy Bear

By Melissa Franklin

Tim is a traditional London Taxi who has a mind and heart of his own, his partner Jack Courage, ex army and SAS now works for MI5. He drives them around London fighting unusual crimes that literally change the dusty old history books in the process. Tim has friends in high places, statues of the city, the

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookTrail Publishing
• Release date: May 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637671481

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Copyright © 2021 by Melissa Franklin.

ISBN-978-1-63767-147-4 (Paperback)

ISBN-978-1-63767-148-1 (eBook)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Darkness can hide many secrets, horrors even the strongest man could not handle. But some secrets fight to be told, to find justice for the victims unable to defend themselves, no matter how many dark days or years have passed.

Silhouetted against the night sky lit only by the ghost like moon stood the cold stone skeleton of a large haunting ruin.

Although crumbling it stood proud, akin to the people it once housed.

The darkness of its windows like empty eyes to its broken soul, the blackened doorway, the devil’s own gateway to hell.

A heavy door slams, he turns startled, the dust lingers in the air, panic rushing through his body. Turning round and around panicked, the sound of girls laughing and soldiers barking out orders, gunshots, silence. Just the sound of his blood rushing through his head and his own heavy laboured breathing.

The air thick with dust, gun smoke and the smell of fresh blood. He gagged, his hand slapped against his mouth in case anyone heard him. He was alone amongst the rubble of what was once a home, a prison.

No birds have sung in the grounds since 1918, only the bravest or stupidest people scramble through the broken down masonry and rusted barbed wire fences once erected to keep them out, if only for their own sanity.

Introduction

Alexander was a young loyal soldier but times were changing, innocent people were suffering under the hard regime of the Bolsheviks, his views and loyalty had slowly begun to change over time. More so in June 1918 when he returned to the family he was guarding who were under strict house arrest.

The Bolshevik Secret Police were in total control at the house, they had more control than the regular Bolshevik soldiers.

One cold afternoon he had been ordered to accompany the cook Sednev to town, having been told by his commanding officer that the boy’s uncle was visiting and wanted to see his nephew, the journey would take a couple of days.

He returned alone a few days later, the house was quiet, too quiet. In the cold light of day he realised there was no bird song, as Alexander cautiously approached the building he noticed empty beer bottles lying around the grounds as if there had been a party, which considering the purpose of the house and it’s tenants a party should have been the last thing happening here. As he reached the main part of the building he realised the main doors had been left open, in the distance strewn around the once beautiful grounds he noticed upturned carts left where they had turned and spades covered in dirt lay by the doorway, a doorway covered with dried out mud. It was as if everyone had left in a hurry after ‘the party’. Alexander slowly entered the house, calling out as he did so. No one answered, the silence hung heavy.

His heart began to beat faster, panic and fear setting in. Every room he glanced in was in a state of total chaos but still no one seemed to be here.

He turned towards the cellar, more panic rose in his tight chest engulfing him as he noticed the door was open, the fading light of day caught the walls.... bullet ridden walls. He rested his hand against the doorway to steady himself at the realisation of impending horror of the inevitable….

Oh my love, my beautiful love no! Alexander crept quietly into the small room, the smell told him what had happened before he even saw the carnage, the smell of gunfire lingered in the air long enough to leave an odour familiar only to a soldier. Due to the force and amount of bullets even the plaster had been blasted off the walls in huge chunks. His fingers slowly traced the crumbling holes as he walked further into the cold room, he knew deep down in his heart that no one could survive such extreme gunfire in a space as confined as this.

Falling to his knees he sobbed into his hands that now covered his ashen face, he winced as he knelt on a stone. Motioning to flick it away he stopped as the colour caught his eye, red, ruby red set in gold. Picking it up his mind flashed back to when he gave it to Shvybz, his Shvybz, clutching it in his shaking hand he cried for his young love, knowing she and her family were gone.

He knew he couldn’t stay long, it wouldn’t be safe. After searching the whole of the large house he came to the conclusion that no one was coming back, it had been completely torn apart, nothing of any value was left. The families rooms had been savagely taken apart, the elegant clothes they had brought with them ripped to shreds, was it out of anger or malice he didn’t know? There was no evidence of the slaughter in the main part of the house it was all confined to the cellar as if an execution had taken place ...that’s when it hit him, he had been purposely sent away whilst the family were brutally murdered, it had been rumoured amongst his fellow comrades that he was in love with one of the girls he was guarding, they thought they had managed to hide it from everyone even her own tragic family. Obviously not hence his last minute trip to the city.

Running out into the grounds in a panic he ran around like a mad man trying in vain to find someone, anyone alive. It was only when he tripped over a mound of dirt did he realise the hell that he had stumbled on, literally. As he pushed at the dirt to get back up, he found his hand was touching another, only this one was cold, very cold and dead. For the next hour or so he frantically dug with his bare hands, out of respect as he didn’t want to hurt the bodies with the blade of a spade. He found six bodies, six, there was supposed to be seven. The wounds inflicted were diabolical, some of the girls were unrecognisable. Tears streaming down his face he kept digging, he needed to find her. It was dark by the time he decided it was time to stop, her body wasn’t there he didn’t know whether to be elated or worried in case they had taken her alive for later.

Momentarily sitting back to survey the mess before him, he wretched at the sight of the bodies he had laid out side by side, covering their faces not just in respect but because the damage of the gunfire was so horrific he thought no one should have to stumble upon that. He couldn’t take the bodies with him, where would he go, who would he talk to? Either way he was involved and he would be the only witness and surely not live long enough to tell the truth so he had to leave the family he once respected and loved behind.

Eventually his tears stopped, his dirty face streamed with their tracks. It was time to leave in case anyone returned, not that they would he was sure. He staggered to his feet, bowed his head performed the sign of the cross then scurried away as fast as he could.

That day was etched on Alexander’s heart and mind for the many years that followed, he heard rumours that the family had escaped or some had survived, he knew only one may have survived, he had seen the other bodies. He tried in vain for many years to find her but all his leads led to nothing or threats on his own life.

Years past, the pain eased a little, enough for him to eventually move to Italy where he met and married a young Italian girl named Maria, they had a son Antonio. But secretly when he had enough money and the cold war a distant memory he hired a detective to try and find out what he could about the family in the house. He was an ex Bolshevik soldier like Alexander, but disturbingly within weeks of starting his investigation he disappeared, was this by choice or was he forced to?

The fear of all those years ago resurfaced, the sadness and guilt hung heavy in Alexander’s heart. Unbeknown to him his wife Maria knew of his connections with the detective, she understood his pain, so much so that on her deathbed she begged their young son Antonio to promise one thing........

Find your father’s first love, find out what happened to her, find him peace.

From that day forward he made it his mission to find the peace his father needed, even after his death Antonio carried on looking for the young girl who first owned his father’s heart.

Little did he know that the old regime would never give up either, one thing was for sure that if the truth ever came out Russia would never be the same again.

A soldier’s love for a young girl could bring Russia down even all these years after the embers of passion had cooled, and the want for war still lingered in the air.

Dust particles danced in the smoke filled air of the dimly lit office. The only sound was the deep rasping of the old man behind the oak desk, tubes in his nostrils aiding his breathing, forcing an old body to keep living long after it really wanted to stop. Vadim Yurovshy was of the old regime, not a man to go up against even now in his ill health.

Held in his boney fingers was a glossy catalogue, the colours so bright it stood out in such a drab dark room, it was filled with items for sale at the popular auction house Christie’s. It was opened at the page of the main attraction, a beautiful faberge egg reportedly once owned by Anastasia Romanov. Her parents had it created especially for her 16th birthday. Little did they know she would only have a year to appreciate it until tragedy struck and Russian history was made, for all the wrong reasons.

Slowly he ran his tobacco stained fingers over the colourful glossy picture, greed, bitterness and hate surged through him once more as he spat out the words.

Buy it.

Do you think it will lead us to the truth comrade? The man in the dark suit shuffled from one foot to the other nervously as he questioned the old man who in turn replaced the brochure onto the desk as he slowly turned his dark sunken eyes to him, the man in the suit instinctively drew in a sharp breath, fear and apprehension raced through his body and mind all at once.

Struggling to answer as the oxygen slowly seeped into his old body from the machine he gripped the desk for support.

The myth tells us of ‘The Golden Teddy Bear’ which in turn should lead us to what happened to the girl As bitter excitement filled his chest he struggled once more to breath, coughing to such an extent alerting a male nurse who came rushing in to his aid. He still managed to wave the young man out of the room with the words Buy it, buy it.

A cold misty rain fell slowly onto Tim’s windscreen, his wipers moving just as slowly to wipe away the moisture that gathered impairing Jack’s vision and view of the auction house. Both man and taxi witnessed two men in long heavy black coats and fur hats, hands rammed into their pockets against the cold weather stomping towards the building. As they approached the doorman they stopped, words were exchanged then the two men turned on their heels and stomped away quicker this time and not looking happy.

Russian’s Both man and machine blurted out simultaneously.

Hardly hiding the fact that the Russians are interested are they Tim?

Tim’s engine purred quietly as he watched the two men walking away recording their faces on his inbuilt computer system, running them through the MI5 data for facial recognition…...a red warning sign appeared but no information was attached which meant only one thing…..their identities were on ‘a need to know only basis’........these are dangerous men, why would they be at an auction house?

As Tim pondered this question Jack sat up alerted to an old man’s arrival.

Jack’s gaze followed him as he made his way along King Street, he seemed sad, his hands in his pockets as if in resignation of an emotional defeat. He also came across as edgy, nervous as he constantly looked around as if he felt he was being followed. Jack looked around but there were only a few people milling about, no one out of the ordinary apart from the two Russians…….the Russians! The two men had stopped at the end of the road and were also watching the old man only they weren’t hiding the fact.

When the old man reached the entrance