Natavallia in the Maldives: The Baines Saga

By John Trethewey

Recently married musicians Judi and Zav Baines are assigned from Marbella to the Maldives. During the voyage from Gibraltar, they are joined by five strangers, seemingly with intertwined pasts long ago. Almost daily it gradually becomes clear that each of the five also knew Judi and Zav in their youth. But how? There are strange forces at work. Cosmic coincidences start to crowd in, defying interpretation. Events in their previous adventures start to make some kind of sense.

The final battle starts with a series of lethal terrorist attacks on the Maldives Spa Hotel, their new home, uniting the group in a life-or-death fight for survival. An all-out assault forces reformed Macedonian brigand Kolper to call upon their last hope of salvation: the Call of the Shepherd, the Call of the Cosmos. But will the call be heard?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: May 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504943024

John Trethewey

Born in 1950, the son of grammar school teachers, young John Trethewey promised himself that he would never follow that profession. Although determined to be a composer, he embarked on his first novel at the age of eighteen. Over the following forty years, he has produced ten novels, a five-act stage play, and several major works for orchestra. A gifted linguist, in 1973 he decided after all to take up teaching. He has taught in several schools, with the twenty years leading to his retirement as teacher and director of studies in a Swiss international school. With wide interests, he particularly admires the music of Berlioz, the performances of the late Sir Colin Davis, and the lyrics of singer Al Stewart. This novel, the last in the series The Baines Saga, finally reveals the cosmic element that has increasingly been prevalent in events throughout the saga. It is a powerful dénouement to a long saga.

Book preview

CONTENTS

THE VOYAGE

THE ATOLL

THE WRATH OF THE COSMOS

THE VOYAGE

1. Tuesday, November 27th 1974

Into the unknown… again

When Judi awoke, sunlight was streaming in through the un-curtained window from a cloudless blue sky. She looked up. Three plastic sachets above the bed were suspended on a trolley on wheels, connected by thin tubes to the cannula in her thigh. She was relieved, having specifically asked not to use the peripheral on her violinist’s arms to avoid phlebitis. She twisted to look at her husband. He was still asleep. Above his bed were no fewer than seven sachets of liquid, and he had several cannulae on his arms. She glanced at the wall clock; it was past nine in the morning. Whatever sedative they had been given, it was as effective as any anaesthetic. She was very hungry. Reaching for the cable suspended above her bed, she pressed the call button. In less than a minute the door opened and the nurse from the previous evening entered. After the usual banalities of how the patient was feeling and whether she had had a good night’s sleep, Judi cut to the quick.

‘Would it be possible to have some coffee? Breakfast?’ The nurse made the obvious remark about how it was good to see her on the mend. The nurse looked at Baines.

‘Would you like me to wake your husband?’ Judi nodded.

‘From now on, until the day I die, whatever we do, we do it together. Including breakfast every day. For a thousand years. With Micawber and Methuselah.’ she added. The nurse looked at her doubtfully, wondering whether to report this aberration to Doctor Berry. She woke Baines with the gentlest of professional manoeuvres.

‘I’ll bring the coffee, and the breakfast list.’ She left the room.

An hour later, Judi and Zav were both sitting up in bed.

‘I’m going to ask them to push these beds together.’ Judi announced, reaching for the call button. Baines looked up at his multiple drips.

‘I’m all for continency, darling, but there’s a time and place for everything. Do it anyway.’ Judi’s hand was on the button when there was a knock at the door and Doctor Berry and his Registrar entered.

‘Ah! Excellent.’ He meant the empty breakfast trays, not the patients. ‘Well, good news. So far. Blood tests are promising. Unless we detect e-coli or norovirus, or any of the nastier pathogens, you’ll be out in three days. Worst case scenario: a week. However, I’m sure you won’t be bored. We have a full programme lined up for you this morning. If you feel up to it?’

‘If you mean those dreadful physiotherapy torture machines, with pedals, handlebars, weights, treadmills, then I don’t.’ Baines stated firmly. ‘I want to rest. And… is there a piano in this clinic?’ Berry laughed, turning to his Registrar.

‘Graf von Lemke did warn us! These two…’ He went to the window, looked at Judi questioningly. She nodded. He opened it. A fresh breeze carried the perfume of cyclamen and lavender. Judi’s eyes filled with tears. Just to smell that scent again. Baines reached across the gap and took her hand. ‘Of course!’ Berry’s voice was understanding. He gestured to his colleague, and they pushed the beds together.

‘Methuselah and Micawber are back, then.’ murmured Baines. Berry, now in the same quandary as his nurse as to the mental stability of his patients, scribbled something on the cover of Baines’ file. Judi’s insatiable curiosity was already bubbling.

‘Programme? This morning?’ Berry put the pen back in his pocket.

‘A Mister Morley and Miss Dantin are coming shortly. And at midday, a mystery guest.’ He smiled. ‘These military people really just love their hush-hush stuff. You’ll see. Someone you know.’ This served only to stoke the fires beneath Judi’s legendary need to know now cauldron. But Berry was consulting the temperature charts at the foot of each bed. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else?’ He turned to leave.

‘Wait! Sorry,’ murmured Judi, ‘I was going to ring the nurse, to ask her. But as you’re here… Does the unregistered regiment have a lunch time menu?’

‘Of course. I’ll have her bring you the A la carte. Was there something specific you had in mind?’

‘Uh…’ Judi was unsure of whether to continue, then her appetite won the toss. ‘Does the cook run to something like a cheeseburger with fries, no ketchup… byeugh! Like, very soon? Really soon?’ Berry laughed.

‘Your wish, Mrs. Baines, my command! It shall be done?’ He looked at Baines, who shook his head.

‘She always gives me the crumbs.’ he said, and lay back on the pillows. Berry looked at what he had written on the file. Taking out his pen, he crossed it out.

With Phil and Hélène sitting in the visitors’ armchairs, the obvious questions were put. But it was equally obvious that there were no answers.

‘I guess we’re through with Marbella.’ said Phil. ‘They’ve told us to pack and to move in to the Royal George here in Gib. I guess they think we did well. It’s the Regal Suite!’ he said in wonderment. ‘Hélène swoons every time she goes in.’

‘What eez swoon?’

‘What you’re always doing, chérie. Usually with a glass of Chartreuse in each hand.’

‘But all our stuff is in Marbella… Judi’s instruments, her trunk, our luggage, my cameras?’ Phil was scratching his head again.

‘Purdue says that’s in hand.’ He was vague. There was a knock at the door. A uniformed waiter stepped in, probably unique. He was wearing white dinner service dress over a military uniform, carrying a tray on which was a cheeseburger with a plate of fries. He placed it in front of Judi then looked at Baines.

‘I understand that you’re allowed beverages, sir. A beer? Stout? Or lager? Cider? Perhaps an Officers’ Pink Gin?’ He turned to Phil and Hélène, handed them a list of drinks. ‘All on Her Majesty’s House, madam, sir.’ Phil shook his head in wonderment. The soldier-cum-waiter was standing at ease, waiting. To his knowledge, these were the first and only civilians ever to enter Fort Bastion Rock Clinic as patients. And probably the last. It made a welcome change.

‘Don’t I get a drink?’ Judi was pressing home with energy from the succulent cheeseburger. The soldier, who had been forewarned, offered her the third drinks menu.

The mystery guest was punctual. At midday, with Phil and Hélène in high spirits, lifted by Judi’s return to her normal bubbly state, a knock at the door was immediately followed by the entry of millionaire hotel magnate Graf von Lemke, their employer and, at the same time, the adoptive parent of the duo. He was accompanied by Heidi Natavallia, his daughter. Phil and Hélène dutifully rose to their feet, von Lemke Consuls offering their seats to the Count. Von Lemke waved to them to remain seated. The ensuing minutes were highly emotional.

Finally von Lemke signalled to Heidi; they moved to the small wooden table under the window and pulled it to the feet of the beds. Heidi brought the two chairs.

‘Well, down to practicalities.’ Von Lemke drew a cigar in a metal tube from an inside pocket, looked at it regretfully, and put it back again. ‘Stay indefinite, between three and seven days, I’m told. But meanwhile, you’ll soon need clothes. Your luggage. Your room is even now being cleared at Von Lemke Plaza Marbella, luggage will be here this afternoon. The trunk is already on its way. But… my man spent an hour looking for your violins, the cameras. He assures me they aren’t there.’ He looked doubtful. Baines sat up sharply.

‘But they must be! Or else…’ He looked across at Judi. ‘You think Rosso had an accomplice? At the hotel? They’ve been snatched?’ Judi took his hand. She shook her head.

‘They’re in a safe, in the Marbella Club Royalty. I knew things could go wrong, so I took precautions.’ she said virtuously. Baines shook his head, and looked at von Lemke.

‘You still aren’t paying her enough.’ He lay back on the pillows, feigning exhaustion, but not succeeding. Von Lemke was looking affectionately at Heidi Natavallia.

‘Your sister makes me very proud.’ he said, groping for a handkerchief. ‘Your turn.’

Heidi looked around the bare hospital bedroom, the white painted walls, the oxygen and other apparatus above the beds.

‘Really not up to von Lemke Plaza suites, I’m afraid. But Papa has plans to make amends.’ She looked at her adoptive father. He leaned forward.

‘Your next destination, accommodation I should say, is an OTW in the Maldives.’ He paused. Judi looked at Baines.

‘What are Maldives?’

‘Dunno. Are they like Maltesers?’ he asked Heidi.

‘And what’s an OTW?’ Judi persisted. Heidi handed each of them a glossy coloured brochure. They looked at the front cover, predominantly blue. Judi’s eyes widened. It was a picture of a lagoon, with a number of parallel piers built out from the land. At the end of each pier was a large, thatched bungalow. The waters were still, crystal clear, blue and twinkling in the sunlight. Over The Water bungalows. ‘Oh my God!’ she gasped. ‘And where are these Maldives?’

‘Probably the last as yet undeveloped tourist paradise on the planet. An archipelago of 26 atolls, 180 small islands south of India, between the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea. At present there are only two resorts. I wager that in ten years’ time, there’ll be a score. Von Lemke Maldives Plaza is the third. Just about to open. And we’ll beat all comers hands down. Whatever rabble the newcomers farm in with their charter flights, the Von Lemke label will be the royalty brand. Like you four.’ He groped in his inside pocket again, longing for a cigar. ‘D’you think if we moved your beds, and those drip things to the balcony… I might, even we might?’ Two nods. Baines pressed the call button suspended above his bed.

‘So you’re posting us there? All four of us?’ Judi was looking protectively at Phil and Hélène, who only the previous day had saved their lives.

‘Of course!’ Heidi arrived with ash trays. Von Lemke was puffing contentedly on his cigar. ‘Two OTWs. And state of the art musical venues, bars, lounges, and restaurants, in the main building. I’m sending a Steinway as well as new left handed guitars for Phil: a twelve string acoustic, an electric standard, and a bass electric.’ Phil and Hélène were red faced, understandably emotional. Unperturbed, von Lemke continued. ‘The Maldives Spa Plaza opens at New Year, in a month’s time. Bookings are promising. And I’m going to put a specific stamp on it, a new brand image.’ He paused, looking for a drinks menu then he sent Heidi to the officers’ bar. This was not a hospital, but a luxury clinic, reserved for unusual patients, mainly wounded military. He waited until she returned with a glass of cognac. Before taking even a sip, he put them out of their misery.

‘A classical mould. Nothing so vulgar as a copy of Versailles Hall of Mirrors, I’m not King Ludwig.’ He glanced at Baines, then looked away. ‘No. A monthly cycle of chamber music concerts, three or four a month. I’ve engaged the Amadeus next month. And you four, of course, are the full time standard bearers, holding the fort. There’s even an acoustically designed concert hall in the main building.’ He finally sipped his drink. Baines looked at Judi. This was incongruous, the two side by side in hospital beds, each attached to intravenous drips, on a terrace in warm sunlight overlooking the Rock. Sensitive to atmosphere, Phil and Hélène stood up and moved to the end of the terrace, with a view over the Straits of Gibraltar.

Von Lemke was looking at Baines again, a very strange expression on his face. He put his cigar down carefully on the ashtray, and drew a large colour photograph from the envelope on his knee. He handed the picture to Baines.

‘The main building.’ he repeated. ‘Aerial view. Does this ring a bell?’ he asked. Baines studied the photograph of the main hotel structure, a two storey, long central block in sandstone with balconies overlooking the beach, topped with a multangular observation lounge in the centre. At each end a shorter wing extended towards the shore and the OTW bungalow piers, the extensions angled at forty-five degrees to the central structure. It was vaguely familiar, but he was unable to place why.

Then it hit him. He opened his mouth to speak, but a lump in his throat prevented him. He was disturbed, unable to fathom the impossible. Despite the warm air, he shivered, staring at the picture of the hotel building. There were inexplicable forces at play here. 1965. And now 1975. He looked at von Lemke.

‘Not here, and not now, Charlie!’ Von Lemke was authoritative, quelling any response, and using Baines’ Christian name for the first and only time, which disquieted Baines even more. Judi, no less so. She tried to look at the photograph, but Baines had placed it picture down on the sheets. Von Lemke puffed at his cigar, then stared at the glowing tip. ‘This evening. This is neither the time nor the place. I only found out three days ago, when I called the architects Cresswell and Charteris. I’m as astonished as you must be. This evening. Not now.’

There was a long silence; for once, Judi’s insatiable curiosity was strangely absent. She hadn’t a clue what von Lemke was talking about, nor why her husband was sitting up in bed as if carved from stone, staring at the blank back of a photograph which she had not yet seen. It would have to wait.

She said:

‘So you’re sending us to Malteser Atoll. Which prompts the question: what’s the problem this time?’

2. Tuesday, November 27th

Intimations of Eternal Return

‘Well, to date, nothing specific.’ Von Lemke, leaning with his back against the railing on the balcony over the leafy garden, was looking discomfited. ‘But imminently, I fear, a lot may. Go wrong. Be a problem, I mean. That’s why I’ve called in Heidi here. And Argy.’

Judi looked at Baines, wondering how many more conundrums von Lemke could throw at them. Baines made a concentrated effort to drag himself back to the present.

‘What is, or are, Arjie?’ he asked. Von Lemke laughed.

‘Richard George Maelstrøm, poor bloke. Not the ideal name for cruise liner Passenger Relations. He even tried spelling the name differently, Malestrum. That was worse. So he’s known as RG, hence Argy. He’s my best Hotel and Spa Manager in the von Lemke empire. I’m pulling him out of Kyoto Plaza, Japan. He’ll be doubling in Spa Maldives as Entertainments Manager, as it’s a very small, exclusive Plaza Hotel. Just 150 guests, and for them, I need eighty staff! It has to work, otherwise…’ He left that particular financial conundrum hanging in the air, puffing at his cigar.

‘‘So what’s the problem this time?’ Judi was relentless. ‘With or without Argy?’ Von Lemke sighed, turned to Heidi.

‘Sabotage.’ She was terse. ‘Papa mentioned two existing resorts. Obviously, they deeply resent new competition. Or it could come from the indigenous Maldivian islanders, a hard core is also resentful. Although tourism will be the Republic’s only meaningful income through this century, and into the next. Or…’

‘Yes. Or.’ von Lemke interrupted, verging on anger. ‘We just don’t know. I can’t make it into a fortress, like our place in Kochel. It’d look like a prison camp, wire fences and barbed wire. I may have bought the island, but there are limits. It’s subject to Maldivian law and directives. So that leaves it wide open…’ He looked compassionately at the two bedridden patients, then his watch. ‘This really isn’t the time, nor the place. Anyway, Argy’s coming to see you this afternoon, around five. Time to give you a siesta. He’ll fill you in on the essentials, and the rest on the way to the Maldives.’ He smiled briefly. ‘He’ll have three weeks in which to manage that.’

This time Baines looked at Judi. Her turn.

‘Three weeks? To India? We’re going by hot air balloon? Three weeks?’

‘She means a Zeppelin, like The Hindenburg. Even that could make it in less than a week.’

‘Except it blew up.’ murmured von Lemke, pleased to note his adopted protegés’ rapid recovery. ‘I’ll explain this evening.’ He stood up. ‘Come on, Heidi. These two need their rest.’ His eye fell on the A4 photo face down on Baines’ bed. ‘Or time and space.’ They left. Phil and Hélène returned from their studied inspection of the sea, the sky and a lump of rock.

‘We’ll be off, too.’ Phil had taken the hint. ‘We’ll come back when this Argy bloke appears. OK with you?’

Baines did not respond, and it was Judi who nodded and smiled up at them.

‘Don’t forget to bring the Chartreuse, I’m not sure they stock it here!’

Scarcely had Phil shut the door of the hospital room, leaving Baines and Judi on their sun drenched balcony than she seized the photo from his bed and studied it. Baines watched her impassively.

‘So it’s a building.’ She shook her head. ‘Just a building. But Prince, you weren’t just looking at a building, were you?’ She reached across and took his hand. ‘You were thunderstruck. And you don’t look too happy now, either. So…?’ She offered him the photo but he shook his head.

‘I’m hungry.’ he said. ‘Let’s order.’ He reached for the bell push suspended on a cable. An Orderly came in, carrying, as if by telepathy, two lunch menus. He was also pushing a trolley heavily laden with a range of drinks. ‘Your Micawber’s back, in force, then.’ murmured Baines, squeezing Judi’s hand with a faint smile. ‘Beer for me, please.’

‘Same here.’ rejoined Judi and they studied the menus while the Orderly poured the drinks. They ordered, and now Baines had no option. But where to start? He hadn’t a clue.

‘I know I’m often negative about education at Euterpe.’ he said hesitantly.

‘To put it mildly.’ Judi smiled, her hand once again on his. She sensed that this was not an everyday moment between them.

‘But, to be fair, not everything Alpha-Romeo-Foxtrot Foggett dreamt up was all bad.’ He lifted his beer. ‘In 1965, after the fiasco with the Armed Forces Cadet Force, Maniac Foggett turned his attention to the Arts. To which I probably owe my piano skills. But he took it further. Some unknown Foundation offered a Trophy competition to Public Schools – God knows, there are hundreds in the UK – an Art and Architecture design and scale model of a residential building. Nine months to design, build the model, decorate and submit. There were just three of us at Euterpe who enrolled. First prize was to be a thousand pounds; a lot of money back then, for a teenager.’

‘For anyone. And?’

‘Basic rules: no adult assistance, architect quality plans and cross-sections. After eight months, submit a scale model. The only concession to amateurs was there was no physics or structural consideration.’

‘Lost me now, Zav. Meaning?’

‘Didn’t matter if, in reality, the bloody thing would have collapsed, fallen down. Oh dear…’ He was staring at the photo on her lap. ‘I won third prize. A hundred pounds. It was handy for my pocket money, in Germany.’ Now he reached across and lifted the A4 size photo, held it in front of him as if studying art work in a gallery.

‘Still out of my depth here. So you entered a boys’ competition to design a house, and you got third prize. Well, congratulations.’ Judi was drily if unconsciously sarcastic. ‘So what’s all the drama?’ Baines swallowed.

‘It looks as if my design wouldn’t have collapsed. Fallen down.’ He turned the photo so that she could see it full face. ‘Because this, in every detail, Princess, is the building I designed, up and standing. Strange enough. But, in two weeks’ time, we’re both going to be living in it. Now perhaps you understand why I’m troubled, and not a little confused. And von Lemke piled on ever more reason to be so.’

‘Yuh, I caught one of those; when he called you Charlie. He’s never done that before.’ Judi moved her gaze from the coloured photo of the long sandstone building to examine Zav’s face. With her left hand she reached across and took his free arm. ‘And the insistent: Not here, not now… this evening. I won’t ask you if you’re sure. I can see you are. What were the others? Reasons?’

‘He said he only found out three days ago, when he called the architects, whatever that meant. That he’s as astonished as I am. Meaning, he knows.’ He stared at her from his bed. ‘I have no problem in believing in coincidences. But this… this is no simple coincidence. And evidently von Lemke is as puzzled as I am. And you?’ Judi shook her head, nonplussed.

‘It’s scary. It’s all of that!’ Her clipped South African accent was acute, testimony to her own confusion. ‘I agree. There’ve been too many non-coincidences ever since we met, on Coral Star. Even that was bizarre, as if we were somehow meant to meet, at that time, on that ship. Then your house, the eviction, us finding work on a von Lemke cruise and his train. Him employing us for Interpol… Us getting married, at his expense. The Graf adopting us unofficially, Baines, Peake and von Lemke effectively inseparable. And now this.’ She gestured at Baines’ building, constructed, empty and waiting for them in, of all places, the Maldives. ‘Sometimes, though, wondering and worrying is unproductive, because we can only wait and see. Which, as you know…’ she giggled briefly, ‘I hate doing!’

‘Can’t argue with any of that.’ concurred Baines. Then: ‘I’m sick of lying here like a sack of potatoes. I’m going to get up.’

‘Two sacks of potatoes.’ Judi corrected him firmly. ‘We’re going to get up.’ She lifted her hand from his arm and reached for the bell push.

Argy Maelstrøm’s late afternoon briefing was precisely that: brief. Neither Baines nor Judi was sorry; they were waiting for von Lemke. Phil and Hélène, who must have wondered why they had returned for a ten minute meeting, left again.

‘You decided not to tell them, then?’ Judi remarked. They were sitting in the two arm chairs on the balcony. Baines nodded.

‘If we’re at a loss, no point in confusing them as well.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I don’t suppose your Cosmic friend Mister Micawber’s got any ideas on this?’ Judi shook her head.

‘I’m wondering how much of whatever Heinrich knows, he’ll tell us?’

But the wondering was at an end. A knock at the door heralded von Lemke’s arrival, and this time he was alone. Seeing his two adopted associates seated in the arm chairs he dragged a third chair out onto the balcony and sat down. The habitual silent ritual of clipping and lighting the cigar ensued. Now he saw the photo on Baines’ knee and reached across.

‘May I?’ He lifted the photo and studied it. ‘I have other shots of the hotel as well. I’ll put them in your stateroom for departure from Gib. Until then… what do you make of this extraordinary coincidence?’

‘Nothing.’ said Baines flatly. ‘Not without a lot of help from you. Did you select the design for your Maldives Spa personally? Or was it the architects’ decision?’

‘Mine.’ murmured von Lemke. ‘But