Cat O'Nine Tales And Other Stories Part 5

"Are you having an affair?"

"No. Well, yes, a fling with my secretarybut it's not going anywhere. She thinks it's serious, but I plan to replace her once the pipeline contract is signed."

"So the deal is still on course?" said Sam.

"Yes, that's originally why I needed to see you so urgently," replied d.i.c.k. "I have to be back in St. Petersburg for May the sixteenth, when both sides will be signing the contract." He paused. "And it's going to be witnessed by President Putin."

"Congratulations," said Sam. "How much will that be worth to you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm wondering if you're not the only person who's hoping that the deal will go through."

"Around sixty million..." d.i.c.k hesitated..."for the company."

"And do you still own fifty-one percent of the shares?"

"Yes, but I could always hide..."

"Don't even think about it," said Sam.

"You won't be able to hide anything if Symonds is on the case. He'll sniff out every last penny, like a pig hunting for truffles.

And if the court were to discover that you attempted to deceive them, it would only make the judge more sympathetic to your wife." The senior partner paused, looked directly at his client, and repeated, "Don't even think about it."

"So what should I do?"

"Nothing that will arouse suspicion; go about your business as usual, as if you have no idea what she's up to. Meanwhile, I'll fix a consultation with counsel, so at least we'll be better prepared than Mr. Symonds will be antic.i.p.ating. And one more thing," said Sam, once again looking directly at his client, "no more extramarital activities until this problem has been resolved. That's an order."

d.i.c.k kept a close eye on his wife during the next few days, but she gave no sign of there being anything untoward. If anything, she showed an unusual interest in how the trip to St. Petersburg had gone, and over dinner on Thursday evening even asked if the board had come to a decision.

"They most certainly have," d.i.c.k replied emphatically. "Once Sam had taken the directors through each clause, gone over every detail, and answered all of their questions, they virtually rubberstamped the contract." d.i.c.k poured himself a second cup of coffee. He was taken by surprise by his wife's next question.

"Why don't I join you when you go to St. Petersburg? We could fly out on the Friday," she added, "and spend the weekend visiting the Hermitage and the Summer Palace. We might even find enough time to see Catherine's amber collectionsomething I've always wanted to do."

d.i.c.k didn't reply immediately, aware that this was not a casual suggestion as it had been years since Maureen had accompanied him on a business trip. d.i.c.k's first reaction was to wonder what she was up to. "Let me think about it," he eventually responded, leaving his coffee to go cold.

d.i.c.k rang Sam Cohen within minutes of arriving at his office and reported the conversation to his lawyer.

"Symonds must have advised her to witness the signing of the contract," suggested Cohen.

"But why?"

"So that Maureen will be able to claim that over the years she has played a leading role in your business success, always being there to support you at those critical moments in your career..."

"b.a.l.l.s," said d.i.c.k, "she's never taken any interest in how I make my money, only in how she can spend it."

"... and therefore she must be ent.i.tled to fifty percent of your a.s.sets."

"But that could amount to over thirty million pounds," d.i.c.k protested.

"Symonds has obviously done his homework."

"Then I'll simply tell her that she can't come on the trip. It's not appropriate."

"Which will allow Mr. Symonds to change tack. He'll then portray you as a heartless man, who, the moment you became a success, cut his client out of your life, often traveling abroad, accompanied by a secretary who..."

"OK, OK, I get the picture. So allowing her to come to St. Petersburg might well prove to be the lesser of two evils."

"On the one hand..." counseled Sam.

"b.l.o.o.d.y lawyers," said d.i.c.k before he could finish the sentence.

"Funny how you only need us when you're in trouble," Sam rejoined. "So let's make sure that this time we antic.i.p.ate her next move."

"And what's that likely to be?"

"Once she's got you to St. Petersburg, she'll want to have s.e.x."

"We haven't had s.e.x for years."

"And not because I haven't wanted to, m'lord."

"Oh, h.e.l.l," said d.i.c.k, "I can't win."

"You can as long as you don't follow Lady Longford's advicewhen asked if she had ever considered divorcing Lord Longford, she replied, 'Divorce, never, murder, often.' "

Mr. and Mrs. Richard Barnsley checked into the Grand Palace Hotel in St. Petersburg a fortnight later. A porter placed their bags on a trolley, and then accompanied them to the Tolstoy Suite on the ninth floor.

"Must go to the loo before I burst," said d.i.c.k as he rushed into the room ahead of his wife. While her husband disappeared into the bathroom, Maureen looked out of the window and admired the golden domes of St. Nicholas's Cathedral.

Once he'd locked the door, d.i.c.k removed the DON'T DRINK THE WATER sign that was perched on the washbasin and tucked it into the back pocket of his trousers. Next he unscrewed the tops of the two Evian bottles and poured the contents down the sink. He then refilled both bottles with tap water, before s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the tops firmly back on and returning them to their place on the corner of the basin. He unlocked the door and strolled out of the bathroom.

d.i.c.k started to unpack his suitcase, but stopped the moment Maureen disappeared into the bathroom. First, he transferred the DON'T DRINK THE WATER sign from his back pocket into the side flap of his suitcase. He zipped up the flap, before checking around the room. There was a small bottle of Evian water on each side of the bed, and two large bottles on the table by the window.

He grabbed the bottle by his wife's side of the bed and retreated into the kitchenette at the far end of the room. d.i.c.k poured the contents down the sink, and refilled the bottle with tap water. He then returned it to Maureen's side of the bed.

Next, he took the two large bottles from the table by the window and repeated the process.

By the time his wife had come out of the bathroom, d.i.c.k had almost finished unpacking. While Maureen continued to unpack her suitcase, d.i.c.k strolled across to his side of the bed and dialed a number he didn't need to look up. As he waited for the phone to be answered, he opened the bottle of Evian water on his side of the bed, and took a gulp.

"Hi, Anatol, it's d.i.c.k Barnsley. I thought I'd let you know that we've just checked in to the Grand Palace."

"Welcome back to St. Petersburg," said a friendly voice. "And is your wife with you on this occasion?"

"She most certainly is," replied d.i.c.k, "and very much looking forward to meeting you."

"Me too," said the minister, "so make sure that you have a relaxed weekend because everything is set up for Monday morning. The President is due to fly in tomorrow night so he'll be present when the contract is signed."

"Ten o'clock at the Winter Palace?"

"Ten o'clock," repeated Chenkov. "I'll pick you up from your hotel at nine. It's only a thirty-minute drive, but we can't afford to be late for this one."

"I'll be waiting for you in the lobby," said d.i.c.k. "See you then." He put the phone down and turned to his wife.

"Why don't we go down to dinner, my darling? We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow." He adjusted his watch by three hours and added, "So perhaps it would be wise to have an early night."

Maureen placed a long silk nightdress on her side of the bed and smiled in agreement. As she turned to place her empty case in the wardrobe, d.i.c.k slipped an Evian bottle from the bedside table into his jacket pocket.

He then accompanied his wife down to the dining room.

The head waiter guided them to a quiet table in the corner and, once they were seated, offered his two guests menus.

Maureen disappeared behind the large leather cover while she considered the table d'hote, which allowed d.i.c.k enough time to remove the bottle of Evian from his pocket, undo the cap and fill his wife's gla.s.s.

Once they had both selected their meals, Maureen went over her proposed itinerary for the next two days. "I think we should begin with the Hermitage, first thing in the morning," she suggested, "take a break for lunch, and then spend the rest of the afternoon at the Summer Palace."

"What about the amber collection?" asked d.i.c.k, as he topped up her water gla.s.s. "I thought that was a no-miss."

"I'd already scheduled in the amber collection and the Russian Museum for Sunday."

"Sounds as if you have everything well organized," said d.i.c.k, as a waiter placed a bowl of borscht in front of his wife.

Maureen spent the rest of the meal telling d.i.c.k about some of the treasures that they would see when they visited the Hermitage. By the time d.i.c.k had signed the bill, Maureen had drunk the bottle of water.

d.i.c.k slipped the empty bottle back in his pocket. Once they had returned to their room, he filled it with tap water and left it in the bathroom.

By the time d.i.c.k had undressed and climbed into bed, Maureen was still studying her guidebook.

"I feel exhausted," d.i.c.k said. "It must be the time change." He turned his back on her, hoping she wouldn't work out that it was just after eight p.m. in England.

d.i.c.k woke the following morning feeling very thirsty. He looked at the empty bottle of Evian on his side of the bed and remembered just in time. He climbed out of bed, walked across to the fridge and selected a bottle of orange juice.

"Will you be going to the gym this morning?" he asked a half-awake Maureen.

"Do I have time?"

"Sure, the Hermitage doesn't open until ten, and one of the reasons I always stay here is because of the hotel's gym."

"So what about you?"

"I still have to make some phone calls if everything is to be set up for Monday."

Maureen slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, which allowed d.i.c.k enough time to top up her gla.s.s and replace the empty bottle of Evian on her side of the bed.

When Maureen emerged a few minutes later, she checked her watch before slipping on her gym kit. "I should be back in about forty minutes," she said, after tying up her trainers.

"Don't forget to take some water with you," said d.i.c.k, handing her one of the bottles from the table by the window.

"They may not have one in the gym."

"Thank you," she said.

d.i.c.k wondered, from the expression on her face, if he was being just a little too solicitous.

While Maureen was in the gym, d.i.c.k took a shower. When he walked back into the bedroom, he was pleased to see that the sun was shining. He put on a blazer and slacks, but only after he'd checked that none of the bottles had been replaced by the hotel staff while he'd been in the bathroom.

d.i.c.k ordered breakfast for both of them, which arrived moments after Maureen returned from the gym, clutching the half-empty Evian bottle.

"How did your training go?" d.i.c.k asked.

"Not great," Maureen replied. "I felt a bit listless."

"Probably just jetlag," suggested d.i.c.k as he took his place on the far side of the table. He poured his wife a gla.s.s of water, and himself another orange juice. d.i.c.k opened a copy of the Herald Tribune, which he began to read while he waited for his wife to dress. Hillary Clinton said she wouldn't be running for president, which only convinced d.i.c.k that she would, especially as she made the announcement standing by her husband's side.

Maureen came out of the bathroom wearing a hotel dressing gown. She took the seat opposite her husband and sipped the water.

"Better take a bottle of Evian with us when we visit the Hermitage," said Maureen. d.i.c.k looked up from behind his paper. "The girl in the gym warned me not, under any circ.u.mstances, to drink the local water."

"Oh yes, I should have warned you," said d.i.c.k, as Maureen took a bottle from the table by the window and put it in her bag. "Can't be too careful."

d.i.c.k and Maureen strolled through the front gates of the Hermitage a few minutes before ten, to find themselves at the back of a long queue. The crocodile of visitors progressed slowly forward along an unshaded cobbled path. Maureen took several sips of water between turning the pages of the guidebook. It was ten forty before they reached the ticket booth.

Once inside, Maureen continued to study her guidebook. "Whatever we do, we must be sure to see Michelangelo's Crouching Boy, Raphael's Virgin, and Leonardo's Madonna Benois"

d.i.c.k smiled his agreement, but knew he wouldn't be concerning himself with the masters.

As they climbed the wide marble staircase, they pa.s.sed several magnificent statues nestled in alcoves. d.i.c.k was surprised to discover just how vast the Hermitage was. Despite visiting St. Petersburg several times during the past three years, he had only ever seen the building from the outside.

"Housed on three floors, Tsar Peter's collection displays treasures in over two hundred rooms," Maureen told him, reading from the guidebook. "So let's get started."

By eleven thirty they had only covered the Dutch and Italian schools on the first floor, by which time Maureen had finished the large bottle of Evian.

d.i.c.k volunteered to go and buy another bottle. He left his wife admiring Caravaggio's The Lute Player, while he slipped into the nearest rest room. He refilled the empty Evian bottle with tap water before rejoining his wife. If Maureen had spent a little time studying one of the many drinks counters situated on each floor, she would have discovered that the Hermitage doesn't stock Evian, because it has an exclusive contract with Volvic.

By twelve thirty they had all but covered the sixteen rooms devoted to the Renaissance artists, and agreed it was time for lunch. They left the building and strolled back into the midday sun. The two of them walked for a while along the bank of the Moika River, stopping only to take a photograph of a bride and groom posing on the Blue Bridge in front of the Mariinsky Palace.

"A local tradition," said Maureen, turning another page of her guidebook.

After walking another block, they came to a halt outside a small pizzeria.

Its sensible square tables with neat redand-white check tablecloths and smartly dressed waiters tempted them inside.

"I must go to the loo," said Maureen.

"I'm feeling a little queasy. It must be the heat." She added, "Just order me a salad and a gla.s.s of water."

d.i.c.k smiled, removed the Evian bottle from her bag and filled up the gla.s.s on her side of the table. When the waiter appeared, d.i.c.k ordered a salad for his wife, and ravioli plus a large diet c.o.ke for himself. He was desperate for something to drink.