Cat O'Nine Tales And Other Stories Part 6

Once she'd eaten her salad, Maureen perked up a little, and even began to tell d.i.c.k what they should look out for when they visited the Summer Palace.

On the long taxi ride through the north of the city, she continued to read extracts from her guidebook. "Peter the Great built the Summer Palace after he had visited Versailles, and on returning to Russia employed the finest landscape gardeners and most gifted craftsmen in the land to reproduce the French masterpiece. He intended the finished work to be a homage to the French, whom he greatly admired as the leaders of style throughout Europe."

The taxi driver interrupted her flow with a snippet of information of his own.

"We are just pa.s.sing the recently constructed Winter Palace, which is where President Putin stays whenever he's in St. Petersburg." The driver paused. "And, as the national flag is flying, he must be in town."

"He's flown down from Moscow especially to see me," said d.i.c.k.

The taxi driver dutifully laughed.

The taxi drove through the gates of the Summer Palace half an hour later and the driver dropped his pa.s.sengers off in a crowded carpark, bustling with sightseers and traders, who were standing behind their makeshift stalls plying their cheap souvenirs.

"Let's go and see the real thing," suggested Maureen.

"I wait for you here," said the taxi driver. "No extra charge. How long?" he added.

"I should think we'd be a couple of hours," said d.i.c.k. "No more."

"I wait for you here," he repeated.

The two of them strolled around the magnificent gardens, and d.i.c.k could see why it was described in the guidebooks as a "can't afford to miss," with five stars.

Maureen continued to brief him between sips of water. "The grounds surrounding the palace cover over a hundred acres, with more than twenty fountains, as well as eleven other palatial residences." Although the sun was no longer burning down, the sky was still clear and Maureen continued to take regular gulps of water, but however many times she offered the bottle to d.i.c.k, he always replied, "No thanks."

When they finally climbed the steps of the palace, they were greeted by another long queue, and Maureen admitted that she was feeling a little tired.

"Pity to have traveled this far," said d.i.c.k, "and not take a look inside."

His wife reluctantly agreed.

When they reached the front of the queue, d.i.c.k purchased two entrance tickets and, for a small extra charge, selected an English-speaking guide to show them around.

"I don't feel too good," said Maureen as they entered the Empress Catherine's bedroom. She clung onto the four-poster bed.

"You must drink lots of water on such a hot day," suggested the tour guide helpfully. By the time they had reached Tsar Nicholas IV's study, Maureen warned her husband that she thought she was going to faint. d.i.c.k apologized to their guide, put an arm around his wife's shoulder and a.s.sisted her out of the palace on an unsteady journey back to the carpark.

They found their taxi driver standing by his car waiting for them.

"We must return to the Grand Palace Hotel immediately," said d.i.c.k, as his wife fell into the back seat of the car like a drunk who has been thrown out of a pub on a Sat.u.r.day night.

On the long drive back to St. Petersburg, Maureen was violently sick in the back of the taxi, but the driver didn't comment, just maintained a steady speed as he continued along the highway. Forty minutes later, he came to a halt outside the Grand Palace Hotel. d.i.c.k handed over a wodge of notes and apologized.

"Hope madam better soon," he said.

"Yes, let's hope so," replied d.i.c.k.

d.i.c.k helped his wife out of the back of the car, and guided her up the steps into the hotel lobby and quickly toward the lifts, not wishing to draw attention to himself. He had her safely back in their suite moments later.

Maureen immediately disappeared into the bathroom, and even with the door closed d.i.c.k could hear her retching. He searched around the room. In their absence, all the bottles of Evian had been replaced. He only bothered to empty the one by Maureen's bedside, which he refilled with tap water from the kitchenette.

Maureen finally emerged from the bathroom, and collapsed onto the bed. "I feel awful," she said.

"Perhaps you ought to take a couple of aspirin, and try to get some sleep?"

Maureen nodded weakly. "Could you fetch them for me? They're in my wash bag."

"Of course, my darling." Once he'd found the pills, he filled a gla.s.s with tap water, before returning to his wife's side.

She had taken off her dress, but not her slip. d.i.c.k helped her to sit up and became aware for the first time that she was soaked in sweat. She swilled down the two aspirins with the gla.s.s of water d.i.c.k offered her. He lowered her gently down onto the pillow before drawing the curtains. He then strolled across to the bedroom door, opened it, and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the door k.n.o.b.

The last thing he needed was for a solicitous maid to come barging in and find his wife in her present state. Once d.i.c.k was certain she was asleep, he went down to dinner.

"Will madam be joining you this evening?" inquired the head waiter, once d.i.c.k was seated.

"No, sadly not," replied d.i.c.k, "she has a slight migraine. Too much sun I fear, but I'm sure she'll be fine by the morning."

"Let's hope so, sir. What can I interest you in tonight?"

d.i.c.k took his time perusing the menu, before he eventually said, "I think I'll start with the foie gras, followed by a rump steak..." he paused..."medium rare."

"Excellent choice, sir."

d.i.c.k poured himself a gla.s.s of water from the bottle on the table and quickly gulped it down, before filling his gla.s.s a second time. He didn't hurry his meal, and when he returned to his suite just after ten, he was delighted to find his wife was fast asleep. He picked up her gla.s.s, took it to the bathroom and refilled it with tap water. He then put it back on her side of the bed. d.i.c.k took his time undressing, before finally slipping under the covers to settle down next to his wife.

He turned out the bedside light and slept soundly.

When d.i.c.k woke the following morning, he found that he too was covered in sweat. The sheets were also soaked, and when he turned over to look at his wife all the color had drained from her cheeks.

d.i.c.k eased himself out of bed, slipped into the bathroom and took a long shower. Once he had dried himself, he put on one of the hotel's toweling dressing gowns and returned to the bedroom. He crept over to his wife's side of the bed and once again refilled her empty gla.s.s with tap water. She had clearly woken during the night, but not disturbed him.

He drew the curtains before checking that the Do Not Disturb sign was still on 191/595 the door. He returned to his wife's side of the bed, pulled up a chair and began to read the Herald Tribune. He had reached the sports pages by the time she woke. Her words were slurred. She managed, "I feel awful." A long pause followed before she added, "Don't you think I ought to see a doctor?"

"He's already been to examine you, my dear," said d.i.c.k. "I called for him last night. Don't you remember? He told you that you'd caught a fever, and you'll just have to sweat it out."

"Did he leave any pills?" asked Maureen plaintively.

"No, my darling. He just said you weren't to eat anything, but to try and drink as much water as possible." He held the gla.s.s up to her lips and she attempted to gulp some more down. She even managed, "Thank you," before collapsing back onto the pillow.

"Don't worry, my darling," said d.i.c.k.

"You're going to be just fine, and I promise you I won't leave your side, even for a moment." He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She fell asleep again.

The only time d.i.c.k left Maureen's side that day was to a.s.sure the housekeeper that his wife did not wish to have the sheets changed, to refill the gla.s.s of water on her bedside table, and late in the afternoon to take a call from the minister.

"The President flew in yesterday," were Chenkov's opening words. "He's staying at the Winter Palace, where I've just left him. He wanted me to let you know how much he is looking forward to meeting you and your wife."

"How kind of him," said d.i.c.k, "but I have a problem."

"A problem?" said a man who didn't like problems, especially when the President was in town.

"It's just that Maureen seems to have caught a fever. We were out in the sun all day yesterday, and I'm not sure that she will have fully recovered in time to join us for the signing ceremony, so I may be on my own."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Chenkov, "and how are you?"

"Never felt better," said d.i.c.k.

"That's good," said Chenkov, sounding relieved. "So I'll pick you up at nine o'clock, as agreed. I don't want to keep the President waiting."

"Neither do I, Anatol," d.i.c.k a.s.sured him. "You'll find me standing in the lobby long before nine."

There was a knock on the door. d.i.c.k quickly put the phone down and rushed across to open it before anyone was given a chance to barge in. A maid was standing in the corridor next to a trolley laden with sheets, towels, bars of soap, shampoo bottles and cases of Evian water.

"You want the bed turned down, sir?" she asked, giving him a smile.

"No, thank you," said d.i.c.k. "My wife is not feeling well." He pointed to the Do Not Disturb sign.

"More water, perhaps?" she suggested, holding up a large bottle of Evian.

"No," he repeated firmly and closed the door.

The only other call that evening came from the hotel manager. He asked politely if madam would like to see the hotel doctor.

"No, thank you," said d.i.c.k. "She just caught a little sun but she's on the mend, and I feel sure she will have fully recovered by the morning."

"Just give me a call," said the manager, "should she change her mind. The doctor can be with you in minutes."

"That's very considerate of you," said d.i.c.k, "but it won't be necessary," he added before putting the phone down. He returned to his wife's side. Her skin was now pallid and blotchy. He leaned forward until he was almost touching her lipsshe was still breathing. He walked across to the fridge, opened it and took out all the unopened bottles of Evian water. He placed two of them in the bathroom, and one each side of the bed. His final action, before undressing, was to take the DON'T DRINK THE WATER sign out of his suitcase and replace it on the side of the washbasin.

Chenkov's car pulled up outside the Grand Palace Hotel a few minutes before nine the following morning. Karl jumped out to open the back door for the minister.

Chenkov walked quickly up the steps and into the hotel, expecting to find d.i.c.k waiting for him in the lobby. He looked up and down the crowded corridor, but there was no sign of his business partner.

He marched across to the reception desk and asked if Mr. Barnsley had left a message for him.

"No, Minister," replied the concierge.

"Would you like me to call his room?"

The minister nodded briskly They both waited for some time, before the concierge added, "No one is answering the phone, Minister, so perhaps Mr. Barnsley is on his way down."

Chenkov nodded again, and began pacing up and down the lobby, continually glancing toward the elevator, before checking his watch. At ten past nine, the minister became even more anxious, as he had no desire to keep the President waiting. He returned to the reception desk.

"Try again," he demanded.

The concierge immediately dialed Mr. Barnsley's room number, but could only report that there was still no reply "Send for the manager," barked the minister. The concierge nodded, picked up the phone once again and dialed a single number.

A few moments later, a tall, elegantly dressed man in a dark suit was standing by Chenkov's side.

"How may I a.s.sist you, Minister?" he asked.

"I need to go up to Mr. Barnsley's room."

"Of course, Minister, please follow me."

When the three men arrived on the ninth floor, they quickly made their way to the Tolstoy Suite, where they found the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the door k.n.o.b. The minister banged loudly on the door, but there was no response.

"Open the door," he demanded. The concierge obeyed without hesitation.

The minister marched into the room, followed by the manager and the concierge. Chenkov came to an abrupt halt when he saw two motionless bodies lying in bed. The concierge didn't need to be told to call for a doctor.

Sadly, the doctor had attended three such cases in the past month, but with a differencethey had all been locals. He studied his two patients for some time before he pa.s.sed a judgment.

"The Siberian disease," he confirmed, almost in a whisper. He paused and, looking up at the minister, added, "The lady undoubtedly died during the night, whereas the gentleman has pa.s.sed away within the last hour."

The minister made no comment.

"My initial conclusion," continued the doctor, "is that she probably caught the disease from drinking too much of the local water..." he paused as he looked down at d.i.c.ks lifeless body..."while her husband must have contracted the virus from his wife, probably during the night.

Not an uncommon occurrence among married couples," he added. "Like so many of our countrymen, he clearly wasn't aware that..." he hesitated before uttering the word in front of the minister "Siherius is one of those rare diseases that is not only infectious but highly contagious."

"But I called him last night," protested the manager, "and asked if he'd like to see a doctor, and he said it wasn't necessary, as his wife was on the mend and he was confident that she would be fully recovered by the morning."

"How sad," said the doctor, before adding, "if only he'd said yes. It would have been too late to revive his wife, but I still might have saved him."

It Can't Be October Already.

Patrick O'Flynn Stood in front of H. Samuel, the jeweler's, holding a brick in his right hand. He was staring intently at the window. He smiled, raised his arm and hurled the brick at the gla.s.s pane.

The window shattered like a spiders web, but remained firmly in place. An alarm was immediately set off, which in the still of a clear, cold October night could be heard half a mile away More important to Pat, the alarm was directly connected to the local police station.

Pat didn't move as he continued to stare at his handiwork. He only had to wait ninety seconds before he heard the sound of a siren in the distance. He bent down and retrieved the brick from the pavement, as the whining noise grew louder and louder. When the police car came to a screeching halt by the curbside, Pat raised the brick above his head and leaned back, like an Olympic javelin thrower intent on a gold medal. Two policemen leaped out of the car. The older one ignored Pat, who remained poised, arm above his head with the brick in his hand, and walked across to the window to check the damage. Although the pane was shattered, it was still firmly in place.

In any case, an iron security grille had descended behind the window, something Pat knew full well would happen. But when the sergeant returned to the station, he would still have to phone the manager, get him out of bed and ask him to come down to the shop and turn off the alarm.

The sergeant turned round to find Pat still standing with the brick high above his head.

"OK, Pat, hand it over and get in," said the sergeant, as he held open the back door of the police car.

Pat smiled, pa.s.sed the brick to the fresh-faced constable and said, "You'll need this as evidence."

The young constable was speechless.