Blood Stones (12 page)

‘So nice of you to ask me,' Elizabeth answered. ‘I'd meant to call you first, but life's been one mad rush in the last couple of weeks. How are you?'

‘Fine. What will you have to drink? I was early, so I'm ahead by half a gin and tonic.'

‘Just a glass of wine. I've got to drive home this afternoon.'

‘To your parents? How lovely.' Valerie was signalling the waiter. She seemed very tense. ‘Mine are dead, of course, but then …' the smile was forced as if it hurt her ‘… I'm so much older than you are.'

Elizabeth smiled her sunny smile. ‘Well, you don't look it. I must tell you, we're moving to Paris for the next three months. It's rather exciting. Do you know it well? Got any tips for me?'

Valerie Kruger looked at her. Such a friendly woman, lacking in guile. As straight as she was beautiful, looking forward to going to Paris.

‘I haven't been there for some years,' she said. ‘But I heard you were going. So I thought I'd better ask you out to lunch before you went. Here's the menu.'

She hid behind it, not feeling hungry, not caring what she chose. She had made up her mind to approach it carefully. Lead into it. Instead she had almost blurted it out. She had decided to contact Elizabeth after thinking carefully about what she was going to say and why. She had been scrupulous about her own motives. She was eaten away with bitterness and hatred, but she convinced herself that neither of these feelings prompted her. They ordered, and Elizabeth told her about the apartment, trying to make it sound amusing. She mentioned the agent's name, Lasalle, and Valerie looked up and said, ‘I met him and his wife when we went over on a business trip. Long time ago. She was very attractive, and an absolute bitch. I remember feeling sorry for him. But—' she forked up some food reluctantly ‘—I expect he married her for her money.'

‘Oh, I don't think so; he was really nice. I was sorry for him, he seemed lonely.'

Valerie said slowly, ‘I'm afraid I look at men with rather a jaundiced eye these days. You're probably right.'

Elizabeth said simply, ‘I don't blame you. When I heard what had happened I couldn't believe it. I thought at the time your husband was completely crazy, and I think so now. She's a dreadful woman.'

‘Thank you,' Valerie said. ‘You know it's surprising how many people found something
nice
to say about her … But Dick's not mad. He's in love with her just like he's in love with the business, that's all. I always came a poor second to Diamond Enterprises. Really,' she drew in a breath, ‘that's why I asked you to have lunch with me. I told you I'd heard about Paris. I have some mutual friends left who know Dick and hear the gossip. They tell me things …' She grimaced. ‘It's rather like having a bad tooth. It hurts like hell, but you can't resist touching it … So I always listen.

‘When they said your husband was taking Ruth along as his assistant – well, I felt I must talk to you.'

Elizabeth said, ‘He doesn't want to; she was forced on him. He can't stand her.'

No, Valerie thought, not at the moment. But just give it time. Wait till she's at his elbow, putting her scent down for him like a cat on heat, sharing all his business problems … Dick hadn't liked her either at first, just admired her efficiency. His previous secretary had been careless and only interested in getting away out of the office on time.

‘I hope you won't take this the wrong way,' Valerie said. ‘I like you, Elizabeth, I did from the first time we met. Those awful office parties with the wives eyeing each other up and down and the men smarming up to Arthur's wife. You were so nice, you didn't play games. I don't think you knew that games were being played.'

‘I didn't,' Elizabeth admitted. ‘I was very young and it was all new to me. I was just bored. Till James started explaining things and I could try and take an intelligent interest. Happily he talks to me about everything.'

‘You're lucky,' Valerie said. ‘Keep it going. I gave up. I gave up and I stepped away. That's why I'm sitting here without my husband. I should have seen the danger, but I didn't. I felt he was entitled to live for his business, because we never managed to have children and I knew he was disappointed. South Africans are very family conscious, especially if they're half Afrikaans like Dick. He would have liked a big houseful, with himself playing the father figure in the middle. But I couldn't. So …'

Elizabeth reached out suddenly. She touched the other woman's hand as it lay on the table, slightly clenched. ‘I'm so sorry,' she said gently. ‘We've been trying for ages. We've been told nothing's wrong, but it just won't happen.'

Valerie didn't say anything for a moment. She moved her hand, searched in her bag and brought out a packet of filter cigarettes. ‘I started this when he left,' she said. ‘I hope you don't mind.'

‘No, no. It doesn't bother me at all.' She watched the other woman light up and then inhale.

‘You're in love with your husband, aren't you?'

‘Yes.' Elizabeth was surprised. ‘Of course I am. We're in love with each other.'

‘We weren't,' Valerie said. ‘But it still took Ruth Fraser three years to get Dick away from me. I said I asked you out because you were going to Paris. The real reason is to warn you against her. I don't know why she was the one picked for the job. But I do know why she's taken it. She's getting tired of Dick. He's not going to the top like she'd hoped. So she's looking round for someone else. She's risen on her back in every job since she was twenty. I had her checked out by a detective when this started. I tried to show the report to Dick, but he wouldn't look at it. I don't give a shit, that's what he said, and he threw it at me. She's all I want and I don't care who's fucked her before me …' She stabbed out the half-smoked cigarette. ‘Dick was fifty-two and overweight. Your husband is young and attractive and he's rich. My source says he's destined for big things in D.E. And that's what she's after. She wants to get to the top herself, and she'll take any man who can help her. Don't let her do to you what she did to me. When you get there, make your husband get rid of her.'

The waiter was beside them. He smiled. ‘Coffee, ladies?'

‘No,' Elizabeth said quickly. ‘It's getting late. I've got to go.'

‘You're angry,' Valerie Kruger said. ‘You don't think I've any right to talk to you like this?'

‘I don't think you've any right to talk about James as if he was anything like your husband. I'm sorry about what happened to you. I know you're hurt and bitter, but I trust my husband. I know James and he'd never behave like that. I'm sure you mean well, but I really must go now. Thank you for lunch.'

She stood up. There was a flush of indignation on her face.

‘Just get rid of her,' Valerie Kruger said. ‘I'm trying to be your friend.'

‘That's very kind of you,' Elizabeth said shortly. ‘But I know I've nothing to worry about. Goodbye.'

The first meeting at the office of the Ministry for Nuclear Energy had taken place in a room on the first floor overlooking Red Square. It was a big room with a high ceiling; it was spartan, white walls, reproductions of Lenin's portrait common to such offices had been removed, leaving a large rectangle on one wall. The present occupant had made no political statement. He hung modest oils of Russian landscapes and a group of peasant children, and kept his ideology a secret.

A young man had acted as interpreter. D. V. Borisov had risen from his desk, very functional and prefabricated, and walked forward to shake hands with Ray Andrews. He was a tall man in his late thirties, not handsome, with rather heavy Slav features and very black eyes. His hair was cut so short his head seemed shaven. There were no concessions to Western imports. His suit was ill-cut serge, his shoes were scuffed leather, and they hadn't been polished for a long time.

Ray Andrews introduced himself via the interpreter. He was surprised that Borisov didn't speak English. The Ambassador had spoken highly of him, almost as if they were on friendly terms. But then the diplomat was fluent in Russian.

‘My Chairman, Mr Julius Heyderman, is anxious about rumours circulating in the industry of the activities of a retail jeweller called Ivan Karakov. He asked me to come over and discuss these rumours with you, Mr Borisov, and to clarify the position if that is possible.'

Ray's tone was conciliatory. The translator rattled away in Russian. D. V. Borisov listened. Once he nodded slightly. He considered Ray Andrews and the look was expressionless.

‘Mr Borisov says he is not aware of any rumours. His ministry is not interested in anything but facts.'

It was a bald, hostile statement. Andrews didn't rise. He said in the same pleasant tone, ‘I used the term rumours deliberately, because although we are convinced that they represent facts, we can't define them as such without the co-operation of your ministry. Perhaps I can give you the details and explain our cause for concern. It's not just concern for our own interests, but for the industry long term.'

The translation seemed shorter this time. ‘Please explain whatever you feel is relevant to our situation here in Russia. The interests of other countries and multinational companies don't necessarily coincide with ours.'

Still hostile. Not, Ray suspected, one of President Yeltsin's free-market enthusiasts. But years of negotiating with African politicians had given him an impenetrable skin. He smiled slightly.

‘They may coincide more than they used to,' he remarked. ‘Let me clarify.'

The interpreter interrupted. ‘Would you like tea or vodka, Mr Andrews?'

It was a technique designed to put him off just as he was marshalling his facts. He knew that one too, from past experience in that failed Russian negotiation.

‘Neither, thank you. I don't want to delay you or waste your time, Mr Borisov. As we in Diamond Enterprises understand it, your government has been negotiating an exclusive sale and distribution deal with the firm of Karakov International in Paris.' He paused, meeting the Russian's cold stare with a cool look of his own. He didn't wait for the translator. He cut through him. ‘If this is the case, then believe me, Russian interests are not only closely associated with ours, but indistinguishable from them. I don't make this assertion lightly, and I am able to prove its validity beyond question.'

The interpreter said smoothly, ‘Mr Borisov has fifteen minutes before his next appointment. He can't give you any more time, Mr Andrews.'

‘I only need five,' Andrews answered. ‘We have a world monopoly in the sale of diamonds. We control them, and we do this by controlling the distribution and keeping the stocks at a level commensurate with the market. We thus maintain prices and secure the future of all the producers who sell to us. Karakov is trying to break that monopoly by dealing direct with you. If he succeeds, in ten years, that mine of yours at Archangel may as well be closed. There won't be a market for your diamonds worth the expense of maintaining it. Now,' he stood up, ‘I won't detain you, Mr Borisov. But I sincerely hope you will give some thought to the basic facts I've put in front of you, and agree to a second meeting, with a longer time scale. Thank you for seeing me this morning. I hope to hear from you.'

He went up to the desk and shook hands. Borisov gave him a look, it wasn't warm, but at least it conveyed that something Ray had said merited his attention.

The interpreter said smoothly, ‘Goodbye, Mr Andrews. I can promise nothing but of course I shall make some enquiries. If I find anything of interest to us, and to your company, I shall ask you to meet with me again.'

The interpreter walked to the door and opened it. Ray Andrews went out. He walked down the stairs. Russian lifts were slow and unreliable, even in official buildings. There was a chronic shortage of spares for everything. What there was filtered through to their illegal markets controlled by racketeers. Like food and clothes and luxuries. Even bread in some areas. Freedom had cost the Soviet people dearly. They were hungry, crime ridden and beset by fiscal fluctuations that sent the rouble diving and encouraged corruption. He wasn't surprised that there were people like D. V. Borisov, whose father had been head of the KGB, who would have welcomed a return to the old political structure. He went for a walk, noting the litter in the streets, the sullen crowds hurrying by, the bare shop windows. No queues. They had been a Western media invention, he knew that. No queues because there was nothing that couldn't be got on the illegal markets in large quantities and triple the price.

He thought about Borisov. The Ambassador's description, a remarkable man, didn't quite fit the dour Soviet-type official he'd encountered that morning. Ray was sure he understood some English, most of them did at his level. It had always been a Russian ploy to pretend ignorance of Western languages. He sighed; he didn't want to walk, he was tired. He'd try and ring Susan when he got back to the hotel. He hoped she wouldn't ask him when he was coming back. He didn't know. He didn't know if he would hear from D. V. Borisov again. Or how long Julius Heyderman expected him to sit it out.

And what was happening back in London while he kicked his heels in Moscow …? He went back to his hotel and put a call through to Arthur Harris.

He tried to think of something encouraging to tell him. There wasn't much.

‘How was the birthday party?' James asked her. He thought she looked preoccupied when she came home the following day. Not quite herself. He was concerned. He wanted to come in and find her happy, smiling at him. Everything was ready. They were packed up, she'd done marvels getting organized at such short notice. He had signed the contract for the Paris flat, and had a meeting with Ruth Fraser. He didn't tell Elizabeth about that.