Blood Stones (27 page)

She spat the venom with a smile. ‘You should have thought of that before you gave him lousy goods at the top price. Tell me,' she changed tack abruptly, ‘how come you know Jean Pierre?'

‘We rented our apartment from him,' James answered. ‘He's been very kind to my wife, taking her to exhibitions, showing her round. I've been so busy setting up our office. I believe his wife was very well connected?'

‘Yes, Jennie … lovely person, great friend. Such a shame they didn't make out – but then, so few marriages last these days. He's an attractive man, don't you think so? I wouldn't let him take your wife to too many exhibitions. And what a lovely girl she is. Ivan loves blondes. And titles. Our daughter is a princess.'

‘How nice,' James had stiffened at the oblique way she talked about Elizabeth. The jibe about Jean Pierre had not escaped him. ‘And who is the prince? Is he French?'

The bright dark eyes considered him. ‘Romanian,' she said. ‘Titulescu. He works for Ivan.'

‘That's handy,' he agreed. ‘He's your principal salesman, isn't he?'

She laid down her fork. ‘He's a fart,' she said calmly. ‘But our daughter likes him, and they've got a little boy. So it suits everyone. How long are you staying over?'

James looked across at Karakov, who was talking to the jolly Embassy wife and looking bored. ‘As long as it takes to see your husband.'

Laura Karakov laid her red-nailed hand on his arm for a moment. The big diamond blazed in the candlelight. ‘Don't hold your breath, will you?' Then she turned and began to talk to the German industrialist on her left.

‘Darling,' James came up to Elizabeth after they left the dining-room. ‘You all right? I saw you doing great stuff with him before dinner.'

‘He was rather nice,' she said. ‘I liked talking to him. You looked pissed off sitting next to the wife.'

‘I was,' he agreed. ‘But I didn't mean to let it show. She's a real bitch, but never mind. I'll get there. He's coming over to you again. I'm going to have a word later.' He moved off before Ivan reached her.

‘Oh good,' Elizabeth said. ‘I hoped you'd come and talk to me. I saw Jean Pierre looking purposeful with that American in tow. He's a famous theatrical producer. Max something or other. I saw the last play in London. All about a wife finding out that her husband was gay. I thought it was dreadful.'

Ivan laughed out loud. ‘I thought so too. I'd have walked out in the middle but we were taken. No,' he said firmly to their host as he approached them. ‘No, you're not stealing this lovely girl away from me. Is he?'

She turned to Jean Pierre, smiling her thanks to him for what he had done. ‘No, he's not,' she said. ‘I'm very happy where I am. Besides, I want to hear all about Mr Karakov's jewels.'

‘Then I won't disturb you,' Jean Pierre said. ‘My friend Max will be devastated, he's been longing to talk to you, Elizabeth. But I know my friend Ivan, too. He won't let go of you.'

‘Speaking of jewels,' Karakov said, ‘that's a very nice piece you're wearing. Lovely quality.' He eyed the brooch. ‘Reminds me of something I sold Elizabeth Taylor. I had to reset it for her, she hated anything old-fashioned …'

Laura Karakov was watching him. She heard Elizabeth laughing. She could have repeated every anecdote by heart. Ivan was playing his chosen role, the great character with a weakness for beautiful women. It didn't bother her. He was vain. He loved an audience. The diversion would be good for him. He had left the house that night in a belligerent mood. The reason he gave was an angry telephone exchange with the New York Sales Director. Figures for the half-year had been disappointing. Showing off to a compliant young woman would soothe his feelings. Laura wasn't jealous of Elizabeth, she wasn't petty. She had met and socialized with people of all nationalities and prominence without feeling inferior to any of them. Including the great Hollywood stars in the early years. She knew her own worth. She preyed on them and they let her. That was enough.

James was stuck between the German lady and the producer's wife. He talked diamonds to the German who seemed obsessed by owning jewellery, and theatre to the younger woman who had played in a number of musicals before she married. At one point he excused himself and went over to Jean Pierre.

‘Can you try again?' he whispered. ‘I must get a chance to talk with him.'

‘I'll try,' the Frenchman said. ‘But unfortunately Elizabeth is making herself too agreeable to him. He seems to be enchanted, I've never seen him in such a good humour. Come with me.'

Jean Pierre moved towards Karakov and Elizabeth with James following. He had promised to help James make the contact, but he disliked being pressured. What decided him was a brief glimpse of Elizabeth looking tired when Karakov was in full acting mode. He came up and said in a firm but charming voice, ‘Now you have had your turn, Ivan; it's time you talked a little to the husband or he will become jealous. Elizabeth?'

She rose at once, giving her place to James. She smiled at Ivan, who had got up. ‘I've loved our conversation. Perhaps you and your wife would come and dine with us one evening? It would be great if you would.'

‘We'd enjoy that,' Ivan was gallant to the last. ‘Please call us.'

Jean Pierre murmured to her, ‘I had to break it up or your husband wouldn't have talked with him at all. Come and sit next to Max. He really does want to talk to you. So do I.' For a moment he touched her arm. ‘But the host never gets to enjoy his own party. Ah, Max … I've brought Lady Elizabeth over. Ivan was monopolizing her.'

‘I'm not surprised,' the producer was flagrantly unfaithful to his wife and couldn't resist a pretty new face. His wife watched him set about Elizabeth with her usual resignation. There was nothing to do but pretend not to notice. After all, she had married a genius. All geniuses were flawed. Somebody had told her that and she repeated it daily, like a prayer. Elizabeth asked him quickly what new play he was working on, and he launched into an excited monologue. She listened, smiled vaguely, and tried to rest her back against the unyielding upholstery of a Louis XV chair. Her back was aching, and she felt slightly sick after the rich food.

At the far end of the room, Ivan was also leaning back, a glass of Armagnac in one hand, looking at James with hostile eyes.

‘I'm telling you,' he said, ‘I think your organization stinks.'

‘I think you're being a bit hard, sir,' James replied coolly. He had called Ivan sir because he knew the old man expected deference and it cost James nothing to say it. ‘I know we've had our misunderstandings … that's why Julius sent me over to try and sort them out. He's very anxious to get the relationship back on its old friendly footing.'

‘Friendly footing!' Ivan jerked forward aggressively, eyes flashing. It was part of his technique to show bursts of anger. It put his opponents off stroke. ‘Listen to me,' he said. ‘I'm an old guy, and I was top of this business when you were crapping in your diapers! I've dealt with you people since I started. The only footing anybody gets on with you is, take our terms or we'll break you. No goods, no supplies. I've known respected men in the trade who were ruined because they wouldn't pay top prices for lousy goods. Well, I'm not one of them!'

He set his glass down and glared at James. ‘You've run this industry too long. You think you can play God. Well, not with me. I'm too big for you, son.'

‘Nobody is denying that,' James answered. ‘You're the best in the world. I said before, we can't afford to fight you. And no disrespect, you can't afford to fight with us.'

‘You want to bet?' Ivan grinned at him. ‘Just talking about your organization gets my stomach acids working. Have a brandy.'

It was a sudden peace offering, and James acknowledged it by saying quietly, ‘I'm going to make peace between you and Diamond Enterprises, and nothing's going to stop me. If we've been wrong in the past, then I've got Julius's brief to put it right. So long as we don't break up the family. Now, sir, if you'll excuse me, I think my wife's a little tired, so I'll take her home. It's been a wonderful evening. Thank you. And I meant what I said.'

Karakov looked at him. ‘Good night, Mr Hastings. And you take care of that girl. She's more precious than a diamond.'

Jean Pierre came to the door with them. ‘I hope it's been helpful,' he said to James. ‘How did you get on with him?'

‘Better, right at the end,' James said. ‘But Liz was the star. He was eating out of her hand.'

Jean Pierre said, ‘How could he help it?'

He smiled at Elizabeth, and James said quickly, ‘I can't thank you enough. It was a great evening, anyway, and very good of you to set it up. I'm sure he'll agree the business meeting. Now, darling,' the grip was very proprietorial and he moved her firmly through the front door, ‘time you got your feet up. Good night, and thanks again.'

He settled Elizabeth in the car, got into the back beside her, and told the driver to take them home. He pulled her into the crook of his arm. ‘Thank you, sweetheart,' he said. ‘I saw the effort you made tonight. I know how you hate this kind of lousy artificial set-up, and I'm sorry about the Lady Elizabeth bit. I just felt it might help. You were great with the old man. Thank you.' He kissed her and held her close.

‘I wanted to help,' she said softly.

She was so sweet and loving, he thought, holding her close. He said, ‘And you did, darling. Now we'll see what happens. He's right, you know. You're more precious to me than his bloody diamonds are.'

The Karakovs had a post-mortem. Sitting up in bed, while Ivan brushed his teeth and took a last pee, with the bathroom door open, Laura called through to him.

‘So, what's his next move?'

The lavatory flushed, and he came out. ‘He'll want an appointment. He'll want to give me a lot of crap and promise this and that, and I'm going to play along.'

Laura frowned. Cleaned of make-up, her face was sallow and showed signs of her age. The sleek hair fell to her shoulders, giving her a grotesque illusion of youth till she turned face to face. ‘Why?' she said. ‘Why waste your time? Everything's set.' Then suddenly. ‘Or is it? What haven't you told me?'

‘Nothing,' he protested, and then because he had never kept any business secrets from her, ‘I got an answer back from Moscow. Mirkovitch says they're still working on the deal. No details, nothing concrete to say what's holding it up. I faxed him yesterday.'

‘And that's bad?' Laura questioned. ‘You think you should go out there yourself? It worked before. You talked with that guy Borisov … Why not miss out on Mirkovitch and go to the top?'

‘Because I won't need to,' he retorted. ‘And I can't. Luchaire says the Saudi is coming over specially to see the Romanov Diamonds. I can't go to Moscow …'

The Romanovs. Laura grimaced. He even called the red diamonds by the spurious attribution when he was talking to her. He had convinced himself of his own deception. Of such are the world's great salesmen made. She cut through the crap, as she put it mentally.

‘You're keeping your options open through Hastings in case something gets screwed up with either of the deals,' she stated.

‘Why not? I like options. You never know when you might need one. But I'm confident. I'll sell the Saudi my diamonds, and I'll sign with Moscow. Meantime, let that smart ass think he's getting somewhere.'

He heaved himself into bed, reached for the light switch, and rolled over on his side, away from her. They hadn't slept together for the last five years. He was past active sex, and he knew it. He had energy only for his business now.

Ruth came into James's office. ‘I've got an appointment for you. That social contact must have worked a miracle. The secretary was all over me like a rash. She's offered an eleven o'clock appointment for next Thursday. Karakov's office. Do I confirm?'

James looked up at her. He had been bent over some faxes on his desk. They had come in with the first batch that morning. Faxes from Johannesburg, mostly routine, faxes from Brussels where he was planning to take a meeting and spend a few days with Elizabeth. And a confidential fax from Arthur Harris in London.

‘What?'

She said patiently, ‘I have an appointment for you with the great man. Eleven o'clock next Thursday in his office? Do I confirm? I said I'd call back before lunch.'

She noticed that he was very pale. Normally he was rather tanned; it went with his dark hair and eyes. But not then. He wasn't just pale, he was white.

‘Mr Hastings? Is anything wrong?'

‘Wrong?' he repeated. ‘No, nothing. Good news, in fact.' She didn't move. He forced himself to say, ‘Andrews has just left London for Moscow. It looks like he's got an agreement with the Russians. Yes, take the appointment for me. It doesn't seem all that relevant, if this is right.'

Ruth said quietly, ‘Is it certain? Andrews has done a deal?'

He wished she'd go away. He wanted time to compose himself, to absorb the shock. Andrews had been given the impossible to do, and, according to Arthur's smug communiqué, all very confidential, as he insisted, Andrews had done it.

‘As certain as anything can be that isn't signed,' James answered.

‘Then something could still go wrong,' Ruth suggested. He looked up at her in some surprise. It wasn't the reaction he had expected. She was Kruger's mistress, she belonged in the other camp. She should have been euphoric.

‘Yes,' he said, ‘I suppose it could. It seems Arthur Harris has agreed to some very stiff terms. He's just sent the broadest outlines, of course, but the details should be interesting. He could be taking a big risk. Which isn't like him.'