Four Warned (Quick Reads 2014) (6 page)

‘And take my advice – don’t drink the water. Last year we lost countless numbers of our citizens who got sick with . . .’ the minister stopped, not wanting to add belief
to a story that had been splashed across the front pages of every Western paper.

‘How many is countless?’ enquired Dick.

‘None,’ replied the minister. ‘Or at least that’s the official statistic released by the Ministry of Tourism,’ he added, as the car came to a halt on a double red
line outside the entrance of Pulkovo II airport. He leant forward. ‘Karl, take Mr Barnsley’s bags to check-in, while I wait here.’

Dick leant across and shook hands with the minister for the second time that morning. ‘Thank you, Anatol, for everything,’ he said. ‘See you in three weeks’
time.’

‘Long life and happiness, my friend,’ said Chenkov as Dick stepped out of the car. Dick checked in at the departure desk an hour before boarding began for his flight to London.

‘This is the last call for Flight 902 to London Heathrow,’ a voice came crackling over the tannoy.

‘Is there another flight going to London right now?’ asked Dick.

‘Yes,’ replied the man behind the check-in desk. ‘Flight 902 has been delayed, but they are just about to close the gate.’

‘Can you get me on it?’ asked Dick, as he slid a thousand-rouble note across the counter.

*   *   *

Dick’s plane touched down at Heathrow three and a half hours later. Once he had picked up his case from the carousel, he pushed his trolley through the ‘Nothing to
Declare’ channel and emerged into the arrivals hall.

Stan, his driver, was already waiting among a group of chauffeurs. Most of them were holding up name cards. As soon as Stan spotted his boss, he walked quickly across and took his suitcase and
overnight bag.

‘Home or the office?’ Stan asked Dick as they walked towards the short-stay car park.

Dick checked his watch – it was just after four. ‘Home,’ he said. ‘I’ll work in the back of the car.’

*   *   *

Once Dick’s Jaguar had come out of the car park to begin the journey home to Virginia Water, Dick immediately called his office.

‘Richard Barnsley’s office,’ said a voice.

‘Hi, Jill, it’s me. I managed to catch an earlier flight, and I’m on my way home. Is there anything I should be worrying about?’

‘No, everything is running smoothly this end,’ Jill replied. ‘We’re all just waiting to find out how things went in St Petersburg.’

‘Could not have gone better. The minister wants me back on May sixteenth to sign the contract.’

‘But that’s less than three weeks away.’

‘Which means we will all have to get a move on. So set up a board meeting for early next week, and then make an appointment for me to see Sam Cohen first thing tomorrow morning. I
can’t afford any slip-ups at this stage.’

‘Can I come to St Petersburg with you?’

‘Not this time, Jill, but once the contract has been signed, block out ten days in the diary. Then I’ll take you somewhere a little warmer than St Petersburg.’

Dick sat silently in the back of the car, going over everything that needed to be covered before he returned to St Petersburg. By the time Stan drove through the wrought-iron gates and came to a
halt outside the mansion, Dick knew what had to be done.

He jumped out of the car and ran into the house. He left Stan to unload the bags, and his housekeeper to unpack them. Dick was surprised not to find his wife standing on the top step, waiting to
greet him, but then he remembered that he had caught an earlier flight, and Maureen would not be expecting him back for at least another couple of hours.

Dick ran upstairs to his bedroom, and quickly stripped off his clothes, dropping them in a pile on the floor. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, allowing the warm jets of water
to slowly remove the grime of St Petersburg and Aeroflot.

After he had put on some casual clothes, Dick checked his appearance in the mirror. At fifty-three, his hair was turning grey early, and although he tried to hold his stomach in, he knew he
ought to lose a few pounds, just a couple of notches on his belt – he would once the deal was signed and he had a little more time, he promised himself.

Dick left the bedroom and went down to the kitchen. He asked the cook to prepare him a salad, and then strolled into the drawing room, picked up
The Times,
and glanced at the headlines.
A new leader of the Tory Party, a new leader of the Liberal Democrats, and now Gordon Brown had been elected leader of the Labour Party. None of the major political parties would be fighting the
next election under the same leader.

Dick looked up when the phone began to ring. He walked across to his wife’s writing desk and picked up the receiver, to hear Jill’s voice on the other end of the line.

‘The board meeting is fixed for next Thursday at ten o’clock, and I’ve also arranged for you to see Sam Cohen in his office at eight tomorrow morning,’ Jill said over the
phone. Dick removed a pen from an inside pocket of his blazer. ‘I’ve emailed every member of the board to warn them that it’s important,’ she added.

‘What time did you say my meeting was with Sam?’

‘Eight o’clock at his office. He has to be in court by ten for another client.’

‘Fine.’ Dick opened his wife’s drawer and grabbed the first piece of paper available. He wrote down,
Sam, office, 8
,
Thur board mtg, 10
.

‘Well done, Jill,’ he added. ‘Better book me back into the Grand Palace Hotel, and email the minister to warn him what time I’ll be arriving.’

‘I already have,’ Jill replied, ‘and I’ve also booked you on a flight to St Petersburg on the Friday afternoon.’

‘Well done. See you around ten tomorrow.’ Dick put the phone down, and strolled through to his study with a large smile on his face. Everything was going to plan.

*   *   *

When he reached his desk, Dick wrote the details of his appointments into his diary. He was just about to drop the piece of paper into a wastepaper basket when he decided just
to check and see if it contained anything important. He unfolded a letter, which he began to read. His smile turned to a frown long before he’d reached the final paragraph.

He started to read the letter, marked ‘private and personal’, a second time.

Dick immediately picked up the phone on his desk, and dialled Sam Cohen’s number, hoping Sam hadn’t already left for the day. When Sam pick up his private line, all Dick said was,
‘Have you come across a lawyer called Andrew Symonds?’

‘Only by reputation,’ said Sam, ‘but then I don’t work on divorce law.’

‘Divorce?’ said Dick, as he heard a car coming up the gravel driveway. He glanced out of the window to see a Volkswagen swing round the circle and come to a halt outside the front
door. Dick watched as his wife climbed out of her car. ‘I’ll see you at eight tomorrow, Sam, and the Russian contract won’t be the only thing on the agenda.’

*   *   *

Dick’s driver dropped him outside Sam Cohen’s office in Lincoln’s Inn Fields a few minutes before eight the following morning. The senior partner rose to greet
his client as he entered the room. He gestured to a comfortable chair on the other side of the desk.

Dick had opened his briefcase even before he had sat down. He took out the letter and passed it across to Sam. The lawyer read it slowly before placing it on the desk in front of him.

‘I’ve thought about the problem overnight,’ said Sam, ‘and I’ve also had a word with Anna Rentoul, our divorce partner. She confirmed that Symonds only handles
marriage disputes, and with that in mind, I’m sorry to say that I will have to ask you some fairly personal questions.’

Dick nodded without comment.

‘Have you ever talked about divorce with Maureen?’

‘No,’ said Dick firmly. ‘We have had rows from time to time, but then what couples who have been together for over twenty years haven’t?’

‘No more than that?’

‘She once threatened to leave me, but I thought that was all in the past.’ Dick paused. ‘I’m only surprised that she hasn’t raised it with me before consulting a
lawyer.’

‘That’s all too common,’ said Sam. ‘Over half the husbands who are served with a divorce petition say that they never saw it coming.’

‘I certainly fall into that category,’ admitted Dick. ‘So what do I do next?’

‘Not a lot you can do before she serves the papers, and I can’t see that there is anything to be gained by raising the subject yourself. After all, nothing may come of it. But that
doesn’t mean we shouldn’t prepare ourselves. Now, what grounds could she have for divorce?’

‘None that I can think of.’

‘Are you having an affair?’

‘No. Well, yes, a fling with my secretary – but 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 why I needed to see you so urgently in the first place,’ replied Dick. ‘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 –’ Dick hesitated – ‘for the company.’

‘And do you still own fifty-one per cent 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 will sniff out every last penny, like a pig hunting for
truffles. And if the court were to discover that you tried to trick them, it would only make the judge feel more kind towards your wife.’ The senior partner paused, looked straight 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 meeting with counsel, so at least
we’ll be better prepared than Mr Symonds will think. And one more thing,’ said Sam, once again looking directly at his client, ‘no more affairs until this problem has been sorted
out. That’s an order.’

*   *   *

Dick kept a close eye on his wife during the next few days, but she gave no sign of there being anything wrong. 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,’ Dick replied.

‘Once Sam had taken the directors through each clause, gone over every detail, and answered all of their questions, they pretty much approved the contract.’ Dick 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 collection – something I’ve always wanted to do.’

Dick didn’t reply immediately, aware that this was not a casual suggestion as it had been years since his wife Maureen had accompanied him on a business trip. Dick’s first reaction
was to wonder what she was up to. ‘Let me think about it,’ he eventually said, leaving his coffee to go cold.

*   *   *

Dick 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 key moments in your career . .
. ’

‘Balls,’ said Dick, ‘she’s never taken any interest in how I make my money, only in how she can spend it.’

‘. . . and therefore she must be entitled to fifty per cent of your assets.’

‘But that could amount to over thirty million pounds,’ Dick protested.

‘Symonds has obviously done his homework.’

‘Then I’ll simply tell her that she can’t come on the trip. It’s not proper.’

‘Which will allow Mr Symonds to change tack. He will then show you as a heartless man – a man who cut his own wife out of his life the moment he became a success, often travelling
abroad, with a secretary who—’

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

‘On the one hand . . . ’ advised Sam.

‘Bloody lawyers,’ said Dick before he could finish the sentence.

‘Funny how you only need us when you’re in trouble,’ Sam replied. ‘So let’s make sure that this time we anticipate her next move.’

‘And what’s that likely to be?’

‘Once she’s got you to St Petersburg, she will want to have sex.’

‘We haven’t had sex for years.’

‘And not because I haven’t wanted to, m’lord.’

‘Oh, hell,’ said Dick, ‘I can’t win.’

‘You can as long as you don’t follow Lady Longford’s advice. When 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 walked them to the Tolstoy
Suite on the ninth floor.

‘Must go to the loo before I burst,’ said Dick 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.