Kremlin Conspiracy

by Brian Freemantle

  ‘I told you they’d find a race,’ said Janet, who had got up to stand by his side.

  With so many house guests, any private meeting between Pike and his father was impossible. There was a brief, almost formal greeting, as the perspiring men dismounted from their perspiring horses and then introductions to people whom the older man thought Pike might not have met. Pike actually spent longer with Henry Ambersom than with his own father. That evening, when they assembled for drinks before dinner, they were alone together for only two or three minutes during a break in the arrivals.

  ‘I’d like to talk to you before you go back,’ said the man.

  ‘Whenever you like,’ said Pike.

  ‘Something important.’ His father was a tall, burly man, able to dominate by size as well as attitude: Pike was shorter by a good two inches. They both saw Janet enter the room and his father said, ‘Not a problem for you, is it, Janet being here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hear things aren’t good with her and her husband.’

  ‘We only met for a few moments by the pool,’ said Pike. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘I was very sorry you two broke up, you know: very sorry.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Pike. ‘I know.’ Surely his father hadn’t set this up purposely!

  ‘She’s very pretty.’

  ‘She always was.’

  Janet saw them and walked across the room. She had a smooth, flowing stride, almost model-like. She was wearing a dramatic flame-coloured dress, full-skirted but with a tight bodice. Her breasts were very full and tanned. ‘Bet you were talking business,’ she accused. ‘You always do.’

  ‘As a matter of fact we were talking about you,’ said the older man.

  ‘In admiration,’ added Pike.

  Janet made an elaborate curtsy. ‘I enjoy being talked about,’ she said.

  ‘I must mix,’ said Pike’s father at once. ‘I’ll leave you two alone.’

  Pike watched his father move further into the room and said, ‘I can hardly believe it!’

  ‘Neither can I.’

  ‘Hope you’re not embarrassed.’

  ‘When did you know me embarrassed?’

  He nodded, accepting the correction. ‘Rarely,’ he agreed. ‘If ever.’ It was a bizarre situation but he wasn’t unhappy about it. Despite what their parents might think, he knew there was no danger of it becoming tacky: she’d enliven an otherwise boring weekend. Janet was never boring.

  ‘What were you saying about me?’

  ‘Dirty talk,’ he said.

  She looked interested rather than offended and Pike added, ‘Joke. We agreed you were pretty.’

  ‘I’m flattered.’

  ‘You’d be mad if we didn’t think it.’

  ‘You flirting with me, Tom Pike?’

  ‘Ex-husbands aren’t permitted to.’

  ‘Who said?’ she asked, taking a drink from a passing tray.

  ‘Divorcee Book of Rules,’ he said. ‘That’s your third cocktail.’

  ‘Who’s counting?’

  ‘I am. You had one when you entered, another crossing the room and now that one.’

  ‘What’s the book of rules say about nagging?’

  ‘Permitted as an act of kindness.’

  ‘And about being patronising?’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he said.

  ‘Nothing. Don’t get heavy.’

  That had been the problem with the English girl, Pike remembered. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Tell me, your father try to stop you moving to the Fed?’

  ‘Proper timing is the basis for all good escapes,’ said Pike. ‘I waited until he’d been at the IMF for a long time: it was a fait accompli before he knew anything about it.’

  ‘Was he mad?’

  ‘As hell, I guess. Never showed it, of course.’

  Dinner was announced from the other side of the room. Janet looped her arm lightly through his, pinching the inside of his arm as she did so, and said, ‘Might as well act out the scene they want to see.’

  ‘That hurt,’ he protested.

  ‘Wanted to see your face move,’ she said. ‘Stiff son-of-a-bitch.’

  As they entered the dining-room they were both aware of their parents looking at them.

  ‘Should I curtsy again?’ she whispered.

  ‘Since when have I been a stiff son-of-a-bitch?’

  ‘You’ve never relaxed for as long as I’ve known you,’ she said.

  The house party was too large to have made a single setting practicable. Instead the seating was arranged around individual tables, ten seats to a table. With Pike was Hal Prince, whom he knew from Citibank, and his wife, a Frenchman called something like Bouchiere from the Credit Lyonnais with a girl clearly too young to be his wife, and someone whom Pike didn’t recognize from the IMF meeting, a German who introduced himself as Flieder, from the Deutsche Bank, and his rather jowly wife named Frieda. They talked about the financial meeting they had just attended and compared Washington to Paris and Bonn, the conversation moving slowly because of the German’s constant need to translate to his acquiescent wife. Gradually the talk became less general, the Frenchman wanting to concentrate upon his companion and the German feeling the strain of bilingual effort. Towards the end of the meal Janet leaned close to Pike so that only he would hear and said, ‘How do you think they would react if I offered them a line?’

  ‘They’d probably think you sailed a lot,’ he said.

  ‘You still do it?’

  ‘Doesn’t everybody?’ His personal assistant had a hell of a contact, thought Pike. Pity Loraine was such a rotten lay.

  ‘I’ve got some good quality stuff in my room,’ she said.

  Pike sipped his wine. Just like before, he remembered: one always pushing the other, always a challenge between them. She’d used cocaine more than him: booze too. He’d been nervous he might lose control through too much of either. Perhaps she was right; perhaps he was a stiff son-of-a-bitch.

  ‘You’re blushing,’ she said happily.

  Pike didn’t know whether he was or wasn’t; he thought it unlikely. ‘Have you any idea what would happen if coke were discovered among a group of people like this!’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be an asshole,’ she said. ‘A raid here is about as likely as a drugs bust at the White House or Camp David.’ She nodded across to the engrossed Frenchman. ‘And from the sort of action over there I bet there’s enough around the place to stock a pharmacy for an average-sized war.’

  She was probably right, Pike conceded. He wished he hadn’t reacted without thinking. ‘Game to you,’ he conceded.

  She giggled. ‘Want to play some more?’

  He smiled back at her. ‘It’s good seeing you again,’ he said.

  ‘You too.’

  ‘Why didn’t you keep in touch?’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘Thought maybe your new husband wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘Liar,’ she said. ‘You wanted me to be the first.’

  She was right again, thought Pike: more arm-wrestling.

  The men remained seated after dinner, for port and cigars. Several wanted to get into a deep discussion about the events of the previous week but Pike was impressed at the way his father refused to let the talk develop, never preventing the conversation but always keeping it at a bland, superficial level. Janet’s father came and positioned himself beside Pike. He was a neat, bespectacled man.

  ‘Longtime, Tom.’

  ‘Good to see you again, sir,’ said Pike.

  ‘Getting your name known around Wall Street, I hear.’

  ‘It’s a small village.’

  ‘Which can be good or bad for reputations,’ said Ambersom.

  ‘I’ve been lucky,’ said Pike easily. Luck had nothing to do with it, he thought: he’d worked his ass off, the first to arrive and the last to leave.

  ‘Happy at the Fed?’

  ‘Very much so,’ said Pike.

  ‘Always room for
talent at the World Bank,’ said Ambersom. ‘Remember that if you ever consider a change.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Pike. His father had regarded his transfer from the Chase Manhattan to the Federal Reserve as incomprehensible: the man would consider it outright betrayal if he moved to the World Bank.

  ‘Good to see you and Janet together again.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Pike. Thank God he’d decided to go back to New York tomorrow.

  ‘You must come up to the island again soon: got my self a new yacht.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Pike lied glibly.

  ‘Let’s make a date, before the weekend is over.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Pike decided that his father was a good host as they emerged to join the women. The floodlights had been turned on around the pool for anyone who wanted to swim, and a patio area between the pool and the house had been cleared for dancing, to the accompaniment of a small orchestra. Backgammon sets were laid out in the larger of the lounges and two poker tables assembled in a card room. In the room next to it pool was already racked up on the table and, for the benefit of the European guests, billiards were available as well. Pike played a careless game of backgammon with Janet and lost thirty dollars, which seemed to excite her. She wanted to play another game but he backed off, so she challenged Hal Prince and won another twenty-five. Only two or three people were swimming in the pool, so they wandered to the almost deserted bar and got drinks there. They walked further on into the garden and sat on easy chairs, staring back towards the light-flared mansion.

  ‘Quite your night for winning,’ he said.

  ‘That’s the name of the game,’ she said. ‘The Frenchman and his girl disappeared the moment you all came out of the dining-room.’

  ‘It’s the national pastime,’ he said. ‘It’s in all the books.’

  ‘I made a count,’ she said. ‘I’d say five per cent of the women are wives, the rest mistresses.’

  ‘I guess that’s about par,’ said Pike. ‘Wonder what the public would think if they knew their bankers were just like they are.’

  ‘They wouldn’t believe it,’ said Janet. As if offering a truism, she intoned, ‘Idols must be infallible.’

  ‘Do people idolize bankers?’

  ‘Lesser gods, perhaps: there’s got to be someone to pray to for salvation, even financial salvation.’

  ‘I’d rather rely on a rabbit’s foot,’ said Pike.

  Far away in the darkness there was a delighted scream and then a splash. Janet gestured out towards the glittering house and said, ‘I miss all this. It seemed a great adventure, campus life and academe, but Christ I miss this!’

  Pike was startled by her sudden change of mood, uncertain how to respond. ‘So there is something wrong?’

  ‘Discreetly put, just like a banker.’

  ‘What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Have you told your parents?’

  Janet laughed bitterly. ‘That’s a good question from someone who knows the dislike of scandal among the chosen few!’ she said. ‘I told Mummy and she told Daddy and we all sat around and had one of those adult conversations.’

  ‘How do they feel about it?’

  ‘They’re not upset: they were very angry about our breaking up. Blamed me like everyone did. They still can’t understand how easy we find it to stay friends.’

  ‘I guess it is unusual,’ he said.

  ‘I’m glad we’re not enemies,’she said.

  ‘Will you come back East?’ he said, wanting to move the conversation on.

  She made another of her breast-moving shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out,’ he repeated, at a loss again.

  ‘Maybe I don’t win as often as people think.’

  Pike was discomforted by the seriousness, preferring her earlier mood. ‘We should be getting back,’ he said.

  ‘Really think anyone will have missed us?’

  ‘Probably, from the attention we were getting earlier.’

  They took another drink from the pool bar and carried it with them back into the mansion. A few more were dancing but otherwise the same people appeared to be occupying the same rooms as before.

  ‘Want to play some more backgammon?’

  She shook her head. ‘Always quit while you’re ahead.’

  ‘Dance?’

  ‘No.’ She stood looking steadily at him. ‘I want to go to bed,’ she said. ‘Walk me to my room.’

  Pike was conscious of his father looking at them from the entrance to the billiard room as he mounted the wide, curving staircase around the vestibule to the upper floors. Janet’s room was on the third level.

  ‘I’m planning to go back to New York sometime tomorrow,’ said Pike.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, seemingly disappointed.

  ‘We could go riding in the morning.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘I’ll fix it with the stables,’ Pike said as they reached her door.

  ‘I wasn’t joking at dinner,’ she said. ‘It’s good quality stuff.’

  Competition time again, Pike thought. ‘Sure,’ he accepted.

  He locked the door behind them and she smiled and said, ‘I guess there could be a raid.’

  The maid had already turned down the bed. Janet went to a make-up box on the dressing-table. She pulled up the top tier, on its cantilevered supports, and brought a small, ornate box from the bottom. From the bottom also she took a small-bowled spoon, smaller even than a salt spoon, and Pike saw that it was one that jewellers made specially.

  ‘Got your own?’ she asked.

  Pike looked down at his evening dress and said, ‘I left it behind with my magnum, medical kit, gun-dog and maps!’

  ‘Borrow mine,’ she offered.

  ‘After you.’

  She went to the bed, hitched up her flowing skirts and sat cross-legged, with the tiny container directly in front of her. She patted the bed beside her and said, ‘You sit there.’

  He did as he was told, folding his legs with difficulty. He was glad there was a bed support behind him. Janet prodded into the white powder, tapping the spoon gently against the edge of the box to displace the excess, blocked one nostril by pressing her finger against it and inhaled deeply, her eyes closed in expectation. She repeated the process and then offered him the spoon. ‘Now you,’ she said. She sat with her hands against her knees, tensed forward, waiting for the effect.

  Pike did what she had done, feeling an immediate irritation in his nose and swallowing several times against the temptation to sneeze. She felt out for his hand and took it, squeezing his fingers. The irritation in his nose didn’t go but changed into another sensation, a numbness but at the same time a tingling sensitivity. It extended to the surface of his skin, in his face and hands and arms, a strange tightness as if his body were growing too big to be contained and then he felt the strangest emotion of all, the feeling that his mind was lifting free from his skull. None of it was unpleasant or frightening and at no time did Pike feel he was losing control. He answered Janet’s finger pressure and saw that her skirt had ridden higher around her legs. He felt out with his free hand, and she stretched towards him to make it easier: her skin felt very smooth to his touch. She reached between them, carefully closing the tiny box and said, ‘We don’t want to spill the Stardust, do we?’

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘You’re too far away.’

  He stretched out beside her. She extended her tongue and he extended his and they met, tip to tip. His hand was higher on her thigh. She was naked beneath the dress. She shifted, opening for him. She was very wet.

  ‘Fuck me,’ she said. ‘Fuck me hard.’

  Every touch and sensation was heightened, tiny shocks bursting against his skin. It felt better than he’d ever known it and he knew he wasn’t going to climax but could go on forever.

  ‘Harder, I said. Really hard. Hurt me. Look at me when you’re fucking m
e!’

  He drove into her and she thrust up to take him, back arched and her head thrown back, so he could see the veins roped along her throat. Her mouth was parted and she made little grunting sounds in time to him. She burst slightly ahead of him, pulling hurriedly at him at the last moment so that he would match her and he did, just. They were too excited to stop but slowed gradually and when they halted he still didn’t pull away from her. She put out her tongue, for his and said, ‘I won again.’

  ‘A draw,’he said.

  Lydia was initially surprised, because the intended purges were still some way off, but by the time she returned from Poland her office and personal staff had been moved into the Praesidium building and on to the same floor as the Finance Minister. It was he who visited her, the morning after her arrival.

  ‘Like it?’he said.

  ‘It’s very nice,’ she said. It was more spacious than her previous office and further along from Malik’s, so that her view was of the Little Tsar’s Tower and the Ulitza Razina.

  ‘Well?’ he said.

  ‘I think it worked,’ said the woman cautiously. ‘We won’t know definitely until we hear from the negotiating teams, but I think it worked.’

  ‘Did you threaten to cancel the 1985 deferment if they didn’t agree?’

  Lydia shook her head. ‘I didn’t consider it necessary, during the first discussion. Nor wise,’ she said. ‘It’ll be better if they do it because they want to, rather than under pressure.’

  ‘There was no awkward questioning?’

  ‘Opalko was the most suspicious: he kept asking why.’

  Malik laughed. ‘He’ll learn why, when the time comes: they all will.’

  ‘Everything ready here?’ she said.

  ‘Everything,’ assured Malik. ‘Two months from now the Soviet Union will, over the preceding five years, have repaid something like $750,000,000 of its foreign debts.’

  ‘What about the gold?’ she said.

  ‘What were the last figures you had?’

  ‘The special stockpile of four hundred and fifty tonnes, accumulated over six years.’

  ‘It now stands at five hundred and ten,’ said Malik. ‘In addition to the declared reserve of three fifty.’