by L M Bee
Harrison strode through the hotel kitchens, oblivious to the hustle and bustle, deafening cacophony of voices, crashing pans and steaming catering machines. Mo was waiting outside the scullery door, dressed as Eva Peron.
“Hi hun,” she cooed, kissing Harrison on the lips, before explaining her strange choice of outfit. “Had to raid the theatre’s wardrobe department for something to wear. Full dress rehearsals in progress today so not much to choose from, only this or Mrs Lovett from Sweeney Todd. Oh, hun, before I forget, bumped into that little maid earlier in the supermarket. You know, the one that works for Bisset and tipped us the wink about his staff getting the afternoon off. Heard a rumour she got caught shagging the gardener and couldn’t resist using that to put a bit of pressure on her, threatened to tell Bisset’s Paris office if she didn’t make it worth my while. She came up with a real nugget of info – you’ll never guess what!”
“What?”
“Woman that caught them, said her name was Mary Pembroke!”
Harrison looked dumbfounded. “Doesn’t make sense, why would Mary go back there on her own without telling me?”
“Precisely. Smells fishy to me. Maybe she’s onto you, my hackles are definitely up. Reckon we should abort this job, give The Weeping Widow the flick, do you agree?”
“Yes, after tonight, let’s kick her into touch. Definitely, drop her like a hot potato. Pointless having anything more to do with her if she’s playing silly buggers. Christ, Mo, there’s enough dosh sloshing round this party to do us for the rest of our lives. Imagine the riches we can make from this crowd!”
Mo looked uneasy. "I've still got a bad feeling about this hun, like I tried to explain to you before, not sure we should be here tonight, especially when the police are out looking for us.”
“Listen, this is one of the smartest parties I’ve ever been invited to, the entire guest list is loaded, why give up now?”
Mo frowned at him. “I know all that, but now the police are onto us, why can't we just clean out her bank account and scarper? We’ve got all the details from her new computer – why not take the money and run?”
“I want more,” he replied decisively. “I know it’s risky being here, but I honestly think it’ll be worth it. Let’s wait until the morning, before I give The Weeping Widow the flick. You'll see what I mean about everyone here being minted. It’s worth the risk Mo, just for a few more hours, so I can get my teeth into these Russians – then we’re well set up to make fortunes.”
“But,” wailed Mo, “surely there’s enough in her bank account to keep us happy.”
“It’s simple Mo, I want more – and this crowd will lead us to great riches – it’ll be worth the risk, trust me.”
He held out an envelope to Mo. “Here’s Mary’s invitation, if anyone asks say you’re a guest of the hotel owner. Once inside the party, keep your distance, I don’t want people guessing we’re together. Mo, you won’t believe your eyes, the money here’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before, riches beyond our wildest dreams. We’ll only need to pull a couple of jobs on this lot, and we can retire in the manner to which you’d like to become accustomed! It’s another world, Mo – think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
He grabbed her hand, and led her through the busy kitchens towards the party. They merged into the crowd, as though they didn’t know each other.
Gliding round her party, the perfect hostess, Anna Lovushka was thanking friends for coming and making a fuss of those that had already given generously to her charity. She held a glass of champagne in one hand and Fifi in the other, light as a feather; it was probably easy to forget the tiny ball of white fluff was there. Bernard was following behind through the throng, and touched one finger to his earpiece to hear Bruno over the hubbub.
“Thought she would have kicked things off by now, any idea why not?”
“No idea, the evening’s marching on, I’ll move closer and ask her,” proposed Bernard.
“Roger, over and out.”
The atmosphere in the control room was electric, as the surveillance team followed proceedings on the overhead monitors playing footage from the many hidden cameras. The children were riveted, gawping at the screens, sitting in a row on the sofa passing a bowl of popcorn between them.
Harrison returned to the party, moved silently up behind Mary and planted a kiss on her bare shoulder that made her jump out of her skin.
“Nervous! Something you want to tell me?” he whispered spitefully, trailing his finger slowly down her spine.
“Oh, just being silly, miles away thinking about fashion,” stuttered Mary, attempting to make light of it, his loathsome touch on her bare skin making her yearn for a shower. A few days ago these little gestures gave her fizzy blood and lustful thoughts, but tonight it felt worse than being pawed by an infectious leper, suppressing shudders of disgust by constantly reminding herself that fairly soon she wouldn’t have to see him ever again.
“Could you find me another glass of champagne, please, darling?”
Harrison dutifully trotted off in search of champagne, but actually had no intention whatsoever of returning to her side. Utterly pointless investing any more time in The Weeping Widow if he was going to dump her after tonight – especially if Mo was right. Mary Pembroke was of no interest to him now – his eye was on the prize.
This intimate gathering was the perfect opportunity to introduce himself. He scanned the crowd for their hostess, and spotted her in the distance moving towards the catwalk at the deep end.
At the shallow end, he stepped purposefully onto the catwalk and moved slowly in her direction. Sauntering, oozing hauteur, and consciously ready to step up into her world. His whole life now seemed like a dress rehearsal for this moment, far from daunted, driven by an over-inflated ego and embracing the stepping stone to wealth and prosperity.
As always, he was overly confident in his ability. To him an oligarch’s wife was just like any other woman, no difference: guaranteed to be putty in his hands.
Bernard looked round for Anna Lovushka, and spotted her at the deep end, standing beside the end of the catwalk. He would have to work his way round the pool, through the thick of the drinks party, to get close to her. Noticing that Mary had been left on her own, he decided to detour via her first to check she was okay.
“Everything all right, Mary?”
“Yes, all good …” she replied, staring at someone in the crowd.
“Who’ve you seen?”
“Harrison’s wife. Must have thought it’s fancy dress!”
“The surveillance team are onto her already, monitoring her every move. She gatecrashed through the kitchens, Harrison gave her your invitation.”
Mary looked horrified, but Bernard continued in his soothing way.
“Just keep your distance from her, nothing to worry about. I’m trying to make my way over to Anna Lovushka – can’t understand why she hasn’t dropped the chequered flag yet.”
“Yes, I’m a bit surprised too, time’s ticking by,” concurred Mary.
“Told her to pick her moment, not take all bloody night! Dammit, she’s on the move again,” he huffed, his sight fixed on the moving target.
“She’s stepping onto the catwalk,” added Mary helpfully.
“So she is.”
“Holy Moly, Harrison’s stepped onto the catwalk at the opposite end.”
In shocked unison, “They’ll meet in the middle!”
Bernard and Mary stood side by side rooted to the spot, eyes glued to Harrison and Anna Lovushka both making their way towards the arched bridge in the middle of the pool.
“Do you think she’s noticed him?” whispered Mary behind her hand.
“Must have done,” said Bernard under his breath, “she never misses a thing.”
“So this might be it – when she drops the article of clothing and kicks the whole thing off.”
Bernard put his sleeve close to his mouth. “Team, you following this?”
“Affirmative
.”
All eyes were on Anna Lovushka gliding slowly along the catwalk, confidently swinging her hips.
“I can’t take my eyes off her,” confided Mary.
“Me neither,” agreed Bernard, “got a funny feeling this might the moment we’ve all been waiting for.”
The extra six inches made Anna incredibly tall, her black couture dress and bright red lips adding to the effect that exuded glamour, money and power. Elegantly moving along the catwalk until she came to the bridge, she paused to flutter her eyelashes and pose nicely for the press photographers.
Approaching from the opposite direction, target in cross hairs, Harrison looked extremely eager to introduce himself. His best smile fixed across his face, visibly elated when she smiled back. He held out his right hand, a bit prematurely, not close enough to shake hands yet. As he took his final step towards her, Anna held out her hand, forgetting Fifi under her arm and the little white puppy plopped into the water – pandemonium erupted.
“Fifi!” shrieked Anna Lovushka. “Help, quick, Fifi’s drowning.”
Harrison vaulted over the handrail straight into the water, struggling to swim through the thick crust of water lilies towards the puppy.
Bernard’s stricken face was a picture.
“Told her to drop an article of clothing, not the bloody dog!”
Mary screamed, “It’s drowning!”
The surveillance team went wild, all yelling over the top of each another.
“We have kick off! Con commenced! The race is on!”
Titty stood up on the sofa screaming, “Quick someone, it’s drowning! It’s drowning!”
Arthur stared silently in disbelief.
Howling with laughter, Kitty whooped loudly, “Bernard wanted an Oscar-winning performance, just got that all right! Chucked the fucking dog in the pool! Hollywood’s calling!”
Harrison’s wet hair had stuck to his face as he came up for air, gasping for breath, the tiny white teacup puppy in one hand, held high above his head.
“He’s got my Fifi! He’s got my Fifi!” cried Anna Lovushka, rushing along the catwalk to the shallow end, bending down and holding out both hands for the little dog.
“Please give her to me. Someone help this kind gentleman out of the pool,” she said, snatching the little puppy from him as soon as it was close enough.
“Oh my little Fifi Fufu, my baby, you jumped into the water. Frightened the life out of me, thought you were drowning, and this kind gentleman saved your life.” Clutching the puppy close to her collarbone, like a drowned rat, she kissed and nuzzled the sopping wet teacup.
Both security guards leant down and offered Harrison a hand, hauling him effortlessly out of water, where he sat on the side slightly dazed and catching his breath. Hysterical with relief, Anna Lovushka gushed gratefully, “Thank you, kind sir. Thank you, what a gentleman. You saved her life, my darling little Fifi. How can I repay you?”
Music to Harrison’s ears.
Mission accomplished, he was in there, albeit sopping wet.
“What a hero! Will you join me for champagne and caviar to celebrate? We can discuss your brave and heroic deed. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, I am indebted to you. First, kind sir, we need to find you some dry clothes.” Then, sweeping her eyes up and down his body, “My husband is the same size.”
Turning to security, she said, “Take this kind gentleman to our boat, and let him choose something from Vladimir’s dressing room, whatever he likes. Then bring him back here to join me for champagne and caviar.”
Turning to Harrison with a throaty voice and slow wink: “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Oscar winner!” yelled Kitty, punching the air.
“Boom!” shouted the surveillance team.
Everyone in the pool house was going crazy with the excitement.
“Three cheers for Sophia,” shouted Arthur. “Hip hip...”
“Hooray!” chorused the entire room.
Bernard looked utterly shellshocked, dabbing his brow with a handkerchief and steadying himself on Mary’s arm for support.
“Had no idea she could be such a drama queen! Told her to pretend she was a big Hollywood movie star, never expected her to pull off such an audacious stunt!”
After the pressure of mounting tension to this precise moment, everyone’s nerves on tenterhooks, the relief was palpable. Tears stinging Mary’s eyes, so proud of her friend’s bold initiative, she laughed to Bernard, “She’s a cunning bitch! Getting him soaking wet and then sending him to the superyacht for a change of clothes, all that wealth and opulence onboard, he’ll be totally hooked by the time he comes back. Dressed as an oligarch, not only will he look the part, he’ll feel it too. Crafty devil, she knows the score! Feeling it in your heart is more powerful than knowing it in your mind!”
Chapter 33
Surrounded by the jaw-dropping opulence of the superyacht, Harrison felt like he’d arrived at his true destination in life. Even when plotting his most ambitious scams, he’d never visualised being surrounded by such spectacular luxury.
In the main saloon, sumptuous great armchairs surrounded a crystal coffee table, a dazzling cocktail bar covered the rear wall, and there was even a grand piano under a tree. Humidors had been placed precisely on table tops with gold lighters and marble ashtrays. Every flat surface heaved under the weight of solid silver photograph frames displaying the Lovushkas, their fabulous holidays and glittering social events. Vladimir statesmanlike beside Anna at a white tie ball, top hat and tails receiving a cup at Royal Ascot, smiling either side of a Formula One driver, helming an elegant racing yacht under sail, even one of Anna in a baseball cap proudly reeling in a blue marlin. The wealth and opulence, and attention to detail, like nothing Harrison had ever seen before.
Never in his wildest dreams had he pictured himself being engulfed by such riches. And what really blew his mind, the best bit of all, it was there before him like ripe fruit waiting to be picked. These people needed to be relieved of their burden, and he could help them with that, being the kind and considerate person that he was, willing to do them a favour and lighten the load for them. A few well-planned scams, and their fortunes would become his; buzzing with anticipation he visualised their money flowing to him. The staggering amounts of money he could make out of this lot, bring it on!
Posing and preening in the centre of Vladimir’s dressing room, admiring his reflection from every angle in the plethora of well-positioned mirrors, he was deeply impressed by his ostentatious appearance – slick, his wet hair greased and immaculately combed back. The bespoke jacket and trousers fitted perfectly, giving him a massive buzz; handmade by a billionaire’s tailor – only the best for the best.
He couldn’t resist catching his own eye and giving a theatrical wink. The spitting image of an oligarch now, he was super impressed by his transformation. He was eager to return to the party dressed as the most important man there, convinced he would stand out from the crowd, yet more proof he was destined for this life.
He’d chosen a black silk jacket heavily hand-embroidered with real gold thread, a work of art that must have cost a bomb. Black velvet evening slippers to match that fitted perfectly; he chose to ignore the monogrammed initials “VL” stamped on the inside – irrelevant, they were his shoes now. Tweaking his black bow tie with a mischievous smirk, before he looked himself in the eyes and addressed the reflection. “You’re a very good looking oligarch!”
The two security guards waiting for him were dutifully hovering on deck, near the speedboat moored alongside. Seeing him approach, they smartly boarded the tender and started up the powerful twin engines, ready and waiting for their passenger.
Oozing arrogance and self-importance, he took one look and decided to make them wait. Good to show them who’s boss, he thought, and swaggered off in the opposite direction to make a phone call.
“Mo? You’ll never guess where I am!”
“Where? It’s gone mad here, apparently some bloke fell
in the pool.”
“Me!”
“What? You fell in the pool? Are you okay?”
“Never better. Didn’t fall, jumped.”
“Ugh?”
“Anna Lovushka’s little white dog fell in the water. If that wasn’t my god-given chance to play the hero or what? What a perfect way to ingratiate myself with our hostess, so I jumped in fully clothed and fished out the mutt. Mo, you won’t believe this, afterwards she said, 'I am indebted to you, how can I repay you?' Sweet music to my ears, or what?! And you’ll never guess where I am now.”
“Where?” asked Mo sullenly, sore at missing all the action.
“Only on her superyacht – that massive one moored in the bay!”
“You are kidding me!” shrieked Mo in astonishment.
“I’m not. She thinks I’m a hero for rescuing her beloved puppy, and wants to repay me, so I’ve been personally invited to go back for champagne and caviar with her – I’m in there! And Mo, wait till you see me, you won’t recognise me – I’m an oligarch now!”
As the speedboat moored alongside the jetty, one of the security guards spoke quietly into his microphone, tongue in cheek. “The oligarch’s returning!”
“All systems on standby,” confirmed the control room.
Bernard could hear every word, sitting beside Mary as Anna Lovushka introduced a short film about LoveHeart, flatscreens in every direction displaying the charity’s logo. Bernard leaned closer to update Mary, whispering in her ear, “The oligarch’s returning!”
She shuddered, muttering with disdain, “Dressed in Vladimir’s ludicrously expensive clothes his puffed up ego will be off the scale!”
Anticipating a grand entrance, they both turned expectantly towards the weeping willows and didn’t have to wait long. Sweeping through the theatrical curtain of trailing greenery, flanked by burly security guards, Harrison stepped confidently onto the catwalk looking the epitome of a Russian oligarch.