by Janet Rogers
‘Yes.’
‘Only,’ Nick continued, ‘he didn’t. He claims that his subsequent actions were motivated by concern about the project and the public relations fallout there would have been if the Canadians discovered later that the truth had been purposely withheld from them.’
‘But you don’t buy it?’
Nick shook his head. ‘Geologists like him aren’t primarily hired to think about the business or project strategy, much less PR. His job would have been to deliver the findings and possibly stay involved in at least some of the subsequent discussions, but it wasn’t his job to think about what was good for the joint venture and what wasn’t. I think there were other, more pertinent reasons for not going to Sibraz first.’
‘Such as?
‘First of all, he would have been the bearer of some pretty bad news. Shooting the messenger is a real possibility when you’re dealing with the power, egos and ruthlessness of Russian businessmen. It’s happened many times before and he knew it. He may have been afraid that they would blame him for not finding out about the deposit’s true value sooner. It’s not unheard of for deposits to have a higher or lower value than initial tests show, but he was the project’s chief geologist after all. It was his responsibility to get accurate results, so he might very well have feared for his and his family’s safety.’
‘Or his job at the very least.’
‘Exactly. Not to mention his future. But I think there was another reason. He didn’t admit to it, but I think he decided to make some money out of his knowledge. I can easily see a scenario where he would have contacted Prism and said “I have some valuable information about the value of the diamond deposit, you’d better pay up if you want to hear it”.’
‘But wouldn’t it have been stupid to try and extort money when the truth would have come out at some point anyway? I mean, you can’t continue mining a deposit when there is nothing to mine, can you?’
‘True, but don’t misunderstand – there was, and still is, a lot to mine. Just not as much as everyone originally thought. I think he was hoping to buy time and financial security. Whatever his reasons were, he definitely spoke to Prism, and it sounds like he spoke to them only, or definitely first.’
‘It sounds quite calculated.’
‘Think about it. At this stage, he would have been well aware of the conflict between the two companies and the Russians’ desire to push Prism out in order to get all the benefit of the rich deposit.’
‘And?’
‘Who would have valued the information more? Sibraz, who’s trying to get Prism out of the deal so they can have all the wealth for themselves or Prism, who’s fighting to save their investment?’
‘Each would have seen the information as critically important.’
‘Let me qualify my original question: who would have been more likely to pay for the information without harming the messenger?’
‘Prism. Without a doubt. So you’re saying that the geologist saw more gain in it for him if he went to Prism first?’
‘And less harm. Two potential pluses – payment and personal safety – versus a whole bunch of unpredictable but very likely minuses.’
Amelia shook her head in disbelief. This was getting stranger than she could have ever imagined.
‘Did he say who it was that he contacted?’ she asked, wondering who would have been the recipient of the bad news.
‘I would assume that he went straight to the top. Jennings or Riverton or both, but he was too cagey to give me the details.’
‘We’ve assumed that Robert found out, but we don’t know how.’
‘No, we don’t. Of course Prism could have told Robert themselves, but it’s also possible that the geologist thought he would enjoy a little more protection if he involved a foreign government representative.’
Amelia was silent.
‘If, or rather when, Sibraz found out and threatened the geologist as he anticipated, he could have played that card. If he was able to tell them that the most senior Canadian diplomat in Russia knew about everything, it would be more difficult for them to hurt him.’
‘But if that’s true, where had it all gone wrong?’ Amelia asked. ‘If the geologist’s goal was to help the Canadians, it certainly didn’t happen at the time and what about what happened to Robert?’
‘I couldn’t get it out of him. By this time he’d spotted the two guys sitting at the exit and he didn’t want to continue talking, but if I had to guess, he must’ve underestimated the way information travels in the Russian business world. Undoubtedly Sibraz would have had ways to spy not only on their business partner, but also on their staff. They would have learnt the news quickly, quicker than anyone would have anticipated, quicker than it would have taken the Canadians to act on it. Something as big as this cannot be kept hidden for long, because there is always someone who owes someone else something, and that something often takes the form of information.’
Amelia was confused. ‘Back up for a second. The Canadians knew about the lesser value of the deposit. You believe that’s a fact, right?’
Nick nodded.
‘It would have given them a reason for withdrawing from the deal, which is what the Russians wanted, isn’t it? But only . . .’
‘. . . if the deposit was indeed very valuable. In this scenario, it would have been the worst thing possible for the Russians. In fact, the news of the lesser deposit would have created a no-win situation for all involved.’
‘Go on.’
‘If Prism created a fuss about the lesser value and made it clear they wanted out of the deal, it’s true that the Russians would have lost funding to see the project through, but it wouldn’t have left Prism in a great position either. Their losses at this early stage would have been huge and they would have had no way of recouping their costs. They would be out of pocket and with no project to make profit on.’
It was too much to take in. ‘I can see you’ve thought about this carefully, but it’s still conjecture.’
‘A lot of it, yes.’
‘And there’s another piece that doesn’t fit.’
‘What?’ Nick asked.
‘This.’ Amelia opened the message folder on her phone and held out the phone to Nick.
‘Chris Ross, Head of Business Development at EME for the past 4 years. This is from?’
‘My friend Henry.’
Nick was silent for a moment. ‘You’re right, it doesn’t fit. If Robert knew about the lesser deposit, surely he wouldn’t have willingly led another company into the same trap.’
‘I called Henry again. Explained a little more. He said he would continue to dig around.’
‘Until there’s more, we can only focus on Sibraz and Prism.’ His eyes were on her. ‘Don’t go there. Remember that you knew Robert.’
Amelia fell silent. He was right. She shouldn’t even entertain the awful doubt for a second. Couldn’t.
She took a deep breath. ‘Both parties were in a bad spot and yet the deal survived. And Robert was taken. What happened, how did it go wrong? We just don’t know.’
‘No,’ Nick said, ‘but I have a feeling we’ll learn tomorrow.’
23
The day in which Nick had declared such faith the previous night, had arrived. Amelia looked at her reflection in the mirror, considering the results of her carefully applied make-up. She felt different today, almost elated. Even if there were still many missing pieces of information to be found, it was as if a crack had finally appeared in the wall she’d been hitting since her arrival. The astonishing account offered by the inebriated geologist during the previous day’s meeting with Nick had been the breakthrough she’d so anxiously waited for.
All Nick would tell her was that they had an important appointment later in the evening. While she was unsure about the reasons for his reticence, and wasn’t crazy about the fact that she wasn’t in command of the situation, she did find it easier to trust him now. If, as she hoped, the meeting could expand on the ge
ologist’s story, it was well worth waiting for.
She gave herself a last look in the mirror before she walked to the front door from where she could hear the by now familiar noises announcing Nick’s arrival.
He paused as he stepped through the front door, his gaze resting on her for an appreciative moment. ‘You look very nice.’
Amelia blushed, self-consciously stroking the soft folds of her black cashmere dress. It felt unfamiliar, even faintly shameful, to feel good. It had been ages since she’d gone out for an evening and while she knew that the night wouldn’t be dedicated to having a good time, she couldn’t completely suppress a small spark of excitement she’d felt since that morning.
‘It’s a pity I can’t promise you a wonderful, stress-free night out,’ Nick said, as if he could read her thoughts.
Amelia smiled, touched that the thought had even crossed his mind. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she replied quietly. ‘Far more importantly, you’ve assured progress in this whole thing. You’ve been more than helpful.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said, looking into her eyes briefly before helping her with her coat and accompanying her into the chilly evening.
The Bolshoi Theatre’s New Stage, which had hosted all performances when the old building was being renovated, and continued to be used now after the reopening of the original stage, lay just off Dmitrovka Street. It wasn’t steeped in quite as much history, but it was still a magnificent place to put Russian talent on show. Amelia had never seen a performance of the Golden Cockerel, Rimsky-Korsakov’s last opera, and despite the uncertainties and stresses of the previous few days, she was strangely excited about the evening ahead. She knew that the next few hours might very well hold new dangers for her and Nick, but for a few short hours she wouldn’t let her mind dwell on them.
They made their way through the throng of people to check in their coats and buy a programme. It felt strange to focus on such mundane details, but after much discussion and revision of their plan, they’d felt it was best to go through the charade of an evening at the opera. The idea was to keep up a pretence of normality to lull their followers, if there were any, into thinking this was a typical evening out.
The meeting Nick had managed to secure for much later in the evening was the main event of the night, but for now it was crucial that they appeared to have no business in mind. On the off chance that someone had managed to follow them to the apartment, it was even more critical that they didn’t lead anyone from there to the meeting place. The theatre and large numbers of people offered them a better chance of leaving unnoticed. It seemed a bit over the top to go to such lengths, but they had the tickets already, so decided they might as well go and enjoy the evening.
The main lobby was already filled with people. Amelia and Nick joined the crowd to wait for the last fifteen minutes to pass before the performance started, fighting the urge to look around for anyone who looked interested in them. For a moment Amelia watched Nick as he flipped through the programme. His handsome face was composed, his concerns evident to no one. Not for the first time in the last couple of days did she realise just how grateful she was for his presence.
When she’d returned from the embassy two days earlier, after he’d told her about the meeting he’d secured with the geologist, she’d simply placed Robert’s note to her in front of him and had watched as his face had transformed. The tightness had slowly disappeared and in its place a smile that spoke of amazement and relief had materialised
We’re on the right track had been his only words before he’d stood up and started making phone calls. Only later had he explained how Robert had helped them discover the identity of the person they needed to speak to. The person they were to meet tonight after the opera.
Amelia had to resist a sudden urge to touch his arm through his well-cut dinner jacket.
He caught her glance. ‘All okay?’
She nodded, embarrassed that he’d seen her looking at him so closely. She glanced at her watch.
‘I’m going to the washroom quickly.’
‘All right, be quick, though, people are starting to move inside.’
Amelia went down the stairs to the basement where the washrooms were located. She struggled against the stream as the last of the chattering theatre-goers made their way up the stairs.
The women’s cloakroom consisted of two long, narrow rooms. The first held a line of basins, hand dryers and mirrors, and beyond that lay the second that was lined with cubicles on both sides. Only a few women were still applying a last dab of lipstick or washing their hands. She went into a cubicle, her mind on the strange mix of feelings inside her. Apprehension and nervousness, of course, but what was it she’d felt when she’d looked at Nick just now?
As she was about to unlock the cubicle door, she realised that the washroom had become very quiet. Had she taken too long? She glanced at her watch. No, there were still a few minutes. She gathered her things, not wanting to miss the start of the show.
Before she exited the cubicle, she stood listening for a short second, gripped with a sudden feeling of unease, but when she heard nothing, chastised herself for having an overactive imagination.
She opened the cubicle door. The room was empty, all the other doors stood open. Quickly she made her way back to the first room, irritated with herself for getting distracted by thoughts and confusions that weren’t urgent. She didn’t want to keep Nick waiting,
As she walked through the connecting doorway, she sensed rather than saw a movement behind her.
Without warning, before she could turn around, someone pushed her from behind. In the instant that she felt hands on her back, she knew this was no accidental push. The violence of the movement sent her careening towards the furthest row of basins. She flung her hands out in front of her in an effort to control her wild movement, but realised she’d been too slow the second before her forehead connected with the white edge of the basin.
A cold rivulet was running down her neck into the collar of her dress. She opened her eyes. Nick’s face was very close to hers. He peered into her eyes as he pressed something cold against her temple. She struggled to sit up.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. When you didn’t come back upstairs, I got worried.’
Amelia felt dazed, but then remembered the iron force hitting her from behind.
Her head was spinning. ‘Someone pushed me.’
Nick stared at her, not voicing the fears in both their eyes.
‘Come on,’ he said, his voice surprisingly calm, ‘we need to get out of here. If someone had managed to find us here and is prepared to go to these lengths . . .’ The thought remained unfinished.
Amelia got to her feet and immediately a dull ache started throbbing in her head. She touched the side of her head. It was wet and her hair was plastered against her skull. She moved to the mirror to look at the damage.
‘It’s not blood,’ Nick said soothingly as she brought her fingers away and looked at them. ‘I put cold water on it to keep the swelling down,’ he held out a wet handkerchief. ‘Do you think you can walk?’
As she turned away from the mirror, Nick leaned in, touched her face gently and spoke with quiet urgency. ‘I know you’re shocked and hurt, but we have to leave, and we have to attract as little attention as possible when we leave. I’ll help you, but we have to move fast, before whoever did this decides to come back and do more harm.’
She nodded and without a word took the arm he held out. Together they went up the stairs. At the top, he loosened her fingers from his arm and wordlessly pointed to the closest bench before he went over to the coat check area. The lobby was empty apart from the omnipresent security guards. Soon Nick returned and carefully helped her into her coat.
‘All okay?’ He looked at her intently.
She nodded.
‘Just act normally, but try not to make too much eye contact. Once outside, we will move quickly.’
Despite
the intensifying throbbing pain in her head, Amelia managed to continue walking. Nick gripped her hand tightly and pulled her after him. Hurriedly they went down the marble stairs leading away from the theatre entrance, and walked quickly across the theatre square in the direction of TSUM, a former government department store which now hosted only top-end labels for the newly-rich. Amelia barely registered where they were going. Nausea was rising in her chest. As soon as they’d passed TSUM’s corner, Nick pulled her right sharply and increased his speed until they’d reached the store’s furthest corner. Here he pulled her into a darkened doorway that looked like a service entrance. He held a finger to his lips and for several breathless minutes they waited to see if anyone had followed them.
Finally, when he was satisfied that they were alone, Nick stepped away from the door and flagged down one of the city’s many gypsy cabs. Instinctively Amelia kept her head down as she got into the small car. Vaguely she was aware of Nick requesting a stop on Myasnitskaya Street, closer to the ring road which ran around the inner city. The journey was short and silent, and when they emerged from the old Lada, Amelia didn’t have a clear idea of where they were.
Again Nick pulled her after him, turning down unknown streets. Before long he steered her into another darkened doorway, but this time it wasn’t to hide. Miraculously the door opened as someone stepped through it and warm, yellow light streamed from inside. She followed Nick into what appeared to be a small neighbourhood restaurant. After a brief exchange a waiter led them to a corner table. The interior was simple. White tablecloths were draped over small, square tables and the décor was more that of a homely kitchen than a restaurant.
The same waiter appeared again, this time with two glasses of cognac.
‘Drink that,’ Nick said. She touched her temple, and despite her misgivings about consuming alcohol, she took a sip and let the liquid trickle down to her stomach where it warmed her instantly.
‘You might have concussion,’ Nick said, his face serious.
Amelia took another sip, relishing the warmth spreading through her.