The Pavilion Man

by R. P. Thompson

  “What’s the matter, you seem to have seen a ghost.”

  “This candlestick, how did you get it?” Mikhail picked it up and looked underneath; it had a heart shape with the initials of M & Y entwined. The very candlestick he had crafted with his own hands at his blacksmith's workshop in St Petersburg.

  “Everyone who sees it is interested in it. It shows real craftsmanship,” said Alena.

  “I did not see it the last time I visited.”

  “No, my cleaner comes on Sundays and moves things around to clean.”

  “How long have you had it?” asked Mikhail.

  “It’s been around as long as I can remember. I use it now to light a candle for Papa every night,” said Alena, as she lit a white candle.

  Mikhail watched as the candle flame flickered and then began to grow stronger and brighter as he went out of the front door. He said nothing more to Alena as she closed the door behind him. All he could think of was why his gift to his beloved Yelena should be on Igor’s mantelpiece.

  Chapter 12

  Once again Sergei surprised Alena at her boutique the next morning as she had just put in the float in the till. It was early, and the other assistants had not arrived at work.

  “Uncle, I did not expect you so early this morning, is there something wrong?”

  “It could not be better, Alena. I have deposited five thousand into your bank account,” Sergei announced.

  “But Uncle, I’ve not agreed for your money going into my account. I was going to call you to say I don’t want to do this.”

  “This is very foolish of you, Alena. We will do good business together.”

  “But I am not in business with you, Uncle. You just loaned me money for which I am very grateful and will pay you every penny back as soon as I can.”

  “Your father would want me to teach you how to do business.”

  “You seem to know a lot about what Papa wanted for me more than I do. Thank you for the advice, but I want to be independent.”

  “Give me some receipts for couture dress worth five thousand.”

  Alena, rattled by the abruptness in which he spoke, was in two minds how to react to this demand. She smiled at him and said, “My clients cannot afford couture dresses.”

  “You start selling couture dresses today. I know lots of ladies who would like these expensive dresses. I will tell them about this shop.”

  “Uncle, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is my business. I make decisions on what I want to sell.”

  “Alena, I didn’t want to embarrass Igor, but I own the deeds to this shop,” said Sergei.

  “How is that?”

  “Igor ran into financial trouble and asked me to buy the shop until he could pay me back, but his death changed everything.”

  “So, I’m working for you? None of this belongs to me?”

  “We will work well together, and I’ll give you the deeds of this property when you are twenty-one; that is what I agreed with Igor if he was not able to pay me back.”

  “It’s very generous of you, but I don’t want to owe you any more money. I’ll go and find a cheaper shop.”

  “Not generous. I keep my promise to Igor to give the shop back.”

  “But you want me to run it the way you want.”

  “Igor, he had many enemies, I want to protect you from these dangerous people who what to take everything he had.”

  “I have nothing for them to take. All Papa worked for is worthless.”

  “They will want payment for all Igor’s debts. They will make you homeless if you don't pay. A few years working with me and you will pay off all Igor’s debts.”

  “So I have no choice. I need to pay Papa’s debts to keep a roof over my head, that’s what you mean.”

  “You are a clever girl, Alena.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Go and buy a few couture items. I’ll deposit money every few weeks. You will see, Alena, we will do good business and be very successful together.”

  “What would I do without your kindness, Uncle?”

  “Trust me, Alena, I’ll keep you safe.”

  “I have no one else looking out for me. Thank you, Uncle.”

  As soon as Sergei left, Alena went into her office to check her bank account. She saw £5000 had been transferred into her account from Switzerland. She had also received an email from a lady she had never heard of called Gertrude Finch thanking her for supplying such beautiful dresses that I will wear with great pleasure and keep well so that one day my daughter should feel such happiness wearing them as I do now.

  Alena could not wait to tell Mikhail what had happened that day. When her day ended at the boutique, she asked the taxi to drop her off at the entrance to the park. She walked in, looked around but did not see Mikhail, so she went to the cottage and knocked at the door. Mikhail came out immediately when he heard the knock.

  “Alena, is there something wrong?”

  “No, I’ve got something to show you.”

  Mikhail showed her into the kitchen and offered her a seat at a small table at the centre.

  “I’ve never been here before. I must say you keep it very neat and tidy, Jack.”

  “I’m grateful for it; many have nothing, they are on the streets.”

  “Yes, Papa always wanted to help those less fortunate and so do I.”

  “Your father taught you well.”

  She took out her bank printout and the email form Gertrude Finch to show him.

  “I thought I had better not protest too much when he told me he had the deeds to the shop,” said Alena, as she gave Mikhail an account of her day.

  “You did well; he believes you more. You need to play along with him. I don’t think Sergei is the mastermind of this.”

  “No? You sound like you know Uncle Sergei.”

  “I know many men like him. It’s best if I come with you everywhere now as your chauffeur.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It will be safer for you, and there is very little to do at the park when there are no events.”

  “Yes, I would like that. Thank you for taking me to the Russian Ball.”

  “We need to find out as much as we can about what Sergei is up to. Tell him you want to have a small party in memory of your father and…” said Mikhail.

  “And he can bring some of his associates. See, I’m thinking like a spy already,” said Alena.

  “Please, don’t use that word. I am just helping the government.”

  “Oh, you mean the three-letter word. I understand.”

  The next morning Mikhail put on his chauffer uniform and took Alena to her boutique and waited in a nearby street as there was no space for him to park outside the shop. Alena arrived at her shop door to find a man in a security uniform waiting for her.

  "Are you the owner?" he asked.

  “Yes, what can I do for you?” said Alena.

  “I’ve been hired by Mr Bogdanov as security to stay with you until the shop closes and to take you home.”

  “Please wait outside until I talk to him. He didn’t tell me about you.”

  Alena picked up the phone to talk to Sergei.

  “I don’t need security in this small boutique and I have just hired a chauffeur to take me home, Uncle.”

  “I want to make sure you are safe. And to protect our interests,” replied Sergei.

  “OK, he can only be in the shop. But I am not like Papa needing bodyguards with me everywhere.”

  The security guard came inside and tried to stand discreetly in the corner, but he looked so out of place in the small boutique that Alena asked him to act as a doorman so it seemed more natural to the shoppers coming in and out of the boutique.

  The shop had been busier than usual, and Alena enjoyed every moment in the boutique so that the time flew. Half an hour before the shop was due to close a fashionably dressed blond woman in her thirties came in and asked one of the assistants if she could speak to Alena.

  �
��What can I do for you?” asked Alena as she approached the woman.

  “I’m going to a wedding, and I need something suitable for the occasion, but it must be haute couture,” said the woman in a Russian accent.

  “We don’t have a collection yet but will order something in a few weeks,” said Alena.

  “Show me your most expensive items,” said the woman.

  “I have these pieces,” said Alena, directing the woman to a small collection of her most expensive dresses and accessories.

  “I’ll have three of these dresses,” said the customer, pointing to a rack of dresses in front of her.

  “What sizes do you want?” asked Alena.

  “It’s not a problem; these will fit. Please wrap them up,” said the customer without looking at the sizes.

  Alena had one of her assistants carefully fold them up and put them in a bag while the customer continued to look around the boutique.

  “I’ll have this blue leather bag. How much is that?” the customer asked.

  “The total is £949 please, madam,” said the assistant at the counter.

  “Please call the owner,” instructed the customer.

  When Alena came to the counter, she was half suspecting that the woman had changed her mind and was preparing herself.

  “I wish to speak to you privately,” said the woman.

  “Yes of course what is the problem?” asked Alena.

  “No problem; Mr Bogdanov said you would put this on my account and give me an invoice today and send the items to my address,” said the customer as she handed over a business card. Alena saw that the name on it was Gertrude Finch and the address on it was a Mayfair hotel.

  “Yes, we can do that for you, Mrs Finch. Your items will be delivered soon after payment,” said Alena.

  “Thank you. £10,000 will be paid into your account this afternoon.”

  “No, the cost of the items is £949,” said Alena.

  “£10,000 will be in your bank. Mr Bogdanov assured me I could buy items in my price range here. Thank you! I will be back and tell my friends about this beautiful store.”

  Alena said nothing; she smiled tight-lipped as the customer made her way out of the shop. Every day after that different women would turn up at the store, requesting similar items. At first invoices were made out to Gertrude Finch at a Mayfair hotel address and after a while other names and addresses were requested.

  They would only deal with Alena for an invoice for thousands of pounds more than the original cost. By the end of the month hundreds of thousands had gone into Alena’s bank account from these women. Alena recorded every transaction giving the full report to Mikhail at the end of each day with the names, addresses of the women, the bank accounts used and details of items they purchased. Impressed by her attention to detail, Mikhail turned over all the information he received from her to Ron who now visited him weekly in the cottage.

  Alena had arranged a small memorial gathering for her father and invited Sergei and a few of Igor’s friends that had asked to attend his funeral. She hired a catering company to provide canapés and two assistants to serve the food. Mikhail was there to help out as a waiter. Hoping Sergei would not recognise him, he wore a waiter’s uniform of a black waistcoat, white shirt, black bow tie and black trousers to serve the drinks at the event.

  At 7pm the guests started arriving. They were a few business associates, friends and neighbours of Igor’s.

  Sergei arrived an hour late and seemed to have been drinking. He stood at the entrance of the door to the drawing room and gazed at the large framed picture of Igor placed in the middle of the room and said, “My dear friends. Igor was a great man. It is hard to believe that he is no longer with us. Such a man was full of life. He always knew how to make the best of it. Tonight we celebrate his life and to give comfort to his beautiful daughter Alena.”

  “Thank you, Uncle, and to all of you for coming tonight,” said Alena.

  “Waiter, please give me vodka,” said Sergei to Mikhail. Taking his tray full of drinks, he lowered it to Sergei sitting on the sofa. For a moment Mikhail wanted to grab Sergei by the throat and inflict pain but instead held the tray tighter deciding that this was not the time or place. He moved gently away from Sergei and went to serve the other guests.

  “Alena, please tell the waiter to keep the drinks coming,” said Sergei getting more drunk as he sat with three other men speaking Russian. Mikhail brought out another tray of drinks put it on a small table in front of the men. Turning, he bumped into Viktor Novikov; their eyes met. Mikhail quickly walked away hoping Viktor had not recognised him. After that, he stayed in the kitchen until everyone had left.

  At the end of the evening when the other guests had left, and Alena was with Sergei and Viktor in the drawing room, Sergei said, “Alena, I would like to have a private word.”

  “Yes, Uncle, we can talk here,” said Alena.

  “You have done very well at the shop. I want you to sign the deeds of a property we just bought. I want you to keep it in your name until we are ready.”

  Viktor took out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “If that is what you wish, Uncle, I’ll be glad to help.”

  “Sign here,” said Sergei pointing to the piece of paper in front of her.

  “Uncle, this is the last page where are the other pages?”

  “There’s no need to worry yourself about the details, please sign it now,” said Sergei sternly.

  “Dear Papa gave me an expensive education in a British boarding school. You don’t want me to ignore everything I’ve learnt. Please give me all the documents,” said Alena firmly and with such confidence that Sergei felt powerless to refuse her. Sergei nodded to Viktor who proceeded to take out another envelope with the rest of the documents, handing it to Alena.

  She briefly flicked through the paperwork and saw that the deeds had the name Maxim Property Services, the documents Sasha had wanted.

  “Thank you, I’ll give it back to you tomorrow.”

  As soon as the two men left, she went into the kitchen to see Mikhail still clearing up.

  “Look what I have here,” said Alena handing it to Mikhail.

  He looked at it and said, “It says the owner of the deeds is you, Alena.”

  “Yes, but it is the documents Sasha was looking for.”

  “I’ll need a copy of these documents,” said Mikhail.

  “I’ll scan it for you.”

  “The other man with Sergei, how long do you know him?” said Mikhail.

  “I’ve only seen him once before when Papa was alive. I’ve never really spoken to him as I have forgotten most of my Russian,” said Alena.

  “I can tell you that this man and Sergei are very dangerous men. They have done many bad things.”

  “Do you think they had something to do with Papa’s death?”

  “I am going to find out for you,” said Mikhail.

  Chapter 13

  After the memorial evening, Mikhail went home to the cottage and sat at the kitchen table looking at his family pictures.

  “I promise you, my darling Yelena, I will get our daughter back. I’ve seen Sergei and Viktor, they will pay for what they did to us.” His thoughts were interrupted by a sound outside the door. Thinking it was Ron or the park fox he went to the door to open it but there was no one there.

  He went back inside, took a notebook to write in. Within moments he felt a rope tightening around his neck. Coughing frantically he pushed his hands back to grab it, trying to stop it getting tighter. With the full force of his body, he managed to push his body sideways out of the chair and onto the floor. The person trying to strangle him with the rope fell to the floor, losing their grip.

  Taking his chance, Mikhail quickly rolled over and landed on top of the man's back. He managed to get the rope and tie the man's wrists.

  “So it’s you, Viktor,” said Mikhail as the two men came face to face.

  “Let me free, Mikhail. I won't
let Sergei know you are here,” said Viktor.

  Mikhail leaned harder on Viktor's back causing Viktor to gasp for breath.

  “You and Sergei murdered Yelena, I’ll kill you for that,” said Mikhail turning him over.

  Viktor wiggled left and right trying to get loose.

  "No, it was not me. I found out after she had died what happened,” said Viktor.

  “You lie.”

  “I am telling you the truth, Mikhail; you let me free and I’ll tell you everything,” said Viktor.

  Mikhail stopped pressing down hard on Viktor and pulled him up in a sitting position, but as he did so all the lights in the cottage went off. There was a pop sound like a car backfiring as Viktor slumped back on to the floor bleeding from a wound to his head. Mikhail quickly dived under the kitchen table. He watched and waited for what seemed a long time before seeing a touch light and hearing a familiar voice inside the cottage.

  “Red Fox, it’s OK, it’s me,” said Ron holding a touch as he went towards Viktor lying on the floor to check and said, "He is dead.”

  “You killed him?” asked Mikhail.

  “No, it was one of my recruits. Our mistake, he's been too hasty.”

  “You’ve had me watched?”

  “I can’t afford to lose anyone else on my team after Johnny, and you’re on my team,” said Ron as all the lights came back on in the cottage.

  “You know who your recruit killed?” said Mikhail.

  “Yes, Viktor Novikov, we’ve been watching him since he came to this country but now I’m going to have to face a lot of questions and paperwork about his death,” said Ron.

  “My only regret is that Viktor was killed before he told me who murdered my wife,” said Mikhail.

  “Sorry about that. Sergei will know by now who you are if Viktor was here. It’s best we send you somewhere safe for a while,” said Ron.

  “I can’t go anywhere. Alena will be in danger. She has to hand over some property papers tomorrow to him.”

  “What documents?”

  Mikhail grabbed the copies of the property documents and handed them to Ron.

  “I’ll persuade Alena to go and stay with her mother in Switzerland until you’ve dealt with things,” said Mikhail.