“He would, Katya. You must accept this now. Nikolai has done some terrible things in his life, you have just never known that side of him,” she said. “You must listen to what this man is saying, this is what I have always feared. Always.”
“Let him continue,” said Katya. “But he’d better have some pretty good evidence to back this up.”
Agapeto looked at me for permission to keep going and I nodded, not sure I wanted to hear anymore but desperately needing to.
“It would seem that Nikolai Trubetskoy may have been expecting something like this to happen one day. When the Russian police arrived at his offices in St Petersburg they were met by his lawyer who handed them a package. In that package were instructions for Katya to contact her lawyer who would give her the passwords to a bank account in Paris which contains a large amount of money and the title to the apartment she appears to own. Also in the package were letters written 15 years ago giving your physical description, the exact dates and hotel you would be staying in while in Paris. In fact the whole Lyndhurst/Cunningham itinerary was in his possession. It appears that this information was given to him by a contact in New Zealand,” he paused.
I looked at Marco, confused. Who could have done this to me? Who would have had access to this information? As I tried to think back for details of which travel agency we had used and how our travel plans could have got into the hands of someone so evil, I also tried to think of who would want to do this? Who would assist in the abduction of my little girl? Someone right here, in my own country.
“We arrested a man this morning who we believe sent that information, as supported by the documents handed over in St Petersburg,” announced Agapeto.
Marco immediately reached for my hand as I stared at Agapeto willing him to continue. But he didn’t. He just looked at me carefully.
“Who, Agapeto, who? Who would do this to me, to Lawrence, to Katya? I am struggling to think of anyone who would have known this information.”
“Jane, you will be shocked by what I am about to tell you, but you must know. The man who provided the information is known to you. In fact, he is known very well. You were once lovers I believe.”
I looked at him in confusion. Lover? Who? I haven’t had that many lovers so who could it … and then I knew. In that heart stopping split second my stomach lurched and my soul sank.
“Jim Craig,” I whispered. “He would have the contacts, he was working on stories about paedophile rings at the time. Oh my God, Katya, this is all my fault, this is all my fault,” I wept, held by Marco.
The room fell silent. Only Marco and I knew what was going on in my mind as I recalled the look on Jim Craig’s face as he told me: “She’s my baby Jane, I know it. I can see it in her eyes, they’re my mother’s eyes, you have to let me have her.”
But why would he have her abducted? If he thought she was his daughter, why allow such a dreadful thing to happen to her?
“What has happened to Mr Trubetskoy? Surely this is enough evidence to arrest him?” asked Marco.
“Well, that is where he has been very clever,” said Agapeto. “He also included in the package evidence leading to the men who abducted Charl … Katya that night, which by the way was off Russian soil, and the official adoption papers from a Russian government-run orphanage which handed over Katya to him. He is, as they say, off the hook,” said Agapeto, knowing how disturbing this news would be.
“For now,” he added, possibly to give me hope.
Katya stared at me with confusion and disbelief. One minute she was hearing that the only father she had ever known had raised her as his own daughter and after years of accepting the reality of her situation as something loving and caring, she was struggling with the awful truth.
And then here was I, throwing myself around at the mention of a man called Jim Craig who she’d never even heard of.
“Jane, what is going on? Who is this Jim Craig, why would he do such a thing?” she asked.
“He was a man who was initially my mentor when I was a young journalist at the Auckland Daily,” I said attempting to regain some control over my anger for Katya’s sake. “But then it all went horribly wrong when I left to work in Sydney and he became obsessed with me and stalked me for years. Part of that was my fault, I wasn’t firm enough with him,” I said.
“Jane, that is not true,” interrupted Marco. “From what you have told me this man had a control over you, he abused you. You must know that his obsession with you was a mental problem for him and nothing to do with you.”
“He sounds like a real nice guy,” said Katya sullenly. “But you still haven’t told me why he would have me abducted.”
“Well, when I became pregnant with you, there was a chance, a very slim chance I might add, that he was the father, not Lawrence. He believed he was your father and he never gave up on that, continually harassing me for a blood test and threatening to tell the whole gruesome story to Lawrence and the Sunday newspapers.”
“How did you stop him?” asked Katya.
“I didn’t really, I just kept saying “no” and then one day he just gave up and I never heard from him or about him again,” I said. “Until now.”
“That might explain the statement he made to us this morning, Jane,” interrupted Detective Inspector David Williams from the New Zealand Police getting out his notebook and leafing through its pages. “He said: ‘If I couldn’t have her then neither could she.’ He used his contacts in the paedophile rings to ensure Charlotte was taken from you,” he continued. “We’re not sure how he obtained your itinerary but there were a number of stories in your magazine about the planned trip so it wouldn’t have been difficult,” he said. “Oh and he did make a point of saying that he never received any payment for the information. He never wanted to be paid, having the little girl taken from you was all the reward he wanted.”
“What a bastard,” spat Katya brimming with anger and shock. She was not a happy girl.
In the past few days she had lost the only man she loved, found a mother and could have two new fathers to add to the one she already had. One had her abducted by a paedophile ring to order, one was in prison awaiting trial for helping him, and the other was a narcissistic celebrity. Finally she lost it.
“That is it!” she screamed leaping to her feet. “Four days ago, or was it five, I have no idea, this woman, Jane, you came into a restaurant in Paris, where I was leading a perfectly happy life with the man I love and the only woman I have known as my mother and told me I was your missing child. Now I am stuck here in this godforsaken house, locked up like some criminal and being told that a man who may or may not be my father is not allowed to see me because he is supposedly a security risk and quite frankly I think he is perhaps in a mental asylum or a prison somewhere the way you talk about him. Then there is yet another man who believed he was my father so he had me abducted by a paedophile ring – the logic of which, at this point in time, I am unable to see. I am now wondering just what kind of a woman my real mother is and now you are accusing Nikolai, who is the only person in the world who loves me, who knows me who has raised me and treated me like a princess, of a heinous crime. I had the best of everything, anything I wanted and now … and now … it’s all gone,” she burst into tears, sobbing like the spoilt 20-year-old I was beginning to realise she was. “And could everyone stop calling me fucking Charlotte, my name is Katya!”
Ola murmured something in Russian which sounded consoling.
The room was silent.
“Well,” said Agapeto assuming control. “Perhaps this would be a good time to explain to you Jane and Marco that Charl … I mean Katya has for some time now been Nikolai’s lover and is occasionally ‘leant’ out to three of his business colleagues for sexual services,” he said looking at no one in particular.
“Oh my,” was all I could think of to say, looking over at my daughter in a new light.
Katya looked at Agapeto with unrestrained hatred. “I was getting around to telling th
em that,” she shouted. “It is not something I wish to have broadcast. And don’t make it sound like I am some common prostitute, you heathen. I am a courtesan, a very educated, intelligent and refined courtesan.”
’I am sorry, my dear,” said Agapeto, not meaning a word of it.
“How did you find that out?” I asked Agapeto, still trying to digest this new piece of shocking information.
“I have known about this group of four for several years now. It was when Nikolai Trubetskoy’s name first came to my attention. It would appear that one of the men’s wives found out about their arrangement, discovered that Katya was not of Russian descent and reported it to authorities in the hope that they could be stopped. Unfortunately, they are all so well connected and rich in their own countries that they are extended protection from their governments and have remained untouched,” he said.
“But why would they want to do this, Katya? I don’t understand what you just said about being a courtesan,” I said, still trying to process the information.
Katya glared back at me. “Of course, you are ill bred, unrefined and would never be able to understand the finer things in life. Nikolai raised me to speak four languages, to appreciate and understand the finest wines and food the world has to offer and I can converse comfortably on any topic from the world financial markets and the price of gold, to real estate prices in Paris. He wanted, and so did The Others, a woman of exceptional intelligence and breeding. They could not find one readily available so they made one to order.”
Ola had been scowling to herself while she listened to Katya’s justification for her life.
“They were not happy with the women they usually bought,” she spat. “They might have been beautiful but they were all from the streets, cheap Russian peasant girls blessed with good physical genes but little intelligence, and by the time Nikolai got them they were damaged from all the alcohol and child abuse my country is famous for.”
“So they wanted a girl from New Zealand?” asked Marco. “It seems like an odd place to go to, why not England or France?”
“New Zealand would have been seen as pure, clean and guaranteed to provide a little girl so fresh and free from damage that she would be easily moulded into the courtesan Katya refers to,” said Agapeto. “Believe me, Katya is a rare thing in the circles she moves in. Intelligent, knowledgable, witty and stunningly beautiful. These men don’t just have sex with her, they share dinner, discuss business affairs, spend time with her. It is the whole package they have invested in.”
Katya looked around the room at Agapeto, DI Williams, Marco and me with a look that suggested she was wondering what all the fuss was about.
“So you see,” she announced. “That is who I am, and that is who I will always be. And quite frankly, I’m not sure I could have survived here, in a country whose primary industry seems to be boredom production.”
“Katya, don’t be so rude about your home country,” I reprimanded, suddenly feeling like a mother, annoyed at her attitude. “You have not seen anything yet, prepare to be amazed and astonished at the beauty of New Zealand and you will eat those words.”
We glared at each other across the room.
“Okay, okay,” said Marco, standing up and bringing some order and balance to the room which was now full of one uncomfortable Kiwi policeman, one inflated and angry Italian detective, a distraught mother, a pissed off courtesan and a linguistically confused nanny.
“I think we all need some time out here,” he said reasonably. “I take it the arrests have been made so are we now safe to leave here and find other accommodation?” he asked.
“Yes, you are,” said DI Williams. “Although we are still unclear as to the whereabouts of Nikolai Trubetskoy. We know he was in Paris but he seems to have disappeared, probably back to Russia where he is protected. The Russian police are not being very forthcoming at this stage.”
“Can you assure us that we are safe from him though?” asked Marco.
“As you know we have some of the tightest border controls in the world. If he takes one step into New Zealand we will know about it,” assured DI Williams.
“Oh, it won’t be Nikolai who comes to do the dirty work,” said Ola wearily. “He will send someone else. Probably someone who is already here.”
She looked ominously out of the window. She really had a bad case of the Russian spooks, I thought to myself.
“I can assure you that you are well protected in this country and we think it highly unlikely Nikolai Trubetskoy will do anything to further endanger himself or his friends,” repeated DI Williams. “You are all safe to leave.”
Ola looked unconvinced while Marco once again attempted to take control.
“Right, well can I suggest that someone calls Lawrence? Jane, I think that would be a good thing for you to do. We will drop Katya off to spend some much needed time with her father, who is not insane or a criminal, Katya, he simply suffers from delusions of fame,” he said turning to address her. “He has some issues with privacy and could not be trusted to keep your discovery a secret and I think we are all very keen to keep this out of the media for as long as we can.” He paused, suddenly aware that he had managed to hold everyone in the room.
“Jane and I will book some rooms at the Sheraton or the Regent or whatever it is called now, and we will get on with the business of becoming a family. Thank you all for your sterling investigative work, gentlemen, but if you wouldn’t mind giving us some space,” he said dismissing the cops, including Agapeto.
“But … ” said Agapeto.
“Let’s talk again tomorrow, and thank you so much for your generosity with the planes and everything.”
Agapeto barely concealed a scowl at Marco, but took his advice and left but not before hugging me reassuringly and kissing me on both cheeks.
And with that the room emptied, leaving a washed out mother and daughter and two people who loved them very much.
32
This time my Mum and Dad didn’t have to read about their granddaughter in the papers. We had managed to keep it all quiet for another 48 hours as we flew Katya down to meet them at their seaside rest home.
Katya had spent the whole trip peering out the window as we flew over the North Island with Mt Egmont covered in snow, then across Cook Strait, over the snow-covered Southern Alps and then touched down in Queenstown, the skiing mecca of New Zealand.
“Now this is more like it,” she said impressed with the fast- paced energy Queenstown radiated from all its macho bunji-jumping adventure tourists. We spent our first night bar hopping and Katya thoroughly enjoyed herself flirting with the buffed up local men and swapping languages and nationalities when it suited her. It was our first chance to watch her from afar, as Marco and I sat in the bars and observed this vivacious, highly entertaining and very male-oriented beauty.
“I’ve got to admit, she really has something that daughter of yours,” Marco commented as he sipped his wine.
“Yes, but would she have turned out that way anyway? Or is it because of this hot housing education in the finer things of life that she is so gorgeous to be around?” I asked.
“We will never know, but what we are seeing, Jane, is a woman who I think can and will handle anything in her future. That Russian did a terrible thing, but he at least set her up for life.”
“I’m not ready to feel anything but hatred and venom for that man, Marco. But I do agree that she is a wonderful girl. I … we are so lucky to have her.”
“We are,” said Marco looking at me lovingly and reassuring me with those two words that he was happy to be a father figure for my daughter if she needed one.
The next day we left Ola sleeping at the hotel, as she had not adjusted well to the jet lag brought on by the long trip from Europe, and drove down the coast to the Catlins to my parent’s resthome in Tirohanga at the bottom of the island. I hoped Katya would appreciate the old world atmosphere of the area, which still feels like New Zealand as it was in the 50s with its c
ribs nestled into the hills, and untouched beaches where sea lions and dolphins are in abundance and most villages have a pub, a fish and chip shop and a dairy. “You keep your parents here?” she asked incredulously as we drove up to the home.
“It’s so old, in the middle of nowhere, surely you can do better for them?” she said, showing her tendency to reject anything which isn’t architecturally splendid and covered in gilt.
“Katya, this is what our country used to be like. Little towns, lots of beaches which you can have all to yourself most days, and there is nothing better than a feast of fish and chips on the shore. We’ll do that for lunch,” I said enthusiastically.
She looked unimpressed.
We walked into the rest home, trying not to notice the smell of old cardies and well worn slippers and found Mum and Dad sitting in the lounge which had a gorgeous view of the beach with the waves pounding on the rocks.
I took Katya by the hand and we went over to sit in front of their reclining chairs where Mum was looking at the view while Dad read the newspaper.
“Mum, Dad, I have a surprise for you,” I said softly. They both looked at me and smiled, happy to see me again after so long.
“Jane, how wonderful to see you,” said Dad, obviously moved at my surprise visit. “It has been so long I thought you’d forgotten about us.”
“I know, Dad, I am so sorry I don’t get out here more often. How’s Mum?” I asked, noting that she was gazing at me with little comprehension and a faraway look in her eyes. She had been a little forgetful when I last saw her but nothing could have prepared me for the degree of senility she was now displaying.
“Oh, she does alright, Jane, I think she is happy but she is not quite up with the play, are you, dear?” he said raising his voice in her direction.
She just smiled back at him, like a five-year-old.
“Hello, Marco,” said Dad just noticing he was standing behind me. “And who is this young woman?” he asked looking at Katya for the first time.
“Well, Dad, this is, well, this is … it’s Charlotte, Dad. Your grand-daughter. We have found her.”
The Road from Midnight Page 25