Sunstroke

by Madge Swindells

  ‘Please wait here.’

  Since they had taken my passport, I had no choice. But they had not taken my hand-luggage, which held my lap-top computer. I quickly plugged into the telephone and e-mailed Father telling him of my detention and my fears.

  Half an hour later another official appeared.

  ‘What’s going on? I demand to see someone who speaks English. I have a plane to catch. Do you speak English?’

  ‘Please come this way, Madame.’

  He led me to a room where three men stood waiting. Perhaps they were Customs. A spot check? My suitcase lay open on the table, the icon was unwrapped and lying on my clothes. Even at this hazardous time, I could only blink lovingly at it.

  ‘It’s so lovely, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. It is very lovely.’

  I looked round at the man who had spoken. He had entered the room silently behind us. He was short, with a square head that had a flat top, from which a mop of black hair sprouted. Light amber eyes peered from under a wide, domed forehead. For some reason his eyes made me feel afraid.

  ‘I am Colonel Andrei Trenzin. Good evening, Miss Hunter.’

  ‘Thank God you speak English. Is there a problem? Could you explain it to me? You see, I don’t want to miss my plane.’

  ‘This icon is the problem. It is not only lovely but it is stolen and also unique. So unique, in fact, it is not allowed to be taken out of Mother Russia, so you have broken the law on two counts, as a receiver of stolen property and by attempting to smuggle it out of Russia.’

  ‘I bought it today. I simply walked into a shop and liked it. I had no idea of its background. I have the receipt and description here.’

  ‘But you did not declare it.’

  ‘I didn’t realize that I had to.’

  ‘The form you were given at the ticket desk specifically told you to list any works of art bought by you.’

  ‘Look,’ I said determinedly, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t read the pamphlet. I’m a tourist, for God’s sake. The icon was for sale and I bought it. The dealer should have warned me.’

  ‘Where did you buy it, Miss Hunter?’

  I hesitated. ‘It was a shop fairly close to my hotel. The receipt is in my bag. No doubt it will tell you the name of the gallery. I saw one that matched my decor so I walked in and bought it. I demand that you return my passport. I have to catch my flight. Keep the damned icon, but it cost a great deal. I shall sue for the return of my cash.’

  ‘That is out of the question. You will be taken into custody, searched, fingerprinted, formally charged and later questioned. These are very serious charges,’

  ‘I would like to see the British Consul.’

  ‘But you are Australian.’

  ‘Nevertheless… I have contacts there. Meantime, I won’t answer any questions. I believe I have been set up.’

  ‘At this stage I don’t know if we shall involve foreign embassies. Come this way, Miss Hunter. I don’t think we need to handcuff you. After all, you have no place to hide.’

  My head was spinning and my heart hammering against my chest but I struggled to pull myself together and keep calm as I was escorted to the police car waiting outside.

  Chapter 61

  My cell was bare but clean, and the small barred window, set high in the wall, enabled me to see daylight dawning, but after a night of anxiety my fingers were gnawed and I was exhausted with tension. I had no idea when they would charge me, or what they were planning to do with me. I hung on to the knowledge that Father and Wattling would swing into action to find out where I was and push for my release. The thought that David, too, would try to find me comforted me.

  No one came or passed by. The building was silent. Where were the nightly cries and mad laughter that had vibrated through Pollsmoor? I reminded myself of how people used to disappear for decades in Russia. They could send me to Siberia and deny ever having heard of me. So far I had only seen the wardress who had brought my supper and accompanied me to the lukewarm showers. There was no point in trying to talk to her because she could not speak English.

  *

  At two p.m., the cell door swung open and the wardress beckoned to me. I combed my hair, grabbed my bag and followed her along the passage to a door where a guard stood on duty. He pointed to a bench along the wall and we sat down.

  Another hour passed. My wardress was used to waiting. She slumped against the wall and fell into a trance-like state, her head lolling back, her arms folded on her lap. I fidgeted, crossed and uncrossed my legs, smoothed my hair with my fingers, shivered and pulled my coat tighter around me, while I examined every possible question that came to mind and reached no sensible conclusion. At last the door swung open.

  The guard beckoned to me and I entered, squaring my shoulders. It was a large room with a huge Persian carpet and little else. A long polished table filled one end and two men were sitting there: Colonel Trenzin, who had arrested me at the airport, and another uniformed man who had been with him. He stood up and pulled out a chair for me, but I remained standing.

  ‘How dare you hold me, Colonel Trenzin, without charging me, or allowing me access to a lawyer and the embassy—’

  I broke off in astonishment as Boris Borovoi walked into the room, wearing the uniform of a police colonel. He nodded to me and sat at the end of the table.

  ‘You are acquainted with Colonel Boris Borovoi, Mrs Moller,’ Trenzin said.

  ‘Please sit down, Nina,’ Borovoi said. ‘You’re making me feel awkward. You don’t need the embassy’s help, you’re about to be released. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. You’ve had a bad fright. My apologies, but I was in Europe. I was called back to identify you after your arrest.’ He nodded to Trenzin. ‘Yes, she is definitely Nina Moller nee Ogilvie.’

  I slumped into the chair, feeling confused.

  ‘So now you know my secret, Nina. I’m a colonel in the Russian state police. My job is to try to infiltrate local organized crime, mainly through their money-laundering operations, which is my speciality. My colleagues and I have set up this bank and, with your help, wooed Cassellari to join us. Unbeknown to him, his money-laundering operations will be under surveillance from now on. He is linking Europe’s criminal gangs with those of Russia. Through him, we hope to infiltrate our own criminals. I know that this information is safe with you. After all, your position is as precarious as mine.’

  I tried to look calm despite my intense relief. ‘So why was I arrested?’

  ‘Because of your own stupidity, Nina. Rule one of this game is never to confide a thing. Colonel Trenzin received a tip-off from an Israeli source that Nina Moller was in Moscow to purchase a certain rare icon for Sergei Romanovitch, but that your real motive was to launder a million dollars on behalf of a Sicilian gangster, namely Vittorio Cassellari. Would you like coffee, Nina?’

  I was unable to speak. My blood was pounding in my head and it was hard to breathe as I tried to deal with the hurt and bewilderment Borovoi’s words had let loose. I struggled to be calm enough to think. Three people had known why I was coming to Russia: Father, David and Sergei. Would Sergei…? No, he needed the icon badly. Besides, he had no idea who I really was. That left David.

  ‘Tell them to hurry up with the coffee,’ Borovoi said. Trenzin spoke rapidly to his assistant who left the room.

  ‘I understand your motivation, Nina. You will stop at nothing to find your child, and in your position I’d do the same. But, rightly or wrongly, you’ve joined the world of international gangsters, laundering their cash and breaking the law.’

  David’s words. I leaned back and closed my eyes.

  ‘Colonel Trenzin had the art dealer watched.’ He sighed.

  ‘I have informed my colleagues that you are infiltrating these organized gangs in the hope that you will discover the identity of Wolf Moller, who has kidnapped your son, and that you are liaising with British Intelligence and working with me.’

  Borovoi broke off as a woman entered, carrying a tray f
ull of steaming mugs.

  ‘Here’s your coffee, Nina. You look as if you need it.’ We sat in silence for a few minutes. Borovoi was watching me quietly. I guessed that he knew that he’d just tipped my world upside down. Could David do this to me? Had he? No, I didn’t believe it. Believe it, Nina. Wolf betrayed you, so why not David?

  ‘I hope you understand the risks you’ve been taking, Nina, particularly with Bernstein and Cassellari. Bernstein was in the Mossad. I doubt he’s fully broken his links or his allegiance. After all, your father hasn’t. Bernstein would never condone breaking the rules and you have put yourself in danger by liaising with him. Conversely, if Cassellari were to find out that you are the daughter of a British Intelligence chief you would be killed immediately. For safety, don’t tell Sergei Romanovitch who you really are. Trust no one, except me.’

  I was astonished that he knew so much, but on second thoughts felt I shouldn’t be.

  ‘I want you to keep me informed, Nina. Work with me, not Bernstein. He has different priorities from yours. I’ll be in touch constantly. As for your money-laundering, I suggest you stay with a safe route that has been proved to work for you. Place the money in the Bukharin Bank. We will do the rest. I’m there to protect you.’

  I exhaled softly. But you own the bank, Borovoi, so you, tooy are suspect since you are lining your own pocket at the expense of the state.

  There were so many loose ends. So many facts that didn’t tie up.

  ‘There’s something you must know. Moller has stolen a great deal of money from Romanovitch and ruined his reputation. When he finds Moller he will kill him. That would not serve our purpose, which is to bring him to trial. You must make sure that we find Moller first. Your son will be returned to you the moment we find him. You have my word on this. You will be in Monaco by late this afternoon. Right now, the guard will give you your suitcase and your toy bear. Is it for your son?’

  I nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

  ‘So we guessed. I don’t mind telling you that it brought tears to our eyes. Even policemen have hearts, Nina.’

  I didn’t believe him. I tried to push away my hurt and concentrate on my triumph. Sergei had worked with Wolf. He knew him. At last I was on the right track.

  Chapter 62

  On my arrival at Nice Airport, I faxed David: ‘Safely back. Meet me at my apartment at 9 p.m.’ Then I collected my car and drove to Monaco, where I parked above the yacht basin.

  Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was almost nine. David would have left by now and I had at least half an hour to search his files. A party on a nearby yacht was in full swing, the guests’ cars had caused a minor traffic jam and angry security men were trying to unravel the mess. As the guests sauntered up the gangway, their laughter seemed to intensify my lonely state. Had David betrayed me? I shrugged off the hurt. I was here to find out.

  There was no sign of a guard on David’s boat. Perhaps he had slipped off to the party. I mounted the gangway unchallenged and crept into the cabin David had converted to an office. Switching on the computer, I searched his documents.

  Three new developments point to Latvia as Motier’s domicile. First: the Land Rover purchased in Maun on the day Moller went missing with the Friends of Unita ( FOU) millions, has turned up in Tel Aviv. A party of students returning from a Baltic tour contacted a local dealer to sell their vehicle, which has since been positively identified as the one bought by Anselmo in Maun. The students said they had purchased it in Riga shortly after their truck broke down. The Riga dealer claims to have bought the vehicle for cash some months ago from an unknown German tourist.

  Second: a cargo plane, grounded in Sweden for repairs, was found to contain a parcel of diamonds, Tanzanite gems and emeralds believed to be of Central African origin. No one has claimed the gems, but they were air- freighted from Riga and addressed to an Amsterdam gem wholesaler who claims to have no advance knowledge of the parcel. They are being retained by Customs.

  Third: a number of Krugerrands (one-ounce gold coins made in South Africa, and negotiable currency in many countries) are in circulation in Latvia, although no one seems to know their source.

  Latvia! It made sense. It would explain a great deal about Wolf’s background and his attitude to life. Excitement surged as the importance of David’s research hit me.

  I was not surprised when I saw my name heading a file. It contained a report from David’s private detective, giving a CV of my life until the time of my trial, ending with the paragraphs:

  A son, Nicholas, was born on 3-10-90 at the Kingsley Nursing home. Subsequently, Nina Moller reported that her child had been kidnapped by her husband. Father and child were traced as far as Walvis Bay, Namibia, but they have not been heard of since. Later it was learned that her husband, the so-called Baron Wolfgang von Moller, had been involved in fraud scams and industrial spying for the USSR.

  Unable to discover the true identity of her husband, the SA authorities arrested Nina as his colleague, but she served only eighteen months of her six-year sentence. While she was in prison, her father, Commander Ogilvie of Naval Intelligence, now a paraplegic, successfully applied to have her marriage annulled on the grounds of a false name and identity given by Moller. The Court of the Hague legalized Ogilvie’s rights to the sole custody of her natural son, Nicholas Ogilvie.

  Father and daughter have been searching for the child ever since. Nina is believed to be using an alias, provided by British or Naval Intelligence, who confirmed that she has some viable link with them, but I can get no further information.

  NB Under the circumstances one must assume that the criminal who impersonated Dr Anselmo is Wolf Moller, Nina’s husband.

  Keying to the next page I read:

  Steps taken to extradite Nina Ogilvie.

  October 9. Colleagues in the Mossad have formally applied for the extradition of Naomi Hunter to stand charges of…

  The boat gave a lurch and shuddered. Someone was walking up the gangway. I switched off and raced out of the cabin. I hid in the store and heard someone walk into the office and close the door.

  Chapter 63

  I tried to keep emotion at bay on the drive to Sergei’s home. From now on I was on my own, trusting no one, although I would pretend to play along with the Russian police and with Sergei.

  Arriving at Sergei’s home, I rang the bell and waited.

  Moments later, he bounded out and caught hold of me, whirling me round, carrying me inside and behaving like an idiot. Was all this enthusiasm for the missing icon or for me, his missing courier, I wondered. The icon, I decided finally, as I watched him lovingly unwrap it.

  Shortly afterwards, I was confronted by two images and I could not fathom which intrigued me more. The icons hanging in sequence at last, which in itself was a miracle for each had made a hazardous, lonely journey through five centuries of wars and upheaval. Or the man himself, gazing as if entranced at the icons’ poignant imagery. His head was thrown back, his throat moving with the force of his emotion, his fierce eyes blazing with joy.

  ‘Mere money can never repay you, Naomi,’ Sergei said, passing me a cheque. It was for the full purchase price, plus ten per cent.

  ‘But surely they will be auctioned?’

  ‘Not this time, Naomi. For me, the icons are a reminder of man’s eternal quest to find the sacred fount within himself, expressed as a need to create and covet beauty. Tell me, have you ever wanted anything as much as I desired this icon?’

  ‘No,’ I lied. ‘Or maybe only money.’

  There was a quiet chuckle close to my ear. ‘I think you are lying.’ His hands caressed my breasts. ‘You have beautiful breasts. I told you that you had suckled a child. I like that. Stay with me tonight, Naomi. We shall make love and then we’ll make our plans. Say you will stay.’

  I craved love, but not his. I shuddered. I knew I needed comfort, an outlet for my impassioned love, and a shoulder for my sadness. Of the three men in my life, Sergei was the only one who had not l
ied to me. I did not have to guard my back when he was around. ‘I suppose it always was inevitable, Sergei.’

  I could feel his body trembling with desire, and smell the musky scent of his hot longing, yet subtly I sensed that this man would never want the same woman twice.

  Sergei was a skilled and passionate lover, as I had known he would be. I cried out when my body reached the fierce and final climax and the essence of me spilled out over him in drops of exquisite sensations. Only then did I feel a fleeting sensation of shame, knowing that I was only groping for compensation for the loss of something infinitely precious to me.

  Oh, David, it should be you.

  *

  It was midnight when Sergei woke me. He was lying sprawled half over me, one leg flung over my hips. For a moment I thought it was David and I almost cried with disappointment. Moments later, when I felt his tender thrust into my innermost place, I shuddered and gave myself up to him.

  Later, as we lay entwined, drenched with his sex, Sergei told me about my jewellery: every piece, every gem, and every occasion for which it had been made.

  ‘That is how I found you, Nininchka. You wore your jewellery, at the sports club and at the casino and I knew that you were Wolf Moller’s wife.’

  I climbed out of bed, unwilling to reveal my dawning horror. I felt numb as I stared out of the window, watching the lights twinkling from passing boats and occasional patches of phosphorescence lighting the darkness. I felt strangely drained. Everything Colonel Borovoi had told me was a lie. He knew Sergei and vice versa, so he knew that Sergei knew my true identity. I tried to understand what was going on. Who had betrayed me, and why?

  ‘Why did you stay so long in Moscow, Nina?’

  ‘I have never been there before. I fell in love with the city. I did some shopping.’

  ‘What a secretive woman you are, my little Nininchka. You remind me of the sea.’ Sergei stood up and came close behind me until his body fitted against mine. He wound his arms around my shoulders. ‘You are deep and dark and very mysterious. Sometimes your eyes light up momentarily, but not often. In your own way you are as relentless as the sea, and as mindless. You are compelled to act out your role of motherhood, propelled by your instincts to regain your son – your pristine instincts.’