At a time when traditional industry was contracting, the large multinationals merging, cutting back and laying off staff, the part of the industry the Jones sisters specialised in was thriving. Across Latin America, Africa, the Middle East, Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union countries, pharmaceuticals were a booming business. Companies which had traditionally concentrated on their home markets alone were refurbishing, expanding and attempting to reach out to export markets in Western Europe and North America. Suzanne had warned Charlie it wouldn’t last forever. There were just too many companies, all producing the same old products; and the world only needed so many paracetamol tablets.
But in the meantime, there was plenty of work. Mostly funded by the European Union, the World Bank and similar institutions; occasionally paid for by the companies themselves—and those were the companies the sisters believed would be the most successful in the long run, the ones that were willing to help themselves rather than waiting for support from someone else.
Suzanne and Charlie had been putting together a team of consultants who were willing to work with them on one-off projects. These were seasoned professionals, often former senior executives who had taken the golden handshakes offered by companies eager to shed older, more expensive staff in favour of cheaper younger ones, but who then found it very difficult to walk away from the world of work altogether. They were happy to act as sub-contractors, with minimal supervision, and just a small amount of administrative support. They had such a good team now that Suzanne had managed to appear only slightly perturbed at the thought of leaving it all in Charlie’s hands while she headed off on a month-long honeymoon with Steve.
Strictly speaking, the Jones Technical Partnership didn’t have an official office. Charlie did most of her work out of the back bedroom of the tiny terraced house she and Annie bought when they decided to start a family. Suzanne was living with Steve in his former family home in Kent and had a beautiful little summer house in the garden they’d converted into a working space. And of course, much of the actual work was done on client sites. They’d long since closed the office in the tower block in Vauxhall which they’d rented in the early days. But Suzanne still owned her original apartment in the same block. The bedrooms were used occasionally if Suzanne and Steve had a late night in London and didn’t want to drive back to Kent; or if they had guests or clients who needed a place to stay in the capital and didn’t want an hotel. The sunny lounge, looking out over the Thames, had been converted into an office where they held meetings with clients. And it was to there that Francine Matheson made her way on the Tuesday morning following Suzanne and Steve’s wedding.
Charlie thought their friend looked better than when she’d walked in on them at Suzanne’s hen party and certainly a lot better than the previous year, after Richard’s funeral. Since she arrived home from Russia, she’d obviously spent a fair bit of time at the beauty salon. Her hair was newly cut and styled. Her hands were beautifully manicured, as were her toes, peeping out from a pair of elegant wedge-heeled mules, each nail painted a pearly salmon pink to match her fingertips. She was casually but expensively dressed. But there was still a slighted haunted look in her eyes and as she sat drinking her coffee on the window seat overlooking the Thames, she seemed to be miles away. Charlie waited in silence for a few moments and then cleared her throat.
“You asked for this meeting, Francine. It’s lovely to see you, but it’s obvious you aren’t here just to chat about old times, or even to see Steve and Suzanne tie the knot—wonderful though it was to have you there. What’s wrong?”
Francine put down her cup and pressed her lips together, tutted and shook her head.
“The thing is, I’m not really sure there’s anything wrong at all. Back there, back in St Petersburg, I was convinced there was a problem, maybe a really big one. But here, in London, in broad daylight, when I put it all into words, it seems like I might be imagining things. I might be making it all up out of nothing. Does that make sense?”
“Not really, Francine,” said Charlie, “at least not yet. But you haven’t told me anything. Why not start at the beginning and then I’ll have an idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s the trouble. I’m not sure where the start is. Or even if there is a start at all.” Francine shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe I’m just being silly.”
“Francine Jane Matheson,” said Charlie forcefully, “Suzanne and I have known you for more than thirty years. You can be irritating at times, a little pig-headed, but also,” she said hastily, seeing the indignation on the other woman’s face, “resilient, resourceful and a strong ally in a crisis. One thing I would never describe you as is silly! Now, stop shilly-shallying and tell me what the problem is!”
CHAPTER 9
“Well, if you put it like that,” said Francine, “I’ll just tell you everything and then we’ll see if any of it makes sense. It all goes back to February when I flew out to St Petersburg. I booked an open return on the flight to Pulkovo, as I had no idea how long I was going to stay. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how Anton felt about my going out to visit them. We’d had a great time in Martinique; Mama D is delightful and I went at her invitation; but it’s Anton’s apartment and I didn’t know whether he really wanted a virtual stranger arriving on the doorstep for an indefinite visit. So much so, that I insisted on booking into the Grand Hotel Europe.”
“Anton met me at the airport and drove me to the hotel. True to his word, he’d had a talk with his friend and got me a wonderful suite. The hotel really is a beautiful old place, right in the middle of the city, with oak panelled staircases, crystal chandeliers everywhere and the most wonderful breakfast, taken to the accompaniment of a harpist in full evening dress.” Charlie stirred irritably, and Francine flashed her an apologetic smile as she returned to her story. “He left me to rest up and then the following day, we went to his apartment to see Mama D and Lydia.”
“And I take it from the length of time you stayed, Anton didn’t object to you being in Russia?” asked Charlie. Francine grinned at her
“It was obvious to both of us right from the moment he met me in the arrivals hall that the strong friendship we developed in Martinique was still there. He knows about Richard. He understands I’m not looking for anything more, and he seems fine with that. I stayed in the hotel for about ten days, while we got to know each other once again. Then he suggested I move into the apartment; Mama D and Lydia backed him up. So that’s what I did.” She looked sheepishly at Charlie. “You probably think this is all way too quick and I’m being very rash getting involved with a family like this miles away from home…”
But Charlie shook her head, grinning at their friend, before crossing the room to give her a quick hug.
“Of course, I don’t,” she said, “I’m delighted for you. And I know Suzanne is, too.” She resumed her seat. “We understand why you needed to get away from England for a while; and the Dimitriovs seem like a great family to hitch up with.” She gestured to Francine to continue.
“Anton started taking me around the city with him and introducing me to his friends. And he also took me into work with him to see the factory. It’s an old place, right in the middle of a residential area. Not the sort of location you’d choose to build a factory these days, but it’s been around for more than sixty years, since just after the war. There was no thought about environmental protection or pollution issues in those days.” She opened her bag and pulled out a couple of black and white photographs. “Here, this is Petrovpharm. The façade is magnificent, if a little the worse for wear. In fact, it’s the Russian equivalent of a listed building, which means they can’t do anything structural to it. But inside, they’ve invested a lot of money in upgrading the facilities. They make sterile products, injections, mainly; plus a few tablets in a new block at the back of the site. Anton knew of my background in international development and law. He was keen to talk through his business plans with me. I used to go into the office quite often w
ith him and we had some great discussions about his ideas.”
“So what’s the problem?” asked Charlie once again.
Well, about two months ago, something changed. Anton became irritable, impatient at times. He even shouted at me once, when I questioned him about something, although he apologised straight away and took me out to dinner to make up for it.”
“Could he be thinking you have overstayed your welcome?” asked Charlie tentatively.
“Yes, I wondered that. I even thought maybe I should come home, although I didn’t really want to do that. But it wasn’t just me. He was the same with Mama D, and worst of all, he was cruel to Lydia. And that’s really not like him at all. I was convinced it was something outside of the home, outside of our friendship, that was troubling him. And he stopped taking me into work with him. In fact, it was the suggestion I accompany him one day that made him so angry. And then one night at supper, we were introduced to a so-called friend of his: one Boris Paulovic Lechkov.”
CHAPTER 10
“This all sounds very strange,” Charlie said when Francine had finished relating her story, “and I do hope this Boris character doesn’t ruin things between you and Anton, but I don’t quite understand why you’re telling me about it. What do you want us to do?”
Francine looked down at her hands silently for a few seconds. When she looked up, Charlie was surprised to see her eyes were bright and her mouth twisted as she struggled to keep from crying.
“What do you want the Jones Technical Partnership to do?” repeated Charlie.
“I want you to help me work out what’s going on. Anton’s company is in pharmaceuticals, a business you guys fully understand. I want you to do some digging into the background, and if possible, into this Boris Paulovic Lechkov, see if you can sort out the truth.” She took a deep breath and went on, “And I want you to come to Russia for a visit to see the problem for yourself. I need fresh pairs of eyes on the situation, and TJP were the first people I thought of.”
“She could be imagining whole thing!” said Annie later that evening. “She’s been through a lot in the last few years, not least the death of her husband. Maybe it’s just that the relationship with Anton isn’t as rosy as she hoped and she’s making it into something it’s not.”
They had been discussing Francine Matheson’s story for the past hour. Charlie always tried to keep business discussions out of their free time, especially as Annie’s job was just as busy as her own. But with Suzanne across the other side of the Atlantic and unavailable for the next three weeks or so, she’d broken her own rule and was using her partner as a sounding board. She’d promised to ring Francine in the next few days, and certainly before she returned to Russia at the weekend.
“Yes, that’s possible,” replied Charlie, “but somehow, I doubt it. Francine’s not normally given to fantasy. She’s one of the most level-headed people I know. And from the sound of it, she’s not the only one who’s concerned. Anton’s mother and sister don’t like or trust this Boris either.”
“An old woman and a vulnerable girl? Aren’t they quite likely to see ghouls and spooks with a little encouragement?”
“Annie! That’s not like you!”
Annie bit her lip and looked guiltily at Charlie.
“No, it’s not, is it? I’m sorry. I must be more tired than I realised.” She thought for a moment and then exhaled loudly and slowly. “So, what are you planning to do?”
“Well, ideally, I’d like to see if this can wait until Suzanne returns. She’s the pharmaceutical expert after all. But I guess that’s not practical. Francine’s very worried and really wants something done as quickly as possible.”
“Right, then. Let’s think constructively about this. What do you know about Russia? Have you got any contacts out there?”
“Well, I’ve never been out there myself, although I spent some time in Eastern Europe a few years back. But I should be able to do a fair amount of desk work. And I suspect one or two of the folks from the old days will still be hanging around over there if I need more detailed information.”
“So, how’s this for a plan? You get stuck in to the desk research and see what you can find out. And put together a report for Francine. If there’s nothing sinister going on, you can get in touch with her and let her know, put her mind at rest.”
“And if I do find anything…?”
“Well, then you might need to take things a little further. Maybe someone will need to go out to St Petersburg as she suggested. But it doesn’t have to be you, does it? Not with the baby on the way. Suzanne can deal with it when she gets back.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Charlie. “Now, how about we close the metaphorical office door and you go and put your feet up while I finish cooking supper.”
“Wonderful. I’m going to have a quick bath and change into something a little more comfortable. Won’t be long.”
Charlie watched fondly as Annie headed for the stairs. But as she turned back to shut down her laptop, she wasn’t smiling anymore. If it was just a case of doing some research on the internet here in the study, then so much the better. But she had a suspicion she wasn’t really going to get anywhere unless she went out to Russia to see the situation for herself. And that was something Annie wasn’t going to be at all happy about. Especially not with the baby due in less than four months’ time.
“Well, here’s a mess, Charlie,” she murmured to herself. “Looks like you’re going to have to get back into the bear pit once more. Let’s just hope the bears still want to be friendly despite what happened last time.”
She wasn’t really sure how she’d got herself into this situation. There were rumours about a new group, based in East Germany, buying and selling state secrets. It was early 1990 and the Berlin Wall had been breached just three months previously. Charlie had been parachuted into the newly opened, but still very under-developed, former Communist state. So far so good. She’d masqueraded as a British student, running away from home and studies, looking for somewhere to hide. So far, so easy for the young woman with cropped orange hair and a growing number of tattoos. She’d always enjoyed this part of the job. In fact hiding, presenting a different part of her personality than the normal one, was a great speciality of hers; that and working her way around any computer system presented to her. But how, she wondered, could she have let herself get into this situation?
“Well? What do you say?” the rough male voice pulled her back from her reflections. Back to this smoky café in the back streets of East Berlin, an area known for its crime. Back into this company of rogues she was beginning, against her will, to get to like.
She looked around at the crowded room, suddenly gone quiet as they witnessed this strange scene. The band had stopped playing; the guy behind the bar had stopped wiping glasses; the waiters had stopped delivering the plates of cabbage rolls. Finally, she looked back at the man opposite her, the man who despite his role as leader of the gang, seemed quite at home kneeling on the sawdust-strewn floor before her. Swallowing, she groaned inwardly and then nodded.
“Yes, Tomas,” she said finally. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.” And as everyone cheered, the band started playing a lively polka. Tomas grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. Good grief, she thought to herself as he hugged her closely to his chest. Is there nothing I won’t have to do for Queen and Country?
Chapter 11
On the Wednesday morning, Charlie settled down to do some research. She’d arranged to meet Francine for lunch later in the week and she wanted to have at least some initial feedback for her, so they could decide on a plan.
There was surprisingly little to find when she searched the official channels for Anatoly Vladimirovich Dimitriov. A few press releases relating to the company, Petrovpharm, and mention of a local charity Anton supported. He seemed to be quite a popular figure in Russia, with no hint of any scandal or problems with the business. There were no accounts posted for the company, but that wasn’t
surprising. Russia had been a standalone nation, as opposed to being part of the Communist Soviet Union, for just under twenty years and although many of the young entrepreneurs wholeheartedly embraced the opportunities presented by the emerging capitalism, the official systems were still catching up with changes. Francine had told her Anton was very keen on doing everything the right way, so she guessed there would be some accounts available somewhere. And in Charlie’s eyes, it was always a good idea to start by following the money. That was how she’d got onto Michael Hawkins and his counterfeiting activities seven years before, even if initially her searches had taken her to the door of Francine Matheson herself. She would ask their friend when they met for lunch whether she had access to the Petrovpharm accounts.
When she started searching for Boris Paulovic Lechkov, she had even less luck. There was very little, apart from the fact he was currently mayor of a small town in the north-west of the country, about 100 kilometres from St Petersburg. Anton had confirmed Boris’s assertion that they’d been friends for a long time, although from what Francine had said, Charlie wasn’t sure that friends was really the right way to describe the two men’s relationship. Of course, he could have changed his name along the way, she mused. Anton had said so little, according to Francine, that anything was possible.
The two women met for lunch as arranged on the Friday, and Charlie informed her friend there didn’t seem to be anything to worry about.
“I’ll keep digging,” she said, “and then when Suzanne’s back, we can talk again. It doesn’t look as though we need to rush out there to your aid, Francine.” She grinned and went on, “although that doesn’t mean to say we won’t all come and visit you at some point anyway. But as far as Annie and I are concerned, it will have to wait until after the baby’s born.”
Corruption! Page 4