Francine flew back to St Petersburg the next day and Charlie was so busy setting up new contracts, working on project submissions and briefing the sub-contractors, she didn’t return to her research until the middle of the following week. And it was when she started looking into the less official channels that she started picking up more information. And the more she read, the more uneasy she became. Boris Lechkov was definitely a person of interest to her former masters and colleagues. He had links to organised crime in Russia and other countries of the former Soviet Union plus he was suspected of masterminding some very tricky dealings in Africa and the Middle East. There were links to groups known to be dealing with terrorists. But he was obviously a slick operator. Although there were lots of suspicions, no-one had been able to come up with any proof or anything to tie Boris in to specific incidents. He seemed to be a man who kept his own hands very clean indeed. Could that be why he was sniffing around Anton? Charlie wondered.
She realised she’d sent Francine back to St Petersburg with a false sense of security. What should she do? It looked like their friend needed them. She couldn’t just phone her or email her with this news, without offering additional help.
Suzanne and Steve weren’t due back for another two weeks and then it would take several days for her sister to get a Russian visa; even supposing she was willing to leave her new husband so soon after their honeymoon. And besides, Charlie felt they needed to act much more quickly than that.
It definitely looked as though she needed to go out to Russia herself, and the sooner the better. She made a note on her To Do list that sorting out a Russian visa application would be at the top of her agenda the following day.
At that moment, she heard Annie’s key in the lock. It was her turn to cook this evening. Maybe they would go out to eat instead. That way, it would be harder for her heavily pregnant partner to shout when she told her about her impending trip to Russia and the reason behind it.
Chapter 12
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Quiet, gentle Annie hardly ever raised her voice, so Charlie knew she was on very dodgy ground at this point. The conversation wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped. They’d not gone out to eat after all. Annie was tired after a long day in the office and told Charlie she didn’t feel well. She suggested it might be time to think about giving up work. There was still three and a half months to go before the baby was due, but she didn’t want to risk anything going wrong. They’d chatted about the options over pasta and pesto with green salad, in the tiny backyard that answered for a garden in their part of London. Charlie had decided not to say anything about her impending trip, but Annie asked how much work Jones Technical Partnership had on the books and what she thought would be coming up over the rest of the year. And Charlie had mentioned she might have to make a trip to Russia. Hence the explosion! She stared at her partner as the tiny Scottish woman continued shouting. “We’re having a baby in November and you’re planning to swan off to Russia on a possible wild goose chase. Without talking to Suzanne first!”
Charlie waited until the storm had died down, then calmly began to respond, ticking the points off on her fingers as she went along.
“Number one: the baby’s not due for another thirteen weeks. Once I have my visa sorted, I’ll be in and out of there in a few days. You’ll hardly notice I’ve gone. Number two: Francine is very worried and has asked for our help. She’s not one to panic unnecessarily, so I really don’t think it’s a wild goose chase. And number three: Suzanne and I are equal partners. We don’t always run everything past each other before we act. Otherwise we’d never get anything done. And I certainly do not want to bother her while she’s away, even if I could get a phone call through to the Galapagos Islands.”
But Annie wasn’t convinced.
“If Francine’s asking for help, I assume there’s no fee attached to this little jaunt?”
“She’s going to pay all the expenses, but I doubt if we’ll be charging any fees, no. As I said, it’s only going to be a short trip.”
“Explain to me in words of one syllable exactly why you need to go out there. Why can’t you do everything online like you normally do?”
“Because the Russian systems are much harder to work through than the British ones. Because I may need to contact some of my former colleagues in that part of the world. Because I think they will be able to find out more about the connection between Anton and Boris than I will over here.” She stopped and reached over to take Annie’s hand. “Sweetheart, Francine is family. She’s called for help and I need to answer that call.”
“And what about me, Charlie? What about me and the baby? Aren’t we family too?”
“Of course you are. How can you ask such a question?”
“Because I sometimes wonder where your priorities lie,” was the quiet response. Annie heaved herself to her feet. She collected up the plates and took them into the kitchen, stacked the dishwasher, and set it running. She put her hands into the small of her back and stretched her body, grimacing as she did. Charlie, who’d followed her inside, felt a jolt of concern.
“Are you okay? Would you like me to run a bath for you?” But Annie shook her head.
“No, I just want to get some rest. I’m going to bed. I’ll leave you to switch everything off when you’re finished down here.” And with a tiny wave of her hand, she disappeared in the direction of the stairs. By the time Charlie went up to their bedroom a little while later, Annie was asleep.
There was no repeat of the previous night’s argument, either the next day or in the week it took Charlie to get her Russian visa and sort out her travel arrangements. But neither was there any movement on Annie’s part. She obviously disapproved of Charlie’s proposed trip and didn’t want to discuss it further.
On the morning of the flight, Charlie’s taxi arrived just before six o’clock. Annie gave her a squeeze as she left but said very little. She just nodded when Charlie promised to call on her arrival in St Petersburg.
As the taxi drove along the Westway, Charlie wondered if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. She was as excited as Annie at the prospect of becoming a parent. At least, she thought she was. They’d only gradually come around to the idea something was missing in their lives, something that would be satisfied by the addition of a child, or maybe two or three. But she’d assumed Annie was thinking about adoption. She’d even looked up the rules and the mechanisms on the internet. Then Annie had surprised her by saying she was interested in the idea of IVF. She wanted to experience the whole process of childbirth and motherhood. And as she was a good fourteen years younger than Charlie, and still in her early thirties, there was no medical reason why they shouldn’t go down that route.
So, Charlie agreed, and they made the appointments. But the first two cycles failed. They decided to have one more go before looking once more at the idea of adoption. And Charlie more or less assumed that would be the way they’d have to go. Then Annie told her she suspected she was pregnant. The tests confirmed it and the two women went out with Suzanne and Steve for a celebratory meal. Everyone laughed at Charlie when she insisted on Annie only drinking orange juice from then on. But she’d taken the whole thing very seriously indeed. And the pair were very happy.
Then, about three months later, Charlie had suddenly woken in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking with fear. In her dreams, Annie and their child were in danger. She couldn’t work out exactly what kind of danger, and she couldn’t even see them. But she knew the threat was there. And to make it even worse, whatever the risk to her little family, she knew it was all her fault.
Annie had laughed at her fears and calmed her down. She told her there was nothing to worry about. No-one was going to harm them. And Charlie had almost believed her. But the dream had come again, and again. Sometimes she could see just Annie, sometimes she could see the pair of them. But whoever was threatening them was in the shadows, unseen.
Charlie wasn’t sure whether her fe
ars were real, a genuine concern for the safety of her family; or whether they were symptomatic of a more general fear. She might be in her forties, but she’d never felt herself to be a true grown-up; not in the way Suzanne was grown up. And becoming a parent was a very grown up thing to do.
Chapter 13
Anton was stretched out in the armchair, papers spread around him on the floor of the lounge. His head was thrown back and a gentle snore came from his open mouth every so often. Mama D stood in the doorway with Francine and tutted quietly.
“That’s the third time this week he’s fallen asleep before supper. He’s working too hard. And I heard him pacing around his room in the middle of the night again. But I’m going to have to wake him. Lydia’s friends will be arriving within the hour and you know how keen she is that everything is just right when we have people around.”
Francine put her hand on the older woman’s arm.
“Leave him just a bit longer. That’s the French project. I can put everything back in the file for him.” She nodded towards the kitchen. “You carry on getting supper ready and I’ll clear up in here.”
She tiptoed across the room and silently picked up all the papers, sorting them and slipping them back into the lever arch file.
The slim green folder was under a pile of drawings, half hidden by the armchair. She’d not seen it before and it certainly wasn’t part of the project they’d worked on together. She picked it up and opened the cover.
“Give that to me. It’s private.”
Anton’s face was flushed from sleep; but his eyes were wide open and there was a look on his face she’d never seen before. She held out the folder and he snatched it from her and pushed it into his briefcase. She opened her mouth to apologise, but at that moment, the doorbell rang. Mama D popped her head around the door.
“They’re early! Francine, can you let them in please? Anton, you sort out the drinks. There’s wine on the side there and I’ve got some beers in the fridge. I’ll go and call Lydia. She’s been ages. She must be ready by now!”
She bustled out and catching Anton’s eye, Francine burst out laughing. He grinned back at her and the tension of the moment before was broken. It had been as sharp as it was unexpected and over almost before it began. But as the evening progressed, Francine became more and more convinced she needed to see what was in that folder.
“Ms Matheson, I wasn’t expecting you this morning!” The young girl jumped up from her desk, dropping her magazine to the floor and kicking it out of sight. “I thought Mr Anton was going to Moscow today.”
Francine tried hard not to smirk. So little Miss Perfect wasn’t so perfect after all—at least when the boss wasn’t around.
“He is, Nadia. I thought I’d take advantage of his absence to go through the French project plans one more time. Is the office unlocked?”
“Not yet, I’ve not long arrived.”
Francine glanced at the clock on the wall; it was approaching ten-forty. Anton normally started work at eight. Nadia flushed bright pink.
“I had a problem at home…” her voice tailed off as Francine put her finger to her lips.
“I don’t need to know, Nadia. I’m not the boss around here. And if you want a bit of a lie-in on a quiet day, I’m not going to tell anyone.” There was a pause as the two women looked at each other in silence. Francine inclined her head towards the inner office. “The door?”
Nadia jumped up, grabbed her keys and hurried across the room. Throwing the door to Anton’s office open, she turned back to Francine with a smile.
“There you are, Ms Matheson. Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, no, I’m fine. I know where everything is.”
Francine closed the door firmly behind her, pulled the project documents out of the folder on the desk and spread them over the large meeting table. They’d developed them together over the past couple of months, working in the evenings while Mama D and Lydia washed up after supper. Anton’s dream was to win a contract with a French manufacturing company; to make and sell their products here in Russia. He saw it as a way to spend more time in his beloved France. She didn’t need to go through the documents again; she knew them inside out. She turned instead to the first of the five filing cabinets lining the wall and started very quietly opening the drawers. Ninety minutes later, she closed the final one, and turned away unsure whether what she was feeling was frustration or relief. She’d found nothing. All the folders were the standard buff colour. There was no sign of the green folder anywhere.
She knew Anton didn’t have it with him. He’d gone to Moscow on the early train, to take part in a recorded panel discussion for television; and was going to spend a couple of hours viewing an Impressionist exhibition before travelling back on the late-night express. He’d not taken his briefcase with him, just a copy of Les Misérables which he’d pushed into his coat pocket. Francine had checked his brief-case once he’d gone. But it was empty. She’d searched his room while Mama D and Lydia were at the shops. Again. Nothing. That left his desk here at the office.
“Ms Matheson, I’m going to the grocery store. Can I get you anything for lunch?”
Francine jumped; she’d been so engrossed in what she’d been doing, she’d not heard Nadia come in.
“I’m fine, thanks, Nadia. I’m nearly finished. I’ll have something when I get back to the apartment.” She strolled away from the filing cabinet and returned to the table littered with papers. “If you leave your keys here, I’ll lock up before I go.”
Nadia shook her head. Francine thought she looked suspicious, but that could just be her guilty conscience.
“Mr Anton doesn’t like anyone touching the keys…”
“But I’m not just anyone, am I? And you don’t want me leaving the door unlocked, now do you?”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“Of course I am. I’ll lock up the office and leave the keys with the security guard on the gate. You can collect them from him when you return.”
Francine stood at the window and watched Anton’s secretary walk across the yard and towards the gate, pausing to have a few words with the guard in his little hut. The woman glanced back towards the office block and Francine drew back sharply. When she looked again, Nadia had gone. Francine hurried across to the office door, and locked it before turning her attention to the drawers in Anton’s desk. The top one contained the usual mix of pens, pencils and other oddments of stationery. The second one was empty, apart from a folder of what looked like safety procedures. The bottom drawer was locked.
Francine fetched the bunch of keys from the door and tried every one of them in the lock. Not one fitted. Throwing herself into Anton’s chair in frustration, she let her eyes wander idly around the room as she tried to decide what to do next. She had to find that folder.
“Think, Francine,” she muttered, “what would you do?” She didn’t think Anton would have the key with him, or if he did, there would be a spare in here too. Lydia had told her he was always losing his keys, and had spares all over the place, just in case. She hadn’t come across any keys when going through the other drawers.
She ran her hand along the underside of the desk, then went down on hands and knees to check more thoroughly. Nothing. She looked around the room once more. She was running out of time. The post office was only at the end of the road; Nadia would be back soon.
She found herself staring at the little display case on the wall opposite the desk. It was filled with trophies from Anton’s tennis-playing days. Oh, surely not, she thought. But, sure enough, when she opened the front of the case and tipped up the large cup that took pride of place, there was a small, ornate key. The sort of key that opened a desk drawer.
Within seconds she had the drawer open and there, finally, was the slim green folder. Pulling it open, she found it contained just three sheets of paper; but to her dismay it was all in Russian. Well, what do you expect? she asked herself. She pulled out her phone and snapped pictures of a
ll three pages before replacing the folder and relocking the drawer.
The rattling of the office door handle shocked her and she nearly dropped her phone. She heard Nadia on the outside, calling her name, and hurriedly unlocked the door. The secretary looked at her suspiciously.
“Why did you lock yourself in, Ms Matheson?”
Francine shrugged and waved her hand around.
“I’m a bit like Mr Anton when it comes to keys, Nadia. I lose them very easily. I pushed them into the lock, so I would see them as I went out. I must have turned the key accidentally.” Nadia didn’t look convinced and Francine decided it was probably time to go. She had a quick look around the office and groaned inwardly when she realised the drawer key was still lying on top of the desk. And the trophy cabinet was wide open. She slid her hand over the key and then strolled over to the cabinet. “I was just admiring Mr Anton’s trophies. Did you ever see him play tennis?” The secretary shook her head and glanced at her watch. “No, you’re probably too young, aren’t you?” said Francine. She reached into the cabinet and picked out the cup. “You really must get him to tell you about this one. He makes it sound like he was competing at Wimbledon or Roland Garros.” Slipping the key back inside, she gave the cup one final pat, popped it back into the cabinet and closed the door. Picking up her handbag, she gave Nadia one final smile and strolled out of the office, wondering if her legs would carry her as far as the car before giving way to the trembling she was finding difficult to control.
Chapter 14
“Charlie, Charlie, over here!” The sound rang in Charlie’s ears as she walked out through the huge swing doors into the arrivals hall at St Petersburg’s Pulkovo Airport. The place was crowded, several long-haul flights having arrived at the same time as the plane from Heathrow, and people were streaming through the doors. She’d initially thought there was no-one to meet her, until she heard her name being called.
Corruption! Page 5