Corruption!

by Elizabeth Ducie

  “Don’t worry, Francine,” Charlie said, returning to the conversation they’d been having on and off since they’d agreed she would go home. “You and Walter can carry on investigating from this end. And I can carry on with my online research. We’ll sort this all out and we WILL prove Anton is innocent. I just need to get Suzanne on board.”

  Chapter 20

  Suzanne and Steve were looking bronzed and relaxed, if a little tired, when they finally wandered through the swing doors into the arrivals hall at Terminal 5 just after six o’clock on the Sunday morning.

  In the end, Annie had decided not to join Charlie in the early morning drive. She’d appeared delighted to welcome her girlfriend home a few days earlier and seemed to have forgiven her for disappearing to Russia, although she’d not asked about the trip in any detail.

  The pair were bursting with stories of their month-long trip. Even Steve, normally so quiet in any company at all, was falling over himself to tell her about the animals they’d seen in the Galapagos Islands; the Mayan treasures and remains of buildings they’d visited at Machu Pichu, and the magnificent falls at Iguacu.

  But by the time the car reached the couple’s home in Kent, their energy levels seemed to have run right down as the long trip finally caught up with them. They had a quick coffee in the recently modernised kitchen, before Charlie, watching them both trying to smother their huge yawns, stood up and put her mug in the dishwasher.

  “Right,” she said. “I’m off. Annie and I are going out to lunch and I don’t want to be late for that. You guys definitely need to get some sleep.”

  “Okay, Charlie, and thanks for coming to meet us,” said her sister, giving her a tight hug. “But I haven’t even got around to asking you how business is going.”

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that on Tuesday,” replied Charlie. “Do you want me to come out here again, or do you want to come over to ours?”

  “Neither. Let’s meet up at the flat. You can bring me up to date on everything that’s been happening while we’ve been away; and we can have one of Sanjay’s wonderful curries for lunch. I’ve really missed his spicy dahl this past month. And there comes a time when you just can’t face another huge steak!”

  “Okay, Suzanne. I’ll see you there around nine-thirty,” said Charlie.

  “Oh, make it ten-thirty,” Suzanne replied. “I deserve a bit of a lie in on my first day back. And it’s not as though we have too many projects to talk about, is it?” She paused and put her head on one side. “Unless of course you’ve got news of some brilliant new contracts for me?”

  “All in good time, sis,” said Charlie as she headed for the car. “All in good time.”

  “You’ve been where?” Suzanne was standing in the middle of the lounge-cum-office with her hands on her hips. “Doing what?” The two days at home with Steve and a couple of good nights’ sleep had given Suzanne a lot more energy than when her sister had seen her last, and she’d arrived in the office with a warm smile on her face. A smile that was definitely cooling somewhat as she reacted sharply to Charlie’s confession she’d spent most of the past week in St Petersburg. “Really, Charlie, this is too bad! I trusted you to look after everything back here. You promised me it was safe to head off to South America with Steve. And now you spring this on me.”

  “Calm down, Suzanne,” said Charlie.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down! Just tell me why you jumped on a plane at the drop of a hat, leaving all your responsibilities behind, for a jolly with Francine?”

  Charlie sighed and pushed her sister gently but firmly onto the window seat overlooking the busy river.

  “Sit there and relax,” she said. “Let me assure you I took my responsibilities very seriously indeed. And they do have internet in Russia, you know. All the other projects are going very well.” She started counting off on her fingers as she carried on talking. “The training courses in Estonia went ahead as planned, with regulators from Latvia and Lithuania joining their counterparts in Tallinn. Mike tells me there are one or two star pupils among this group who’re really going to help improve the systems in the three inspectorates. And Louis sent in his report on the audit in Kazakhstan. Apparently, the general manager was delighted with the work he did. Not only has he paid the bill already; but he’s also asked for follow-up visits every three months for the next two years. And he’s signed a contract for a very generous monthly retainer.” She paused, racking her brains for other news. “Oh, and the bid for the project in Mexico went in on time. We should get a response to that later this week.”

  “Hmm, well that all sounds satisfactory,” said Suzanne with a slightly sheepish grin.

  “Satisfactory! Satisfactory! It’s a lot more than that. It’s bloody marvellous, and you know it!” Charlie patted her sister on the arm. “Right, now I’m going to put the kettle on. We’ve got a lot to talk about. My visit to Russia was by no means a jolly and there are some decisions we need to make. And if you see things the way the rest of us do, as I’m sure you will, then I’m afraid you may be bringing out your passport and leaving that new husband of yours to his own devices sooner than you expected.”

  A couple of hours later, the two sisters crossed the road and pushed open the door of Sanjay’s Indian restaurant. This had been a favourite haunt of theirs ever since Suzanne had bought the apartment more than ten years ago and they were old friends with the proprietor. He came rushing out from behind the counter to hug the sisters and offer his congratulations to Suzanne on her “wonderful marriage.” They sat at their usual table in the window, watching the buses cross the Vauxhall Bridge above their head, and resumed the discussions that had been consuming them all morning. But by that time, they were only working on the fine details. Charlie had managed to convince Suzanne there was definitely something suspect going on and she had agreed to go out to Ukraine to work with Walter on the audit.

  “Although the idea of Walter Mukooyo being on the side of the angels is definitely going to take some getting used to,” she mused as their food started to arrive.

  Chapter 21

  Francine was sitting in the large sunny lounge, staring out of the huge picture window, although she wasn’t really taking in the view. Her book, the autobiography of the forty-second President of the United States, lay in her lap. She hadn’t turned a page, or indeed read a word, for some time. Her mind was churning.

  It had to be a mistake. He couldn’t be involved in something causing young people to die. Not Anton; he wasn’t that sort of person. But what sort of person was he, really? She’d known him for little more than six months. She knew very little about his past. Mama D was wonderful, Lydia even more so. But having wonderful relatives didn’t necessarily preclude you from being a criminal. But no, she refused to believe Anton knew anything about this. It just couldn’t be so. And so on, and so on. She’d been going over the same ground every day since Charlie had left and was getting nowhere fast.

  The hand on her shoulder made her jump. Mama D had walked quietly into the room and was standing beside her.

  “Francine, my dear, something is obviously troubling you. You’ve been like this for days. And Anton is in a really strange mood too. Please tell me. Have you and my son fallen out? I was so pleased to see the pair of you getting on well. I would hate it if you had to leave us.”

  Francine stared at the older woman for a long moment. How could she tell her they thought her precious son might be mixed up in a scheme involving drug dealing and manufacture of illicit substances? The news could devastate her.

  But Mama D appeared to read her mind. She sat down in the huge armchair and looked sternly at Francine.

  “I can see from your face there’s something wrong. And I can also see you’re worried about telling me something that would upset me.” She paused and stared out of the window. Then she turned back to Francine, with a determined look on her face. “My dear, let me remind you I lived through more than two years of the Siege of Leningrad. I nursed Anton’s
father when he developed dementia. And I have dealt with the pain and suffering of bringing into this world a daughter with Down syndrome. A daughter I have brought up myself, in a time when most people were urging me to have her shut away in some dreadful institution. So, although I may look like a frail old lady to you, I’m very strong inside and there’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

  Francine nodded, acknowledging the truth in Mama D’s words. She looked around, towards the door. Where Mama D went, her daughter usually followed, and this was definitely not a story for her ears.

  “Where’s Lydia?” she asked.

  “Not back from her art class yet. We have another hour at least.”

  “Well, in that case,” said Francine, “I’ll tell you what’s concerning me. It’ll help to have the perspective of someone who knows Anton better than anyone else in the world. But to start with your original question: no, we haven’t had a fight. But if what some other people believe turns out to be true, I may well have to leave here very soon.”

  Then she told Mama D everything. Who Charlie Jones really was. The technical consultancy she and her sister Suzanne ran in London and the sort of project they got involved in. She talked about how Anton seemed to have changed since Boris Lechkov arrived on the scene and how she was concerned there was some sort of criminal connection between the two. At this Mama D nodded, although she said nothing, and Francine realised she too had been worrying about her son’s behaviour.

  Francine went on to talk about the papers she’d seen in the office, and her suspicions about this unusual trading. She told her about meeting up with Walter Mukooyo who was investigating Anton’s company on behalf of the Russian government and the World Health Organisation. She told her about the growing problem with krokodil.

  “So, you see, Mama D,” she concluded, “I don’t want to believe Anton is mixed up in anything criminal, but it’s beginning to look that way. And if that is the case, I’m going to have to leave here. I just couldn’t stay around someone who was involved in that sort of thing.”

  “And my son would probably go to prison anyway,” said Mama D. Francine nodded reluctantly and watched as her companion crumpled in on herself, becoming even more engulfed in the huge armchair. She wondered if, despite Mama D’s brave words of a few minutes before, she was too old and too sheltered to hear news like this. But after a few seconds, she watched another transformation take place. Mama D uncurled herself and sat straight in the chair. “And he should, if he is indeed involved in this terrible trade,” she said, banging her fist on the arm of the chair.

  “But the question is,” mused Francine, “what do we do next? How do we find out? We’re hoping Charlie will persuade Suzanne to fly out to Kharkiv to visit the factory with Walter Mukooyo, but that could take a couple of weeks to set up.”

  “Well, that’s an easy question,” said Mama D. “We ask Anton exactly what he’s been up to.”

  “But will he tell us? He’s been very quiet about all of this so far.”

  “My dear, he’s my son! He will answer my questions truthfully. He always does. It takes a very brave, or very stupid, man whatever his age, to lie to his mother.”

  Chapter 22

  The following evening presented the ideal opportunity for the two women to put their plan into action. Lydia was at a party at the day centre she attended and wasn’t expected to be back until nearly midnight. Anton returned early from work and the three of them enjoyed a quiet meal at home. Now they sat on the balcony, nursing glasses of wine. Mama D put her glass down on the table and turned to her son.

  “Right, young man. We have some questions for you. And we want some straight answers.”

  “Good grief, Mama,” said Anton with a laugh, “you sound just like you did when you found out I’d been stealing apples from old Farmer Bogdan’s orchard, when we stayed on the dacha that summer, when I was five.” But his smile faded as he realised his mother was deadly serious.

  “I want to know what’s going on with you and this Boris man. And I want to know about this product.” She looked across at Francine who interjected, “codeine phosphate tablets.” Anton looked sharply from his mother to Francine and back again.

  “I don’t know what you mean. Boris is an old friend from way back. And as for codeine phosphate tablets, it’s just a product I buy and sell. That’s what I do, Mama. I buy and sell pharmaceuticals, remember?”

  “But do you always sell them legally?” asked Francine softly. “Or are you selling them on the black market, here in Russia? Because someone is selling them to junkies, Anton, and as a result, kids are dying!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he protested. “I’ve always traded in codeine phosphate tablets, but it’s been a very small product up to now. Then Boris brought to my attention a government tender for a package of drugs being donated to Africa as part of the international aid programme. He suggested I bid for the tender, or at least for part of it. He implied it was a sure thing. So, I did—and I won it. The drugs are imported from Ukraine to here. Then they are re-exported to Africa via a shipping company Boris uses.”

  “But, that’s the problem, Anton,” said Francine. “It looks as though the drugs aren’t even leaving the country; or at least not all of them. They’re turning up in krokodil factories all over the major cities. And kids are dying from their use.”

  Anton stared at her, the blood draining from his face. And relief flooded through Francine at that moment. It was obvious to her, unless this man was a much better actor than she realised, he had no idea about the illegal use to which these legal drugs were being put. She looked across at Mama D and thought she detected a slight loosening in the tension in the other woman’s shoulders. It would appear she believed her son, too. And that was comforting.

  “And you need to know,” Francine said, “that your friend Boris has some very unpleasant associates.” She went on to tell him what Charlie had discovered about his so-called friend’s suspected past activities. He looked even more shocked at this news than at the early revelations.

  “Anton, darling,” said his mother, rising out of her seat, walking over to him and taking his hand, “Tell us how you really know Boris Lechkov. You say he’s a friend, but every time we’re together with him, you go quiet and sulky. He gives both Francine and me the creeps—and Lydia is frankly terrified of him. Please, what’s going on with him?” Anton stared at his mother in silence, and, to Francine, it seemed he had the glint of an unshed tear in his eye. The old woman continued. “Because I can see there’s something very wrong with this friendship of yours, and I’m not prepared for my son to risk going to prison for someone like that—for anyone at all, in fact.”

  At the word prison, Anton looked even more shocked. Francine gently told him about Walter Mukooyo’s investigation and how it had led to Petrovpharm. Anton gave a deep sigh and nodded his head.

  “You’re right, of course,” he admitted. “It’s true Boris and I were friends way back, when we were at Vladivostok State University together. He was wild and brave, and everyone looked up to him. I guess I was flattered when he picked me out as a friend, someone he wanted to spend time with. One night we were coming home from a dance. I was driving and there was an accident. An old drunk wandered into the road, right in front of my car. There was nothing I could do to stop, it happened too quickly. I hit him, and he flew over the bonnet, smashing the windscreen in the process.

  “Boris told me to keep driving, yelled at me not to stop, as we’d both been drinking. But I pulled over to the side of the road and jumped out. Mama, it was terrible. There was blood all over the place and it was obvious there was nothing we could do for him. The poor man was already dead. Boris grabbed my arm and pushed me back into the car, then he jumped into the driver’s seat and drove away at top speed. He persuaded me it was best if we said nothing. ‘He’s just an old drunk’ he said, ‘no-one will miss him’. And I’m afraid he was right. There was a little note at the bottom of one of the ba
ck pages of the local newspaper about someone being hit by a car, but they didn’t even bother to find out his name.”

  Anton looked up at Mama D and Francine and brushed a single tear off his cheek. He shook his head and compressed his lips in a grimace of self-loathing.

  “I felt really guilty and for ages considered going to the police to own up, but that was the year I won the scholarship to the Sorbonne to do my MBA and I was scared I’d lose my place. So, I kept quiet and gradually the memory of that night faded, although it never fully went away.

  “I didn’t spend as much time as before with Boris after the accident and then he went off to join the army and we lost touch all together. Until this March. He suddenly contacted me out of the blue. Said he needed to talk to me. He had a scheme he needed my help with.”

  “A scheme to supply drugs to kids for illegal drug-making? Oh, Anton, how could you?” asked Mama D. But her son shook his head.

  “No, nothing like that, I swear, Mama. I know nothing at all about that.”

  “Then what was this scheme, Anton?” asked Francine.

  “He wanted to use my name and my company to front a submission for a government tender.”

  “To buy codeine phosphate tablets from Ukraine and sell them on to Africa?” she asked.

  Anton nodded.

  “Yes, that’s right. He had a friend in the office that awards the tenders and they’d come to an agreement that he’d win it. But he’s a local politician, not a businessman, and certainly not someone who normally deals in pharmaceuticals. He needed a company to give its name to the bid, one with licences and permits to import and export drugs.”

  “A company like Petrovpharm?”

  “Precisely. He filled in the paperwork and gave it to me; I put it with a letter on our company headed notepaper and submitted it. We won the tender and I organise the orders from Ukraine. When the stock arrives, I hand it over to a transport company identified by Boris and that’s it. The drugs merely pass through my warehouse. I knew it was cheating the system, illegal in fact, but I didn’t think there was any real harm in it. After all, it’s a legitimate purchase of drugs by our government, who then supply them to other governments as part of the Russian aid programme.”