Cat O'Nine Tales: And Other Stories (10 page)

His smile
turned to a frown, long before he’d reached the final paragraph. He started to
read the letter, marked private and personal, a second time.

Dear Mrs.
Barnsley
, This is to confirm your
appointment at our office on Friday, 30 April, when we will continue our
discussions on the matter you raised with me last Tuesday. Remembering the full
implications of your decision, I
have
asked my senior partner to join us on this occasion.

We both look forward to seeing you on the 30th.

Yours sincerely,

Dick immediately picked up the phone on his desk, and dialed Sam Cohen’s
number, hoping he hadn’t already left for the day. When Sam pick up his private
line, all Dick said was, “Have you come across a lawyer called Andrew Symonds?”

“Only by
reputation,” said Sam, “but then I don’t specialize in divorce.”

“Divorce?” said
Dick, as he heard a car coming up the gravel driveway. He glanced out of the
window to see a Volkswagen swing round the circle and come to a halt outside
the front door. Dick watched as his wife climbed out of her car. “I’ll see you
at eight tomorrow, Sam, and the Russian contract won’t be the only thing on the
agenda.”

Dick’s driver
dropped him outside Sam Cohen’s office in Lincoln’s Inn Field a few minutes
before eight the following morning. The senior partner rose to greet his client
as he entered the room. He gestured to a comfortable chair on the other side of
the desk.

Dick had opened
his briefcase even before he’d sat down. He took out the letter and passed it
across to Sam. The lawyer read it slowly, before placing it on the desk in
front of him.

“I’ve thought
about the problem overnight,”
said
Sam, “and I’ve also
had a word with Anna
Rentoul
, our divorce partner.
She’s confirmed that Symonds only handles matrimonial disputes, and with that
in mind, I’m sorry to say that I’ll have to ask you some fairly personal
questions.”

Dick nodded
without comment.

“Have you ever
discussed divorce with Maureen?”

“No,” said Dick
firmly. “We’ve had rows from time to time, but then what couples who’ve been
together for over twenty years haven’t?”

“No more than
that?”

“She once
threatened to leave me, but I thought that was all in the past.”

Dick paused.
“I’m only surprised that she hasn’t raised the subject with me, before
consulting a lawyer.”

“That’s all too
common,” said Sam.

“Over half the
husbands who are served with a divorce petition claim they never saw it
coming.”

“I certainly
fall into that category,” admitted Dick. “So what do I do next?”

“Not a lot you
can do before she serves the writ, and I can’t see that there’s anything to be
gained by raising the subject yourself. After all, nothing may come of it.
However, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t prepare ourselves.

Now, what
grounds could she have for divorce?”

“None that I can think of.”

“Are you having
an affair?”

“No. Well, yes,
a fling with my secretary–but it’s not going anywhere. She thinks it’s serious,
but I plan to replace her once the pipeline contract is signed.”

“So the deal is
still on course?” said Sam.

“Yes, that’s
originally why I needed to see you so urgently,” replied Dick. “I have to be
back in St. Petersburg for May the sixteenth, when both sides will be signing
the contract.” He paused. “And it’s going to be witnessed by President Putin.”

“Congratulations,”
said Sam. “How much will that be worth to you?”

“Why do you
ask?”

“I’m wondering
if you’re not the only person who’s hoping that the deal will go through.”

“Around sixty
million...”
Dick hesitated...”for the company.”

“And do you
still own fifty-one percent of the shares?”

“Yes, but I
could always hide...”

“Don’t even
think about it,” said Sam.

“You won’t be
able to hide anything if Symonds is on the case. He’ll sniff out every last
penny, like a pig hunting for truffles.

And if the
court were to discover that you attempted to deceive them, it would only make
the judge more sympathetic to your wife.” The senior partner paused, looked
directly at his client, and repeated, “Don’t even think about it.”

“So what should
I do?”

“Nothing that
will arouse suspicion; go about your business as usual, as if you have no idea
what she’s up to. Meanwhile, I’ll fix a consultation with counsel, so at least
we’ll be better prepared than Mr. Symonds will be anticipating. And one more
thing,” said Sam, once again looking directly at his client, “no more
extramarital activities until this problem has been resolved. That’s an order.”

Dick kept a
close eye on his wife during the next few days, but she gave no sign of there
being anything untoward. If anything, she showed an unusual interest in how the
trip to St. Petersburg had gone, and over dinner on Thursday evening even asked
if the board had come to a decision.

“They most
certainly have,” Dick replied emphatically. “Once Sam had taken the directors
through each clause, gone over every detail, and answered all of their
questions, they virtually rubberstamped the contract.” Dick poured himself a
second cup of coffee. He was taken by surprise by his wife’s next question.

“Why don’t I
join you when you go to St. Petersburg? We could fly out on the Friday,” she
added, “and spend the weekend visiting the Hermitage and the Summer Palace. We
might even find enough time to see Catherine’s amber collection–something I’ve
always wanted to do.”

Dick didn’t
reply immediately, aware that this was not a casual suggestion as it had been
years since Maureen had accompanied him on a business trip. Dick’s first
reaction was to wonder what she was up to. “Let me think about it,” he
eventually responded, leaving his coffee to go cold.

Dick rang Sam
Cohen within minutes of arriving at his office and reported the conversation to
his lawyer.

“Symonds must
have advised her to witness the signing of the contract,” suggested Cohen.

“But why?”

“So that
Maureen will be able to claim that over the years she has played a leading role
in your business success, always being there to support you at those critical
moments in your career...”

“Balls,” said
Dick, “she’s never taken any interest in how I make my money, only in how she
can spend it.”

“... and
therefore she must be entitled to fifty percent of your assets.”

“But that could
amount to over thirty million pounds,” Dick protested.

“Symonds has
obviously done his homework.”

“Then I’ll
simply tell her that she can’t come on the trip. It’s not appropriate.”

“
Which will allow Mr. Symonds to change tack.
He’ll then
portray you as a heartless man, who, the moment you became a success, cut his
client out of your life, often traveling abroad, accompanied by a secretary who...”

“OK, OK, I get
the picture. So allowing her to come to St. Petersburg might well prove to be
the lesser of two evils.”

“On the one
hand...” counseled Sam.

“Bloody
lawyers,” said Dick before he could finish the sentence.

“Funny how you
only need us when you’re in trouble,” Sam rejoined. “So let’s make sure that
this time we anticipate her next move.”

“And what’s
that likely to be?”

“Once she’s got
you to St. Petersburg, she’ll want to have sex.”

“We haven’t had
sex for years.”

“And not
because I haven’t wanted to,
m’lord
.”

“Oh, hell,”
said Dick, “I can’t win.”

“You can as
long as you don’t follow Lady
Longford’s
advice–when
asked if she had ever considered divorcing Lord
Longford
,
she replied, ‘Divorce, never, murder, often.’ “

Mr. and Mrs.
Richard
Barnsley
checked into the Grand Palace Hotel
in St. Petersburg a fortnight later. A porter placed their bags on a trolley,
and then accompanied them to the Tolstoy Suite on the ninth floor.

“Must go to the
loo before I burst,” said Dick as he rushed into the room ahead of his wife.
While her husband disappeared into the bathroom, Maureen looked out of the window
and admired the golden domes of St. Nicholas’s Cathedral.

Once he’d
locked the door, Dick removed the DON’T DRINK THE WATER sign that was perched
on the washbasin and tucked it into the back pocket of his trousers. Next he
unscrewed the tops of the two Evian bottles and poured the contents down the
sink. He then refilled both bottles with tap water, before screwing the tops
firmly back on and returning them to their place on the corner of the basin. He
unlocked the door and strolled out of the bathroom.

Dick started to
unpack his suitcase, but stopped the moment Maureen disappeared into the
bathroom. First, he transferred the DON’T DRINK THE WATER sign from his back
pocket into the side flap of his suitcase. He zipped up the flap, before
checking around the room. There was a small bottle of Evian water on each side
of the bed, and two large bottles on the table by the window.

He grabbed the
bottle by his wife’s side of the bed and retreated into the kitchenette at the
far end of the room. Dick poured the contents down the sink, and refilled the
bottle with tap water. He then returned it to Maureen’s side of the bed.

Next, he took
the two large bottles from the table by the window and repeated the process.

“Hi,
Anatol
, it’s Dick
Barnsley
. I
thought I’d let you know that we’ve just checked in to the Grand Palace.”

“Welcome back
to St. Petersburg,” said a friendly voice. “And is your wife with you on this
occasion?”

“She most
certainly is,” replied Dick, “and very much looking forward to meeting you.”

“Me too,” said
the minister, “so make sure that you have a relaxed weekend because everything
is set up for Monday morning. The President is due to fly in tomorrow night so he’ll
be present when the contract is signed.”

“Ten o’clock at
the Winter Palace?”

“Ten o’clock,”
repeated
Chenkov
. “I’ll pick you up from your hotel
at nine. It’s only a thirty-minute drive, but we can’t afford to be late for
this one.”

“I’ll be
waiting for you in the lobby,” said Dick. “See you then.” He put the phone down
and turned to his wife.

“Why don’t we
go down to dinner, my darling? We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” He
adjusted his watch by three hours and added, “So perhaps it would be wise to
have an early night.”

Maureen placed
a long silk nightdress on her side of the bed and smiled in agreement. As she
turned to place her empty case in the wardrobe, Dick slipped an Evian bottle
from the bedside table into his jacket pocket.

He then accompanied
his wife down to the dining room.

The head waiter
guided them to a quiet table in the corner and, once they were seated, offered
his two guests menus.

Maureen
disappeared behind the large leather cover while she considered the table
d’hote
, which allowed Dick enough time to remove the bottle
of Evian from his pocket, undo the cap and fill his wife’s glass.

Once they had
both selected their meals, Maureen went over her proposed itinerary for the
next two days. “I think we should begin with the Hermitage, first thing in the
morning,” she suggested, “take a break for lunch, and then spend the rest of
the afternoon at the Summer Palace.”