The Amber Knight (14 page)

‘I didn’t come all this way for you to ignore me.’ Courtney closed the door, effectively imprisoning him in the tiny triangular space.

‘If you’d warned me you were coming I would have set aside some time. As it is, I’m up to my neck in business that won’t wait.’

‘Aren’t you always? I must have left hundreds of messages on your office answer-phone in the last year, not to mention all the e-mails. I would have phoned here, but no one had the number.’

‘I’ve only just had it installed,’ he lied.

‘I hoped for something at Christmas. Just a card…’

‘This isn’t the time, Courtney.’

‘When is? We have to talk.’

‘I thought we had before I left America.’

‘That was then, this is now.’

‘I can give you five minutes,’ he snapped.

‘I need longer.’

‘I’ll call you.’

‘Tonight?’

‘No chance.’

‘Adam.’ She stepped forward. He retreated, slamming his spine into the stove. Her hands went to his neck, smoothing the creases from the collar of the boiler suit. ‘I know I hurt you but…’

Taking her hands into his, he held her stiffly at arm’s length. ‘I left you, remember. You agreed at the time that it was for the best.’

‘I was mixed up. You were hurt. I had behaved badly. But I realise now that our life together was too perfect. It made me uncomfortable with myself and our marriage. I was overwhelmed by a happiness I had done nothing to earn. I was carrying so much guilt I simply couldn’t accept that I deserved our life together, so I took your love and put it to a test. But we’ve come out of it with flying colours, darling.’

‘We have?’ he mocked.

‘That little incident with Prince Vladimir taught me that sex without love is as meaningless as life without therapy. I appreciate that when you saw me with him, you were wounded and angry enough to run as far and as fast from me as you could, but there’s no need to keep on running, darling. You love me, Adam. Imperfect as I am, you love me, and out of that love will come forgiveness. Not immediately, that would be too much to hope for, but in time. And, if you feel the need to continue punishing me, that’s all right too, as long as you don’t exclude me from your life. You’re not alone any more. We can fight this thing together. And,’ she ran her fingers down the front panel of his suit, ‘as you see, I’ve used the time we’ve been apart to good effect. I’ve never been in better shape.’ She wiggled her hips and pushed out her breasts. ‘I’ve also been in therapy. I’m a more complete, whole and rounded person than the girl you married. I’ve arranged for Dr Marsden to take you on as well, so we really will be able to work this thing out together. We have a wonderful future – darling – what are you doing?’

Adam pushed her as far away from him as the kitchen would allow. ‘You still don’t get it, do you? I didn’t leave because I was upset by the sight of you and that phoney Russian having it off in the summerhouse…’

‘Of course you did, darling, and it’s all right to be angry. Dr Marsden…’

‘Listen, for once in your life, because I’ve no intention of repeating myself a third time. I left because I realised I couldn’t give a damn who you fucked.’

‘You’re only saying that because you’re in pain.’

‘You can’t be hurt by someone you don’t give a shit about. And I don’t give a shit about you, Courtney. Do us both a favour. Take the houses and the New York apartment and half of whatever you’ve left in my American bank account and get a divorce.’

‘I’ll never divorce you.’

‘You’ll lose the lot if you try hanging on. I’ve told my father to suspend all payments from my trust fund. For the first time in my life I’m living on my salary, and there isn’t a court in the world that will order me to make alimony payments out of what I earn. In fact they’re more likely to direct you to support me.’

Her face contorted, turning ugly. ‘Who is it, Adam? Some scrubby little Polish tart? I warn you, I’m not going to give you up without a fight, and looking the way I do, people will think you’re mad to throw me over. Your grandfather…’

‘Take the money, Courtney.’ He edged around her and opened the door.

‘You’ll come to the hotel?’

‘There’s no point.’ He picked up the shirt Janine had discarded from the sofa. ‘Both houses, half the bank account and the New York apartment. It’s the best offer you’ll get from me. Georgiana, Casimir, I need this space, go wait for the taxis downstairs.’

‘She’s very beautiful,’ Magdalena said to Adam.

‘My sister?’ Adam looked up from the Milan’s menu.

‘Your wife.’

Adam sat back in his chair and looked out of the window of the cafe. He was exhausted, as much from the belt of vodka as the trauma of the past few days. ‘She should be. That little work of art cost more in upkeep than the Sistine Chapel.’ Picking up the bottle of red wine he’d ordered he filled her glass.

‘Why do you joke about everything that’s important to you?’

‘I’m not joking.’ Taking his spare wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket he removed two photographs that had been returned to him along with his papers. ‘Before and after. I carry them around to remind myself not to repeat my mistakes.’

Magdalena eyed them curiously. The first picture was a head and shoulders, college-type snapshot of a skinny girl with buck teeth and ash-blonde hair. The second a glossy, Hollywood-style handout, of the Courtney von Bielstein Salen she’d just met.

‘That was Courtney before she embarked on her hobby of plastic surgery and had a nose job, lip implants, new breasts, rib removal to narrow her waist, buttock firming and hair extensions.’

Magdalena continued to study the photograph while the waiter brought soup and salads. Too hungry to wait for Josef, Adam had ordered the day’s special for both of them on the premise that it would require the least preparation time.

‘I can’t believe this earlier photograph is the woman I’ve just met.’

‘The one and only real her.’ He replaced the photographs in his wallet.

‘Even knowing about the surgery, it must be hard to walk away from a woman who looks like she does now.’

‘Brunon’s a good-looking guy and you walked away from him.’

She took a deep breath and for a moment he thought he was about to receive another curt directive to refrain from commenting on her private life. ‘He left me. I believe in the sanctity of marriage vows, Brunon doesn’t.’ She picked up her spoon and stirred her soup.

‘How long have you lived apart?’

‘You make it sound like it was planned.’ She crumbled her bread roll into tiny pieces. ‘Brunon stopped coming home six months after we were married. At first I wasn’t even conscious that he’d left. I simply assumed he had to make more trips than usual. I knew what “business” he was in even then. When I found myself celebrating our first anniversary alone, I realised we’d spent only one weekend together in six months.’

‘Do you miss him?’

‘I have my job, my brothers and his grandmother.’

‘How old were you when you married?’

‘Twenty-one. Old enough to know better.’

‘I was twenty-five and I went like a lamb to the slaughter.’

‘Unlike you with Courtney, I can’t even accuse Brunon of changing. I’ve lived in the same apartment block as him all my life and he’s always been the way he is now.’

‘Then why marry him?’

‘Because he said he loved me, and I thought I needed someone to provide a home for myself and the boys. I didn’t realise I’d be adding to my responsibilities by taking on Brunon’s grandmother as well. She does what she can, but she’s an old lady, and unfortunately her pension doesn’t cover the cost of her food and medical bills.’

‘Brunon doesn’t help?’

She leaned back so the waiter could remove her soup bowl. ‘Not with money, only useless gifts that we dare not sell because we’re never sure where they’ve come from.’

‘What about your parents?’

‘My father and Brunon’s were idealists. They believed in and worked for Solidarity. Both were involved with the protests at the shipyard and both were gaoled. They died in prison along with scores of others.’

‘Murdered?’ he asked.

‘No one can prove anything. It was a bad time. Not only people but even tombstones disappeared in the 1980s. Brunon can remember his father. I have a mental picture of mine and that is all.’

‘Their names are on the memorial?’

‘No, because they died in prison, although both were regarded as martyrs. Unfortunately their heroic status wasn’t much comfort to Brunon’s grandmother or my mother, but my mother managed to hang on to her job despite the politics. We survived well enough until she remarried. My stepfather and I didn’t get on, so I spent as much time out of the apartment as I could. That’s when I started going around with Brunon. In those days he was fun and always had a pocketful of money. I knew he was involved in shady dealing, but so were a lot of people. It was the only way to survive. I moved in with him and his grandmother when I was offered a place at university. Shortly after I received my degree, my mother died of cancer. My stepfather stopped paying rent on the apartment they’d shared and ran out on the boys, there wasn’t anyone else to take them in.’ She poured dressing on her salad.

‘You’ve had it rough,’ he sympathised.

‘Better than some, no worse than most. Brunon’s grandmother has been kind to me and the boys try hard.’

‘It couldn’t have been easy for you and Brunon to start with a ready-made family.’

‘The worst thing was the lack of privacy. His grandmother’s apartment only has two rooms. He and the boys slept in one, Maria and I in the other. The first thing I did after I began work at the Institute was save to have the balcony boarded in. It’s pleasant in summer and freezing in winter, but I needn’t have bothered. As I said, he rarely visits.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why?’ she looked across at him. ‘Your marriage is no better.’

‘When it works, marriage can be good.’

‘Name me one good marriage?’ she challenged.

‘Edmund Dunst is happy with Helena.’

‘Because they’ve been married three weeks. As soon as the honeymoon period is over, they’ll move on in different directions.’

‘So young and so cynical, but when I think of my family I can’t argue with you. You’re shattering one of my last illusions. Ever since I was a child I’ve wanted to believe in “happily ever after”. It probably stems from having five stepmothers, four stepfathers and six half-sisters who all seem set on repeating our respective parents’ mistakes.’

‘You don’t have any brothers?’

‘One full brother, Peter. Now there’s a case in point, he’s happily married, or at least he was when I saw him a year ago.’

‘How long has he been married?’

‘A year. I last saw him at his wedding. Careful,’ he warned.

‘There’s someone here?’

‘No, you almost smiled,’ he joked.

‘I don’t often have something to smile about.’

‘Married to Brunon, I can see why.’

‘I’m resigned to Brunon, but I worry about my brothers.’

‘They’re great kids.’

‘That’s all you know after three chance meetings in the museum. It’s not easy trying to bring up teenagers in Poland now.’

‘It’s not easy anywhere.’

‘Some places are better than others. You live in the old town; you’ve no idea what it’s like out in the suburbs. Practically everyone is unemployed, the only people with money are crime barons, the price of everything is rocketing. I have to pay school fees for the boys, and that’s without the text books and examination costs. I want them to go to university but…’ she suddenly realised she was telling Adam far more than she’d intended. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s got into me. I’m not complaining about my salary. I’m well-off compared to most people. The only excuse I can offer is that I’m tired.’

‘You’d be superhuman if you weren’t.’

‘Mr Salen?’

Adam looked up to see a policeman at their table. ‘Captain Josef sends his apologies. He would like you and the lady to join him in his office. He told me to tell you it’s urgent.’

‘It’s customary to knock before barging into a room,’ Josef admonished, when Adam ushered Magdalena past a protesting clerk into the captain’s office.

‘You must make allowances for Americans. They have no manners.’ Stanislaw Melerski rose from his seat as Magdalena entered. He bowed over her hand, managing to kiss the tips of her fingers before she tugged them free. ‘Have you met Grigory Radek, the Russian art dealer?’

The square-built Russian creased his Mongolian features into a smile and offered Magdalena his hand. She shook it coolly.

‘We’ve done business. Radek.’ Adam nodded an acknowledgement and stepped between Magdalena and the two men. ‘This is Magdalena Janca, deputy director of the Polish Branch of the Salen Institute.’

‘And wife of Brunon Kaszuba or so Melerski tells me,’ Radek said in heavily accented Polish.

‘Estranged wife.’ Adam answered for Magdalena. He took the seat Josef offered and looked around. ‘Isn’t this cosy? I assume by the company you’ve switched sides, Josef?’

‘One day your mouth will get you into serious trouble, Adam.’

‘I’m sorry, but no one told me the police had seconded the Mafia to the force.’

‘We’re simply citizens doing our bit to maintain law and order,’ Melerski offered a pack of Cuban cigars around.

‘And the priest in the confessional believes you?’ Adam asked seriously.

‘I was telling our friends about your encounter in the forest,’ Josef interrupted, steering the conversation on to what he hoped might prove a more useful track.

‘Did you see what gun they were using?’ Radek asked.

‘Only the tip of the barrel. It had a short snout,’ Adam divulged

‘Like a Heckler and Koch?’ Josef suggested.

‘Possibly, but I know nothing about guns,’ Adam lied.

‘The man who was carrying it threatened you and Miss Janca?’

‘We didn’t wait around long enough to hear what he had to say. Josef told you they were in a black Mercedes with Russian plates?’

Radek pushed a cigarette between his slack lips. ‘I wouldn’t draw too many conclusions from that, if I were you. If they had been Russian Mafia, you wouldn’t be sitting here.’