As they climbed the wide marble staircase, they passed several magnificent statues. Dick was surprised to discover just how vast the Hermitage was. Despite visiting St Petersburg several times during the past three years, he had only ever seen the building from the outside.
Maureen read from the guidebook. ‘Housed on three floors, the collection displays treasures in over two hundred rooms. So let’s get started.’
By eleven thirty they had only covered the Dutch and Italian schools on the first floor, by which time Maureen had finished the large bottle of Evian.
Dick volunteered to go and buy another bottle. He left his wife admiring Caravaggio’s The Lute Player, while he slipped into the nearest rest room. He refilled the empty Evian bottle with tap water before rejoining his wife.
If Maureen had spent a little time studying one of the many drinks counters situated on each floor, she would have discovered that the Hermitage didn’t stock Evian, because it had an exclusive contract with Volvic.
By twelve thirty they had all but covered the sixteen rooms devoted to the Renaissance artists, and agreed it was time for lunch. They left the building and strolled back into the midday sun. The two of them walked for a while along the bank of the Moika River, stopping only to take a photograph of a bride and groom posing on the Blue Bridge in front of the Mariinsky Palace.
‘A local tradition,’ said Maureen, turning another page of her guidebook.
After walking another block, they came to a halt outside a small pizzeria. Its sensible square tables with neat red-and-white check tablecloths and smartly dressed waiters tempted them inside.
‘I must go to the loo,’ said Maureen. ‘I’m feeling a little queasy. It must be the heat.’ She added, ‘Just order me a salad and a glass of water.’
Dick smiled, removed the Evian bottle from her bag and filled up the glass on her side of the table. When the waiter appeared, Dick ordered a salad for his wife, and ravioli plus a large Diet Coke for himself. He was desperate for something to drink.
Once she’d eaten her salad, Maureen perked up a little, and even began to tell Dick what they should look out for when they visited the Summer Palace.
On the long taxi ride through the north of the city, she continued to read extracts from her guidebook. ‘Peter the Great built the Summer Palace after he had visited Versailles, and on returning to Russia employed the finest landscape gardeners and most gifted craftsmen in the land to copy the French masterpiece. He meant the finished work to be a tribute to the French, whom he greatly admired as the leaders of style in Europe.’
The taxi driver interrupted her flow with his own knowledge. ‘We are just passing the recently built Winter Palace, which is where President Putin stays whenever he is in St Petersburg.’ The driver paused.
‘And, as the national flag is flying, he must be in town.’
‘He’s flown down from Moscow especially to see me,’ said Dick.
The taxi driver laughed dutifully.
* * *
The taxi drove through the gates of the Summer Palace half an hour later and the driver dropped his passengers off in a crowded car park. It was busy with sightseers and traders, who were standing behind their crude stalls plying their cheap souvenirs.
‘Let’s go and see the real thing,’ suggested Maureen.
‘I wait for you here,’ said the taxi driver. ‘No extra charge. How long?’ he added.
‘I should think we’d be a couple of hours,’ said Dick. ‘No more.’
‘I wait for you here,’ he repeated.
* * *
The two of them strolled around the magnificent gardens, and Dick could see why it was described in the guidebooks as a ‘can’t afford to miss’ attraction, with five stars.
Maureen continued to brief him between sips of water. ‘The grounds surrounding the palace cover over a hundred acres, with more than twenty fountains, as well as eleven other residences.’
Although the sun was no longer burning down, the sky was still clear and Maureen continued to take regular gulps of water, but no matter how many times she offered the bottle to Dick, he always replied, ‘No thanks.’
When they finally climbed the steps of the palace, they were greeted by another long queue, and Maureen admitted that she was feeling a little tired.
‘Pity to have travelled this far,’ said Dick, ‘and not take a look inside.’
His wife agreed reluctantly.
When they reached the front of the queue, Dick purchased two entrance tickets and, for a small extra charge, selected an English-speaking guide to show them around.
‘I don’t feel too good,’ said Maureen as they entered the Empress Catherine’s bedroom. She clung onto the four poster bed.
‘You must drink lots of water on such a hot day,’ said the tour guide helpfully.
By the time they had reached Tsar Nicholas IV’s study, Maureen warned her husband that she thought she was going to faint. Dick said sorry to their guide, put an arm around his wife’s shoulder and assisted her out of the palace on an unsteady journey back to the car park. They found their taxi driver standing by his car waiting for them.
‘We must return to the Grand Palace Hotel at once,’ said Dick, as his wife fell into the back seat of the car like a drunk who has been thrown out of a pub on a Saturday night.
On the long drive back to St Petersburg, Maureen was violently sick in the back of the taxi, but the driver didn’t comment, just kept a steady speed as he continued along the highway. Forty minutes later, he came to a halt outside the Grand Palace Hotel. Dick handed over a stack of notes and apologised.
‘Hope madam better soon,’ he said.
‘Yes, let’s hope so,’ replied Dick.
Dick helped his wife out of the back of the car, and guided her quickly up the steps into the hotel lobby and towards the lifts, not wishing to draw attention to himself. He had her safely back in their suite moments later. Maureen immediately disappeared into the bathroom, and even with the door closed Dick could hear her retching. He searched around the room. In their absence, all the bottles of Evian had been replaced. He only bothered to empty the one by Maureen’s bedside, which he refilled with tap water from the kitchenette.
Maureen finally emerged from the bathroom, and collapsed onto the bed. ‘I feel awful,’ she said.
‘Perhaps you ought to take a couple of aspirin, and try to get some sleep?’
Maureen nodded weakly. ‘Could you fetch them for me? They’re in my wash bag.’
‘Of course, my darling.’ Once he’d found the pills, he filled a glass with tap water, before returning to his wife’s side. She had taken off her dress, but not her slip.
Dick helped her to sit up and became aware for the first time that she was soaked in sweat. She swilled down the two aspirins with the glass of water Dick offered her. He lowered her gently down onto the pillow before drawing the curtains. He then strolled across to the bedroom door, opened it, and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the door knob. The last thing he needed was for a concerned maid to come barging in and find his wife in her present state. Once Dick was certain she was asleep, he went down to dinner.
‘Will madam be joining you this evening?’ asked the head waiter, once Dick was seated.
‘No, sadly not,’ replied Dick, ‘she has a slight migraine. Too much sun I fear, but I’m sure she’ll be fine by the morning.’
‘Let’s hope so, sir. What can I interest you in tonight?’
Dick took his time reading the menu, before he eventually said, ‘I think I’ll start with the foie gras, followed by a rump steak –’ he paused – ‘medium rare.’
‘Excellent choice, sir.’
Dick poured himself a glass of water from the bottle on the table and quickly gulped it down, before filling his glass a second time. He didn’t hurry his meal, and when he returned to his suite just after ten, he was delighted to find his wife was fast asleep.
He picked up her glass, took it to the bathroom and refilled it
with tap water. He then put it back on her side of the bed. Dick took his time undressing, before finally slipping under the covers to settle down next to his wife. He turned off the bedside light and slept soundly.
* * *
When Dick woke the following morning, he found that he too was covered in sweat. The sheets were also soaked, and when he turned over to look at his wife all the colour had drained from her cheeks.
Dick eased himself out of bed, slipped into the bathroom and took a long shower. Once he had dried himself, he put on one of the hotel’s towelling dressing gowns and returned to the bedroom. He crept over to his wife’s side of the bed and once again refilled her empty glass with tap water. She had clearly woken during the night, but not disturbed him.
He drew the curtains before checking that the Do Not Disturb sign was still on the door. He returned to his wife’s side of the bed, pulled up a chair and began to read the Herald Tribune. He had reached the sports pages by the time she woke. Her words were slurred. She managed, ‘I feel awful.’ A long pause followed before she added, ‘Don’t you think I ought to see a doctor?’
‘He’s already been to examine you, my dear,’ said Dick. ‘I called for him last night. Don’t you remember? He told you that you’d caught a fever, and you’ll just have to sweat it out.’
‘Did he leave any pills?’ asked Maureen.
‘No, my darling. He just said you were not to eat anything, but to try and drink as much water as possible.’ He held the glass up to her lips and she attempted to gulp down some more. She even managed, ‘Thank you,’ before collapsing back onto the pillow.
‘Don’t worry, my darling,’ said Dick. ‘You’re going to be just fine, and I promise you I won’t leave your side, even for a moment.’ He leant over and kissed her on the forehead.
She fell asleep again.
The only time Dick left Maureen’s side that day was to tell the housekeeper that his wife did not wish to have the sheets changed, to refill the glass of water on her bedside table, and late in the afternoon to take a call from the minister.
‘The President flew in yesterday,’ were Chenkov’s opening words. ‘He is staying at the Winter Palace, where I have just left him. He wanted me to let you know how much he is looking forward to meeting you and your wife.’
‘How kind of him,’ said Dick, ‘but I have a problem.’
‘A problem?’ Chenkov was a man who didn’t like problems, especially when the President was in town.
‘It’s just that Maureen seems to have caught a fever. We were out in the sun all day yesterday, and I’m not sure that she will have fully recovered in time to join us for the signing ceremony, so I may be on my own.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Chenkov, ‘and how are you?’
‘Never felt better,’ said Dick.
‘That’s good,’ said Chenkov, sounding relieved. ‘So I will pick you up at nine o’clock, as agreed. I do not want to keep the President waiting.’
‘Neither do I, Anatol,’ Dick told him. ‘You will find me standing in the lobby long before nine.’
There was a knock on the door. Dick quickly put the phone down and rushed across to open it before anyone was given a chance to barge in. A maid was standing in the corridor next to a trolley laden with sheets, towels, bars of soap, shampoo bottles and cases of Evian water.
‘You want the bed turned down, sir?’ she asked, giving him a smile.
‘No, thank you,’ said Dick. ‘My wife is not feeling well.’ He pointed to the Do Not Disturb sign.
‘More water, perhaps?’ she suggested, holding up a large bottle of Evian.
‘No,’ he repeated firmly, and closed the door.
The only other call that evening came from the hotel manager. He asked politely if madam would like to see the hotel doctor.
‘No, thank you,’ said Dick. ‘She just caught a little sun but she’s on the mend, and I feel sure she will have fully recovered by the morning.’
‘Just give me a call,’ said the manager, ‘should she change her mind. The doctor can be with you in minutes.’
‘That’s very considerate of you,’ said Dick, ‘but it won’t be necessary,’ he added before putting the phone down. He returned to his wife’s side. Her skin was now pale and blotchy. He leant forward until he was almost touching her lips – she was still breathing.
He walked across to the fridge, opened it and took out all the unopened bottles of Evian water. He placed two of them in the bathroom, and one each side of the bed. His final action, before undressing, was to take the DON’T DRINK THE WATER sign out of his suitcase and replace it on the side of the washbasin.
* * *
Chenkov’s car pulled up outside the Grand Palace Hotel a few minutes before nine the following morning. Karl jumped out to open the back door for the minister.
Chenkov walked quickly up the steps and into the hotel, expecting to find Dick waiting for him in the lobby. He looked up and down the crowded corridor, but there was no sign of his business partner. He marched across to the reception desk and asked if Mr Barnsley had left a message for him.
‘No, Minister,’ replied the concierge. ‘Would you like me to call his room?’ The minister nodded briskly. They both waited for some time, before the concierge added, ‘No one is answering the phone, Minister, so perhaps Mr Barnsley is on his way down.’
Chenkov nodded again, and began pacing up and down the lobby, continually glancing towards the elevator, before checking his watch. At ten past nine, the minister became even more anxious, as he had no desire to keep the President waiting. He returned to the reception desk.
‘Try again,’ he demanded.
The concierge immediately dialled Mr Barnsley’s room number, but could only report that there was still no reply.
‘Send for the manager,’ barked the minister. The concierge nodded, picked up the phone once again, and dialled a single number. A few moments later, a tall, elegantly dressed man in a dark suit was standing by Chenkov’s side.
‘How may I assist you, Minister?’ he asked.
‘I need to go up to Mr Barnsley’s room.’
‘Of course, Minister, please follow me.’
When the three men arrived on the ninth floor, they quickly made their way to the Tolstoy Suite, where they found the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the door knob. The minister banged loudly on the door, but there was no response.
‘Open the door,’ he demanded. The concierge obeyed without hesitation. The minister marched into the room, followed by the manager and the concierge. Chenkov came to an abrupt halt when he saw two still bodies lying in bed. The concierge didn’t need to be told to call for a doctor.
* * *
Sadly, the doctor had attended three such cases in the past month, but with a difference – they had all been locals. He studied his two patients for some time before he passed a judgement.
‘The Siberian disease,’ he confirmed, almost in a whisper. He paused and, looking up at the minister, added, ‘The lady undoubtedly died during the night, whereas the gentleman has passed away within the last hour.’
The minister made no comment.
‘My initial conclusion,’ continued the doctor, ‘is that she probably caught the disease from drinking too much of the local water –’ he paused as he looked down at Dick’s lifeless body–‘while her husband must have contracted the virus from his wife, probably during the night. Not an uncommon occurrence among married couples,’ he added. ‘Like so many of our countrymen, he clearly wasn’t aware that –’ he hesitated before saying the word in front of the minister – ‘Siberius is one of those rare diseases that is not only infectious but highly contagious.’
‘But I called him last night,’ protested the manager, ‘and asked if he’d like to see a doctor, and he said it wasn’t necessary, as his wife was on the mend and he was confident that she would be fully recovered by the morning.’
‘How sad,’ said the doctor, before adding, ‘if only he’d said y
es. It would have been too late to revive his wife, but I still might have saved him.’
Endnote
1. Based on true incidents
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Doctor Who: Code of the Krillitanes
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Doctor Who: Made of Steel
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Doctor Who: The Sontaran Games
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A Dreadful Murder
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A Dream Come True
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The Escape
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Follow Me
Sheila O’Flanagan
Four Warned
Jeffrey Archer
Full House
Maeve Binchy
Get the Life You Really Want
James Caan
The Grey Man
AndyMcNab
Hello Mum
Bernardine Evaristo
Hidden
Barbara Taylor Bradford
Four Warned Page 6
