Breath of Corruption

by Caro Fraser

  ‘Look, what the fuck do you want?’ demanded Leo. Mention of Oliver and Rachel had made him suddenly very afraid, and very angry. ‘If you’ve come here to threaten me, or my family, I want to know why.’

  ‘I have told you all you need to know.’ Viktor was calm. ‘The Landline company – you don’t ask any more questions, you don’t make any investigations. You leave it alone. It doesn’t concern you.’ He gave Leo a long, intent look. ‘OK? Because otherwise, nasty things could happen to your little boy, and his pretty mother may not end up so pretty. Quite simple.’ He indicated his empty glass. ‘Very good whisky.’ He stood up, his leather coat making a faint creaking noise, and went towards the door. Then he turned and said, ‘By the way, they tell me about you barrister people – they say you cannot be bribed. Is this true?’

  ‘Not as a rule,’ replied Leo. ‘We’re not much impressed by threats, either.’ Which was as far from the truth as it was possible to get. He just didn’t want this bastard to leave him utterly humiliated.

  Viktor laughed. Then he came across the room towards Leo, until he was standing very close – so close that Leo could smell the reek of tobacco. ‘Mr Davies,’ said Viktor softly, ‘what kind of man do you think I am? Today’s visit has been very civilised, very polite. But I am not a civilised man. Not really. True, I dress nice, I drive a nice car, but’ – he shook his head – ‘I am not a nice man. The things I have done to people, you cannot imagine. Not just killing. If I had wanted, I could have shown you what I mean – here, now. But I don’t think I need to go so far. You are an intelligent man. So, please – when you hear me talk about your son, and his mother, I beg you – be impressed.’

  He turned and left the room without a word, and a few seconds later Leo heard the front door close. He fell into an armchair, shocked, and sat there for some moments, going over everything that had happened in the past five minutes. How much longer than five minutes it had seemed. He felt shaky. He noticed the tumbler of whisky next to his chair, picked it up, and drained it. Then he got up and poured himself another, and paced around the room, still thinking. He went to the window and looked out, but there was no sign of the man.

  Should he call the police? That seemed the obvious thing, but what could they do? What did they ever do, these days? Besides, involving them might put Rachel and Oliver in danger – and that was a good enough reason for saying and doing absolutely nothing. He believed that the man who had just left had been entirely sincere in everything he had said. What Leo wanted to know was – why? What exactly had Sir Dudley Humble got himself caught up in?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The next day Anthony arrived with a bottle of wine, as promised, and a file of papers.

  ‘What’s for lunch?’ he asked, following Leo into the kitchen.

  Though he hadn’t slept well, Leo was feeling better than he had twelve hours ago. ‘Roast chicken, mashed potatoes and broccoli, followed by Bakewell tart.’

  ‘You made Bakewell tart? That sounds homely.’

  ‘I didn’t make it. It came from the farmer’s market, along with everything else. Comfort food. I need it right now. So far I have had the most appalling weekend. After yesterday I don’t think things could get any more surreal.’

  Anthony watched as Leo drained and mashed the potatoes. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘I’ll tell you over lunch. In the meantime, if you want to help, you can take some knives and forks outside. I thought we’d eat in the garden.’

  They ate lunch beneath the mulberry tree, and Leo recounted to Anthony the events of the weekend.

  ‘I’ll start with the outlandish, and then move on to the bizarre. On Friday night Anthea’s little sister, Lucy, rang me from a nightclub in Soho – or rather her friend did – and asked me to fetch her, as she was somewhat the worse for wear.’

  ‘Why you?’ asked Anthony, helping himself to chicken.

  ‘You may well ask. It seemed there was no one else available, and because I didn’t want to abandon Anthea’s sister in her time of need, I went to Soho and brought her home in a taxi.’

  ‘Here? Was that wise?’

  ‘As things turned out, no. But at the time it looked like there was no alternative – she appeared to have lost her keys, and seemed pretty much out of it. However,’ went on Leo, opening the wine which Anthony had brought, ‘Lucy made a startlingly fast recovery. So much so that, within half an hour of collapsing in my living room, she was making a play for me.’

  Anthony laughed. ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Oh, yes, really. Not only that—’ Leo paused and took a sip of the wine. ‘This is remarkably good stuff.’ He inspected the bottle. ‘Puligny-Montrachet two thousand and one? You spoil us, my boy.’

  ‘Not really – it wasn’t as expensive as you think. Anyway, since you spent so much time teaching me about wine when we first met, I like to show you your time wasn’t wasted.’

  Leo smiled. ‘None of that time was wasted. You showed such exceptional promise – in every way. It was a pleasure to educate you.’

  It gave Anthony a strange pang to hear Leo talk of those times. He wondered how differently things might have turned out if only he’d been less afraid of his own feelings. But Leo was saying, ‘I wonder if Oliver will show the same aptitude and interest when he’s older. If I’m allowed near him, that is.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Oh – well, I’ll come to that later. It’s all connected. Where was I?’

  ‘Anthea’s sister made a pass at you. Which you – rebuffed?’

  ‘Indeed. Especially since it turned out that she’s seventeen and a virgin, and that she’d selected me specially for the honour of deflowering her.’

  ‘My God!’

  ‘Quite. The whole Soho thing had been a set-up. So there I was, with this mixed-up and, I may say, absolutely delectable girl on my hands – here, have some broccoli – whose advances I had managed to resist, and whom I subsequently had to put up for the night in one of the spare rooms. The next morning, while I was upstairs – and this is where Oliver comes in – she went downstairs to make some coffee. The doorbell rang, Lucy went to answer it, and there on the doorstep was Rachel. I’d forgotten that she was going to spend the weekend at some health farm with a girlfriend, and that I’d agreed to have Oliver. That is to say, it had briefly slipped my mind. I wasn’t expecting her to arrive first thing, but then again, I don’t think she was expecting some Lolita to answer the door clad only in one of my shirts.’

  ‘Oh. Not good.’

  Leo inclined his head. ‘Not good. She naturally jumped to the wrong, or perhaps the obvious conclusion, depending on how you judge me.’

  ‘None of her business, though, surely?’

  ‘Well, yes and no. She’s been giving me a hard time lately about the way she thinks I conduct my private life, saying she doesn’t think it’s good for Oliver to be around me in case he’s tainted by what she evidently sees as my depravity. Which is a load of bollocks, of course. So, refusing to accept my honest explanation for the situation—’

  ‘For which you can’t really blame her.’

  ‘Possibly not. Anyhow, she did her stony-faced, self-righteous number and went off with Oliver, and I haven’t been able to speak to her since. I think she’s going to use the whole episode as an excuse to keep me from seeing Oliver.’

  ‘She wouldn’t be so unreasonable.’

  ‘Wouldn’t she? She seems determined to exclude me from as much of his life as she can. I don’t know why. I don’t think I’m a bad father.’ His look of bafflement as he said this touched Anthony.

  ‘So, not a great Saturday.’

  ‘It didn’t end there – we still have the bizarre part to come. Finish your chicken, and I’ll tell you the rest over pudding.’

  As they finished lunch, Leo told Anthony about the man who had made his way into the house the previous evening, and what he had said.

  ‘Was that it? Nothing more?’

  ‘
That was it. To forget about the existence of this company, Landline, to make no more investigations – otherwise, he indicated, harm would come to Oliver and Rachel. That was the message, with no explanation beyond it.’ Leo took out a packet of small cigars and lit one. He rarely smoked these days, but recalling yesterday evening’s events, he felt the need.

  ‘Have you thought about telling the police?’

  ‘Of course. And I’ve decided against it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? Because I don’t care about Landline, and I don’t frankly care what Sir Dudley Humble has got himself mixed up in. What I care about is the safety of Oliver and Rachel. And if all it takes is to turn a blind eye to some double invoicing, then so be it. Look – I’m acting for Humble in a bog-standard breach of contract suit. I don’t need to concern myself about anything that falls beyond the scope of that case – particularly when Ukrainian heavies come knocking on my door telling me it’s against my interests to do so.’ He tapped the ash from his cigar. ‘And don’t tell me that’s cowardice. It’s common sense.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Anthony. ‘I’d probably do the same in your shoes. But you must be intrigued.’

  ‘Intrigued? Of course I’m intrigued. The man’s been fingered for making secret loans to the Labour Party – I’ve heard well-placed rumours that he’s due to be questioned under caution in the next few weeks. And his business seems to be on the slide. But I’m putting the whole thing from my mind.’

  ‘Sure, but even doing that carries its own risks.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know what I mean. Look, the most obvious explanation for what’s going on is that Landline has been set up as a bogus company to issue invoices for duplicate or non-existent goods and services, as a way of laundering money from Ukraine via London. Hence the grossly inflated Landline invoice. Landline is either some sort of shell company, or a satellite of Humble Construction, set up expressly for the purpose, and no doubt Sir Dudley is getting a tidy rake-off for his part in facilitating the whole operation. Some halfwit somewhere down the line has allowed the Landline invoice to get mixed up with the Humble Construction papers—’

  ‘And has probably had his ears cut off for his trouble.’

  ‘The point is, Leo – now that you know about it, you can’t ignore it, not while you’re acting for Sir Dudley. There may be issues relating to the Proceeds Of Crime Act. But I don’t need to tell you that.’

  Leo sat smoking in silence for a few moments, then at last he said, ‘You’re right, of course. I’ve been thinking about it all morning. God knows what kind of money is coming through Landline – drugs money, money from arms sales, organised crime, the lot. If Sir Dudley’s involvement were to be exposed, questions as to his beneficence in the matter of party funding would pale into insignificance. Hence the gentleman who called on me last night.’ Leo stubbed his cigar out and rubbed his hands wearily over his face.

  ‘And if it ever was to come out, for whatever reason, and you were found to have known about it—’

  ‘An infinitesimal risk, surely. It’s one piece of paper.’

  ‘But you and I managed to work out what’s going on quickly enough.’

  ‘True – but if it came to it, I’d simply say it didn’t cross my mind, or whatever. Oh, for God’s sake, no one’s going to ask! The risk is purely theoretical. I’m hardly likely to be disbarred because of one dodgy invoice.’

  ‘True. So what it comes down to is a matter of conscience, I suppose.’

  ‘Forget about conscience. What it comes down to is protecting Rachel and Oliver. There is simply no contest. Much as it irks me to take orders from some Ukrainian wearing caramel-coloured shoes, I intend to do exactly what the man said. There’s an end of it.’ He rose. ‘Come on, help me clear this lot up and we’ll get down to some work.’

  They went to Leo’s study and spent an hour or so preparing for Wednesday’s hearing. As they tidied the documents away, Anthony remarked, ‘It’s been a while since you led me in a case.’

  ‘We work well together,’ said Leo. He sat, tapping his teeth with his pen as he watched Anthony’s long fingers winding pink tape round one of the bundles. Leo’s eyes shifted to the younger man’s lean, handsome face, his dark, preoccupied eyes. Did anything remain in Anthony’s heart, he wondered, of the old intimacy they had once shared? Or was there nothing left but this friendly rapport, an easy disguise for that which had been too much for both of them? He knew now, from the experience of one shared night, that Anthony was not the stuff of casual lovers, like Luca. So what was he? And what could he ever be, now?

  ‘Do you remember,’ asked Leo suddenly, ‘that evening you came to my house in Oxford, after the cricket match? When you were just a pupil?’

  Anthony paused in what he was doing. ‘Yes, of course,’ he replied quietly. ‘I think about it a lot.’ The atmosphere, like the early-evening light outside the window, had changed subtly. ‘Why?’

  ‘I think about it, too.’ Leo rose from his chair, taking a volume from the desk and putting it in the bookcase. ‘I think we found a moment then – you and I. But we lost the moment, and it never returned.’

  ‘Don’t say that. Our relationship’s been through some testing times, but it’s always survived. Look at us now.’

  ‘Yes.’ Leo nodded. ‘Look at us now.’ Leo stared down at the carpet for a moment then, fixing Anthony with his blue gaze, said, ‘Whenever I think of what it would be like to have someone, just one person – you know, there at the end of the day, someone to listen, someone to be with, to share—Oh, I don’t know … Whenever I think about that, I find myself thinking of you.’ He shrugged. ‘So nothing is enough.’

  Anthony was silent for a few, astonished seconds, then he murmured, ‘God, Leo.’ He rose, and went to Leo, and put his arms gently around him. They stood thus for a moment.

  Leo moved away, uttering a small laugh. ‘I’m sorry. All that business yesterday must have affected me—’

  ‘Leo, you don’t need to make excuses.’ Leo had gone over to the window; he stood there, his hands in his pockets, head bowed slightly. Anthony didn’t think he had ever seen him look so vulnerable. ‘I’m here,’ he added. ‘You know I am.’

  Leo nodded. ‘In your fashion. But we can never—’ He stopped, and sighed. ‘I have this life, you see. I have this life, and I need to live it a certain way to keep Oliver. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Anthony, ‘I understand. And it makes no difference.’

  ‘Ah, but it does,’ replied Leo. ‘It does.’ He stood there thoughtfully for a few seconds, then turned abruptly and said, ‘Roger spoke to me about this virtual chambers business. He says he’s mentioned it to you, too.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Anthony, a little thrown by the sudden change of tack.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Will you leave? Will you go and operate in some chamberless limbo, with your clerk at the end of a phone and your briefs winging their way like invisible angels to your inbox?’

  Anthony laughed. ‘I don’t know. I doubt it. It depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  Anthony’s laughter faded to a smile. ‘On you. It depends on you.’ Leo looked away. Anthony asked, ‘What about you? Would you leave?’

  Leo shook his head. ‘I have no idea. They only want me for what they call “prestige”. But there are attractions. Many of them to do with having more time to spend with Oliver.’ He turned to face Anthony again. ‘I’m sorry – for you it comes down to me, and for me it comes down to Oliver.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ replied Anthony. ‘That’s the way it should be. Just let me know what you decide, will you?’ Leo nodded. Anthony gathered up his papers. ‘I’d better get going,’ he said. ‘I have a few things to do at home.’

  ‘Fine.’ Leo moved with Anthony towards the study door. ‘How was Chay’s gathering last night?’

  ‘Good – fairly uproarious, as you can imagine.’
>
  ‘Perhaps I should have come. At least I’d have been spared my unpleasant visitor. But he’d only have come another time. Tonight. Or tomorrow night.’ Leo opened the front door for Anthony.

  ‘Thanks for lunch,’ said Anthony.

  ‘Thanks for coming.’

  Anthony hesitated, then leant forward and kissed Leo gently on the cheek. From the doorway Leo watched as Anthony got into his car and drove away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  That evening Leo still couldn’t reach Rachel either at home or on her mobile. Evidently she was deliberately choosing not to take his calls. He paced from his study to the living room, then through to the kitchen and back again. Darkness was falling outside. His conversation with Anthony had left him with a vague sense of melancholy, and now he could feel his mood deepening to one of anger. How bloody childish, thought Leo. The stupid incident with Lucy might have provided Rachel with the very excuse she’d been looking for, but she couldn’t, surely, just cut off all contact with Oliver without further discussion? It wasn’t fair on him, or on Oliver. Then again, perhaps this was her way of punishing him for a short while – of showing that she still had some areas of control and power in their relationship. This, he suspected, lay at the heart of it. He knew she still loved him – it was there in her voice and glance, in the effortful frigidity of her manner towards him. She very probably hated and despised herself for what she no doubt regarded as a weakness. So maybe he should just let her inflict her punishment, for however long it lasted.

  A thought suddenly struck him, and it was one so awful that he felt it as a physical pain below his ribs. What if the man who had come the previous evening had decided, as a precaution, to make real his threat? He had, after all, no way of knowing whether Leo would take him seriously and desist from making further enquiries about Landline. He might have decided to pre-empt any possibility of uncertainty by demonstrating to Leo that he meant what he said. Damn the woman for refusing to answer the phone! The thought, now lodged within his brain, that some harm might be coming to Oliver at this very moment made him grab his jacket and drive the couple of miles to Rachel’s house in Chiswick. But the house was in darkness, and no one answered when he rang and knocked. Her car wasn’t in the driveway. She could be anywhere. He simply had no way of knowing whether she and Oliver were safe or not.