Wicked Beauty

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Yes she did.’

  ‘God knows how he’s taking it now, finding out that I was a fake,’ he said, looking very troubled. ‘That’s exactly what he’ll call me. I can hear him saying it. So I’ve no doubt I’ve made myself a serious enemy there, and he won’t be the only one.’

  She took another sip of her drink. ‘Are you going to be provided with any kind of protection?’ she asked.

  His expression was droll. ‘The protection I need is from men in grey suits who go round press-ganging art dealers into their murky business,’ he responded, ‘and from a mad moment right out of university when I underwent training to follow in my father’s footsteps. I don’t think they’re willing to supply that.’

  Smiling, she shook her head. ‘So they seriously believed that you’d switched sides to work for Franz Koehler?’ she said.

  ‘They believed it enough to hold me for three months without bail,’ he answered drily. ‘I mean, I knew there was a good chance I’d be arrested and held until they could get the necessary information about who I really was to the relevant authorities, but I never expected to have to convince them first that I really hadn’t double-crossed them.’ He laughed, incredulously. ‘Can you believe that? It was their idea that I should come clean to Franz Koehler about who I was, with the intention of getting him to trust me, then they accuse me of selling out and feeding them false information.’

  Unable to imagine the frustrations he must have been through during the past three months, she said, ‘I presume some of the information was false, though. It would have to be, or Koehler would have known he was being set up.’

  ‘Blindingly obvious really, isn’t it,’ he responded. ‘But they seemed to have a problem getting their heads round that, even though I tried to signal when I thought the information was false, because frankly I didn’t always know. The trouble is, the whole thing becomes so ambiguous after a while, and they’re such devious players themselves …’ He shook his head, disbelievingly. ‘What I’ve learned in the last three and a half years … Well, what I learned was never to trust any of them, because on too many levels they’re as bad as each other.’

  Already having some idea of why he was saying that, she said, ‘Laurie told me that when they first approached you they claimed to be looking into a black market for modern art, which they thought Franz Koehler was involved in.’

  ‘And I fell for it,’ he responded. ‘How’s that for gullibility? And even though I kept telling them, as the months rolled on, that there was no funny business in the way Koehler was buying or selling his art, it still took me far too long to realize that it wasn’t about that at all. They were setting me up royally, because what they wanted was to get someone into Koehler’s inner circle who wasn’t connected in any way to the Phraxos Group, and who had a thoroughly genuine background that would pass any check. So when they discovered he’d contacted me about a Modigliani nude that one of my clients might be interested in selling, they didn’t waste a minute. In they swooped, intending to take full advantage of Koehler’s passion for art, and of the famed Lance Gallagher’s son who already had the basic field training, albeit twenty years out of date. So off they rush me for a refresher, then in they send me, encouraging me to nurture a friendship with this billionaire businessman, to a point where he would eventually feel comfortable enough to start trusting me, not just with his several million-dollar purchases, but with the shadier aspects of his dealings. Good thought, had it only been about art, and had there been any shady aspects to those dealings, but it had nothing to do with any of that. They just wanted to get me fully integrated, before telling me what it was really all about. That was quite a signal moment in my life, I can tell you, learning that I’d been seriously suckered by agents from my own Government. But it didn’t stop there, because next came the revelation that my bosom pal Franz, chairman of the world-renowned Phraxos Group, had a rather inventive supply and demand project going – a kind of stirring up the ants’ nest in order to create a market for the killer. And then I was told how I was expected to use my highly privileged position as one of Franz Koehler’s trusted cohorts, to become actively involved in this delightful little project. My skills as a pilot would do it, they thought. And as it turned out they weren’t wrong, because in encouraging Franz to use my air taxi services, we got to know each other even better, and then he started to use me to transport certain documents, a few unidentified trunks here and there that probably contained cash, but who knows; very dubious, as well as authentic looking businessmen, mercenaries, rebels, you name it … It was working a treat, we were baking up a dream, and then they revealed the final dazzling stage of their strategy. I was now to make a totally clean breast to my bosom pal of how British intelligence was using me to get information on the Phraxos Special Project.’

  Rachel’s eyebrows went up in amazement. ‘Talk about sabotaging the soufflé,’ she murmured. ‘Why on earth did anyone think that would work? Weren’t they just giving away their hand by admitting they knew the project existed?’

  ‘I certainly thought so,’ he responded, ‘but as it turned out, Franz knew very well that at least a dozen intelligence agencies were keeping tabs on the project. So finding out that I’d been planted on him was no great surprise, nor did it faze him that I’d taken the decision to tell him who I was. There’s so much money to be made, it stood to reason, in his mind, that anyone would switch sides. Agents are doing it all the time, or so he told me. So my confession got me exactly where they wanted me to be, in bed with Franz Koehler and the Phraxos Special Project.’

  ‘But if both sides knew about each other, I don’t understand why they needed to use someone like you. Why not put in one of their own people?’

  ‘They’re in there, in several different guises,’ he replied, ‘but even I didn’t know who they were. The point was, they didn’t have anyone in the inner circle and that was the hardest to penetrate. I seemed like a good option.’

  Looking decidedly unimpressed by such blatant exploitation, she said, ‘Didn’t Koehler ever worry that you might still be feeding back information?’

  ‘I’m sure he did, but he was an exceptionally brilliant operator, who never allowed anyone the full picture. So all I was ever told was one piece of the puzzle, or one leg of a financial journey. It was the same for everyone in the inner circle; no one ever got the full story. But he also knew how unlikely it was that anyone would go all out to try to kill the project, because it’s just not in anyone’s interests to. The destabilization of Phraxos would have worldwide economic repercussions that wouldn’t be good for anyone. Whereas war, which is very big business, is good for everyone, particularly if your pockets are being lined by Phraxos dollars. So all anyone’s really after is the low-down on what the project’s currently up to, and some advance warning of where civil unrest, or revolution, or military coups might crop up next. Which means, in effect, that Britain’s operating a kind of blind-eye policy, which serves their own extremely powerful arms manufacturers very well.’

  Knowing what an incredibly strong lobby those manufacturers had, she said, ‘Do you think any of those companies are actively involved in the Special Project?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ he answered. ‘The very top executives are almost certain to know of its existence, and are undoubtedly behind the furtherance of the blind-eye policy, but as for playing an actual part …’ He shook his head. ‘All I know for certain is that the Prime Minister himself ordered the intelligence operation, and that he’s putting intense pressure on the US, as well as the Phraxos board, to close the project down. How much luck he’ll have, when he’s facing so much resistance even from his own Defence Ministry, only time will tell. Have you spoken to Elliot since his meeting with the PM?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Then you know that the PM’s working with him to use his inside knowledge of the project to exert some pressure of his own. It’s going to be a tricky one, because no one wants to upset the Americans.’

 
‘What about the US intelligence units, what purpose are they serving?’

  ‘Basically the same as everyone else’s, they’re keeping tabs on the project, because a man like Franz Koehler could have really got out of control, and sometimes it was necessary to let him know that he couldn’t have everything his own way. The Dubai operation was about that. When they seized all that money, it served a dual purpose. A reminder to Franz Koehler that he doesn’t run the world, and a salve to the British and American public to let them know that their security services and armed forces are on the ball. But maybe I’m just being cynical. All I know for certain is that I should have been arrested myself in Dubai, then I was to be quietly let go some time later. Unlike Rudy and a dozen or so others, who really will be facing jail.’

  Realizing again how difficult he was finding that to deal with, she said, ‘Were you ever in any danger? I guess that’s a silly question, you must have been.’

  ‘Actually, it’s hard to say, when I was never fully informed of what was going on, so if I was, no one ever told me, and whether my two recruiting agents would have acted to get me out, should anything ever have gone seriously wrong, is anyone’s guess.’

  ‘Did anything go wrong, ever?’

  ‘Several times, but the worst was at an airfield just outside Zurich, when the British and Swiss authorities had collaborated in allowing a cash shipment to be flown in from Moscow and transported to a Swiss bank. One of Franz Koehler’s men and one Swiss customs official ended up dead.’

  ‘How? What happened?’

  ‘It turned out that the right information hadn’t been passed on to the right people, so no way was this one customs officer going to let all that cash into the country. It just wasn’t legal, and he didn’t care what his colleagues had to say about it, it wasn’t coming in.’

  ‘How much was it?’

  ‘Sixteen million dollars, which was due for onward transhipment to an unknown destination – at least unknown to me. I just knew about the Swiss stopover. The authorities were happy to let it in, because they were tracking it. They wanted to know where it was heading next. Then this ridiculous shoot-out started and the next thing I knew two men were dead.’

  ‘What happened to the money?’

  ‘Koehler got it back, I know that, but where it ended up I was never told. By then it would have been labelled dividends, bonuses, commissions, you name it, care of the Caymans, or Monte Carlo, or Mauritius. I imagine someone’s got a track on it, but they’ll probably never do anything about it, and it wasn’t my department any more.’

  ‘Surely there was an inquiry into that!’

  ‘I’m sure there was, but it never touched Franz Koehler, or not that I know of.’

  After a while, she said, ‘Laurie and I are getting very involved in Amnesty International now, and Human Rights Watch. Knowing what we do, we have to, because we’ve got to do something to stop people just switching off when they hear about fighting or misery in Africa. They’ve got to be made to understand the role their own governments play in it, supplying all those arms and military training. It’s already backfired terribly on the West once, as we all know only too well, and if we don’t start changing our policies it’ll happen again.’ Her eyes moved to his, then softened sheepishly as she realized she was climbing up on her soapbox. So in an attempt to return the subject to him, she said, ‘I find it amazing that you’re still sane, considering all you’ve been through.’

  ‘On that front, I’m offering no guarantees,’ he said wryly. Then added, ‘I should tell you that I agree with everything you just said, and I’ll be happy to lend my support. And I should also tell you that it was actually when you came into the equation that my life really started to become difficult, because it seemed to make sense to everyone concerned that I should be the one to keep an eye on you – I sort of knew your family, I lived nearby, I was an amenable sort of a fellow, and your journalistic enquiries had to be monitored. Franz Koehler assumed I was doing it exclusively for him, and occasionally I did give him information that I knew he didn’t already have, such as Katherine’s little sojourn in the Caribbean.’

  ‘You reported that to him and not to the authorities?’ she said, perplexed.

  ‘The authorities first, then Koehler, once I knew I could. At which point you decided you were going to carry out your own search, and I could hardly tell you that I already knew Katherine was long gone.’

  ‘But it took us days to find the pilot,’ she protested. ‘If you already knew about him, why did it take so long?’

  ‘Actually, he was a genuine find,’ he responded in a sardonic tone, ‘so we did manage to find out more than they did.’

  As she digested that, she found she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or not. ‘What about the four million dollars?’ she said. ‘Did you tell the police about that?’

  He nodded. ‘I’m afraid it marked rather a black day for Tim’s reputation, because that was definitely not what anyone wanted to hear. Until then it was generally believed that Phraxos had not yet bought its way into the hierarchy of the British Government, so for the PM’s close friend and unofficial successor to be the first …’ He sucked in his breath. ‘Did the Prime Minister tell you about any of this when you saw him?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘He feels extremely bad about it now, because he’d deliberately held the intelligence operation back from Tim as a … well a kind of test, I suppose. He had big plans for Tim’s future, so he needed to know that Tim was incorruptible, which means that in a way Tim was under scrutiny too, especially after Katherine joined our team. And that just makes it harder for us all to know that given another week Tim would have proven himself beyond even the highest expectations.’ Her eyes went down as, not for the first time, she tried to deal with how tragic it was that her husband, a good and honest man, had been so cruelly cheated of his future.

  ‘But instead,’ Chris continued, ‘that damned four million turned up in a Swiss bank account. The timing of it … The way it looked …’

  ‘The chances are it would have ruined his career anyway,’ she said solemnly. ‘It was a real Catch 22 – you’re either with us, in which case the four million is a starting bonus, or you’re against us, in which case you can kiss goodbye to any kind of high office, because we’ll use the four million to discredit, or even destroy you. And even though they might have had a very hard time actually proving anything, the scandal alone would have had the desired effect.’ She was shaking her head in profound dismay. ‘If only I’d known what I was doing the day I contacted Katherine,’ she said, almost to herself. Then lifting her eyes back to his. ‘Sorry. I suppose I’m still not finding it very easy to accept my own role in this.’

  ‘But you didn’t know,’ he reminded her. ‘You can’t blame yourself.’

  ‘I know, but I do. Anyway, tell me, why didn’t the money get frozen when you told them about it?’

  ‘Mainly because at that point no one was quite sure whether you might be involved with Phraxos too, so they were all waiting to see what happened, what you would do, though it became evident quite quickly that Franz Koehler was menacing you for the money, so you at least were off the hook, and it was considered better all round just to let him have the money back.’

  She nodded thoughtfully, then staying with the subject of money said, ‘Laurie told me how much Franz Koehler paid you – enough to buy most men’s loyalties.’

  ‘Especially when my other so-called employers never shelled out a bean,’ he retorted, reaching over to the table behind him to answer the phone. ‘Hello?’ he said.

  He listened for a while, then after saying, ‘That’s definitely good news, thanks for letting me know,’ he rang off again. ‘My lawyer,’ he said. ‘Apparently I can repay him the loan he advanced me, because my credit cards and bank accounts have been unfrozen.’

  ‘They froze your assets?’ she cried.

  ‘Afraid so,’ he said, his eyes simmering with laughter. ‘This has definitely not
been one of the best periods of my life.’

  She smiled wryly. ‘Then here’s to moving past it,’ she said, raising her glass.

  He drank too, then kept his eyes lowered as they lapsed into silence.

  Realizing that he might be thinking about Stacey now, and wondering if she’d just been rather tactless in suggesting he simply move on past this difficult period as though his wife were something to be forgotten too, she tried to think of a way of broaching the subject that would allow her to apologize. In the end, she said, ‘I understand if I’m not the person you want to talk to about your wife, but I want you to know that I’m really sorry about what happened. I know I said it at the funeral, but I really do mean it. I wish there was something I could do …’

  ‘You already have,’ he told her, looking up. ‘Just by coming here.’ He glanced briefly away. ‘I wasn’t sure I’d find it very easy to see you,’ he said, ‘in fact I thought if you did come I’d have to tell you that we couldn’t see each other. But now you’re here …’ He lapsed into silence again and she could see how hard he was struggling with his emotions. ‘I keep telling myself that it wasn’t done intentionally to hurt her, that neither of us expected to feel the way we did …’ He broke off, as though unsure how much more he wanted to reveal.

  ‘It’s true, we didn’t,’ she said.

  He sighed and looked down at his drink. ‘I just don’t know if it helps,’ he responded. ‘I was cruel the last time I saw her. I wasn’t even nice on the phone after …’ His eyes remained lowered as his voice gave out.

  ‘It’ll take time,’ she told him gently.