East of the Sun

by Janet Rogers

  ‘In which case alcohol is an excellent idea,’ she said, aware that her flippant tone didn’t match the seriousness of the situation. Vaguely, through the pain, she was aware that a heady mixture of euphoria and anger was taking hold of her.

  Nick half-smiled, half-grimaced, but before he could remind her of the gravity of the events of the evening, she spoke. ‘I know. I know, Nick.’ She tried to keep her voice even. ‘You don’t have to say it. I don’t need to be reminded. Someone has warned me off.’

  ‘Several times.’

  ‘Okay, several times.’

  ‘Someone attacked you tonight and we might very well be followed.’

  ‘But if you think about it, it’s sort of good, isn’t it?’

  Nick frowned and she continued. ‘It means that we’re making someone nervous, it means that you were right – we are on the right track.’

  Nick held her gaze for a moment, then looked down at the glass in front of him. ‘That may be so, Amelia, but please just stop for a second.’

  ‘We’re not stopping now!’ again she interrupted, and again she felt the thrill of anger and an inexplicable elation pulse through her.

  He sighed. ‘We should at least consider not going to this meeting.’

  ‘After everything? Definitely not. You’ve done so much to get this meeting in the first place! We’re not stopping now,’ she said again, but toned down her vehemence. ‘Concussion or not. Are we?’

  No words were necessary. He looked at her for a long time and she could see that he was processing the various options: continuing versus going home, going to a hospital versus making their meeting. She held his gaze, willing him not to give up, and when she could sense him relenting, she gave him a slow smile.

  He shook his head lightly. ‘All right, drink up, we have to go meet the Pike-perch.’

  24

  Amelia was surprised to discover that they were winding their way back to the city centre. Nick had taken care of the details of the meeting, from making contact with the man Robert described in his note as his last hope, to negotiating the reason for the meeting. All she knew was that it had proven to be a laborious process just to get hold of the right person who would convey their message to the Pike-perch. The circle of protection around him was vast and apparently there were unwritten protocols in the world they were about to enter. She only hoped that Nick had a better idea of how they were supposed to behave than she did.

  The taxi dropped them off on New Arbat Street where the garish neon lights of casinos that had once lit up the night sky were now replaced by the lights of equally unappealing entertainment centres. Amelia looked at Nick questioningly. This was the last place she’d expected them to come.

  ‘We’ll walk from here,’ he said in answer. Soon he led her away from the brightly lit pedestrian strip to a passage, a convenient shortcut that ran through the continuous line of buildings to the other side. They went down a set of well-worn concrete steps and within a matter of minutes were walking along darker back streets.

  ‘You do know that the pike-perch is a carnivorous fish, don’t you?’ He glanced at her and she couldn’t tell if he was joking. ‘It has strong teeth,’ he continued, ‘it likes murky water and it feeds on other fish. Just so you know, this guy’s name is likely to be very appropriate.’

  Amelia didn’t answer. She sensed that he was trying to lighten the mood while still reminding her of the potential danger ahead. While they were both hopeful that this meeting would be the one that would tie together all the loose ends, it was also the encounter that could hold the most danger.

  They had no idea who they were dealing with. Only that he was a so-called dealmaker, a specialist in making things happen for a fee, someone who employed whatever means necessary to get the job done. He would hold no one in high regard and would show no mercy should the situation require it.

  Pavel Sudakov.

  She thought of Robert scribbling his note to her, feeling the need to disguise the man’s name. Pike-perch. Sudak in Russian. It had been Nick who’d connected the dots, tapped into his connections and led them to the right Sudakov. The one who had most likely sat next to Robert in meeting after meeting, attempting to make peace, or at least find a mutually beneficial agreement between the warring mining companies.

  ‘We’re here,’ Nick announced and stopped at the end of a quiet side-street, in front of what would have looked like a nondescript warehouse had it not been for the signboard that announced in subtly lit white lettering that they had reached Havana Gentlemen’s Club.

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘Afraid not.’ He turned to her and touched her bruised temple gently. ‘All set? Doing okay?’

  Amelia glanced at the signboard again. Of all places, she thought.

  ‘Yes, ready,’ she replied, because it was too late now to say anything else. Less than an hour ago, she’d been the one pushing him to see it through. She could hardly back out now.

  ‘Good. Let’s go.’ Nick inhaled deeply, squared his shoulders and gave her a brief smile before he led the way to the entrance. His manner was a strange mixture of jauntiness and solemnity. He had to be as apprehensive as she was.

  A smoky glass door rose in front of them, but before they could reach it, a heavy steel door to the left of it opened and a security guard or bouncer of impressive proportions stepped out to stop them.

  ‘We’re here to see Mr Sudakov. We have an appointment. I am Nicholas—’ Nick didn’t have time to finish his sentence before the bouncer opened the steel door again and gestured for them to follow him inside.

  As she stepped through the doorway, Amelia heard the faraway bass of thumping music coming from somewhere deep inside the building. The bouncer opened a door to their immediate left and led them into what appeared to be a darkened cubicle. Immediately and without a word he started patting down Nick’s pockets. He removed a cell phone from an inner pocket and turned to Amelia. He gestured to her purse and coat and scrutinised every detail of her person, as if he possessed X-ray vision. To her relief he did not pat her down.

  When he was satisfied, he led them through yet another door to their left and down a staircase into the bowels of the building. The stairs and walls were carpeted and the faint music seemed to fade away with every step they took downwards. At the bottom of the stairs, they came to a stop in front of a padded, leather-covered, red door. The guard opened it, stood back and waited for them to enter. This time he did not join them, but closed the door softly behind them.

  The room that lay in front of them was, like the cubicle and stairwell, dark. So dark that it was difficult to say how big it was. Against what appeared to be the furthest wall was a dimly lit seating area that contained what looked like a black lacquer table and red-upholstered banquettes on three sides. A deep red wallpaper with a gold motif clad all the walls and the only lighting in the room came from receded niches behind golden pillars in the corners. In addition to those, a lamp was suspended over the table, but it hung so low that it was impossible to see what lay beyond. It was from here that a voice suddenly spoke.

  ‘I apologise for the choice of location and the extreme security measures.’ Only when Amelia squinted could she make out a figure half-hidden by the low-hanging lamp. ‘I’m sure you will appreciate the reasons for being so careful. You will get all your belongings back, of course. As you might know, we are masters of mystery here in Russia.’

  There was humour in the surprisingly light voice. The English was good and the r’s pronounced with a heavy trill.

  ‘Come, come,’ the voice continued, ‘come have a seat.’ Amelia followed Nick’s example and approached the table. She could see the man seated behind the lamp better now. He appeared large and fleshy, and displayed a toothy, sardonic grin. She shivered involuntarily, thinking of Nick’s reference to the strong teeth of the pike-perch, the creature that fed on its fellow fish so eagerly.

  ‘Mr Sudakov, I am Nick—’ Nick stared to introduce himself, but w
as interrupted by an impatient hand gesture.

  ‘I know who you are, Mr Sanford – and Mrs Preston,’ he said, inclining his head and gestured to the seat on his right. ‘Sit down. It is pleasant meeting you. I was an admirer of your husband.’

  Amelia slid into a seat nervously, flustered by the man’s obvious knowledge of them. Nick sat down opposite her, to Sudakov’s left.

  ‘Thank you for seeing us,’ Nick tried again.

  Sudakov smiled lightly, a glint in his eye. ‘You were most persistent, Mr Sanford.’

  He looked from one to the other, reached for a bottle of vodka with one hand and a bottle of champagne with the other, and poured into two glasses simultaneously. He passed the champagne to Amelia and the vodka to Nick, offering no choice in the matter. He raised his own vodka glass in the air, waiting for them to raise their own to his. Silently he drank a toast before addressing them again.

  ‘I have a good idea why you are here, but why don’t you tell me, just so we are clear and there is no misunderstanding.’

  Amelia glanced at Nick who now seemed far calmer than when they were standing outside. He answered the question immediately.

  ‘We believe you were involved in the negotiations between Sibraz and Prism, that you were hired to try and resolve the conflict between the two companies.’

  Sudakov didn’t reply, so Nick continued. ‘We also believe that something about those negotiations is the reason why the Canadian ambassador, Amelia’s husband, disappeared.’ At this, Sudakov raised his eyebrows and studied Amelia as if he had suddenly discovered something of great interest about her.

  Nick continued. ‘We’re here in the hope that you will help us.’

  Sudakov turned to Nick, apparently having heard enough.

  ‘Mr Sanford, Mrs Preston, I appreciate your dilemma, but I’m not sure you appreciate my position. Let us be honest with each other. I am hired first and foremost because I am discreet. I am never interested in seeing my name in a newspaper or on a building. Unlike so many others, I have no political aspirations. I am hired to do a job, I do the job, and I move on.’

  ‘We understand.’

  ‘I do not think that you do.’ The sardonic persona of earlier was now significantly toned down and there was something far more ominous in his voice.

  ‘I am only contacted quietly through the right people and the only reason I agreed to see you, is to determine how you managed to find me.’

  Amelia met Nick’s eyes over the table and decided to take over from Nick.

  ‘It was only because Robert had written something to me – a note I discovered a few days ago – that we were able to find you.’

  Sudakov seemed both interested and irritated. ‘What exactly did he write to you?’

  ‘It was a note, just a short note in which he voiced his concerns about the talks between the two companies. Something he wrote led us to you.’

  Sudakov raised his eyebrows again, clearly wanting to hear more. Amelia hesitated, flustered, not sure if he’d be offended if he heard about Robert’s reference to a fish. Her hesitation was short-lived, though, because she could see that they would stand no chance with Sudakov if they weren’t completely honest with him. She had a feeling he would detect a half-truth immediately and would not tolerate their presence following such a discovery.

  Nervously glancing at Nick, she briefly recounted the contents of Robert’s note. To her surprise she saw a smile spread across Sudakov’s big face, one that held both amusement and something akin to approval.

  ‘I always liked your husband, Mrs Preston. I can see I was not wrong in my judgement of him.’

  Relieved, Amelia nodded. ‘I eh, we’re here, because I would really like to find out what happened to Robert.’

  Had Sudakov been won over? He said nothing, but reached for the two bottles again, a welcome sign that the meeting wasn’t over yet.

  Once the toast had been drunk, he said, ‘Why don’t you tell me what you know?’

  ‘We think we know the background to what happened,’ Nick said. ‘We don’t have all the facts, but we have a fairly solid theory.’

  Briefly he outlined their assumptions and what they had discovered. Sudakov listened carefully as Nick told him of their suspicion that Prism’s recent sale of their stake in the joint venture had been driven by the fact that the diamond deposit was less valuable than initially thought, and that Prism had known of this, courtesy of the geologist, much earlier than industry rumours would have it. He told Sudakov that they thought Robert’s disappearance was connected to that discovery, that perhaps Robert had found out at the time Prism had and had wanted to make the finding public, something that would have been bad for both Sibraz and Prism. Since the geologist’s story confirmed that the true value of the deposit had emerged around the time of Robert’s disappearance, Prism would have had good reason to extricate itself from the venture, but to have done so immediately would have meant great financial losses. Similarly Sibraz would have gained control of the deposit, the thing they wanted all along, but they also would have obtained the significantly higher risk of a diminished deposit and it would have been near impossible to find new investment or a new partner once the truth was made public.

  Nick wrapped up their theory. ‘We believe that Robert had found out about the deposit and that he had wanted the truth to come out. In the event that it did become public knowledge, Sibraz would have lost more in the long run, but we are also aware of the fact that Bruce Jennings doesn’t have the best reputation and that he too could have had a hand in the events that had led to Robert’s disappearance.’

  Sudakov was silent for a while as he considered the story.

  He seemed to weigh things in his mind, but finally he spoke. ‘Impressive.’

  It wasn’t clear what his words meant and Amelia and Nick stared at him anxiously as he poured himself another shot of vodka which he drank on his own. He looked at his empty glass for several long moments and then raised his head. ‘You have come close to the truth.’

  Amelia sat back, stunned. To hear some sort of affirmation of all their suspicions was invaluable. The geologist’s story had been one thing, but to hear from someone so intimately involved that they were right, seemed too incredible. She hesitated, but only for a second. ‘Will you tell us the full story? Who was involved, what happened, who was responsible for all this?’

  The smile was back on Sudakov’s face. ‘My dear Mrs Preston, the fact that I thought your husband was an admirable man, does not automatically imply that I am going to be putting myself in a difficult position.’

  ‘Will it make any difference now?’ Her words came out fast and angry. Horrified, she stopped, scarcely believing the audacity of her question, but the rage was back, simmering somewhere in her chest, and now it was too late to try and control it. She’d asked the question before she could think of the repercussions of his anger.

  Sudakov was equally surprised at her question and for a moment he did seem to consider getting angry, throwing them out, or worse. But then, to their amazement, he started laughing, shaking his head. Without a word he stood up and walked to the door.

  ‘Sorry,’ Amelia said, the moment he left the room. ‘I don’t know what possessed me.’

  Before Nick could reply, however, the door opened again and Sudakov returned, still shaking his head, a fresh bottle of vodka in his hand.

  ‘You are a brave woman, Mrs Preston,’ he said as he sat down heavily and picked up the two bottles again, slowly filling their glasses. ‘I like brave women. You are quite right, what’s done is done. That is a good reason to tell you some of the facts I have at my disposal, but that is not why I have decided to tell you.’

  Again Sudakov lifted his glass, waited for them to raise theirs to his, and threw back the drink.

  ‘I will tell you,’ he said, leaning back, ‘because I was most disturbed by the way this deal went wrong. In Russia, as you know, there are often complications involved in making money.’ He shrugged.
‘It is impossible to avoid. We deal with these things in the way we know best. The Western way is not our way. It cannot be. It never will be.’ He looked at them, as if expecting them to challenge him about the dirty business he and his countrymen engaged in. Both Amelia and Nick remained silent, their eyes fixed on Sudakov.

  ‘Things can go wrong in business. It is unavoidable here in the new Russia. But in this case things went wrong too fast and this is not good for the reputation of our country. Not good for doing future business.’ Sudakov seemed to get lost in his own thoughts for a moment, and when he spoke again, it was to tell them about the days before Robert disappeared.

  ‘When Sibraz indicated it wanted to get out of the joint venture with Prism, it did so because of money. Future money, I should say. They thought it would be best to get rid of Prism once the legwork was done. The idea was to blame Prism for certain irregularities like unmet criteria, drilling shortfalls, faulty machinery and so on – enough grounds to dissolve the joint venture – and then they would have this magnificently rich deposit all to themselves.

  ‘Then something happened that changed everything. The chief geologist – it sounds like you’ve met him – discovered something. The deposit was indeed less valuable than everybody had believed. He, in his wisdom,’ Sudakov smiled wryly, ‘decided that he would gain more from sharing the news with Prism. For a handsome sum of money of course.’

  Amelia glanced at Nick. He’d been right about the geologist’s motivations. He nodded briefly and turned back to Sudakov, who said, ‘Bruce Jennings, seeing a good opportunity, and knowing the geologist would have told Sibraz already or would do so soon, offered to pay the man even more to go to Sibraz and confirm the original data, so that Sibraz would continue to try to get out of the joint venture.’

  ‘But why? Why didn’t they just walk away?’ Amelia asked.

  ‘Because Bruce Jennings has higher ambitions than the average Western businessman. He saw that he could turn the situation around with a little manipulation. If he could hold out for long enough, he hoped to be able to negotiate a penalty to be paid by Sibraz for breaking the contract. If they continued to believe the deposit was very rich, I believe they would have gone for it. So while Jennings was scheming, we – the business development people, the lawyers, the analysts, Robert and that other man from the embassy, me – would have continued to negotiate, because we would not have known yet about the value of the deposit.’