by Joanna Rees
He drew himself up before turning back to face Peaches and Tommy. She saw the flash of his badge clipped to his pants.
‘There’d have to be first-hand testimony from Khordinsky,’ he said. ‘Rodokov would have to wear a wire. You think he’d do that?’
Peaches nodded, closing her eyes in silent thanks to whatever God had made Harry see sense. He was going to help her. He was placing his trust in her. He hadn’t written her off after all.
‘And Rodokov would have to cut his ties with his business for ever. The whole lot would be taken over by the authorities. We’ll have to bring the Russians in on this too. He’d come out with practically nothing. That fancy yacht in the Med, his homes around the world. They’d all go. He might have to vanish himself.’
‘What do you mean?’ Peaches asked.
‘He’ll be a marked man. You screw someone like Khordinsky, you don’t get to gloat about it afterwards.’
‘You’d need to guarantee his safety,’ Peaches said. ‘His girlfriend’s too.’ Again Peaches found herself reeling at the risk she was taking. She didn’t even know if Frankie and Alex were back together.
‘I could make sure that they’re offered witness protection,’ Harry said. ‘New identities. Total relocation. They’d have to cut all ties. No one would hear from them again. Including you.’
Peaches thought of Frankie and Alex and everything Frankie had told her. About how their best times had been when they were all alone. Well, if this came off, they’d be doing plenty more of that. ‘OK, they could probably live with that.’
Harry nodded. ‘Better to live than to die.’ There was a beat. He drummed his fingers on the table, then bit his lip. ‘OK, so say you did pull it off . . .’
‘Yes?’ Peaches asked, feeling a rush of hope. Now was the moment of truth.
‘What you said just now about wanting to stop your . . . business practices? You’d have to stop for ever. You slide back and you’ll be buried,’ Harry insisted, a note of finality in his voice. ‘I’d see to it personally.’
‘I know you would,’ Peaches said. ‘But you’ll never have to. I swear.’
Peaches held her breath, putting her hand on her chest. Harry Rezler believing her suddenly seemed as important to her as her freedom.
‘Very well,’ he said, holding eye contact with Peaches for another second before turning to Tommy. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’
‘You mean I won’t go to jail?’ Peaches checked.
‘No, you won’t go to jail.’
‘Guaranteed?’ Tommy asked.
Harry nodded.
‘But, Peaches, I’m telling you, you sure as hell better be right about Rodokov. Or everything we’ve talked about today . . . it’s nothing but smoke . . .’
CHAPTER FORTY
In the library of Wrentham Hall, Yuri Khordinsky slapped Alexei Rodokov on the back before handing him a small shot glass of vodka. Alex smiled back, as they clinked glasses and each downed the clear oily liquid. Both men were dressed immaculately in dinner jackets and polished black Oxford shoes. Beyond the glow of the glass reading lamp on the leather-topped desk, candles flickered on the darkened windowsills, casting shadows over the bookcases. From behind the closed door came the muffled sound of laughter and voices chatting over a string quartet playing a Beatles song medley.
Khordinsky laughed and said something in Russian.
‘Ah, ah,’ Alex said, chiding him with a smile. ‘You’re the lord of the manor, Yuri. You’ve got to speak in English. These people expect it of us. The more practice you get the better.’
Khordinsky lit a match and held it up to his cigar. He puffed, smoke circling his head. ‘OK. I appreciate you telling me these things,’ he said. ‘It is good to know I have someone I can trust around here. I can’t say I trust Natalya. She said this was just a small show but there are catering lorries everywhere. I do not like so many people.’
Alex smiled at Khordinsky. ‘Don’t be too hard on her. Natalya has put on a good party tonight,’ he said. ‘You have all the guests here you wanted?’
‘And more. The Ambassador is putting a brave face on it. He doesn’t know whether to believe everything he hears in Russia. Natalya says I must be charming.’
‘She’s right. Having him here is good for your reputation, Yuri,’ Alex said. ‘And reputation, as you’ve told me many times yourself, is at the very heart of what we do.’
‘Well, whatever they say in Russia, I must be fitting in here,’ Khordinsky said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. ‘I’ve been asked if I want to buy an English football club.’
Alex laughed. ‘You going to do it?’
‘I thought you might. You know . . . front it for me. You’d be better at the exposure. I’d invest the money, obviously.’
‘I’d be happy to. It might be fun. And I like being your front man. As I’ve always said, you put up the money and I’ll manage it for you however you want.’
‘That’s my boy.’ Yuri paused a moment. ‘You know, I have a young lady here tonight, the daughter of an associate from Dubai. I’d like you to meet her. If you were to form an attachment with her, it would be good for business.’
Alex was silent.
Khordinsky looked at him, one eyebrow raised. ‘You still think about that girl? The one who ran off with the movie star?’
Alex frowned. ‘Why would I?’
Khordinsky handed Alex an envelope which was lying on the desk. ‘I didn’t want to show you these before. But it’s important for you to know the truth. About who she is. What she is . . .’
Alex took the envelope and looked inside. He flicked through the photographs and placed them back in the envelope.
‘I see,’ he said. His expression gave nothing away and Khordinsky failed to notice the tremor in Alex’s voice.
Yuri studied his face closely. ‘You made a mistake with her. It’s time to move on.’
Alex nodded. ‘I know.’
‘It’s OK. Forget it,’ Khordinsky said. ‘Come. Let’s join the guests.’
They moved towards the door. Suddenly Alex stopped. ‘Yuri, I’ve been meaning to ask you. The man whose house this was – Julian Harvey – did you know him?’
‘Why?’
‘Questions are being asked about him in Russia by his family. And the police also now, it seems. In connection with the Norilsk site, which I know we used to own. Harvey apparently bought the mining rights for it. He thought there were platinum deposits there. But that can’t be true, can it? The land was useless – an old quarry, good for nothing except landfill. That’s certainly what it said in the documentation I signed when I sold Dimitry the agenting right to it.’
Yuri put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. ‘Ancient history. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.’
‘But, Yuri, I am concerned. Questions are being asked by the police. They’re wanting to talk to me, now that Dimitry has disappeared. And because my name is on the deed of sale.’
Khordinsky squeezed Alex’s shoulder. ‘Don’t fret, my friend. It will soon blow over.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ Alex said. ‘I can put them off, but, Yuri, I still don’t like people digging around in our affairs. We must protect ourselves. And we trust each other, right? You can tell me what happened.’ Alex leant in close. ‘Because I also hear that Harvey is dead now. He was a problem to be got rid of, huh? Just like that whore I killed for you the other day.’
Khordinsky nodded. He paused for a moment. ‘Julian Harvey made some stupid investments. He fell for Dimitry’s sales pitch. Not the first or the last time these greedy British will get themselves burnt.’
‘So Dimitry sold him the rights to the land?’
‘Yes. And invested with him, too, on my behalf. Long enough to triple our money.’ Khordinsky smiled. ‘Only Dimitry was a lot luckier than Harvey. He sold his shares before it came to light that the mine was worthless.’
‘A fine stroke of luck, indeed.’
‘Quite so. It was also very
fortunate timing for me and Natalya.’
‘Fortunate?’ Alex asked.
Khordinsky smiled, tapping ash into the ashtray. ‘Not only did I profit from the way Dimitry structured the deal, but I was able to buy Harvey’s house as well. Harvey had put it up as collateral with the bank, you see. As soon as I started looking for a suitable house here in Britain, I knew I had to have this one. So Harvey lost it along with the mine. I was ready and waiting to make an offer the bank couldn’t refuse.’
Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘Very fortunate.’
‘The English have a saying to cover this. Killing two birds with one stone. Yes, that’s what Julian Harvey did for me.’
‘He was willing to give it up?’
Khordinsky sighed, puffing on his cigar. ‘No, of course not. He said he’d fight to get it back. That he’d never let down his investors. Or his stupid wife. Threatened to sue me. All sorts of fighting talk. So he had to be . . . silenced. When I pushed him, it made it easy to make his fall look like a suicide.’
‘How? What about a note?’
‘Vladimir who does the passports used his handwriting expert. He did a fine job. Come on now. Let’s not discuss it any further. I have to show you off to all my guests.’
Inside the surveillance unit in Damien’s catering lorry on the driveway outside, Emma let out a sob. She watched the small black-and-white image on the bank of screens as Alex and Khordinsky walked out of the range of the hidden cameras in the library.
‘That bastard. That bastard!’ she gasped. To hear Khordinsky admitting to Julian’s murder like that – as if Julian were nothing – made fury course through her.
‘You got that?’ she asked. One of the secret-service team at the controls lifted up his headphone. ‘Yep. All recorded.’
Next to her Harry Rezler held up his radio. ‘You heard it, boys,’ he said. ‘It’s a confession. Let’s bring him in.’
‘No, Harry,’ Emma said. She knew that there was a huge team involved tonight: MI5 and the British police, Harry’s team and his Russian counterparts, but this was her show, hers and Peaches’ and Frankie’s. ‘Let us finish this.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t. It’s too dangerous,’ Harry Rezler said. ‘And you don’t need to. We’ve got this place surrounded. Khordinsky’s not going anywhere. You’ll get your revenge anyway. You’ll get to see him walking out in cuffs.’
‘No,’ Emma said. ‘That’s not good enough. That’s not what we agreed. We want to see it happening, when it’s happening. I want to be there to look him in the eye and tell him that he’s lost.’
‘Units in place, sir,’ a voice crackled from Harry’s radio.
‘You promised,’ Emma said. She was shaking but, shocked as she was, she had to finish this in person. ‘That was the deal you made with Peaches.’
There was a knock on the door of the catering lorry. Harry opened it. One of the MI5 men stood at the door.
‘Is Lady Emma in there still?’ he asked. ‘We have her son here.’
‘Cosmo!’ Emma gasped, pushing past Harry Rezler.
Cosmo stood behind the catering vans on the driveway. He stubbed a cigarette out in the gravel and pulled his coat closer around him.
‘Mum. What the hell’s going on?’ he asked. ‘Uncle Pim told me you were here. What’s going on with the cops?’
‘Oh my God, oh my God!’ Emma cried. ‘My Cosmo. You’re safe! Oh my darling. Where have you been?”
‘In Russia. I’ve been to the mine. And you’re not going to believe this, but I got another geologist. And we’re drilling again. They think they’ve found palladium there. Lots and lots of it.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Peaches strode through the open front doors of Wrentham Hall arm in arm with Emma and Frankie. It had taken all of their powers of persuasion to get the authorities to agree to wait outside and allow them to confront Khordinsky like this, but it was the final part of their bargain. They were going to deliver the news to Khordinsky that he’d been screwed. Royally. They were the ones who were going to watch him squirm.
Rezler had had to vouch for them to the British, because this was a British bust on British soil. Neither Harry nor the three Russian FSB agents here to observe had any kind of jurisdiction here.
The British had agreed – reluctantly, because it meant placing shooters on the roof and inside, in case Khordinsky or one of his goons made a move on Peaches or one of the girls. But they had had no choice. Alex had refused to cooperate unless Frankie’s friends had been permitted to finish what they’d started.
The massive entrance of Wrentham Hall with its domed ceiling and sweeping staircase was full of guests, the hubbub of voices almost drowning out the string quartet which was playing on the balcony. Peaches’ eyes flickered towards Damien, the party organizer she’d met earlier with Emma and Frankie. He’d been amazing, working with Harry and the British team to coordinate tonight. He nodded briefly. He knew what he had to do.
‘Great place, Emma,’ Peaches said, under her breath. ‘Time to get it back off that bastard, don’t you think?’
‘Just be careful, Peaches,’ Emma warned.
Peaches felt Frankie and Emma grip her arm for a moment and she felt a surge of strength. She knew how much it meant to Emma to be here at Wrentham and to have Cosmo back. And she knew, too, how much it meant to Frankie that Alex had so skilfully extracted Khordinsky’s confession.
‘There he is,’ Frankie said. Peaches followed her gaze to where Alex stood in the doorway of a small cloakroom. He was wearing a tuxedo and he looked incredibly handsome, even if his face was creased with anxiety. Peaches had warmed to Alex in the past week, especially when she’d finally had the chance to discuss that night on Pushkin with him. He’d told her how sorry he was. How he’d suspected that Dieter was watching him for Khordinsky. How he’d had to make it look as if he was shooting her, even though he’d been horrified by Peaches’ injuries. How he’d secretly and anonymously called the coastguard so that she’d get picked up from the remote beach.
Frankie had been right all along. Alex was one of life’s good guys. He’d done the right thing then and he was doing the right thing now. Peaches knew how tough the Witness Relocation Programme would be for him. She knew what a huge sacrifice he’d made – and would continue to make, because for the rest of his life he was going to be a marked man. A Bratva target until the day he died.
Alex had spent hours with Harry and his team. Then the British and the Russians too. He’d blown the whistle on every aspect of Khordinsky’s businesses and many of his associates.
And now, it seemed, everyone, the Russians and the Americans, wanted a piece of Khordinsky’s ass, for murder and fraud, racketeering and money-laundering. The list went on. An almighty diplomatic tug-of-war was already raging as to where Khordinsky would stand trial. Not that it mattered to Peaches. Wherever he ended up, they were going to throw away the key.
Now, Peaches’ eyes locked with Alex’s. She nodded to him to let him know that the wire had worked and everything had been recorded.
‘Go. It’s OK,’ Peaches told Frankie. ‘Tell him thanks from me.’ Frankie broke away and rushed into Alex’s arms. He kissed Frankie and closed his eyes, holding her head against his chest.
Peaches and Emma marched on into the ballroom. She could tell that they were causing quite a stir, and not just because of the speed and purposefulness of their progress or the tough, no-nonsense business suits they were wearing. Thanks to Emma’s skilful manipulation of that dreadful De Vere Burrows woman, and her close liaisons with Damien, nearly every one of Emma’s acquaintances and former friends were here tonight.
Even Peaches had to admit it had been quite a hit list of people who’d shut Emma out. Now Peaches could see for herself how embarrassed and confused they were to see Emma back at Wrentham. But good old Emma, Peaches thought, she was tougher than all of them put together. And she was looking fantastic, walking tall, oozing raw charisma, like a politician who’d just been voted
back in. As she gripped Peaches’ arm, holding her head up high, Peaches knew that every moment of planning had been worth it.
Peaches smiled grimly, amazed as always by how unobservant people were. Peaches couldn’t be more aware that the whole operation had galvanized into action around them. Above them, through the glass dome, she could see the black silhouettes of the British armed response police unit fanning out. Every third waiter she passed seemed to have the tell-tale wire of an earpiece curling at their neck.
Beside the library door, Dieter, the bodyguard she recognized from Pushkin, was standing eyeing up the female guests, smoking a cigarette. Peaches saw his eyes widen with shock as two sets of gloved hands reached out and jerked him backwards into the library and out of sight. Nobody even noticed.
‘Who’s this?’ Peaches whispered to Emma as a woman in a pale pink evening gown approached them.
‘Natalya Khordinsky,’ Emma said.
So this was Khordinsky’s wife, Peaches thought, staring at her. She had a sharp but pretty face; her ears and throat glistened with diamond hearts. But Peaches knew they weren’t hearts that had been given out of love, but to dominate. She’d seen enough abused women in her life to spot the signs instantly: a dullness to the eyes, a hesitancy in the movements. She carried an aura of fear around her.
Natalya Khordinsky looked flustered and then horrified as she recognized Emma. ‘I . . . I—’ she began.
‘You haven’t invited us, we know,’ Peaches said, finishing her sentence. ‘Don’t worry, honey. We ain’t sticking around for long.’
‘There’s Willy,’ Emma said. ‘The Ambassador.’ She broke away from Peaches to stand next to a portly white-haired gentleman in a stiff dinner jacket.
And then Peaches was alone. She realized her legs were shaking as she took the final steps until she was behind Khordinsky.
He and his immediate companions were the only ones who hadn’t noticed Peaches’ and Emma’s entrance. He was talking to a group of people and they were laughing, either genuinely charmed by their host, or more likely because they were sycophants, members of the new emperor’s court. How dare he act so smug and in command? Peaches thought. How dare he have the audacity to behave like an English gentleman when he was rotten through and through? Well, she’d show him. And them. She was going to strip their emperor of his pretences once and for all.
