One Damn Thing After Another

by Dan Latus

  ‘Good. Ready to negotiate?’

  ‘I think so. Shall we discuss tactics?’

  We did. But the reality was that the situation did not lend itself to complex positioning. We had a proposal to put. Then we would respond to what the other side had to say about it. After that, we would be able to sense if we had the makings of a deal.

  ‘We are going first to the Presidium Hotel,’ Leon advised me as we walked out of the terminal in Prague and looked for the car he had ordered.

  ‘Nice name. Nostalgic – especially for you Russians.’

  He grinned. ‘It used to be called the Red Star Hotel.’

  ‘Even better. So that’s where the meeting will be?’

  ‘Yes. Tomorrow. We go there now because Blatko and Vorodin want to meet each side separately, in advance.’

  To tell us the rules of engagement, presumably. It made sense. I wondered again if they really would be able to ensure that Bobrik played by the rules. I still had my doubts. But if they could, they had to be something special.

  The Presidium Hotel was a massive block of 1960s concrete set on the banks of the river Vltava, not far from the city centre. In summer, the lawns sloping down towards the river would be alive with sprinklers and flower beds. Right now, they were buried beneath mountains of decaying snow from the recent blizzard.

  We were met in the entrance by a couple of tough-looking men. They had a few words with Leon and then walked us through an atrium stretching up to the sky and into an elevator that whisked us to the tenth floor. Once there, we were led along a walkway that bordered the atrium to what was obviously a very expensive suite, where Blatko and Vorodin were waiting.

  Leon addressed them briskly in Russian before turning to introduce Martha and myself. We shook hands with our hosts, and, with some alarm in my case, accepted kisses on both cheeks, Russian style. Then we all sat down around a conference table. This was where the big meeting was to be held, I gathered.

  One young woman brought round a tray of shot glasses containing what I assumed was vodka. Another occupied herself at a side table pouring tea from an enormous samovar, which was bubbling contentedly and emitting gentle puffs of steam. We were being given a traditional welcome.

  Blatko proposed a toast that I didn’t understand, and we all raised our glasses and drank. The women who had done the serving disappeared. The two men who had brought us here took up positions at a discreet distance from the table, guarding the door and their employers. Then Vorodin took the chair and made a short speech.

  I didn’t really know what he was saying, but I paid diplomatic attention. Martha, I noticed, did even better. I even wondered if she understood what was being said.

  I studied our hosts. Surprisingly, Vorodin, the alleged financial genius, was a thuggish looking man. Middle-aged, short and heavily built, he could have been a superannuated Olympic weight-lifter. Perhaps he was a great poker player, though, because his expressionless face gave nothing away. What he thought of us, and the entire situation, remained a mystery.

  Blatko, the drugs, arms and people trafficker, was also a surprise, but in an entirely different way. He was younger and slimmer, and with his sunny smile, altogether more presentable and attractive. Also, he was the one who spoke English.

  Just as I was thinking it was a waste of time my being there, if the whole conversation was to be in the Russian language, Blatko turned his smile towards me and said, ‘Welcome, Mr Doy. I admit to being surprised that Mr Podolsky’s close adviser is an Englishman, but I respect his choice. To save time, I will let him tell you later what I have been saying, but I want you to know that you are not being overlooked.’

  I nodded to acknowledge his courtesy and he turned back to Leon. Martha, I noticed, received neither a word nor a smile. It gave me the impression that women were not rated in their world, but Martha took it on the chin and didn’t object.

  Afterwards, Leon’s car collected us and we set off to his villa on the outskirts of the city. I noticed that the driver took considerable care to assess whether or not we were being followed, and engaged in some complicated evasive manoeuvres.

  At one point, two powerful cars came up behind us. At a slow speed, they occupied both the lanes going in our direction. It was a rolling road block that allowed us to speed off at high speed and stopped anyone who might have been following.

  I glanced at Leon.

  ‘Don’t worry, Frank. We are simply being careful.’

  I nodded. ‘I’m not worried, Leon. Just surprised, and impressed.’

  He sighed and said, ‘We are used to such things.’

  The Podolsky family, I assumed he meant. It was how they lived.

  ‘So what did Voronin say?’

  ‘Only what I expected to hear.’ He shrugged. ‘Both he and Blatko are anxious to bring hostilities to an end. The conflict threatens their own business operations. For that reason, they have accepted this task. They expect, and demand, that both parties enter negotiations in a spirit of partnership and cooperation.

  ‘Non-cooperation will not be accepted, or tolerated. They are both determined to avoid it. Any transgression will be met with appropriate sanctions. That’s all. We meet tomorrow at noon.’

  ‘Appropriate sanctions,’ I murmured. ‘What might they be, I wonder? Will thought of them be sufficient to restrain Bobrik?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Martha assured me earnestly. ‘There is no doubt about that.’

  I glanced at her, surprised by her intervention. She looked away.

  Leon nodded agreement. ‘Yes, indeed,’ he affirmed. ‘Only a fool would discount the combined power of Blatko and Vorodin in this city.’

  ‘But Bobrik is backed by the Kremlin,’ I pointed out.

  ‘And so are they,’ Leon responded with a steely glint in his eye. ‘So are they.’

  Chapter Forty

  LEON’S VILLA WAS A good place for us to retreat to after the preliminary session at the Presidium. It would probably have been a good place to retreat to at any time. Comfortable, safe, warm, well-staffed, it felt good to be there. Not exactly homely. It was too big and luxurious for that. But it was home for Leon, and I was happy to be there with him.

  We got ourselves installed and ate a late lunch. Then we got down to business. By then, Lenka had arrived to join us. She seemed in good form.

  ‘Well done!’ Leon told her. ‘Persuading Blatko and Vorodin to host the meeting can’t have been easy.’

  Lenka shrugged and yawned, but I could tell she was pleased by the compliment.

  ‘I just told them we were about to start a fire-bombing campaign of Russian-owned premises in Prague,’ she said airily. ‘If they wanted to stop it, they had to act now.’

  I stared at her. ‘Tell me you were joking?’ I demanded.

  Lenka just stared back at me. It was worrying. By then, I knew nothing was beyond her.

  ‘Well, it seems to have worked,’ Martha said quickly. ‘That’s the main thing.’

  I wasn’t sure it was, but I let it go.

  ‘What about the security arrangements?’ Leon asked.

  Lenka scowled. ‘OK, I think. They agreed to evacuate the entire tenth floor, and to guard every way of getting onto it.’

  ‘Can they do that?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Lenka said.

  I wondered how easy it would be.

  ‘Frank,’ Leon said patiently, ‘they own the Presidium. They can do whatever they like.’

  So that settled one question.

  We sorted out various other matters over the next hour or two. Then we were joined by Leon’s Czech lawyer, Dalibor, a big cheerful man who brought some welcome humour to our gathering.

  ‘The tenth floor of the Presidium?’ he said dubiously when Leon explained where the meeting was to be held the next day.

  ‘It is safe enough,’ Leon pointed out.

  ‘Possibly,’ Dalibor said even more doubtfully.

  Turning to me, he said, ‘This is your first visit to Prague, Mr Doy?�
��

  ‘Not quite. I was here for a few days just the other week.’

  ‘Ah! So you are aware of how we Czechs dispose of our political opponents?’

  ‘Elect them to Parliament, as we do in Britain?’

  ‘No, no! We defenestrate them. It is our custom.’

  I must have looked blank for a moment. Martha explained. ‘They push them out the window, Frank. Historically, I mean.’

  ‘Good God! Do they really?’

  Dalibor nodded vigorously. ‘It is true. It is also why holding a meeting on the tenth floor of any building in Prague is not such a good idea, in my opinion. Better, I think, to hold the meeting on a barge on the Vltava, preferably one with French cuisine and wine.’

  ‘And risk drowning?’ Leon queried.

  ‘Ah!’ Dalibor raised a hand, conceding the point. ‘I knew there was some reason not to do that. Perhaps the Presidium is best, after all.’

  Dalibor was obviously one of those lawyers who liked to hear themselves talk. He was good at holding the floor, which might well be exactly what we would need tomorrow. I began to warm to him.

  With his excellent English, and apparently good Russian as well, Dalibor was also to be the interpreter Martha and I needed in the first part of the meeting, before the principals joined the discussion. I wasn’t sure Martha needed an interpreter, but I certainly did.

  I had asked Martha if she knew the Russian language. No, she had told me. Just the odd word or two. I assumed she was being modest. At the meeting with Blatko and Vorodin, she had seemed quite comfortable following the discussion in Russian.

  I didn’t pursue it with her, but it reminded me how little I knew about Martha. Next to nothing, in fact. Our acquaintance, such as it was, had been very brief and recent. If she hadn’t obliged me to resign from my role at The Chesters, and then come to the Black Bull to try to persuade me to change my mind, I might not have got to know her at all.

  She’d been lucky, I couldn’t help thinking. If she hadn’t sought to change my mind, she would have been on the heap of the dead at The Chesters, along with Leon’s other employees. Very lucky, when you thought about it.

  I wondered if Bobrik had expected her to be there, at The Chesters, along with the others. Probably. He seemed to know an awful lot about Leon’s arrangements. So why wouldn’t he have known about the old house, and who was working on it?

  That set me to wondering where Bobrik’s information came from. How could he keep abreast of things in Leon’s world? Was he being informed? Was there a mole in Leon’s camp? Disquieting though the thought was, I had to wonder.

  Later, when the briefings were over and the others had dispersed, Martha and I spent some time together. Over a beer we chewed over what we had learned and what was still to come. I wasn’t too happy, and Martha spotted that.

  ‘What is it, Frank? Worried about tomorrow?’

  I sighed. ‘To some extent. Mostly, though, I’m just worried about what I’m doing here. Where do I fit in? What can I offer that other people in Leon’s team can’t? You, for example.’

  She smiled. ‘You really don’t know, do you? You haven’t figured it out yet.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘It’s about trust, Frank. Leon trusts you, trusts you to be on his side, and to be sensible and effective. You have proved that to him time and time again, starting with that fracas outside his hotel here in Prague, going on to Montenegro, and then to The Chesters.’

  I smiled, without feeling amused. ‘None of those episodes was a success, though, was it? Damage limitation, mostly.’

  ‘But that’s it! When things went wrong, you stepped in effectively. Each time, it could have been so much worse. Leon is an astute man. He knows what you did, and he appreciates it.’

  ‘A fat lot of good I’ll be tomorrow, though. Negotiating through a Czech interpreter, a man who seems to see it as his role in life to be jolly and entertaining. You’re the one with the knowledge and the detailed information, not me.’

  ‘You will bring gravitas to the proceedings, Frank. I can do some things. But, much as I hate to say this, when things go wrong – as they surely will again tomorrow – you’re better than me. You can respond mentally and physically – again I use the word – more effectively. Leon knows that. It’s why he wants you there.’

  I smiled, if reluctantly. ‘You’re wasted,’ I said. ‘You should be a high-earning psychotherapist who makes people feel good about themselves. Maybe in Manhattan.’

  ‘Am I good for you, Frank?’ she asked coyly.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ I said, taking her in my arms and smiling sincerely now. ‘You’re very good.’

  And so she was, to a point. But in the small hours, when she was asleep and I was still awake, I stared at her relaxed face and wondered who she was.

  Increasingly, I was aware that she was a stranger. We had shared some hectic hours together, some of them frankly terrifying, and we were good together in bed, but what did I really know of her? Not much. Not much more now than when I had met her for the first time at The Chesters.

  She worked for Leon, and she was a valued employee with capabilities that were important to him. Based in London, and British, she seemed to be one of his go-to people when there was a project to manage, someone who could be left to get on with picking up and running a new venture. That was about it, all I had been told or given to understand. But there was more to Martha than that, and some of it I was beginning to figure out for myself.

  One thing was my growing belief that despite what she said, Martha understood Russian. She probably spoke it as well. I had seen her intelligent face light up as she followed the discussions in the pre-meeting. Nothing odd about her having a language capability, you might say, but I was surprised Leon hadn’t mentioned it.

  Then there was Lenka’s mysterious word of advice. Did that come from jealousy, or did she know things I didn’t? Jealousy, probably. I knew myself that Lenka didn’t like outsiders getting into the family’s inner circle.

  I slipped out of bed without disturbing Martha and wandered over to the window. Still a snow-covered landscape out there. Being able to see the outside world gave me some reassurance and slowed my racing mind. It gave me a sense of perspective, too. I couldn’t stay cocooned in Leon’s world. I had to stay grounded, and have my own take on things if I was to make sense of them.

  Something bothering me a lot was how Bobrik seemed to know so much about Leon’s affairs and intentions. Once again, I was thinking about insider information, and about the possibility of there being a mole in Leon’s retinue. Surely not?

  I sighed and shook my head. Some things were beyond me to know. I would have to accept that, and try to sleep. Like Martha!

  I smiled fondly and gazed across the room at her. How did she do it? She had even more on her mind than I had. She was the one with all the knowledge about the gold mine.

  It was impossible to forget, as well, how much her world had been turned upside down lately. She had arrived at The Chesters all ready to go on her new project – and look at what had happened! In a few hours everything had changed, and she had found herself an endangered refugee, running for her life.

  How lucky she had been, though. Coming to persuade me to withdraw my resignation had meant she wasn’t murdered along with the others. In that sense, it couldn’t have worked out better for her if it had been planned. I shivered uneasily, not liking that insidious thought one little bit. I returned to bed, and eventually to sleep, troubled by where we were going with all this. I just didn’t believe things would work out well at the Presidium.

  Forty-One

  MARTHA AND I TRAVELLED to the Presidium with Leon and Dalibor in a posh Lexus saloon. I wondered if the car had bulletproof windows, and rather hoped it did.

  ‘What a beautiful morning!’ Dalibor said, glancing around admiringly at the wintry sunshine.

  Martha, very subdued, ignored him. I gave him a thin smile, wondering if the man had any idea what we were heading i
nto. Perhaps Leon hadn’t told him. I felt like asking him if he knew there was a good chance we might all end up riddled with bullets today.

  ‘Good luck, all of you,’ Leon said tersely before we got out of the car. ‘Call me when you can.’

  As we headed towards the entrance to the Presidium, I glanced over my shoulder and wondered where the Lexus was taking Leon.

  ‘A hotel around the corner,’ Martha said, divining my thoughts. ‘He will wait there.’

  Not far, then. Good. We might need him soon. I had limited confidence in the ability of Blatko and Vorodin to prevent the violence Bobrik was capable of unleashing.

  The two men who had escorted us the previous day met us with nods of recognition outside the entrance and shepherded us inside. The hotel was very quiet. Only a few people were sitting around in the atrium dining area as we passed through. Breakfast had finished, and lunch didn’t seem to have started. I was surprised and said something to Dalibor along the lines of it being my impression that Czechs ate lunch early.

  ‘The kitchen is closed because of a technical problem,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Today, guests are advised to eat lunch elsewhere – or miss it altogether.’

  I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘Yes,’ he added quietly. ‘It is for us, I believe.’

  I revised my opinion of Dalibor. Perhaps he did know what we were walking into.

  The conference room was as I remembered it: one big table, chairs around it for ten people, a couple of big potted palms, facilities for making tea and coffee, and big sliding glass doors giving access to a wide balcony overlooking the Vltava. Waiting for us were our hosts, Blatko and Vorodin.

  I was impressed with the stage management. As we entered the room, Bobrik’s contingent appeared from the other side. Our hosts were clearly intent on being even-handed. I took some comfort from that, but it was early days yet.

  Once again, Vorodin made a short speech in Russian to welcome us all formally. Then Blatko took over. He made the introductions, in both Russian and English, and with the help of four attendant men, got us seated at the table. Coffee and tea were served by two young women who discreetly withdrew from the room as soon as their task was completed.