She nodded and without a word took the arm he held out. Together they went up the stairs. At the top, he loosened her fingers from his arm and wordlessly pointed to the closest bench before he went over to the coat check area. The lobby was empty apart from the omnipresent security guards. Soon Nick returned and carefully helped her into her coat.
‘All okay?’ He looked at her intently.
She nodded.
‘Just act normally, but try not to make too much eye contact. Once outside, we will move quickly.’
Despite the intensifying throbbing pain in her head, Amelia managed to continue walking. Nick gripped her hand tightly and pulled her after him. Hurriedly they went down the marble stairs leading away from the theatre entrance, and walked quickly across the theatre square in the direction of TSUM, a former government department store which now hosted only top-end labels for the newly-rich. Amelia barely registered where they were going. Nausea was rising in her chest. As soon as they’d passed TSUM’s corner, Nick pulled her right sharply and increased his speed until they’d reached the store’s furthest corner. Here he pulled her into a darkened doorway that looked like a service entrance. He held a finger to his lips and for several breathless minutes they waited to see if anyone had followed them.
Finally, when he was satisfied that they were alone, Nick stepped away from the door and flagged down one of the city’s many gypsy cabs. Instinctively Amelia kept her head down as she got into the small car. Vaguely she was aware of Nick requesting a stop on Myasnitskaya Street, closer to the ring road which ran around the inner city. The journey was short and silent, and when they emerged from the old Lada, Amelia didn’t have a clear idea of where they were.
Again Nick pulled her after him, turning down unknown streets. Before long he steered her into another darkened doorway, but this time it wasn’t to hide. Miraculously the door opened as someone stepped through it and warm, yellow light streamed from inside. She followed Nick into what appeared to be a small neighbourhood restaurant. After a brief exchange a waiter led them to a corner table. The interior was simple. White tablecloths were draped over small, square tables and the décor was more that of a homely kitchen than a restaurant.
The same waiter appeared again, this time with two glasses of cognac.
‘Drink that,’ Nick said. She touched her temple, and despite her misgivings about consuming alcohol, she took a sip and let the liquid trickle down to her stomach where it warmed her instantly.
‘You might have concussion,’ Nick said, his face serious.
Amelia took another sip, relishing the warmth spreading through her.
‘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.’
A
melia 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 was 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.