want to take it. I need to take it. If it comes off, I’ll tell you about it one day from my island off Mexico.’
‘Okay, it sounds as if you’ve no choice and you’ve made your mind up. I really do wish you luck, Lee. Let me know how it turns out. But…’ He paused. ‘Watch your back. I really mean that. You know what I’m saying, don’t you? Good friends are hard to find, especially here in Moscow. From what I’ve heard, osmium means big bucks and that brings out the worst in people. These deals attract the most unscrupulous and dangerous characters. But then you probably knew that already. So let’s eat together soon. And again, I’m sorry for breaking the news the way I did.’
‘Sure,’ said Crocker. ‘I’ll catch you just as soon as things have gotten a little settled.’
Jack’s news had left Crocker weak and a little shaky, but after a few minutes, when the effects of shock had passed off, he knew he felt better for the conversation. Now at least he had learned some facts to get him going, asking questions.
From the bottom drawer of his desk, he took the half-empty bottle of Glenmorangie, and sinking back into his chair, eyes tightly shut, took a long slug. The relaxing effect was almost instant, allowing him to consider his options once again.
He picked up the pad from his desk and spent the next few minutes drafting and redrafting a letter to Gerry Weinberg, his New York manager. He was careful to strike a balance between, convincing Gerry that Slava’s deal deserved his experienced attention, and inadvertently giving too much away to a third party who might be intercepting the message locally. When he was satisfied he had it right, he pressed his intercom button.
‘Lina? Come in, please. And bring a notepad.’
He tidied his hair with a quick flick of the hand and checked his tie was straight. She was even prettier than he had initially registered. Was he mistaken or did he sense his pulse-rate pop up a few notches on seeing her standing in front of him? He guessed she was about five seven or eight, with a full figure. The hair was now less severe; no longer pulled back tightly in a bun, but cascading loosely onto her shoulders. It was difficult not to smile at her happy Slavic face, but he couldn’t help noticing her beautiful pale-blue eyes perched above pools of crimson Russian blusher.
‘Hi, Lina. I’m so pleased you decided to join us at JC Metals. Please sit down.’
From the look in her eyes he could tell she knew she had a body that would turn on the lowest testosterone-count male, and he sensed she was definitely interested in him.
She sat neatly on the edge of a chair in front of his desk, and, despite the temptation, Crocker avoided looking at her legs. When he found the final version he had been working on, he said, ‘Lina, I’d like you to send a fax to New York for the attention of Gerry Weinberg, to read as follows:
‘Dear Gerry,
‘I need your help on a potential project. Please arrange to come to London for a meeting as soon as possible. It is not convenient at this time to write more fully, but I would appreciate your brother Mark accompanying you. I have something of great interest and need to discuss it, preferably with both of you.
‘Please advise your ETA and I shall arrange hotel, etc.
‘Regards, etc.
‘Mark it “Private and Confidential” and let me see it before it goes, would you, please?’
He sat watching her writing the last few words in some form of shorthand, mouthing the words as she wrote. Watching her was far from a chore. Eventually she looked up.
‘Yes, Mr Lee, I’ll bring it to you as soon as it’s ready.’ She uncrossed her legs delicately and stood, still keeping her eyes on Crocker’s in case there was anything else.
‘Okay, Lina,’ he said. Those eyes had hooked him at their first meeting. He watched her leave the room and it was as she closed the door that he realised he was in a better mood.
It wasn’t long before there was a polite tap on the door. She was back.
‘Sorry to trouble you, Mr Lee, but was that “ETA”?’
‘Yup, I should have explained, “estimated time of arrival”. Okay?’
When she returned, Crocker took the sheet of paper from her and read it. He was impressed. ‘That’s excellent. Thanks.’ He signed.
‘Say,’ he added, seemingly as an afterthought as she reached the doorway, ‘I understand you live in the centre of town.’
‘That’s right. Why do you ask?’
‘I thought maybe you would know of some good jazz clubs in town? Music and good food?’
‘Why of course, Mr Lee. I know of lots.’
‘Would you write down a few addresses for me?’
‘I don’t know the exact addresses but I could take you if you would like.’
‘Yeah? Are you sure you wouldn’t mind one evening?’
‘Of course not, Mr Lee. It would be my pleasure. By the way, I like music too. You must let me know when.’
It was Lina who broke eye contact first.
10
Moscow
Holding a folder with both hands, Inspector Burov stood at the side of his desk with all the trappings of a busy working office around him. The room was small and brown, with papers strewn across the desk, coloured folders balanced precariously on the edge of shelves and a full ashtray half buried under an open box-file. The inspector had long, unkempt hair, stood around five ten, and was excessively slim. He looked more like an academic than a cop with his over-large tweed sports jacket. His un-manicured ginger goatee was barely visible against his red and grey check shirt. Half an almost dead Yava hung from his lips.
‘The river is often used to dispose of problem corpses,’ explained the inspector. ‘With the help of the fish, it helps with decomposition, and after only a few days interferes a lot with identification. Fortunately for the police at least, your brother was wearing underpants bought in New York and his shirt had his monogram, I think you call it, on it. You’ll excuse my English, but I’m still attending night school. Fortunately there aren’t many American visitors with the initials P.A.C.’
Crocker nodded but remained silent, recalling the fad his brother had for putting initials on shirts and handkerchiefs.
‘Other than that, Mr Crocker,’ the inspector continued, ‘there’s nothing more of interest to tell you. There were no traces of the perpetrators near the crime scene, but then we would not have expected to find any. Witnesses, if any, would be too frightened to come forward, and anyway, this would have been done in the very early hours of the morning when most law-abiding citizens were asleep.’
‘And that’s all you can tell me?’
‘Yes, unfortunately, except that this type of execution is usually carried out by organised crime. They just want answers. They don’t need reasons. Any excuse would do. The case is still open, but in all honesty, Mr Crocker, the chances of finding those who did it are nil.’
