Dancing in
the Dark – Part 5
Sunday 4th December
9 am GMT
Chelsea
“So they did
bug the apartment,” Shirley said as she sat in her study.
“They did,
Madame,” George said, “not very well either – I removed them under the guise of
a full sweep. My contacts at the
precinct house tell me they are claiming to be opportunist thieves.”
“And I am the
queen of Sheba,” Shirley said quietly.
“You have informed Caroline?”
“Indeed - she
is due back tomorrow, and we will talk then.
Juliette also knows.”
“Very well –
maintain a watching brief, George, and we will talk with Caroline tomorrow.”
“Madame,”
George said as he ended the call, Shirley looking for a moment at a photo on
her screen. She then dialled a number.
“Cat? Can you meet me in the office at six
tonight? I think I may have a way to
scratch an itch for both of us…”
11 am CET
Rome
As she sat at
the roadside table, Andrea smiled at the woman who walked to join her.
“You know,” she
said as her sister sat down, “we should establish if it is going to be Lucia or
Giovanna.”
“As we
discussed, when it is just us or family, I am happy to be Giovanna – but the
world at large knows me as Lucia, so there it should be that.”
“I guess that
must be the case, but still… Lucia, may
I ask a question?”
“You may ask,
and I will answer – if I can. Two
cappuccinos please.”
The waiter
nodded and walked off as Andrea shook her head.
“You said when we met you worked with a group, that Peter’s other wife
was involved with. As a Doctor?”
Lucia nodded as
she said “do you remember the slave girl story last year in San Francisco?”
“I read the
story of their liberation – oh my, were you?”
“Tangentially,
yes – I know the women who freed them, and was asked to provide medical
support. I then – well, let us just say
I have seen combat as well.”
Nodding, Andrea
said “and you say you feel you have achieved nothing?”
“Perhaps… Perhaps I am changing my opinion,” Lucia said
with a smile, “but that is where my calling is.”
“I feel… I feel as if there is something I should do
to atone…”
“There is no
need for you to atone for anything,” Lucia said as she put her hand on her
sister’s, “no need at all.”
“Still – after
the wedding, perhaps…”
“There is a
shelter where some of the girls still stay – and they need volunteers. I can put you in touch with someone.”
“Thank you,”
Andrea said with a smile as the coffees were placed down in front of them.
“So what is
happening with his body?”
“I am having
him cremated here – and then I will have someone in South Africa take care of
them. I just want him out of my life
completely…”
Noon Local
Time
Johannesburg
John Vosloo
looked at the monitor and smiled before he pressed a button, walking to the
front door of his house as the car drew up, and Henrik Botha got out.
“Hennie – this
is a rare privilege,” John said as he looked at his former boss, wearing a
black blazer over a white shirt and grey pants, “and in civvies yet. Can I offer you a drink?”
“Ja,” Henrik
said as he walked into the house, “is Marianne here?”
“No – she went
to the ranch to see how the first guests are settling in,” John said as they
went into the study, and he poured some whisky into two glasses. Handing one to Hennie, he said “so what does
bring you here?”
“I thought I
would tell you in person – they’re putting me out to pasture.”
“They are,”
John said as he raised an eyebrow, “why?”
“After that
business in America, I was on thin ice anyway, but – have you heard about Peter
Green?”
“No,” John said
as he indicated the armchairs, “I knew he was on gardening leave, but that was
all.”
“Well,
apparently he got it into his head the Marchesa had hidden his wife, and
decided to try and force the issue by kidnapping her daughter.”
“Kidnapping
Charlotte? So what happened?”
“He was killed
by the Carabinieri, when they tried to stop him. His squad are dead, under arrest in one case
– or missing.” Sitting forward, Hennie
said “the Sisters…”
“If they
thought Charlotte was threatened, they would defend her,” John said quietly.
“That’s what I
thought – so, I am now in the retirement program.”
“What are you
going to do with yourself?”
“I have a few
irons in the fire…”
Noon GMT
The McAdam
Apartment
Bayswater Road
“Mum – you have
visitors?”
“Oh – and who
is it,” Agnes said as she came out of the drawing room, to see Laura standing
with two young woman – one brunette, the other blonde – both wearing leather
jackets over woollen dresses.
“Good lord,” Agnes
said with a smile, “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Surprise! Hello Aunt Aggie,” the brunette said.
“Hello Liz,
it’s been a while,” Agnes smiled as she came over and hugged the new arrival. “Laura, this is my goddaughter, Liz
Paterson. Liz, this is my daughter
Laura.”
“I heard you
had adopted two girls – it’s a real pleasure to meet you, Laura.”
“Well, come
through – Laura, you and Miley need to be ready in an hour to go to lunch.”
“Yes Mum –
MILEY!” As Laura went into the bedroom,
Agnes took the two visitors into the front room.
“So, what
brings you to my doorstep?” she asked as she closed the door.
“Well, first, this
is my roommate from back home,” the blonde gestured to the dark haired woman
with her. “Kirsten Rucker, please meet Dr. Agnes McAdam.”
“Hello
Kirsten,” Agnes smiled as she kissed the blonde on the cheek. “I know both your parents, John of course, but
particularly Katy.”
“So they
said. When I told them we were meeting
you both my parents told me to say hello.”
“So what can I
do for you girls?” Aggie invited them both to sit.
“Well Kirsten
is doing a diploma in counselling,” Liz said as she sat with her legs to the
side, “and I said that some of my contacts over here might be prepared to talk
to her about the craft as she works on her theses.”
“Oh?” Agnes
lifted an eyebrow.
“Particularly
you Aunt Aggie.”
“Why me
Kirsten? I’m no longer active in that world…
Your own mother is a far better Domme then I ever dreamed of being, and
the psychology of dominance is her academic specialty”
“Because I want
this to be my own work and research,” Kirsten said with a smile, “so no one
says I merely regurgitated her views.”
“Can’t Liz
help? She’s not exactly a bad Domme herself you know?”
Kirsten shook
her head. “Well, I know most of her
friends. What I’m seeking are couples especially whose marriages were effected
in some way by involvement with, or contact with, the BDSM community. And I
need them to be strangers so I have no preconceived ideas about them.”
“Can you help
line some people up for her to meet?” Liz asked.
“Actually I
might be able to,” Agnes thought hard, “but in return there is a famous Russian
model and her ex-husband, who I hope you will break ethics and tell me what
they say to you if they will speak to you.”
“Oh? Am I allowed to know why?”
“Let us say –
it will help inform a situation that could turn nasty. How long are you in town?”
“A few things –
why?”
“Let’s meet for
lunch Tuesday – I fly to the US for a wedding on Thursday…”
“Speaking of
weddings,” Liz said with a smile, “do I get an invite to yours?”
“Of course you
do…”
“Thank you,”
Liz said with a smile, “by the way, Alex asked me to say hello to you as well.”
“Oh,
really? I heard she met with a friend of
mine recently – Juliette von Furstenheim?”
“Yeah – she’s
working on a new book about female academics, and she wanted to tap her for
information about her ancestor, Jane Huntingdown.”
“Yeah – I
understand her book is coming out soon,” Agnes said with a smile. "I'm just sorry that I missed Alex's
wedding Liz, but at the time I was still barred from the US. I hope she understood?”
"She understood,” Liz said with a smile, “and she hopes that if you
are going to go see Cress Adams next time you are in the States, that you'll
have dinner with her and RJ."
"I'll try," Agnes smiled again, "although it will not be this
visit. Incidentally, I hear Cressy
finally has got over her jealousy of Anita?"
"Yes, I think she now understands why it seemed Aunt Katy favored Mom over
her."
"Good. By the way I was shocked to
hear that Anita was actually Alexandra's mother as well."
"No more
shocked then she and I were, I assure you.
What a tangled web we weave at times…"
"Is Alex
sill your Mistress Liz?"
"Oh just
occasionally, RJ lets me submit to her," Liz laughed, "but I'm 95% Domme
nowadays, far less of a Switch."
Looking over, she said “do you miss those days?”
“No – now I
have my life and Donald back, and the girls, I don’t. Also, the school keeps me busy.”
“The school?”
“Agnes runs a
school that supports street kids in London,” Liz said as she looked at
Kirsten. “It’s one of the best kept
secrets of the city.”
1 pm GMT
Benenden
School
“Olga?”
The young girl
turned and smiled as she said “Eve – what’s wrong?”
“You’ve got a
visitor – reception desk.”
“I have?” Olga made her way to the entrance lobby and
stopped when she saw th tall woman standing there in a trouser suit and
blouse.”
“Mummy? What brings you down here?”
Tatiana looked
at her daughter, in her short sleeved blouse and jeans, and said “I wanted to
spend some time with you. Are you busy?”
“Nothing that
cannot wait – why don’t we go for a walk in the grounds? I haven’t got a pass out today.”
“Sounds
wonderful,” Tatiana said as they made their way out and started to walk across
the lawns.
“So, Mummy,”
Olga said as they walked down a hill, “Why are you really here?”
“Always a
cynic… How did things go with your
father Olga?”
“Pretty much as
usual,” the girl smiled as they walked along, “we talked but somehow managed
not to tell each other anything personal or important.”
Tatiana laughed
as she shook her head. “Yes… He said you
were asking questions.”
“Yes, and he
was not answering them anymore then you do Mummy.” Olga took a deep breath, “Look
- I’m not a little girl anymore you know, isn’t it about time you both told me
what happened?”
“Probably,”
Tatiana paused to think. “Put simply your father found someone else to fall in
love with, I found out and confronted him, he didn’t deny it and I threw him
out.”
Looking at her
mother, seeing the tear in her eye, Olga simply nodded. “Did he…
Did he never explain or say sorry?”
“No, I gave him
opportunities, but he just communicated through his solicitors, and since then
we have only really talked about you darling.”
“Who is this
woman, he never mentions her?”
“I don’t know,”
Tatiana said as they sat on a bench, “but I heard it didn’t last anyway, and
that he’s not seen anyone since he went back to Moscow.”
“Nor have you
Mummy,” Olga tried to look in her Mothers eyes for answers.
“Oh there have
been a few…”
“Don’t lie
Mummy, you’ve been as celibate as an nun.”
“Unlike…”
“My sex life is
irrelevant,” Olga giggled, “we are talking about you.”
“Olga,” Tatiana
said quietly, “I still have feelings for your father, but trust – that trust
has gone, and I am not sure we could ever rebuild it.”
“Not as it
was,” Olga said, “but you need to talk this out, and perhaps something else
will grow again.”
“When did you
become so wise, little one?”
Olga threw her
head back and laughed as she said “well, I am being educated at the best school
in England.”
She watched
from a distance – first her father, now her mother? She needed to report this…
“I have to
return,” Tatiana said as they stood up, “I will see you in three weeks for the
holidays.”
“Of course –
and thank you for telling me Mummy,” Olga said as they hugged and then walked
back to the car, the young girl smiling as she drove off.
A mile down the
road, Tatiana pulled her car over in the lay-by and turned the engine
off. She had just told Olga a lie. No her trust in Yuri wasn’t gone. If
only he would tell her exactly what had happened she knew that she still loved
him so much that she would believe him implicitly.
Olga would
probably not understand that, how she craved an explanation so that she could
do what she really wanted to do, and that was throw herself in Yuri’s arms and
tell him just how much she loved him.
“Oh that it was
that simple and easy,” she whispered to herself. “WE could talk ti through, work things out…”
But it wasn’t,
Tatiana wasn’t stupid, in her head she knew that more was going on than a man
and a woman falling in love, then suddenly parting. Somehow politics and power
had intruded on what had been her perfect life. It was the other thing she knew
that she trusted Yuri about even now. Whatever was happening he was still
looking out for her and Olga.
“Oh God Yuri,”
she said to herself before she drove off, the black car starting again a moment
later…
9 pm GMT
Golder’s
Green
Illyana smiled
as she watched the end of the film – She enjoyed having her weekends to herself
these days, and besides – her guaranteed income meant she could take long
weekends.
She stood up
and stretched her thin body, the white silk blouse sticking to her body and the
tight leather pants hugging her legs. The
four inch stiletto shoes were held on by the thinnest of ankle straps, but she
did not care. Illyana may be approaching
that time they called middle age, but she had no intention of going into that
good night without a fight.
Walking to the
bathroom, she closed the door – even though she was the only person in the
house, she still valued her privacy. It
was when she stepped out, having done all she needed to do, that she realised
she was no longer alone.
The first clue
was the sudden pressure in the small of the back, like a small pipe had been
pressed against it. The second was the
woman standing in front of her, dressed from head to foot in black, only her
eyes and lips showing – the eyes heavy with black eye shadow, the lips bright
red.
“Good evening,
bitch,” she said, her voice with an Irish Brogue, “do me a favour –
scream. I would so love to hit you right
now.”
“Who are you,”
Illyana said quietly.
“You may call
me My Lady – is that not right, Madame?”
“It is,” a second
female voice said form behind her, this one with a tinge of a French accent,
“so be respectful.”
“I will not be
respectful to a pair of dyke intruders, sooooffff…” The wind was driven from her by the blow of
the gloved clenched fist into her stomach, My Lady smiling as she said “that
was – impolite. Such actions will be
punished – Madame?”
The pressure
was taken from her back – and then Illyana felt the blow to the back of her
legs, making her knees bend as she fell hard onto the floor, then felt the
riding crop as it was pulled back against her throat.
“So,” My Lady
whispered as she looked down, “will you be sensible, and tell us where your
valuables are, or do we have to persuade you.”
She smiled as there was no response, before she said “good – I need some
exercise. Madame?”
Illyana looked
up to see the second woman stare down at her, her green eyes shaded by the dark
eyeshadow, her lips black, smiling as she said “do scream – it would give me
great pleasure to make sure you never make any sound ever again.” She then took the crop away and pulled the
woman’s wrists behind her back, before there was a rasping sound and the feel
of the thin nylon strip digging into her flesh as her wrists were secured
together.
She heard the
rasping sound again as her ankles were forced together, My Lady kneeling down
and stroking her gloved hand down Illyana’s cheek as she said “I’ll ask again –
where are your valuables?”
“Go to hell.”
The slap stung
her as it came, suddenly, without warning, before she saw the red rubber ball
in Madame’s hand in front of her mouth.
Illyana clamped her mouth shut, determined not to allow them to silence
her in that way.
“Oh that’s cute
– you think you can do that and breathe.”
Illyana stared
at them, defiant, prepared – for anything except the short, heavy smack on her
bottom, but she managed to control herself – and then she felt the slap on her
cheek again.
Still she
remained defiant – even when Madame reached round and ripped her blouse open,
the buttons flying in all directions asshe pulled it down her arms, and then
pulled her bra off. It was when the
gloved hands started to squeeze and massage her breasts that she started to
struggle – and then scream as her nipples were pinched.
A scream that
was silenced as the ball was shoved past her teeth, and her mouth covered with
white tape that sealed the ball into place.
She stared at the woman called My Lady as she threw the roll of tape to
the side, and knelt down, smiling as she said “I had hoped you would cooperate
– I see now we have to make sure you cannot raise the alarm, and make sure you
are – suitably distracted.”
“Duurhwhrsstt,”
she mumbled – and then groaned as My Lady began to grope her chest, the leather
gloved fingers sinking into her breasts as she tried to fight the feelings of
what might happen.
She was aware
of the other one – Madame – passing rope around her body as the groping
continued, her arms being forced into her sides so that she could not move them
away, and ten around her upper arms.
With each pass, it was pulled tighter, the bands pressing down on her
bare breasts – which meant they were more open to the assault on them by the
gloved hands, as Illyana closed her eyes and groaned. Memories of past events were flooding back
into her mind…
“WTTHTHHFHHFKKKK!!”
Her eyes shot
open as My Lady fastened the metal clips onto her nipples, the pain and the
burning shooting through her as Madame fed the rope under one arm, up and
around the back of her neck, and then under the other arm.
“Now,” My Lady
said as she looked into Illyana’s eyes, “the combination to your safe.”
“Whtshhff….”
“Oh dear,” My
Lady said as she looked up, and Illyana heard the footsteps behind her. “If Madame finds you do have a safe, trust me
– you will regret it.”
Illyana merely
stared back, defiant despite the pain that was shooting through her while My
Lady looked over her shoulder, smiling before she looked back into the bound
woman’s eyes.
“Oh dear…”
The pain suddenly
increased as My Lady pulled down sharply on the chain that hung between her
nipples, while at the same time she felt a pair of hands pulling down her
leggings, leaving her panties exposed.
“What is the
combination to the safe?”
“Gtthhll…. Hmghdd…”
Illyana was confused now, the pain making her ache – but something
else. How long had it been since she had
worked in that place, before she had been called to service – how much had she
done this to men, and some women – and why had she not realised the way it can
make you feel…
She felt the
cold metal at her hips, and then felt the material of her panties give way, as
she tried to resist – but then she heard the click, and saw the flame as My
Lady held the lighter under the metal chain.
At first it was a slow, warming feeling – and then the metal got hotter
and hotter, burning her nipples, searing her breasts, getting more and more
intolerable…
“HLLLRHTHTTTTTSHTHHHPPP!”
My Lady nodded
as she took the flame away, the pain still burning as the tape was ripped from
her mouth and the red ball fell out, droll running down her cheek.
“The
combination.”
Illyana glared
at the masked woman, and then gave a sequence of numbers.
“Now
backwards.”
As she said the
sequence in reverse, a gloved hand came over her shoulder, handing My Lady her
panties – cut at the side, darker and damper in the middle, and for a moment
she wondered why.
Then she found
out as a gloved hand stroked up between her legs, My Lady smiling as she said
“see – cooperate and you’ll be rewarded.”
“You… You have no idea who the hell you’re fucking
with here…”
“Interesting
choice of words,” My Lady said quietly, and then Illyana’s eyes closed as she
felt the gloved finger ease past her petals, into her passage, and she felt the
sweetest of sensations.
Because it was
a woman, it felt different – but the effect was the same, as she felt the
dampness suddenly increase, and then she groaned. Even more so when My Lady groaned as well –
and then she felt the dildo as it was thrust into her.
From behind,
and not where the finger was. She opened
her eyes – and her scream was cut off as her panties were stuffed into her
mouth, and the tape wound tightly round her head.
“Madame?”
“I have her
valuables,” the voice behind her said as she felt the device move to and fro,
making her shake, “but i found other things – documents, and so on, that prove
she was working to the detriment of our fine country.”
Illyana opened
her eyes wide as her body began to shake – how did she know?
“I see – how
unfortunate,” Mt Lady said as Illyana felt the orgasm build inside her, the vibrations
in her rear and the motion in her front passage making her feel giddy,
delirious – and then her whole body shake as she screamed.
And then
screamed again as the clamps were removed – along with her nipples, My Lady
holding the scalpel before Madame brought the riding crop down on her bare back
and shoulders.
She looked
through tear filled eyes at My Lady, the metal hanging from her gloved hand
before she let it drop on the floor, and then hit her with the clenched gloved
fists as the crop came down time and again on her face and head, the dildo in
her rear passage still vibrating as both women continued to assault her.
As the blows
rained down, Illyana asked one question.
Why…
“Why?” It was a
question that a whole group of friends were asking themselves across the world.
In London
Tatiana Ulyanova was asking it about Yuri her ex-husband. Across town the
Marchesa di Cambrello was asking it about her meeting with Yuri Makarov the
next morning.
In New York
both Juliette and Klaus were trying hard not to think what was going to happen
in London…and failing. Elsewhere in the metropolis, Missy Auerbach was trying
to distract herself by thinking instead about her new model discoveries, Mel
and Krys.
“Why did they
bring in Yuri?” the question would not leave Juliette’s brain.
Others had
different preoccupations going on. Tommy Boynton was buying things in for
Krys’s new apartment, and dreaming of the future. John and Shirley were deep in
wedding thoughts, while Kylie Mitchell sweated on last second adjustments to
the brides dress.
As always Mary
Thomas was juggling a dozen things at once, while teachers and students at St
Angela’s spent Sunday getting prepared for the new school week.
Meanwhile in
Moscow a gathering of rich and powerful men were meeting over a fine late meal
to discuss the questions and answers that no one else did.
“So,” the dark
haired man said as he looked across the table at Oleg Byushin, “as fine as your
food and entertainment has been, we do need to discuss certain matters.”
“Indeed,”
Byushin said as he sat back, the vodka glass in his hand. “So allow me to ask of you first – how does
our glorious leader feel about how things have gone in the United States?”
“He is totally
unaware of anything that may have happened recently, or of any possibility of
any groups he may have responsibility for having any involvement in the recent
elections.”
Byushin nodded
as the man continued “having said which, I think he is surprised and delighted
with the way things have turned out. It
is certainly true that the President Elect will be more – amenable to our
suggestions.”
“I can
imagine,” Oleg laughed, “after all, it is a total vindication of the words of
Phineas T Barnum, no?”
“I think we can
look forward to some very profitable years ahead,” the man said with a
smile. “The heads of the local families
are also happy to support our leaders, given it may profit them so much.”
“From past
experience, I can imagine he is looking forward to similar opportunities as
well – did you meet his sons and son in law?”
“I did not, but
I am aware of the meetings in New York – if they ever become public
knowledge…. Let me put it this way, in
my own opinion?”
“But of
course.”
“His sons are
fools, but they are not idiots. They
know they need his protection – let us hope they never truly upset him.”
Oleg nodded,
before he said “and soon, I hope to help him to meet some new friends as well.”
“What of
Melania?”
“She
understands,” Oleg said quietly.
“It is his
daughter you need to watch.”
“She is not
like them.”
“No – but she
is of their family. But to talk of your
exploits – I understand your plans may have hit a snag?”
“In a way – I
had not appreciated that the von Fursteinheim family would care so much about
this company.”
“Even though
Her Serene Highness is one of their top models?”
“True – but we
make slow progress.”
The man shook
his head. “There is a reason we offered
the services of Makarov to you – you are going to hit strong opposition, in our
opinion.”
“The Marchesa?”
“Indeed – our
files on her are – revealing. But the
gains if you succeed. Not only a way of
establishing new contacts, but to reward those who have done work for us.”
“But why
Makarov?”
“Because we say
so – is that a problem?”
Oleg Byushin
shook his head – he knew he had strayed to the line. “No – I welcome his input.”
“One thing - the visit of your New York representative
to their offices.”
“He has been –
disciplined.”
“Good – tread
softly, and keep us informed…”
7 pm PT
Oakland
Hills
“We’re back,”
Mary Clark announced as she carried the bags into the apartment, Allison and
Vicky following her in.
“Dad?”
“In here,” they
heard their father call out as they walked into the man room, Suzie and the
boys waiting for them.
“So how did it
go?” Dave asked as the girls kissed him and their siblings.
“I think they
discovered just how hard and tiring this work can be,” Mary looked contentedly
at the youngsters, “but they both did excellent jobs.”
“That’s what is
important,” Dave looked proudly at his daughters.
“What did the
catalog people have to say?’ David asked.
“Oh they seemed
pleased,” Vicky smiled. “And not just with us, but with Mel as well.”
“Mel was fun to
work with,” Allison paused for a second, “the photographer thought we worked
well as a team.”
“She’s so fit,”
Vicky looked thoughtful, “she could do poses that there was no way I could do,
I need work on improving.”
“Well not
tonight,” Dave smiled, “big family dinner, then bed…you have school tomorrow
remember?”
“We know,” the
youngsters groaned.
“Go and
unpack,” Mary said with a smile, “who’s cooking?”
“You know what,
we’ll order in…”
Monday 5th December
8 am GMT
The Dorchester Hotel
Looking out of the window, Yuri Makarov nodded as he surveyed Park
Lane. He did love this city, and as he
sipped from his coffee cup he smiled.
This was going to be a good day.
For a moment, the talks he had taken part in over the weekend made him
think – and then the call he got last night came back to mind. Shaking his head, he put his cup down on the
side table and walked to where some papers were collated in a manila file on
the long recliner.
“Alright know thy enemy,” Yuri whispered as he looked at the file on
the Marchesa. “What does all this tell me?” he said to himself as he quickly
read the reports.
Ex Naval Intelligence, heiress to a vast fortune, daughter,
granddaughter, hobbies include sailing and horse-racing. All that he was
already aware of, of course, but it seemed to be only surface detail.
“What don’t I know?” he asked himself as he looked at the papers.
“I suppose her service background, and family business explain why she
specializes in maritime and commercial law,” he whispered. Certainly the briefs
she had already filed in this matter were textbook perfect.
“Are all those who suspect La Bionda Idiota was merely a cover right,
or had she indeed recovered her mental health after being reunited with her
daughter?” That was an intriguing question, if irrelevant to his current work.
That she had become a close friend of Klaus and Juliette’s made him smile, even
though it was a smile tinged with sadness. He hated that what had happened had
cost him some friends he truly loved as well as his wife and daughter.
“No use crying though,” he told himself aloud. “What happened happened,
and I must live with the consequences.”
This business was going to be tricky, that much was obvious. Sigrid von Manschen was a formidable
intellect, but she was right to have recused herself – only to be replaced by
an equally formidable opponent. He was
fully aware of who he was working for, and he knew all too well the depth of
feeling others had expressed. He wished
he could pull out, tell them this was not going to work - but the stakes and consequences of his doing
so were too frightening to contemplate. No, he knew that at least the Marchesa
was an opponent was worthy of his brains, and in that he could take
comfort.
Standing up, he went to put on his jacket. Breakfast, and then his minder would take him
to Lancaster Gate…
10 am GMT
Lancaster Place
As the car drew
up outside the townhouse, Yuri looked out of the rear window. It was a perfect location – fitting with the
surroundings, discrete, and yet perfect.
“Do you need me
to come in with you?”
“No,” he said
to the driver, “but keep watch out here.
I suspect this will be cordial, but I will alert you if that is not the
case.”
“You know, they
speak of the Marchesa di Cambrello in my former employment – she is rumoured to
have been a specialist in – tricky works.”
“Perhaps – but
equally, she is the appointed legal contact, and I must be about my work.”
The driver
nodded as he stepped out and opened the door, Yuri getting out and holding his
briefcase as he walked up the stone steps.
He noticed the plaque on the wall.
“Di Cambrello
Consultants.”
Nodding, he
pressed the doorbell and waited, then smiled as the door was opened by an older
woman wearing a grey coat dress. “Good
morning,” he said with a smile, “Yuri Makarov – I have an appointment with the
Marchesa di Cambrello.”
“You are
expected, sir,” the woman said as she stood to the side, “if you will come with
me?”
Yuri nodded as
he walked in, waiting for the door to close before the woman took her to an
outer office. The young woman who was
typing looked up, as she said “Mister Makarov?”
Yuri nodded as
she stood up. “If you will come this way
– Mrs Harris, can you arrange some coffee please?”
“Of course,”
the older woman said as the assistant knocked on the door.
“Come.”
“Mister Yuri
Makarov, Marchesa,” she said as she opened the door, Yuri walking in. He saw the tall, blonde haired woman standing
by the desk, wearing a designer jacket and skirt with a white camisole
underneath, and next to her a second woman, darker skinned, wearing a white
blouse and tan pants.
“Mister
Makarov, thank you for calling today – Peri, is coffee being prepared?”
“Mrs Harris
will bring it in presently.”
“Good – Hannah,
that looks fine, have the papers prepared for my signature later today. Please, take a seat.”
“I thank you,”
Yuri said as he sat on one side of the large mahgonay desk, the other two women
leaving as Mrs Harris brought a tray with two cups and a coffee pot on it. Setting it on the desk, he watched the
Marchesa as she poured some coffee.”
“Cream and
sugar?”
“No – thank
you,” he said as he put his case ont eh floor, and accepted the proferred
cup. He looked round – professional, and
well laid out as an office.
“So, Mister
Makarov…”
“I prefer Yuri,
if that is acceptable.”
“Francesca – I
would prefer that, at least for these meetings, we keep the tone as informal as
possible, given the reason we are meeting.”
She had already impressed him, as she sat and said “you understand why I
have been asked to act as the legal representative?”
“I do indeed –
as the Baroness von Manschen is a member of the family who is a major
shareholder in NorStar SA, there is a natural conflict of interest.”
“What I do not
understand,” Francesca said with a smile, “is why you rather than a Byushin
attorney are handling this discussion?
It would make more sense normally to discuss directly with them.”
Yuri raised an
eyebrow, before putting his cup down and saying “shall we say, I was asked to
act as an intermediary, given my experience in – difficult negotiations?”
“True – but,
and forgive me if this is a delicate question – is not the fact your former
wife is a model represented by NorStar also a conflict of interest.”
Smiling, Yuri
said “the key word in that statement is former, Marchesa – my divorce
arrangement with her includes clauses that mean I take no part in any of her
business dealings.”
“Not even when
it involves your daughter?”
“There, you may
go into an area I cannot discuss,” Yuri said quietly, Francesca nodding as she
said “forgive me if I overstepped the mark, Yuri. So, what do you have for me?”
“My client
received a formal notification from your office, informing him he had to make a
formal announcement of his intentions to buy Norstar?”
“That is
correct,” Francesca said as she picked up her cup, and took a sip, “we felt
this behind the scenes enquiring was straying into the field of unwanted
intrusion. For example – a visit paid by
a representative of Mister Byushin to the office of NorStar in New York?”
“Ah yes,” Yuri
said as he nodded, “an unfortunate incident performed by someone without
authority who over stepped the mark. The
gentleman in question has been – relieved of his post, as it was told to me.”
Francesca
raised an eyebrow again as Yuri picked his case up, opened it, and drew out a
manila envelope.
“I have been
asked by Mister Byushin to apologise, and to give his assurance such things
will not happen again. In the meantime,
as you have asked, this is the formal notification of a bid to take over
NorStar SA. Copies will be lodged with
the appropriate authorities in Geneva, London and New York, and sent to the
shareholders.”
Francesca
nodded as she pressed a button on her intercom.
“Hannah, would you come in a minute?”
The door opened
as the tall young woman came in, Francesca looking at her. “My legal associate – Hannah, will you take
the document Mister Makarov is holding, log it, and ensure copies are
circulated to the Baroness von Manschen, their Royal Highnesses, and Miss
Auerbach prior to our meeting?”
“Of course,”
she said as she took the envelope, Yuri noting the South African accent as she
left.
“I am empowered
to say, on behalf of the shareholders I mentioned, that they thank you for the
formal notification, and will respond in due course. Unofficially, I am also empowered to say none
are interested in selling at this time.”
Yuri nodded –
the reputation of the Marchesa was well deserved. He put his cup down and said “I understand,
but I must tell you my client is determined.”
“Then I look
forward to the battle,” Francesca said as she stood up. “We will be in touch in due course, but if I
should need to discuss matters with you?”
“My card,” Yuri
said as he handed it over, “I will be in London for the next few weeks to
oversee the bid process.”
“Then allow me
to show you out,” Francesca said as she walked to the door. Yuri smiled as he walked out, and then caught
sight of the newspaper on the desk where Peri was working.
The name caught
his eye immediately, as he said “may I?”
“Of course,”
Peri said as he looked at the text. “I
noticed it was a Russian woman – I hope you did not know her?”
“I know a few
women with that name,” he said quietly as Francesca looked at him. She was sure he had recognised the name, but
she knew better that to push him on this one.
Not yet, anyway. She would, however, make a call later…
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