Cat O'Nine Tales (2006) Read online

  Once Dick’s Jaguar had emerged from the carpark to begin the journey to Virginia Water, Dick immediately called his office.

  “Richard Barnsley’s office,” said a voice.

  “Hi, Jill, it’s me. I managed to catch an earlier flight, and I’m on my way home. Is there anything I should be worrying about?”

  “No, everything’s running smoothly this end,” Jill replied. “We’re all just waiting to find out how things went in St. Petersburg.”

  “Couldn’t have gone better. The minister wants me back on May sixteenth to sign the contract.”

  “But that’s less than three weeks away.”

  “Which means we’ll all have to get a move on. So set up a board meeting for early next week, and then make an appointment for me to see Sam Cohen first thing tomorrow morning. I can’t afford any slip-ups at this stage.”

  “Can I come to St. Petersburg with you?”

  “Not this time, Jill, but once the contract has been signed block out ten days in the diary. Then I’ll take you somewhere a little warmer than St. Petersburg.”

  Dick sat silently in the back of the car, going over everything that needed to be covered before he returned to St. Petersburg. By the time Stan drove through the wrought-iron gates and came to a halt outside the neo-Georgian mansion, Dick knew what had to be done. He jumped out of the car and ran into the house. He left Stan to unload the bags, and his housekeeper to unpack them. Dick was surprised not to find his wife standing on the top step, waiting to greet him, but then he remembered that he’d caught an earlier flight, and Maureen wouldn’t be expecting him back for at least another couple of hours.

  Dick ran upstairs to his bedroom, and quickly stripped off his clothes, dropping them in a pile on the floor. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, allowing the warm jets of water to slowly remove the grime of St. Petersburg and Aeroflot.

  After he’d put on some casual clothes, Dick checked his appearance in the mirror. At fifty-three, his hair was turning prematurely gray, and although he tried to hold his stomach in, he knew he ought to lose a few pounds, just a couple of notches on his belt—once the deal was signed and he had a little more time, he promised himself.

  He left the bedroom and went down to the kitchen. He asked the cook to prepare him a salad, and then strolled into the drawing room, picked up The Times, and glanced at the headlines. A new leader of the Tory Party, a new leader of the Liberal Democrats, and now Gordon Brown had been elected leader of the Labor Party. None of the major political parties would be fighting the next election under the same leader.

  Dick looked up when the phone began to ring. He walked across to his wife’s writing desk and picked up the receiver, to hear Jill’s voice on the other end of the line.

  “The board meeting is fixed for next Thursday at ten o’clock, and I’ve also arranged for you to see Sam Cohen in his office at eight tomorrow morning.” Dick removed a pen from an inside pocket of his blazer. “I’ve emailed every member of the board to warn them that it’s a priority,” she added.

  “What time did you say my meeting was with Sam?”

  “Eight o’clock at his office. He has to be in court by ten for another client.”

  “Fine.” Dick opened his wife’s drawer and grabbed the first piece of paper available. He wrote down, Sam, office, 8, Thur board mtg, 10. “Well done, Jill,” he added. “Better book me back into the Grand Palace Hotel, and email the minister to warn him what time I’ll be arriving.”

  “I already have,” Jill replied, “and I’ve also booked you on a flight to St. Petersburg on the Sunday afternoon.”

  “Well done. See you around ten tomorrow.” Dick put the phone down, and strolled through to his study, with a large smile on his face. Everything was going to plan.

  When he reached his desk, Dick transferred the details of his appointments to his diary. He was just about to drop the piece of paper into a wastepaper basket when he decided just to check and see if it contained anything important. He unfolded a letter, which he began to read. His smile turned to a frown, long before he’d reached the final paragraph. He started to read the letter, marked private and personal, a second time.

  Dear Mrs. Barnsley,

  This is to confirm your appointment at our office on Friday, 30 April, when we will continue our discussions on the matter you raised with me last Tuesday. Remembering the full implications of your decision, I have asked my senior partner to join us on this occasion.

  We both look forward to seeing you on the 30th.

  Yours sincerely,

  Dick immediately picked up the phone on his desk, and dialed Sam Cohen’s number, hoping he hadn’t already left for the day. When Sam pick up his private line, all Dick said was, “Have you come across a lawyer called Andrew Symonds?”

  “Only by reputation,” said Sam, “but then I don’t specialize in divorce.”

  “Divorce?” said Dick, as he heard a car coming up the gravel driveway. He glanced out of the window to see a Volkswagen swing round the circle and come to a halt outside the front door. Dick watched as his wife climbed out of her car. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow, Sam, and the Russian contract won’t be the only thing on the agenda.”

  Dick’s driver dropped him outside Sam Cohen’s office in Lincoln’s Inn Field a few minutes before eight the following morning. The senior partner rose to greet his client as he entered the room. He gestured to a comfortable chair on the other side of the desk.

  Dick had opened his briefcase even before he’d sat down. He took out the letter and passed it across to Sam. The lawyer read it slowly, before placing it on the desk in front of him.

  “I’ve thought about the problem overnight,” said Sam, “and I’ve also had a word with Anna Rentoul, our divorce partner. She’s confirmed that Symonds only handles matrimonial disputes, and with that in mind, I’m sorry to say that I’ll have to ask you some fairly personal questions.”

  Dick nodded without comment.

  “Have you ever discussed divorce with Maureen?”

  “No,” said Dick firmly. “We’ve had rows from time to time, but then what couples who’ve been together for over twenty years haven’t?”

  “No more than that?”

  “She once threatened to leave me, but I thought that was all in the past.” Dick paused. “I’m only surprised that she hasn’t raised the subject with me, before consulting a lawyer.”

  “That’s all too common,” said Sam. “Over half the husbands who are served with a divorce petition claim they never saw it coming.”

  “I certainly fall into that category,” admitted Dick. “So what do I do next?”

  “Not a lot you can do before she serves the writ, and I can’t see that there’s anything to be gained by raising the subject yourself. After all, nothing may come of it. However, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t prepare ourselves. Now, what grounds could she have for divorce?”

  “None that I can think of.”

  “Are you having an affair?”

  “No. Well, yes, a fling with my secretary—but it’s not going anywhere. She thinks it’s serious, but I plan to replace her once the pipeline contract is signed.”

  “So the deal is still on course?” said Sam.

  “Yes, that’s originally why I needed to see you so urgently,” replied Dick. “I have to be back in St. Petersburg for May the sixteenth, when both sides will be signing the contract.” He paused. “And it’s going to be witnessed by President Putin.”

  “Congratulations,” said Sam. “How much will that be worth to you?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m wondering if you’re not the only person who’s hoping that the deal will go through.”

  “Around sixty million—” Dick hesitated—”for the company.”

  “And do you still own fifty-one percent of the shares?”

  “Yes, but I could always hide—”

  “Don’t even think about it,” said Sam. “You won’t be able to