No Kiss For The Devil

28

‘I beg your pardon?’ Al-Bashir sat forward in his chair, his voice dangerously low. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly changed and Riley felt a shiver settle across her shoulders. Now, more than at any time, she knew that making the allegations contained in the folder would be reckless in the extreme. It would be like poking a king cobra with a sharp stick. A short one.

‘They claim,’ she said, carefully amending the words she had been about to use, ‘to have reports of activities unbecoming to the wife of a man in your position…and faith.’

Al-Bashir crouched as if ready to spring out across the table at her. Riley noticed his fingers were pressed flat on the table before him, the skin white and bloodless.

‘What ‘activities’?’ The words came out in a near whisper.

‘Extravagance. A lack of modesty in her spending. That sort of thing.’

After a few seconds, Al-Bashir seemed to relax. He sighed and sat back, lifting his hands from the table. He nodded slowly, then said, ‘So what? Asiyah is a wealthy young woman. Do these notes suggest she should not enjoy herself?’

‘No.’

‘What, then? Is the press the moral arbiter of how my wife should spend my money? You think that bothers me?’

‘Not that, either.’ Riley had struggled on the way over for a way of testing the water with regard to how Al-Bashir might react to the rumours. She didn’t want to find herself faced with legal action — or worse, if the stories about his security team were to be believed. ‘There are implications,’ she continued, ‘that any stories circulating at this time might not be viewed in a good light by those behind you.’

‘Behind me?’

‘Your backers. The investors you represent. Specifically, those you will be dealing with in the Batnev project.’ She saw he wasn’t going to respond and continued. ‘They are going with you because the network will eventually spread far beyond the current proposed boundaries. They are banking — literally — on controlling the spread well across the Middle East, through India, Pakistan and beyond. Maybe even China.’ She waited to see if he would laugh in her face. He didn’t, so she added, ‘Potentially, you’d be controlling the biggest telecoms consumer market on the planet.’

‘Really?’ Al-Bashir smiled, and Riley felt the chill return. ‘And who told you that?’

She said nothing.

Al-Bashir tapped a fingernail on the rim of his cup. ‘I don’t know where you got your information, Miss Gavin,’ he said carefully. ‘But let me tell you this. There are no reports. There is no basis for anyone to have ‘notes’ about my wife or anyone else in my family. And if anyone — anyone — tries to suggest otherwise, they will regret it to their dying day.’ He lifted a hand and adjusted his tie. ‘Of course, if you were able to allow my security manager to have details about these notes you speak of, I would be most grateful.’

He knows, thought Riley. She could see it in his eyes. In spite of his casual demeanour, a flicker of uncertainty hovered behind the bland facade, like smoke behind glass. And the chill in the room had not diminished in any way. No wonder he’d looked ready to leap out from behind the table. The notes must be true.

‘I’m sure you would,’ she told him, her voice level. ‘But I didn’t come here for that.’

Behind her, the door opened and Koenig stepped up alongside her.

Al-Bashir didn’t take his eyes off Riley. ‘So why did you come?’

‘For the truth.’

‘Ah. The truth.’ Al-Bashir looked sour. ‘Not exactly what one looks for in your business, I think.’

Except when it suits you, Riley wanted to say. ‘Maybe. What would be the effects if such reports came out?’

He didn’t reply. Riley took it as answer enough, and wondered just how fragile this man’s position really was. She was beginning to see how clever his enemies might have been.

Koenig leaned forward and placed a folded sheet of paper in front of his boss. Al-Bashir opened it. Inside was a photo. He read the note, then swept it to the floor with a sharp flick of his hand. It was the first clear sign of irritation.

‘It seems you were followed here today,’ said Al-Bashir. He pushed the photo across the table so that Riley could see it. It appeared to have been taken from high up near the ceiling, and showed the area around the information desk downstairs. A man was standing nearby. He was short and heavily built, like a weight-lifter. ‘This man entered the building thirty seconds after you. He is waiting downstairs, pretending to study the floor plan, but not very convincingly. His name is Pechov.’

Riley tried to remain casual. Followed? By whom? ‘Pechov? I don’t know anyone called Pechov.’

‘Of course not. But he seems to know you. He was watching you all the way to the desk and only turned away when Mr Koenig went out to meet you.’ He nodded at the security man. ‘Mr Koenig is a very experienced security consultant. He can identify a bad tail at a hundred metres.’

Riley began to feel queasy. In spite of the brief flash of temper just now, this man was far too calm. And now she appeared to have collected a follower.

‘I still don’t know who he is,’ she insisted.

‘Then it’s just as well we do, isn’t it?’ Al-Bashir smiled triumphantly. He nodded at Koenig, who cleared his throat and spoke for the first time since she had met him downstairs.

‘Piotr Pechov is a former Russian military intelligence officer,’ he said calmly. ‘He’s employed by an organisation affiliated to a network of organised crime across Eastern Europe. The current head of that organisation is believed to be a man named Fedorov. But he uses many other names.’

‘I’ve never met him, either.’

‘You should count yourself lucky.’

‘There still remains the question, Miss Gavin,’ put in Al-Bashir, ‘of how you heard of this…plan to discredit me through my wife. You didn’t read about it on a London bus, did you? It was not something you picked up on YouTube.’ When Riley didn’t reply, he pulled a mock-sad face. ‘Oh, don’t tell me: you can’t reveal your sources.’

Riley said nothing. Either Al-Bashir was a master of control or he was superb at playing the part. But at least she now knew that he was aware of his enemies. And knowing that, she knew a lot more about the seriousness of the game he was engaged in.

‘Never mind.’ Al-Bashir stood up. He was barely five feet six but his lack of inches clearly didn’t bother him. ‘Thank you for your visit, Miss Gavin. I will take it from here.’

‘What about this Pechov person?’ she asked.

Al-Bashir raised his eyebrows. ‘What about him? He was following you, not me.’ His smile was cold. ‘Perhaps you should ask him when you go back downstairs.’ With that, he left the room.

Riley followed Koenig back along the deserted corridor to the lift. He said nothing on the way down, but as the lift door opened, he held a powerful arm in front of her, blocking her way.

‘Don’t stop to shop,’ he advised her. ‘And don’t come back. The boss was being polite. You won’t be welcome here.’

Riley felt her face flush. ‘I’m being banned? Why? That’s unfair!’

He gave a faint sneer. ‘Maybe, maybe not. Don’t worry — I’m sure the boss will cope with the drop in revenue.’

‘You know, don’t you?’ She decided to risk asking the question, although she doubted she would get an answer. ‘About his wife. What would happen if it came out. What would he do to prevent it?’

Koenig leaned closer, until she could see right into the depths of his eyes. He was so close, she could see individual hairs which he’d missed when shaving. ‘Drop it, Miss Gavin. Whatever you do, drop it.’ The menace in his voice was clear, and Riley felt a sudden desperation to get out of this place.

Before she could say anything else, he dropped his arm and allowed her to pass.

‘More worrying for you,’ he said, ‘is that you’ve been in contact with Fedorov. He may have used another name.’ He held up a hand to stop her speaking. ‘Frankly, I couldn’t care less. But you’re lucky it didn’t come to anything bad.’ He led the way over to the lobby door and held it open. ‘Stay well, Miss Gavin. It’s a dangerous world out there.’

Riley stepped through the door and walked out into the street.

The man they had called Pechov was nowhere to be seen.