Black Rose

CHAPTER 10

The fact the Johannes Gutenberg loved his wife didn't preclude taking a mistress. After all, it was a traditional way of life for the European rich. It was a man's prerogative if he could afford it and Johannes certainly could. It added status. People saw her with Johannes and envied him. As for Marta, she knew about Valentina and accepted the fact that her husband was unfaithful. She had long ago decided that the practical benefits of being married to Johannes far outweighed the emotional inconvenience of his philandering. Besides, she could take her own lovers if she wished, though lately there had been no one to interest her. As long as she was discrete it wasn't a problem.

Gutenberg wasn't interested in someone who might challenge his sense of entitled superiority. Valentina Rosetti was everything he could desire in a female companion. She had dark black hair that fell to her shoulders in natural curls. High cheekbones and green eyes gave her genuine beauty. She was tall and moved with languid grace. She radiated sexuality and made any man who saw her wonder what she'd be like in bed.

At the moment Valentina lay next to Gutenberg in the bedroom of her apartment in Paris, her long hair spread in a tangle on the pillow. The room smelled of her perfume and the aftermath of sex. Earlier, he'd taken her to dinner and ordered a bottle of 1928 Chateau Gruaud-Larose, a bargain at 1500 euros. Gutenberg enjoyed educating Valentina about the finer things in life. They'd had an excellent meal and a glass of cognac after, then come back to her apartment and made love.

For all her charms, Johannes didn't think much of Valentina's intellectual capability. It was one of the things he liked about her. She was smart enough to present a good impression when they were out together, but she seemed to have no interest in things beyond the gifts and money he gave her. She had no political opinions that he had noticed. She wasn't very interested in world affairs, though he knew she was aware to the minute of upcoming appointments with her masseuse or for a fitting at the salon. She seldom argued with him and never about anything important. And of course she was accomplished in bed. In short, she was everything a man could want in a mistress. Sometimes Johannes blessed his lucky stars when he thought of her. She was almost too good to be true.

She was.

Valentina's real name wasn't Rossi, it was Antipov. She'd been born in St. Petersburg, not Italy as Johannes believed. She'd never known her father. Her mother had been killed in a meaningless car accident three years before.

Valentina's mother had been a decorated KGB agent during the old Soviet regime, trusted enough to be sent abroad to America and the other Western nations. Quick intelligence and natural athletic ability, coupled with her mother's stellar record as a loyal servant of the state, made Valentina a natural for selection as a future agent. She'd been brought up under the watchful guidance of her mother's minders, groomed from an early age as an agent provocateur.

Like her mother before her, Valentina was a spy.

Valentina worked for Alexei Vysotsky, part of a small group of experienced SVR agents Vysotsky ran separately from the rest of his organization. She cared not at all for Gutenberg but found it easy to enjoy the decadent comforts he provided. He was not a particularly skilled or demanding lover and their liaisons were infrequent enough that she didn't consider it a burden. Valentina was a consummate actress. Her cries of passion in bed would have convinced any man that he was a match for Casanova.

Vysotsky had explained to Valentina why Gutenberg was important. The Swiss banker was the driving force behind an effort to derail the new financial alliance between Brazil, Russia, India and China. BRICS intended to establish a new base currency to replace the dollar as the world's standard. If the alliance succeeded, the U.S. would no longer be able to dominate world commerce as it had in the past. If the alliance fell apart, years of careful planning and difficult political negotiations with Russia's strange bedfellows would be wasted. The United States would remain dominant. A potential war with China would become more likely.

As usual after one of their bouts in bed, Johannes lay back with a cigarette and a glass of cognac. Valentina reached over and laid her arm across his chest, pressing up against him with her breasts. She knew he liked that. At times like this Johannes was relaxed, his guard down. He liked to boast about his business deals, secure in the knowledge that his mistress understood nothing at all of what he was talking about. More than one of these pillow conversations had found their way to Vysotsky's desk.

"It's been too long since I saw you," she said. "I've been lonely."

"Don't pout, darling. You know I have affairs to attend to. It's been a very good week for me. I managed to create real difficulties for people who were opposing my plans."

"What people?" She snuggled closer to him.

"Russians, my dear, men who have no understanding of the world. All they understand is force. They lack the devious political subtlety of our Western sophistication."

What an arrogant bastard, Valentina thought. Russians were applying devious political sophistication before Machiavelli was a gleam in his father's eye.

She looked at him wide-eyed, as if amazed at his skill in manipulating his enemies.

"What did you do?"

"The details are unimportant. They had something I wanted. They thought it was secure, but I took it from them. Now I'll be able to use it against them, when the time is right."

The General will want to know about this, she thought.

"What was it?"

She felt him tense against her. "It doesn't matter. Don't bother yourself about it."

Change the subject. "I saw a nice bracelet today on the Champs-Élysées. Do you think we could go look at it tomorrow?"

His body relaxed. "Of course. And perhaps pay a visit to that salon you like. The one with a designer who knows how to fit you."

"Ooh, Johannes. Thank you."

Later, after they'd made love again and Gutenberg was asleep, Valentina thought about what she would report to Vysotsky. She didn't know what it was that Gutenberg had stolen but the general would, she was sure.