Twenty-five

 

However confident he might appear to Sam, Edward was worried about his double-dealing, and resolved to see Khamlukin.

The Russian was staying in the only decent hotel in the town, and having dinner with a beautiful blonde woman. When he spotted them together, Edward slipped away to a nearby flower shop and bought an armful of roses.

‘Monsieur Bourdillon. How nice to see you.’ Khamlukin rose as he arrived at their table. ‘This is my wife, Ilona Dimitrovna, the Countess Khamlukina.’

Edward laid on a little bow to go with the roses. But there was no mention that they had seen each other before in Constantinople.

‘The flowers are lovely,’ the Countess said. ‘How kind.’ And extended her hand. Edward managed to kiss it without falling over his feet.

Khamlukin asked him to join them at their table, where Edward trotted out some story about having to be in touch with England about the boats, and also having to go away for a day or two. Then he beat a hasty but polite retreat.

 

Sam was instructed to make sure that baskets of roses were sent daily to the Khamlukins’ apartment, while Edward juggled with delivery dates and shipping movements. Then, to their surprise, Ferdinand’s officials arrived to discuss payments and contracts and plans. Edward hadn’t expected them so soon and had to think fast. In his capacity as British Consul, McClumpha was invited to oversee things and act as interpreter. Champagne and caviare were ordered, and a meeting was organised with Roboshva and several other shifty-looking men in a small private room set aside for them by the hotel manager.

There was a lot of arguing before signatures were put on paper, and after a while it dawned on Edward that, for all the detailed discussion, nobody was offering money. He took a new tack himself, and asked a question about the use to which the boats were to be put. Edward didn’t think for a moment Ferdinand was the sort of man to enjoy tearing round the Bay of Varna simply for the fun of it. And Roboshva eventually conceded that the boats were to be taken to a place beyond Cape Igneada just inside Turkish territory which at that moment happened to be occupied by Bulgarian troops. Edward replied that the boats were not paid for and he had no intention of letting them go until they were. He was beginning to regret not letting Khamlukin have them.

‘There is also,’ he said ‘a little more work to be done.’

‘The boats were working perfectly the other day,’ Drimic protested sharply.

‘High-speed marine engines require the most scrupulous attention,’ Edward insisted. ‘The craft are highly tuned. We must be absolutely certain that nothing will go wrong when we go home.’

The meeting broke up without resolving delivery or payment.

‘The buggers want to use them against Turkish shipping round the Bosporus,’ Sam said. ‘And before they’ve bloody paid for ’em.’

Apparently, peace negotiations had come to nothing, fighting had not halted, and Bulgaria was getting the worst of it. Edward had sent letters off to Augusta, as Sam had to Rosina, but there had been no replies. War was not good for any postal service. Even a wire to Egg produced no response. And what on earth were Ferdinand’s intentions?

‘Dinnae trust him lad. He’ll welsh on ye,’ said McClumpha, over a delicious glass or two of single malt.

‘My advice,’ the Consul said, ‘is to move y’r boats further doon the coast. The King willnae give a damn. He’ll have forgotten all aboot the bluidy things by now. Tell Drimic the sea is better there. Flatter. Calmer. Doesnae rust the boats so much.’ McClumpha grinned. ‘I reckon ye can think up somethin’.’

He fished out a grubby map. ‘Burgas,’ he said. ‘That’s the place. It’s no’ far north o’ the Bosporus. I’ve got copper mining interests there, and a shipyard. I’ll gi’e ye a letter o’ introduction, and telegraph ma manager tae expect ye. Ye can moor at ma quay. The boats’ll be safe there. The only problem is it’s eighty miles away.’

‘That’s not a problem,’ Edward said. ‘We can follow one of your ships with drums of petrol aboard and top up when necessary.’

‘There’s plenty of little ports you can slip into if the weather shuts doon on the way. I’ll supply the petrol an’ oil and charts o’ the coast, and I’ll see ye have food an’ a bottle o’ this stuff. That should see ye through.’

‘Where would I be without you?’ said Edward.

‘Up the creek, I reckon, laddie, without a paddle.’

 

When Edward next saw Khamlukin, he had heard all about Ferdinand.

‘Has he changed his mind?’ Khamlukin asked.

‘Unhappily, no,’ Edward admitted. ‘On the other hand he doesn’t seem prepared to pay. It looks as though the boats are yours.’

‘Very good,’ he said. ‘I have been advised to hand you a bank draft as confirmation and down payment on the first two boats, with an option for four more.’

‘And my cheque for the agent’s fee will be in your hands immediately I receive the bank draft.’

Edward spent the rest of the evening with the Khamlukins, and drank rather more champagne than he intended. Several other Russians joined them, all accompanied by women friends and the evening got noisier and noisier, with many toasts and glasses smashed in the fireplace.

In a vain attempt to keep his head clear, he slipped away and drank three cups of black coffee. On his return, Ilona Khamlukina promptly filled his glass again, and made him drink Russian fashion with arms linked.

She also insisted on dancing. The orchestra consisted of half a dozen elderly men in rusty evening dress. The music was Viennese, and Ilona Khamlukina moved like an angel – an angel with the most seductive perfume and voluptuous body. It was hot and stuffy on the dance floor, particularly when they were dancing so close. The Countess whispered in Edward’s ear that it might be cooler in the conservatory.

‘Pavel Ivanovitch is a dull dog when he’s been drinking,’ she said as they sat down among the exotic potted plants. She placed her hand in Edward’s and he felt something hard pressed against his palm. It was a key.

‘My husband leaves tonight for Sofia,’ she said softly. ‘I have told him I don’t wish to be alone at the apartment while he is away so I am staying at the hotel. The number of my room is on the key.’

She kissed Edward on the lips. ‘You are a very attractive man, Edward Bourdillon,’ she whispered. ‘All Pavel Ivanovitch thinks about is money. His debts are enormous and his father refuses any longer to pay his bills.’

They saw Khamlukin off in a carriage.

‘Goodbye, darling,’ she murmured, as they waved him off. But her eyes were on Edward.

 

Trudging upstairs to bed, he realised that Ilona Khamlukina reminded him of Georgina. The thought of it suddenly made his collar feel tight. Gently blown on, he felt he might easily burst into flames.

Next morning Edward send a basket of red roses to Ilona Khamlukina’s room, together with his card, her key, apologies and an excuse.

‘There you are, you see, Sam. Everything open and above board.’

‘She’s a tart,’ was Sam’s only response.

‘She’s one of the hazards of doing business.’

But Sam was impressed by the size of the bank draft when it arrived. It was stamped all over with the seal of the Russian Ministry of Marine and signed by three different officials.

‘Looks good,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Did Khamlukin get his commission?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he want it in gold?’

Edward laughed. ‘I sent a basket of flowers to his wife.’ Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘The cheque was in a brand new wallet in the middle.’

‘Time to go home,’ said Sam.

‘I hear you pulled it off, lad,’ McClumpha said next morning. ‘By the way, dinna pay your bank draft through a Bulgarian bank. Use a Swiss one, preferably in Sofia.’

Edward didn’t argue. The next morning he took the bank draft to the Swiss Banking Corporation building and saw it safely deposited. The manager was impressed by its size and Edward’s sense of urgency. In the expectation of further good business, he offered Edward a list of other branches in the country.