December 2015
Monte Carlo, Monaco
At two in the morning, the Hermitage’s duty manager agreed to let Adam take the only remaining unsold suite for half the usual room rate. This was partly due to the lateness of the hour and partly considering that Adam had been, indeed still was, a guest attending Signor Bernadi’s party. Adam handed over two one-thousand Euro casino chips whilst Xandra, bearing her own ready-made party bag comprising one bottle of champagne and two glasses, waited for him by the elevator lobby.
They woke with sun streaming through their seventh-floor bedroom window, clothes scattered over the floor. In urgent need of caffeine, Xandra went in search of a coffee maker and set to work. Once she was back in bed, the coffee too hot to drink, the sun warm on their faces, a brief lover’s kiss from Adam on the nape of her neck rekindled their passion. They made love for a second – or perhaps third – time, the previous few hours a delicious drunken haze of sybaritic pleasure. Adam discovered a lust and desire for her that took him by surprise. She, in turn, found an energy and rawness about her younger lover that excited her.
“That was some night of passion,” she said later, sitting up in bed.
“Plenty more of that in the tank, if and when required,” Adam replied. “Possibly the sexiest, most glamorous lawyer that I’ve been to bed with in the whole of the Riviera.”
She put her coffee mug down, climbed astride him and started hitting him.
“For that, Adam Fraser,” she said as they wrestled each other playfully, “I might just demand an encore.”
“Any time.”
They both laughed. Rolling off him, she took a mouthful of coffee and winced.
“Yuck, it’s gone cold.” She looked across at him. “What are we doing here exactly, Adam? I mean, this is a one-off, right? One single, solitary night of unbridled passion: a see-you-at-the-next-party sort of affair only, correct?”
“I’ve no idea. I can’t think past breakfast.”
“Aldo says you are a rising star,” she said a short while later. “A few successful deals under your belt is what I hear on the grapevine.”
Adam pretended to be shocked but was secretly excited by this level of due diligence. It was a good omen.
“Have you been checking up on me? I thought we had only met a few hours ago.”
“Nothing is secret in Monaco. Aldo and I have known each other for a while: we’ve even done the odd bit of business together. We meet from time to time. He and I happened to have a coffee earlier in the week. He told me about this new wonder boy: a former soldier, not long out of the Army, newly arrived in Monaco and already making pots of money.”
“Nothing in comparison to what he’s been making. He’s a clever young man our Aldo. Come to think of it, we never did get around to discussing what you did for a living when we were talking last night. Or if we did, the Cristal shampoo rinsed it clean out of my mind. Apart from probably being the most glamorous lawyer on the Riviera, what else occupies your waking hours? Bona fide lawyer, market trader like Signor Bernadi, or something racier?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A mixture of all three probably.”
“Come on, don’t be obtuse. Spell it out, girl, shout it from the seventh floor rooftops. Adam Fraser needs to know!”
“I work for a business here in Monaco called Al-Shawabi. Owned and run by an eccentric half-Brit, half-Egyptian who goes by the name of Ricky Al-Shawabi. Mean anything to you?”
“Never heard of him. Don’t forget I was in the Army until recently. I haven’t studied the Who’s Who of business lately. What does this Mr Ricky do for a living?”
“He’s an entrepreneur who fixes things for people. Connects people who have particular problems to solve in one location with other people in different locations who may be able to help. Want to negotiate a crude oil deal with the Libyans? Come and see Ricky: he knows who to deal with. Heard about the hydro project in Nepal and want to bid for the generator contract? Ricky will know the right people. Need to find a way to keep hard-earned commissions and income away from prying eyes? Al-Shawabi can help you find a way.”
“Sounds quite a business. What’s your role?”
“Ricky’s the salesman with all the connections. I simply make everything happen. A sort of back office lady.”
“You run the show, then.”
“More or less. Operations, finance, tax – especially tax – and treasury. Oh, yes, and HR.”
“Sounds glamorous.”
“Tell me about the Army, Adam.”
“Oh, it was the usual stuff really. I was in the Parachute Regiment for several years. I did a few tours, fired a few bullets, dodged a few as well, though that was in Afghanistan mainly.”
“But not all the bullets, if what I heard from Aldo was correct?”
“You seem to know a lot about me all of a sudden. Where’s all this coming from?”
“Being responsible for HR includes scouting for talent from time to time. Let’s just say that we might have been looking for someone like you. And before you ask, it had – and has – absolutely no bearing on why we currently find ourselves in this grand suite sharing a bed together. So back to the Army. You were about to tell me.”
Adam looked up at the ceiling and drew a big breath.
“If I were a smoker, which I am not by the way, I would be lighting up at this point, do you understand?”
“How about some Cristal?”
“Uncharacteristically perhaps, but no thanks, not at the moment. So, the Army.”
He paused, taking a deep breath before beginning.
“I had two tours in Afghanistan, both times based out of Camp Bastion in Helmand province. It’s an amazing place. Enormous, like a massive city plonked in the middle of a war zone. Safe as houses once you’re inside, lethal on the outside if you’re not careful. Landmines, snipers, roadside bombs, the works. Best hospitals on the planet though. I mean it. If you ever need major surgery, forget the Princesse Grace here in Monaco. Get a Medevac to wing you to Bastion. Doctors are second to none – and no waiting lists either. Anyway, the Bastion medical unit has so many drugs and medical supplies, it is obscene. Truckloads, literally. Especially considering that on the outside of the perimeter fence the locals can’t get much of anything. Only out on patrol did you actually come face to face with ordinary Afghan families with all their incumbent pain and suffering: it wasn’t school pens they were after; this wasn’t some third world tourist location like Angkor Wat or the Taj Mahal. It was medical supplies they craved. Food and good clothing too, but the sick and young were dying because they couldn’t get the medicines they needed. It struck me on my second tour, when I was a bit older and more worldly-wise, that maybe there was a way we could help each other: a primitive trading opportunity begging to be exploited. What could these wretched people possibly have that we might want? Guess what? Heroin and opium. Did you know that opium poppies are actually being grown and harvested less than a mile from the Bastion fence? It is unbelievable.”
“I like it. Your first taste of being a real-life trader. Trading medical supplies for drugs of a different kind.”
“More or less. It wasn’t on a massive scale. We weren’t driving truckloads in and out of Bastion or anything like that. Just small supplies that could be slipped into our Bergens: antibiotics, syringes, bandages, even paracetamol and ibuprofen – basically, anything you could acquire from the Bastion pharmacy without arousing suspicion.”
“How did you offload the heroin?”
“That was easy. There was no shortage of addicts on the base, only too happy to play dealer.”
“Until you were busted.”
“No one was able to prove anything. Someone decided to grass on me and I was up before the CO. They had no proof and they didn’t want to go to court martial. In the end, we struck a deal. It’s usually the best way. I was repatriated back to the UK, nothing formal on the record, but immediately discharged. I signed a non-disclosure agreement which I guess I’ve just broken. What the fuck, let them sue me. They shoved me out on my ear and I found myself on Civvy Street and in desperate need of work. I owe Aldo a lot: he picked me up when I was down, encouraged me to come to Monaco, gave me a fresh start. He’s been a good friend, a really good friend. How am I doing? I like this kind of job interview, by the way.”
“Passed both the theory and the practical with flying colours,” she said, leaning across the bed and kissing him.
“I like your honesty, Adam. It’s refreshing. I’d very much like you to meet Ricky. That’s for another day, though. Right now I feel in need of a shower. Why don’t you make us another cup of coffee and I’ll go and figure out how to use the shower in the bathroom.”
A while later, Adam put two mugs of steaming black coffee down on the marble top beside the bathroom sink. Xandra was in the walk-in shower, lathered all over. Adam knew he had played his cards well. He may have just got lucky. Very lucky thank you, Aldo. Something about seeing this woman naked in the shower, soaped in all the right places, was hugely erotic. He stepped in to join her. She felt his arousal close to her skin.
“Hang on, one step at a time. First, you need a good scrubbing, Adam Fraser. Don’t get overexcited.”
She applied a generous portion of liquid soap, Adam reacting immediately to her touch. She ran her fingers gently all over him, working the smooth, soapy lather into every crevice, rubbing carefully.
“Next, the rinse cycle.”
She was toying with him, enjoying Adam’s reaction as fine needles of warm water now sprayed over his body from the handheld shower unit.
“The final step,” she said eventually, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, “should be the blow dry, don’t you think?”