The early evening calm at Le Pharo—the hour of l’apéritif—was disturbed by the sound of a motorcycle’s engine. The rider, a burly policeman in highly polished boots, parked his machine carefully, removed his helmet and placed it on the saddle, rang the front door bell, and stood to attention. He had been told that this was a very important delivery, ordered by the chief himself, and that all the niceties should be observed.
Claudine opened the door. The policeman saluted. “For Monsieur Reboul,” he said, handing over a manila envelope.
“Merci, monsieur.”
“De rien, madame. Bonne soirée.” Mission accomplished, he saluted again before roaring off down the drive.
Claudine immediately took the envelope to Reboul, who slit it open and took out three sheets of paper. The first was a handwritten note from Hervé:
Cher ami,
I am taking the small precaution of using the old-fashioned way of communicating, with pieces of paper. As you know, nothing electronic is completely private these days, and I would prefer that this doesn’t end up on the Internet.
As you will see, Monsieur Vronsky has had an interesting career. What strikes me is the high mortality rate of his business partners. Although nothing has been proven, I don’t believe in coincidence, and I regard these deaths as a serious warning. I strongly recommend that you have nothing to do with this man. He seems extremely dangerous.
Amitiés,
H
Reboul poured himself a fortifying shot of Scotch and turned to the other two pages, which were typewritten.
VRONSKY, Oleg. Born St. Petersburg January 4, 1970. No record of any formal education.
From 1989 until 1992, he served in the army, first as a private, later as a sergeant commanding a tank squadron. On returning to civilian life, he and an ex-army friend, Vladimir Pugachev, used their military connections to set up as arms dealers, first in the Balkans and later, as their business flourished, in West Africa. Business continued to grow, but Pugachev met his death in unexplained circumstances while on a sales trip to Ouagadougou, with his share of the company passing to Vronsky. Rumors of foul play were vigorously denied.
Vronsky continued to prosper. After selling his African business to the up-and-coming dictator Marlon Batumbe, he returned to Russia and founded PRN (Prirodni Resursi Neogranichenyi—in Russian it stands for Natural Resources Unlimited), a company formed to exploit mineral deposits found in the southern Urals. Several profitable years followed, and Vronsky was able to engineer a deal with a bigger company owned by Sergei Popov. The merger was less than two years old when Popov met his death in unexplained circumstances while attending a bauxite seminar in Magnitogorsk, with his share of the company passing to Vronsky. Rumors of foul play were vigorously denied.
Increasingly rich, well-connected, and powerful, Vronsky spread and diversified his empire, with exploitation businesses in the Arctic and the Amazon basin. There was also an apartment building on New York’s Park Avenue, bought in conjunction with Jack Levy, a Manhattan real estate developer. It was widely agreed that Levy’s suicide—he jumped off a thirty-eighth-floor terrace—was a considerable loss to the community. However, it was a substantial gain for Vronsky, who took over Levy’s share of the building.
Vronsky seems to have no permanent address, preferring to use his yacht, The Caspian Queen, as his headquarters. He stays in hotels when he travels. Details of his personal life are somewhat limited, but one or two have emerged. Although he has been seen with a variety of beautiful women, his only marriage ended in divorce, and he has no children. His hobbies include bear hunting, chess, and ballroom dancing.
“You’re looking very thoughtful, Francis.” Sam had stopped in the doorway of the living room. “Nothing wrong, I hope?”
“No, no. I’ve just been finding out about that Russian. Get yourself a drink and read this.” He passed the documents to Sam, who poured a glass of wine and made himself comfortable on the sofa.
“That’s quite a C.V.,” Sam said a few minutes later. “Not a guy to go into business with, is he? When he lays someone off he means it.” Sam shook his head. “Losing three partners? I wonder how come he’s never been nailed. Or at least reprimanded for carelessness.”
“Don’t forget he lost them at three different times in three different countries. Can you imagine the police in Africa, Russia, and America getting together?” Reboul gathered up the papers and put them away in a drawer. “Enough of him. Where is the lovely Elena?”
“Trying to improve upon perfection.” Sam shrugged. “I’ve noticed that when she’s here in France, she takes twice as long as usual to make up and get ready. Three times as long when she’s in Paris, where she says the level of competition is that much higher.”
Reboul smiled. “The ladies. How dull life would be without them. Do you know where you’re going tonight?”
“One of Philippe and Mimi’s friends, Yves, is a great cook. He and his wife, Ginette, have just been awarded a Michelin star, so we’re going to their restaurant to celebrate. How about you?”
Reboul grimaced and shook his head. “A romantic evening with my accountant, going through figures. Next month we have to file returns for the wealth tax—something you Americans have very wisely chosen to avoid. It seems to get more complicated every year.” His face brightened as he looked toward the door. “Ah, here she is—La Bomba. Ravishing, my dear, ravishing.”
Elena performed an abbreviated curtsey. “Thank you, kind sir.” She was indeed looking ravishing, in a vanilla silk dress that showed off her dark hair and glowing Corsican tan. Sam had to admit that the wait had been worth it.
In the taxi going to the restaurant he told Elena what he’d just learned about Vronsky. She could hardly believe it. “Do you think he seriously expects Francis to sell Le Pharo?”
“I’m not sure,” said Sam. “But a guy with that much power and money isn’t used to taking no for an answer. He thinks he can get away with anything, because that’s the way it’s been for years. And he has a pretty scary track record. I think we’re going to have to keep a close eye on him.”