Breath of Corruption (16 page)

That evening, when he heard the doorbell ring, Leo took the precaution of looking through the little spyhole in the front door, something he had never bothered to do in the past, to make sure it wasn’t another Ukrainian gangster in a dodgy coat. What he saw on his doorstep was a worried-looking, dark-haired young woman, apparently on her own.

Leo opened the door. The girl looked at him, saying nothing, her expression still anxious.

‘Can I help you?’ asked Leo.

Irina had no idea what she was getting into here. Anyone that Viktor knew, even an enemy of his, could be just as bad as he was. She stared at Leo. He was a handsome man, with silver hair and blue eyes, and a face that looked kind – but kind looks could mean nothing.

‘I need help,’ she ventured. Her voice was hesitant, her accent very thick. Not another Eastern European, thought Leo wearily. They were everywhere these days. What did this one want? Was she collecting for something, or begging?
She didn’t look like a beggar – her clothes were cheaply fashionable, and she herself was very attractive.

‘Look,’ said Leo, digging in his pocket, ‘this isn’t something I usually do, but take this. Go on – off you go.’ He held out a twenty-pound note.

Irina looked at it, then at him. He had spoken so quickly she hadn’t understood anything he’d said. She shook her head. ‘No. Not money.’ Leo was nonplussed. Then the girl said, ‘You are Mr Davies?’

‘How do you know my name?’ asked Leo.

She held out the piece of paper with his name and address on it. Leo took it and read it. Wondering what the hell was going on, he said, ‘You’d better come in.’

He showed the girl into the living room and sat her down in a chair. He asked her name, and she told him.

‘Where are you from? Your country?’

‘Ukraine,’ she replied.

‘Where did you get this?’ he asked her, indicating the piece of paper.

‘A man – Viktor Kroitor,’ she replied. The name meant nothing to Leo, but it was evident that she must in some way be connected to the creep who’d come to his house a week ago.

‘Who is Viktor Kroitor?’ he asked.

She swallowed hard, thinking. At length she said, ‘He is man who bring me from Ukraine to here, to London. I am to be dancer here. He take my – my – my – papers – I don’t know—’

‘Your passport,’ said Leo, beginning to get the picture.

She nodded. ‘My passport.’ She gulped again, fighting
back tears. ‘But no work. No dancer work. He keep me in hotel, and I have to – I have to—’ She floundered again, gesticulating in hopeless misery.

‘He made you a prostitute,’ said Leo.

‘Yes – yes. I am prostitute with other girls.’ She burst into tears, and Leo went to the kitchen to get her some water, hoping she wasn’t going to make off with all the valuables from the living room in his absence. She seemed utterly believable, however. Was Viktor Kroitor the man who had come to threaten him? It seemed likely, if something of a coincidence.

He gave Irina the water and she drank it, and grew calmer. Leo pulled up a chair near to hers and sat down. She had begun to talk frantically in Ukrainian, and he had to stop her.

‘Calm down,’ he said, speaking slowly, ‘I can’t understand anything you say. Talk English, and tell me how you found me, how you got this piece of paper.’

‘There was man at hotel. Marko. Viktor’s man. He like me, he help me.’

‘He got you out of the hotel?’

She nodded.

‘And where is he now, this man Marko?’ The last thing he wanted was yet another mad Ukrainian battering on his door tonight.

Irina shrugged and said, ‘I lose him.’ She sincerely hoped that Marko was enjoying a miserable time wandering the streets of London in fear of his life, but she wouldn’t have said this to Leo Davies, even if she could. She dug in her bag and brought out Viktor’s wallet. ‘Viktor Kroitor’s. I take
from hotel.’ She pointed to the piece of paper. ‘Your name is in it. Marko say – he say Viktor come here to – to – not be nice?’

‘To threaten me.’ Leo nodded. So this Viktor Kroitor
was
the man who’d come here, which was why she’d found his name and address in his wallet. It made sense. Not so much of a coincidence, after all.

‘So I think – you might be friend. You might help? I know nowhere else to go.’ Her eyes were fastened hopefully on his face.

Leo looked inside the wallet. Who the hell carried this much cash around? Presumably only gangsters. He inspected the credit cards and put them back.

‘Would you like something to eat?’ he asked Irina.

She nodded hesitantly, smiling for the first time, and tears came to her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

Leo took her into the kitchen and made her an omelette and a cup of coffee. Gradually he learnt her story – how she hadn’t had enough money to carry on her studies in Odessa, how Viktor Kroitor had promised her work, and she had believed him, and what had happened to her since.

Leo made himself some coffee and watched her as she ate. So she was a part of it all. This wretched girl represented the kind of profits that Viktor Kroitor was laundering through Sir Dudley Humble’s company. How many other girls had been tricked and enslaved by this man Kroitor? How much more misery did he deal in? Leo supposed that if he were a good, upstanding citizen, he would take her to the police, and let them deal with Viktor Kroitor. If they could find him.

‘Do you know where the hotel is? The one where Viktor Kroitor was keeping you?’ he asked Irina.

She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t know.’

So there was no way of leading the police straight to Kroitor. Anything could happen in the meantime. Kroitor obviously had connections and very good intelligence. If he found out Leo had taken Irina to the police, he might well carry out his threat to harm Rachel or Oliver.

Leo poured Irina another cup of coffee. On one view, she was an unfortunate young woman who ought to be taken straight to the Ukrainian Embassy and put on a plane back home. On the other hand …

Am I mad?
thought Leo. Was there really anything to be gained by opening up negotiations with this criminal bastard Kroitor? He would have to think this out very carefully. He went out to the garden, where the mid-evening September air was already chilly, and paced the lawn, keeping an occasional eye on Irina through the window, weighing up the options. It was like a legal case, he told himself, another problem with a variety of solutions. All he had to do was maximise his chances of a favourable outcome. He pondered the matter for a while, and at length decided that the answer was the usual one – to seek a settlement with the other side, if possible.

A movement caught his eye, and he glanced towards the kitchen to see Irina gesturing to him. He went inside.

‘Bell,’ she said, pointing to the hall in alarm. The doorbell sounded again.

Christ, thought Leo, if the situation wasn’t so serious, it would be verging on the farcical. Cautiously he went to the
door and looked through the spyhole. There on the doorstep stood Lola, dressed up to the nines. He opened the door.

‘Leo—’ She reached up and exchanged air kisses with him – ‘I was on my way to a do in Markham Square Gardens, and was in danger of being uncharacteristically on time, so I thought I’d drop in and see you.’ Leo opened the door wider to let her in. ‘I have to tell you I’m very worried about Anthea. I don’t care if you think I’m interfering, but she’s absolutely my best friend in the world, and I can’t bear to see her so miserable.’

‘You needn’t worry about Anthea. She’s upset for no reason. Her sister Lucy has been telling lies and making trouble. She admitted it to me. I’ve had a word with Lucy and it’s going to be sorted out in the next day or two, I promise you. I texted her, saying Lucy had something to tell her. Come through and have a drink.’

‘God, that kid’s a monster,’ said Lola, as she followed Leo into the kitchen. She began to shrug off her jacket, then paused when she saw Irina standing there. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you had—’

‘This is Irina. I’ve only just made her acquaintance. Irina, this is my friend Lola.’ He mixed Lola a gin and tonic and handed it to her. ‘Sit down and hear something. You happen to have walked into one of the most grotesque situations of my life. I’d like to explain it to someone, and it might as well be you.’

And Leo, over the next ten minutes, told Lola everything that had happened to him since the day that Viktor Kroitor had come to the house. Why tell Lola? He had no idea, except that she was so extraneous to all of it, that he could think of no one better.

Irina stood listening to the incomprehensible babble of their speedy English, picking up very little of what was going on. Her feelings of loneliness and insecurity were made even more intense by being in this nice house, among these lucky people so sure of themselves and their place in the world. She had no idea what they were deciding on her behalf. Furtively she admired Lola’s expensive, fashionable clothes, and beautifully manicured hands and made-up face, and each time that Lola glanced in her direction, Irina gave a nervous, tentative smile.

‘My God, Leo,’ said Lola, when Leo had finished. ‘What a bloody awful situation. What are you going to do?’ She actually thought it was pretty exciting, given how mundane life generally was.

‘I was thinking about that just before you arrived. My priority is to make sure that this man Kroitor stops threatening my family. Inadvisable as it may sound, I intend to talk to him. But in order to do that effectively, I need to have Irina tucked away safely somewhere, as a potential witness. She’s my bargaining counter. I don’t care about Kroitor, or what he gets up to, so long as I can make sure he stays away from me and my family. Not very public-spirited, perhaps, but there it is.’

‘No, darling, I quite agree. I’m entirely on your side. But when you say “tucked away”—?’

‘Viktor Kroitor must have no idea of her possible whereabouts, so she can’t stay here.’

Lola gave Irina another glance. This was all so intriguing, and really rather fun. ‘I suppose—’ She paused thoughtfully. ‘Have you any other friends, who know about this?’

‘Lola, darling, I’m not asking you to have her. Don’t worry.’

Lola held out her glass. ‘This really is the weediest G and T in the world. Slosh in a little more Bombay Sapphire and I might just let her stay with me.’ She caught his look of astonishment. ‘Really.’

He poured her some more gin. ‘Lola, I can’t ask you to do that. It’s bad enough for me without anyone else getting involved—’

‘Oh, stop. I’d like to do something useful and interesting for a change.’ She smiled at Irina. ‘Do you think she’s understood anything we’ve been talking about?’

‘A bit, I suppose.’ He paused. ‘Lola, are you absolutely serious? Would you have her for a day or two?’

‘Why not? If it’ll help.’

Leo turned to Irina and spoke slowly to her. ‘Listen, Irina – I want to help you to get back to Ukraine, but first, I need to do some things. Get your passport back, for one. This lady’ – he indicated Lola – ‘says you can stay with her for a couple of days. OK?’

Irina hesitated. She hadn’t a clue what they’d been talking about earlier, except that Viktor’s name had come up regularly. She didn’t understand how this woman came into things, either. But she had no choice. She had to trust someone. And the woman looked nice. Probably her house was nice, too. All she really wanted was to get away from London, to get back to Ukraine. This man Leo had said he would get her passport back. She didn’t know how he was going to do that, but something in his eyes made her believe he would. She nodded at Lola and murmured, ‘Thank you.’

‘Are you sure?’ Leo asked Lola again. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

‘Absolutely. Much more fun than going to Hugo’s party.’ She knocked back the remains of her drink and gestured towards Irina’s bag. ‘Does she have any things, or is that it?’

‘That’s all she came with.’

‘By the way,’ asked Lola, as she stood up, ‘how are you going to speak to this man Kroitor if you don’t know where he is?’

Leo was stunned by his own lack of foresight. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

This much Irina had understood. She dived into her bag again and brought out Marko’s mobile phone. She handed it to Leo. ‘Is Marko’s. He leave on table, and I take. Viktor’s number is on it.’

Leo looked at Irina in admiration. ‘Brilliant.’

‘Now, Leo, darling,’ said Lola, putting on her jacket, ‘would you be a dear and ring for a cab?’

Leo spent much of the next morning weighing up the situation, going over and over the various options, uncertain what to do for the best. By lunchtime he had made up his mind. He took Marko’s mobile phone from his briefcase – where it had buzzed forlornly and rather irritatingly on several occasions – and scrolled through the address book till he came to Viktor’s name.

Viktor was at his Paddington flat, the one he used as a base for his London operations. He was feeling irate, to put it mildly. Last night he had lost one of his girls, along with his wallet with all his cash and credit cards, and had spent the hours since then threatening to kill that fat, useless shit Marko – who appeared to be the one responsible – in the slowest, most disgustingly excruciating way conceivable if ever he got his hands on him. So he was mildly nonplussed, when his phone rang, to see that it was apparently Marko who was calling. He stared for a moment, then answered.

‘Marko! Where the—’ But the voice which interrupted him was not Marko’s.

‘Viktor Kroitor? I wonder if you remember me.’ Viktor struggled for some seconds to place the cool, familiar tones. ‘
You
called at my house not long ago. Leo Davies.’

Davies! What the fuck was he doing with Marko’s phone? He paused, collecting his thoughts as he tried to work out the implications of this bizarre development, then said, ‘I remember.’

‘You’re no doubt a little puzzled as to why I’m calling you.’

Viktor’s cooling anger was replaced by bemused suspicion. ‘Tell me, Mr Davies, where did you get the phone?’

‘Well, it’s a long story. I don’t propose to go into it right now. The reason I’m calling you, Viktor, is to arrange a meeting. You don’t mind if I call you Viktor, do you? Makes things more informal.’

Viktor laughed. This guy was mad, but he had some fucking nerve. ‘Call me what you like. What do you mean – a meeting?’

‘Between you and me. There are a few things we need to discuss. Irina Karpacheva, for one.’

Viktor was beginning to make some sense of this, but was struggling to work out how on earth Marko and the girl had got involved with Davies. ‘What about her?’

‘She’s useful to you – and to me. I’d like to reach some kind of deal – what we lawyers call a settlement. I suggest some nice, neutral place – say in an hour’s time? Do you know the Temple at all?’

‘What’s that – some kind of church?’

‘No, it’s an area of London, between Fleet Street and Embankment. Have you got a pen? Right – get a cab, and ask to be dropped at the bottom of Middle Temple Lane, and walk up fifty yards or so. I’ll meet you. Or you could get one of your chaps to drive you – not Marko, obviously.’

Viktor, still mildly angry, had to laugh. There was a ludicrous kind of charm about this guy. ‘Why should I have a meeting with you? Just say what you’ve got to say now. Don’t waste my time.’

‘I like to do things face to face. It’s the best way of communicating, don’t you think? Also, much as I’d love to chat, I think the battery on Marko’s phone is running low. I hope you’ll turn up. Given what Irina has told me, I think you should. You might even get your wallet back, in return for Irina’s passport. Make sure you bring it. Oh, and before you ask, I have no intention of involving the police, or Sir Dudley, or anyone else. This is between you and me. As you said at our last meeting – strictly personal.’

Leo clicked the phone off and put it down. Would Kroitor turn up in an hour’s time? As matters stood, Leo didn’t see that he had a choice.

Viktor sat there, perplexed and furious. He couldn’t believe it. This guy, whose family he’d threatened with harm, was calling the shots and telling him to turn up to meetings? He got up and went to the window, staring down at the street, trying to put things together. By using Marko’s phone, and by saying he wanted to talk about Irina, Davies had pretty much laid it on the line. He had all he needed to go to the police. Given that Marko knew just about everything, Viktor wouldn’t even have time to get to the airport before he was
picked up. And that would be the end. Shit! Viktor paced the room, re-rehearsing the horrible things he would do to Marko if he ever met him again. But why would Marko do this? He stood to gain absolutely nothing by betraying Viktor. Quite the reverse. Then again, Davies had said he wasn’t going to involve the police. He’d said he wanted to meet to do a deal. Did he want money, or what? These barrister people were supposed to be incorruptible and utterly honest – or so Sir Dudley said. Sir Dudley – he was the fool who’d started all this. It was his panic over that one stupid invoice which had led to Viktor visiting Davies and threatening his family. Clearly Leo Davies was not, at this moment, intimidated by those threats. Given the cards in his hand, Viktor could see why.

After a few more minutes spent musing and fuming, Viktor went to the next room and instructed one of his men to drive him to this place called the Temple.