Empress Bianca (24 page)

‘But why on earth would you want a divorce all of a sudden? This morning when your cock was in my mouth, you were full of what a wonderful woman I am.’

‘That was this morning,’ he replied, resolved not to give Bianca an opening she could exploit in her attempt to persuade him to reverse his decision. ‘This is now.’

‘But, Ferdie, this is crazy. This morning I was your beloved wife, and now you want a divorce? I think I deserve an explanation at the very least.’

‘My idea of what you deserve is not the same as yours,’ he answered levelly.

‘Are you telling me you want a divorce without even telling me why?’

‘That’s about the size of it.’

‘I don’t understand… What’s happened?’ Bianca said, breaking down and sobbing.

‘Dry your tears,’ Ferdie said. ‘You can’t move me the way you’ve done in the past. I’m on to you now.’

But Bianca could not stop. ‘I don’t understand why,’ she said between sobs. ‘I’ve been an exemplary wife to you. I have to know what’s gone wrong.’

‘You, Bianca,’ Ferdie replied. ‘You’re what’s gone wrong.’

‘Me? How have I gone wrong? I’ve been a loyal and loving wife to you…and I needn’t remind you that you can be a handful at the best of times.’

‘Well, you needn’t exert yourself on my behalf anymore.’

‘But I
want
to…’

‘Bianca, I can see through you. To me, you’re now as transparent as glass. Shall we leave it at that?’

‘What do you mean by that, Ferdie? Of course I’m as transparent as glass. I have nothing to hide.’

‘Here she goes,’ Ferdie said, almost amused and admiring, despite himself. Given an opening, Bianca was the sort of woman who could make a man believe the sun rose in the west and set in the east. ‘My decision is final,’ he continued, ‘and I will not countenance another word on the subject. I suggest we behave as normal for the benefit of our guests tonight, but from tomorrow, I’d prefer it if you didn’t address a single word to me until your departure. I want you out of my house and out of my life. Get your lawyers to contact mine. Now I’d be most grateful if you left my dressing room. Oh…and you can move into one of the guest bedrooms for the rest of your stay here.’

Bianca looked at him, stunned. Hardly able to believe what she was hearing, she clutched Ferdie’s sleeve and opened her mouth. Before she could form the words, however, he looked down, plucked her hand off his sleeve as if it were repugnant to him and pointed towards the door. Realizing she had no choice but to accede to Ferdie’s demands, she walked towards her dressing table, still reeling from the shock.

What she did understand, however, was that the impact of Ferdie’s words had been horrific. Her immediate instinct was to re-establish the norm - any norm - so she returned to her dressing table and tried to apply her lipstick. This simple task, however, was not as easy as it had hitherto been; her hand shook uncontrollably. Gritting her teeth, she willed it to greater stillness as she applied her lipstick, and even though she was unable to force it to stop the quivering entirely, she was gratified to see her self-possession returning.

In the years to come, Bianca would look back on that evening in late 1970 as the worst of her life. Had she sacrificed everything to be abandoned by this lunatic who wouldn’t even tell her why he wanted her out of his life? Was she to lose the crown she had striven for? To be supplanted, the way she had supplanted Amanda, by another woman, who would go on to reap the rewards of being that nutcase’s wife while she was exiled to social Siberia?

Bianca knew the score. No matter how much money an ex-wife had, ‘ex’ meant demotion. It meant being second-class. It meant being ignored and overlooked. It meant being out in the cold, just another ordinary human being: comparable to that beggar woman who had pushed her face between the wrought-iron railings of her parent’s gate the day she became married for the first time, contemplating her betters as they prepared for a feast she would never enjoy.

Bianca forced herself to put on her clothes, doing so by rote. When she had finished, she sat in the bedroom which she would have to vacate later that evening, distractedly flicking through catalogues of forthcoming ‘important’ jewellery sales in New York, London and Geneva sent by Sotheby’s, Christie’s, Phillips’ and Belmont’s. Although she was unable to absorb anything she was looking at, save the thought that all this was being removed from her grasp, the activity itself gave her something to do. She persisted in this activity until she saw through the bedroom window the car lights of the first guest coming up the driveway. At that point, she threw the catalogues aside, smoothed down her skirt and headed towards the drawing-room, where an unruffled - indeed, contented-looking -

Ferdie was sitting with a glass of scotch in his hand.

The first guests were the Swiss banker Alfred Hister and his wife, Inge.

Bianca heard herself greet them effusively, as if everything was well in her world, and it was not about to collapse. She was surprised at her ability to give such a bravura performance - something that Ferdie had expected of her. All the same, Bianca hated feeling as if her whole being had just disappeared. At the very moment that she was observing herself giving outstanding performance, she was trying to reassert herself internally.

The next couple to arrive were Raoul d’Olivera, the Mexican minister of the interior, and his wife Gloria. Raoul d’Olivera was, as Ferdie had often said, ‘someone you can do business with’. He was notorious throughout the country for the alacrity with which he accepted bribes,
but he was so adept at oiling the machinery of business and of government and so careful to modulate the size of the bribe so that the pain it caused was limited that he had retained the post despite successive changes in the government.

As soon as the butler showed them into the drawing-room, their hosts both went up to greet Raoul and Gloria d’Olivera. Ferdie and Bianca both appeared so normal, so hospitable and so apparently cheerful that neither the d’Oliveras nor the Histers had any clue that something was wrong. Indeed, Bianca was responding to one of Raoul d’Olivera’s stories with tinkling laughter when Philippe walked in.

Normally, Bianca was deliberately tepid with Philippe when Ferdie was present. ‘We don’t want him suspecting anything,’ she frequently used to say to her lover; and like Bernardo, Ferdie had become firmly convinced that Philippe’s much-vaunted fondness for Bianca was not reciprocated. Right now, however, Bianca needed to speak to Philippe. Even as she was speaking to her guests, her mind was racing, wondering what could have brought on this catastrophic change of attitude in her husband. Was he playing a cat and mouse game with her, the reason for his refusal to give her a reason for the divorce being that he had found out about Philippe and herself? That must be why he wanted a divorce. Try as she might, she could think of no other reason. In the meantime her lover needed to be informed about this change of circumstances as soon as possible. Bianca wound up her conversation with Raoul d’Olivera and crossed the room to greet Philippe, as if she were fulfilling her duty as a hostess and doing no more.

Philippe was already talking to Frau Hister when Bianca joined them. They were discussing orchids; after greeting him, she said: ‘Ah, but if you like orchids, Frau Hister, we must get my husband to walk you down the driveway to the orchid house. I adore orchids, and we’ve been developing a fine collection.’ With that, she linked arms with Frau Hister and waltzed her off to Ferdie.

‘Darling,’ Bianca said, approaching her husband with a big smile on her face, ‘Frau Hister wants to see the orchids. She’d love it if you showed them to her.’

Ferdie did not miss a beat. ‘It will be my pleasure,’ he said, ignoring Bianca and offering his arm to Frau Hister.

As soon as she had accepted it and the two of them had headed off
together, Bianca crossed the room to where Philippe was now deep in conversation with Raoul d’Olivera. ‘Do you gentlemen mind if I break up this conversation for a minute?’ she asked charmingly ‘I need Philippe to help me with something.’

The minister of the interior clicked his heels, bowed his head and said: ‘I must see what my wife and Señor Hister are up to. Do excuse me.’

‘I think Ferdie might be on to us,’ Bianca said as soon as the minister had withdrawn. ‘He’s told me he wants a divorce, but he refuses to say why.’

Philippe was surprised, but nothing Ferdie did ever shocked him. He’d grown to know him too well. If Ferdie suspected his wife and his partner were having an affair, it would be just like him to turn out his marital partner first before turning on his business partner.

‘When did this happen?’

‘About an hour ago.’

Philippe cast his mind back to the events of the day. That very morning, he and Ferdie had had a personable chat in his office at Banco Imperiale. Everything had been absolutely ordinary, and Philippe did not think that Ferdie actually possessed the skill to dupe him if there was a problem between them. So whatever it was had happened that afternoon.

‘I don’t suppose he saw you leaving my house,’ Philippe offered.

‘I don’t know. I
never
know his movements for the day.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘I don’t see why I should be cast out like Amanda, but what can I do to preserve my position? Maybe I should have him committed? Do you think we could get a friendly psychiatrist to lock him up?’

‘That wouldn’t work,’ Philippe replied. ‘Clara and his mother would simply throw some money around, and then they’ll all be after your blood. What we need to do is remove him from the scene in a way that leaves everything else intact. You do realize that if he divorces you, we’re both done for? Ferdie’s much too proud a man to give one penny of alimony to a woman who’s deceived him. And I don’t see him allowing me to remain a partner one second longer than it suits him. He’ll set up my financial execution and enjoy it too. We’re staring annihilation in the face, Bianca. You do realize that, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ she said, turning pale again.

‘Has he set a timeframe?’

‘He wants me out of here by Sunday.’

‘And the terms?’

‘He said I’m to get my lawyer to get in touch with his.’

‘He means business. Does anyone else know?’

‘No.’

‘Not even the servants?’

‘They definitely haven’t overheard anything. He told me so casually that I actually thought he was joking at first.’

‘It’s good if no one else knows but us.’

‘What can we do?’

‘I have the germ of an idea. I’ll think it through over dinner and tell you afterwards. I can tell you right now, though, what we can’t do. We can’t see or speak to each other after tonight until our problem has been solved. No telephone calls. No visits, especially in the afternoon,’ he said with a regretful smile before looking Bianca squarely in the eye and adding in very deliberate tones: ‘In life, circumstances sometimes force people to do things they normally wouldn’t do. Do you understand what I mean?’

‘I’m not sure I do,’ Bianca said, looking decidedly uncertain.

‘Drastic situations call for drastic measures.’

Bianca nodded her head.

‘We both accept that something has to be done to maintain the status quo, don’t we?’

‘I suppose so,’ she said, still not exactly sure what Philippe was getting at. ‘You trust me to solve this problem in such a way that neither of us loses out?’

Bianca nodded again.

‘On the face of it,’ Philippe continued, ‘the only solution I can think of is a permanent one.’

‘Of course it must be permanent,’ Bianca said, not understanding what Philippe was getting at.

Checking the room to see that no one was observing them, Sometimes “permanent” means “point of no return”,’ he said.

‘There must be another way,’ Bianca gasped, finally taking in what Philippe had been getting at.

‘And if there isn’t?’

She grimaced. ‘My God, Philippe, the very idea makes my stomach
turn.’

‘This is not the time to fall to pieces. You’ve got to be strong and keep a clear head. And you must act as if everything’s all right. Smile. Be brighteyed and carefree. Now let’s go over and engage d’Olivera in conversation. We don’t want Ferdie seeing us together if we can possibly help it. But we must talk after dinner, so find a pretext for us to be alone.’

Dinner, for Bianca, was a torment, but for Philippe, it was nothing more or less than an exercise in problem solving. If love barely existed where Philippe was concerned, friendship did not exist at all. Since Ferdie Piedraplata was nothing more than a vehicle through which he could make money, he could contemplate the removal of his senior partner with a chilling degree of dispassion. There was, in his view, only one solution to their current problem; and he and Bianca both knew it. The practicalities of removing someone permanently were not something he had ever confronted before, but Philippe, like many other bankers who invested the private fortunes of wealthy private clients, had a great many contacts from all walks of life, including the seamier side of society.

One such contact was his client Antonio Gagliari, a cousin of the famous Gambino family in New York. Gagliari liked to think that people in Mexico City considered him a businessman, when in fact everyone knew he was a front man whose business interests were the means by which his mob connections laundered some of its ill-gotten gains. In the business community, it was an open secret that he had arranged, over the years, the murder of three business associates who had tried to rip him off. However, like many a Mafioso, unless you crossed Antonio Gagliari, he was honourable, and polite and scrupulous in his dealings. His reputation, of course, had never mattered to Philippe and Raymond, or indeed to Ferdie, all of whom followed the precept that there was no such thing as tainted money.

By the time dinner was finished, Philippe had a plan. As soon as they all rose from the table, he asked Ferdie - not Bianca - if he could use the telephone. It was important that he and Bianca were not seen to be colluding with one another, and he couldn’t very well use someone’s telephone without their permission. Ferdie’s reaction could not have been more normal. ‘You old goat you,’ he laughed. ‘Making a midnight rendezvous with a hot little number, are you? Use the telephone in my study. That way none of the ladies can overhear you.’