Four Warned (Quick Reads 2014) (7 page)

Once he had locked the door, Dick removed the DON’T DRINK THE WATER sign that was perched on the washbasin and tucked it into the back pocket of his trousers. Next he unscrewed the tops of
the two Evian bottles and poured the contents down the sink. He then refilled both bottles with tap water, before screwing the tops firmly back on and returning them to their place on the corner of
the basin. He unlocked the door and strolled out of the bathroom.

Dick started to unpack his suitcase, but stopped the moment Maureen disappeared into the bathroom. First, he transferred the DON’T DRINK THE WATER sign from his back pocket into the side
flap of his suitcase. He zipped up the flap, before checking around the room. There was a small bottle of Evian water on each side of the bed, and two large bottles on the table by the window.

Dick grabbed the bottle by his wife’s side of the bed and retreated into the kitchenette at the far end of the room. He poured the contents down the sink, and refilled the bottle with tap
water. He then returned it to Maureen’s side of the bed. Next, he took the two large bottles from the table by the window and repeated the process.

By the time his wife had come out of the bathroom, Dick had almost finished unpacking. While Maureen continued to unpack her suitcase, Dick strolled across to his side of the bed and dialled a
number he didn’t need to look up. As he waited for the phone to be answered, he opened the bottle of Evian water on his side of the bed, and took a gulp.

‘Hi, Anatol, it’s Dick Barnsley. I thought I’d let you know that we’ve just checked in to the Grand Palace.’

‘Welcome back to St Petersburg,’ said a friendly voice. ‘And is your wife with you on this occasion?’

‘She most certainly is,’ replied Dick, ‘and very much looking forward to meeting you.’

‘Me too,’ said the minister, ‘so make sure that you have a relaxed weekend because everything is set up for Monday morning. The President is due to fly in tomorrow night so
he’ll be present when the contract is signed.’

‘Ten o’clock at the Winter Palace?’

‘Ten o’clock,’ repeated Anatol Chenkov. ‘I’ll pick you up from your hotel at nine. It’s only a thirty-minute drive, but we can’t afford to be late for
this one.’

‘I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby,’ said Dick. ‘See you then.’

He put the phone down and turned to his wife. ‘Why don’t we go down to dinner, my darling? We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’ He adjusted his watch by three
hours and added, ‘So perhaps it would be wise to have an early night.’

Maureen placed a long silk nightdress on her side of the bed and smiled in agreement. As she turned to place her empty case in the wardrobe, Dick slipped an Evian bottle from the bedside table
into his jacket pocket. He then accompanied his wife down to the dining room.

*   *   *

The head waiter led them to a quiet table in the corner and, once they were seated, offered his two guests menus. Maureen disappeared behind the large leather menu while she
considered the table d’hôte, which allowed Dick enough time to remove the bottle of Evian from his pocket, undo the cap and fill his wife’s glass.

Once they had both selected their meals, Maureen went over her proposed tour for the next two days. ‘I think we should begin with the Hermitage, first thing in the morning,’ she
suggested, ‘take a break for lunch, and then spend the rest of the afternoon at the Summer Palace.’

‘What about the amber collection?’ asked Dick, as he topped up her water glass. ‘I thought that was a no-miss.’

‘I have already booked in the amber collection and the Russian Museum for Sunday.’

‘Sounds as if you have everything well organised,’ said Dick, as a waiter placed a bowl of borscht – beetroot soup, a Russian favourite – in front of his wife.

Maureen spent the rest of the meal telling Dick about some of the treasures that they would see when they visited the Hermitage. By the time Dick had signed the bill, Maureen had drunk the
bottle of water.

Dick slipped the empty bottle back in his pocket. Once they had returned to their room, he filled it with tap water and left it in the bathroom.

By the time Dick had undressed and climbed into bed, Maureen was still studying her guidebook.

‘I feel exhausted,’ Dick said. ‘It must be the time change.’ He turned his back on her, hoping she wouldn’t work out that it was just after 8 p.m. in England.

*   *   *

Dick woke the following morning feeling very thirsty. He looked at the empty bottle of Evian on his side of the bed and remembered just in time. He climbed out of bed, walked
across to the fridge and selected a bottle of orange juice.

‘Will you be going to the gym this morning?’ he asked a half-awake Maureen.

‘Do I have time?’

‘Sure, the Hermitage doesn’t open until ten, and one of the reasons I always stay here is because of the hotel’s gym.’

‘So what about you?’

‘I still have to make some phone calls if everything is to be set up for Monday.’

Maureen slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, which allowed Dick enough time to top up her glass and replace the empty bottle of Evian on her side of the bed.

When Maureen emerged a few minutes later, she checked her watch before slipping on her gym kit. ‘I should be back in about forty minutes,’ she said, after tying up her trainers.

‘Don’t forget to take some water with you,’ said Dick, handing her one of the bottles from the table by the window. ‘They may not have one in the gym.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Dick wondered, from the expression on her face, if he was being just a little too considerate.

While Maureen was in the gym, Dick took a shower. When he walked back into the bedroom, he was pleased to see that the sun was shining. He put on a blazer and slacks, but only after he had
checked that none of the bottles had been replaced by the hotel staff while he had been in the bathroom.

Dick ordered breakfast for both of them, which arrived moments after Maureen returned from the gym, clutching the half-empty Evian bottle.

‘How did your training go?’ Dick asked.

‘Not great,’ Maureen replied. ‘I felt a bit listless.’

‘Probably just jetlag,’ suggested Dick, as he took his place on the far side of the table. He poured his wife a glass of water, and himself another orange juice. Dick opened a copy
of the
Herald Tribune
, which he began to read while he waited for his wife to dress. Hillary Clinton said she wouldn’t be running for president, which only convinced Dick that she
would, especially as she made the announcement standing by her husband’s side.

*   *   *

Maureen came out of the bathroom wearing a hotel dressing gown. She took the seat opposite her husband and sipped the water.

‘Better take a bottle of Evian with us when we visit the Hermitage,’ said Maureen. Dick looked up from behind his paper. ‘The girl in the gym warned me not to drink the local
water under any circumstances.’

‘Oh yes, I should have warned you,’ said Dick, as Maureen took a bottle from the table by the window and put it in her bag. ‘Can’t be too careful.’

*   *   *

Dick and Maureen strolled through the front gates of the Hermitage a few minutes before ten, to find themselves at the back of a long queue. The crocodile of visitors moved
slowly forward along an unshaded path. Maureen took several sips of water between turning the pages of the guidebook. It was ten forty before they reached the ticket booth.

Once inside, Maureen continued to study her guidebook. ‘Whatever we do, we must be sure to see Michelangelo’s
Crouching Boy
, Raphael’s
Virgin
, and
Leonardo’s
Madonna Benois
.’

Dick smiled his agreement, but knew he would not be concerning himself with the masters.

As they climbed the wide marble staircase, they passed several magnificent statues. Dick was surprised to discover just how vast the Hermitage was. Despite visiting St Petersburg several times
during the past three years, he had only ever seen the building from the outside.

Maureen read from the guidebook. ‘Housed on three floors, the collection displays treasures in over two hundred rooms. So let’s get started.’

By eleven thirty they had only covered the Dutch and Italian schools on the first floor, by which time Maureen had finished the large bottle of Evian.

Dick volunteered to go and buy another bottle. He left his wife admiring Caravaggio’s
The Lute Player
, while he slipped into the nearest rest room. He refilled the empty Evian
bottle with tap water before rejoining his wife.

If Maureen had spent a little time studying one of the many drinks counters situated on each floor, she would have discovered that the Hermitage didn’t stock Evian, because it had an
exclusive contract with Volvic.

By twelve thirty they had all but covered the sixteen rooms devoted to the Renaissance artists, and agreed it was time for lunch. They left the building and strolled back into the midday sun.
The two of them walked for a while along the bank of the Moika River, stopping only to take a photograph of a bride and groom posing on the Blue Bridge in front of the Mariinsky Palace.

‘A local tradition,’ said Maureen, turning another page of her guidebook.

After walking another block, they came to a halt outside a small pizzeria. Its sensible square tables with neat red-and-white check tablecloths and smartly dressed waiters tempted them
inside.

‘I must go to the loo,’ said Maureen. ‘I’m feeling a little queasy. It must be the heat.’ She added, ‘Just order me a salad and a glass of water.’

Dick smiled, removed the Evian bottle from her bag and filled up the glass on her side of the table. When the waiter appeared, Dick ordered a salad for his wife, and ravioli plus a large Diet
Coke for himself. He was desperate for something to drink.

Once she’d eaten her salad, Maureen perked up a little, and even began to tell Dick what they should look out for when they visited the Summer Palace.

On the long taxi ride through the north of the city, she continued to read extracts from her guidebook. ‘Peter the Great built the Summer Palace after he had visited Versailles, and on
returning to Russia employed the finest landscape gardeners and most gifted craftsmen in the land to copy the French masterpiece. He meant the finished work to be a tribute to the French, whom he
greatly admired as the leaders of style in Europe.’

The taxi driver interrupted her flow with his own knowledge. ‘We are just passing the recently built Winter Palace, which is where President Putin stays whenever he is in St
Petersburg.’ The driver paused.

‘And, as the national flag is flying, he must be in town.’

‘He’s flown down from Moscow especially to see me,’ said Dick.

The taxi driver laughed dutifully.

*   *   *

The taxi drove through the gates of the Summer Palace half an hour later and the driver dropped his passengers off in a crowded car park. It was busy with sightseers and
traders, who were standing behind their crude stalls plying their cheap souvenirs.

‘Let’s go and see the real thing,’ suggested Maureen.

‘I wait for you here,’ said the taxi driver. ‘No extra charge. How long?’ he added.

‘I should think we’d be a couple of hours,’ said Dick. ‘No more.’

‘I wait for you here,’ he repeated.

*   *   *

The two of them strolled around the magnificent gardens, and Dick could see why it was described in the guidebooks as a ‘can’t afford to miss’ attraction, with
five stars.

Maureen continued to brief him between sips of water. ‘The grounds surrounding the palace cover over a hundred acres, with more than twenty fountains, as well as eleven other
residences.’

Although the sun was no longer burning down, the sky was still clear and Maureen continued to take regular gulps of water, but no matter how many times she offered the bottle to Dick, he always
replied, ‘No thanks.’

When they finally climbed the steps of the palace, they were greeted by another long queue, and Maureen admitted that she was feeling a little tired.

‘Pity to have travelled this far,’ said Dick, ‘and not take a look inside.’

His wife agreed reluctantly.

When they reached the front of the queue, Dick purchased two entrance tickets and, for a small extra charge, selected an English-speaking guide to show them around.

‘I don’t feel too good,’ said Maureen as they entered the Empress Catherine’s bedroom. She clung onto the four poster bed.

‘You must drink lots of water on such a hot day,’ said the tour guide helpfully.

By the time they had reached Tsar Nicholas IV’s study, Maureen warned her husband that she thought she was going to faint. Dick said sorry to their guide, put an arm around his
wife’s shoulder and assisted her out of the palace on an unsteady journey back to the car park. They found their taxi driver standing by his car waiting for them.

‘We must return to the Grand Palace Hotel at once,’ said Dick, as his wife fell into the back seat of the car like a drunk who has been thrown out of a pub on a Saturday night.

On the long drive back to St Petersburg, Maureen was violently sick in the back of the taxi, but the driver didn’t comment, just kept a steady speed as he continued along the highway.
Forty minutes later, he came to a halt outside the Grand Palace Hotel. Dick handed over a stack of notes and apologised.

‘Hope madam better soon,’ he said.

‘Yes, let’s hope so,’ replied Dick.

Dick helped his wife out of the back of the car, and guided her quickly up the steps into the hotel lobby and towards the lifts, not wishing to draw attention to himself. He had her safely back
in their suite moments later. Maureen immediately disappeared into the bathroom, and even with the door closed Dick could hear her retching. He searched around the room. In their absence, all the
bottles of Evian had been replaced. He only bothered to empty the one by Maureen’s bedside, which he refilled with tap water from the kitchenette.

Maureen finally emerged from the bathroom, and collapsed onto the bed. ‘I feel awful,’ she said.