Refracted Crystal: Diamonds and Desire (30 page)

Two days later, Kris stepped out of another taxi onto the pavement outside the Hotel Russell. Although it was a bright mid morning, the wind had changed to an easterly, bringing a cooler chill as a harbinger of the coming Autumn. As she closed the door of the car, she glanced across to Russell Square where a few people were walking through the green, enjoying the final days of summer.

She herself was wearing a dark coat that came just over her hips, a double-breasted Isabel Marant that was open at the front, slightly undermining its effectiveness against the wind. She had replaced her wardrobe to better fit her blossoming figure. In addition the luxurious yet also slightly sober garment, along with her dark blue Roland Mouret dress and black Tory Burch court shoes gave her the sensation of being girded for the meeting ahead. She also had to admit that the low-heeled shoes were among the most comfortable she owned: they looked  conservative (if expensive) rather than stunning, but at least the increasing pressures on her feet and ankles would be relieved.

Lifting up her head, her dark hair coiffed into an elegant and chic bun at the crown of her head, she surveyed the entrance to the Russell. The terracotta and ivory Portland stone of the entrance was marked with the patina of the city, the Corinthian pillars on either side rising high above her and the large glass door restrained and tasteful.

Entering, she passed the discreetly decorated lobby and headed towards the Fitroy Dolls restaurant where she was due to meet Miranda Karstans. Glancing at her watch, she saw that the time was only eleven o’clock—too early for lunch, but Miranda had indicated that the meeting could take up a considerable amount of time.

The restaurant tables were set out on the wooden floor, with warm ochre-veined marble lining the walls, leading the eye upwards to the pale ceiling and large windows which filled the room with light. She looked past the grand pillars towards the large, Victorian fireplace, also resplendent in marble. Most of the tables were empty, though a smartly-clad waiter served one elderly couple at the far end. There was, as yet, no sign of Miranda.

“Can I help you, madame?” The maitre d’ was a little older than Kris, with short dark hair and a slightly severe face that made him ever so slightly less attractive than he would otherwise have been. His expression did little to placate her nervousness, but she cleared her throat (which suddenly felt very dry) and replied that she was here to meet Ms Karstans.

Sitting at the table, she asked the waiter for a coffee and water as he took her coat. Waiting for the other woman, she handled the cutlery on the table, a panoply of knives, forks and spoons beside the shining glasses, trying not to worry too much about what the day would bring. Concentrate on one thing at a time, she told herself.

And yet, inevitably, her mind drifted back once more to Daniel. Back at the apartment in Chelsea, he had raged against Francis Roth, uttering all kinds of dark threats, almost blind at times towards Kris herself. It was only when, entering that storm of his anger, she had placed herself in front of him, reaching towards him and touching his arm gently, that his wrath had finally subsided.

It was strange, she thought. There had been a time when, she had to admit to herself, she had been scared of him from time to time. Daniel Stone—arrogant, powerful, dominant—had threatened to overwhelm her in so many ways, and that was without even considering the mystery that was Daniel Logan—misanthropic, isolated, but powerful in so many other ways. At the same time that she thought of the ways he had taken her, broken down the old, lost figure of Kristina Avelar, she also felt the thrill deep inside her abdomen and placed her hand unconsciously on her belly.

And there she felt another motion, the life inside her. The life that she and Daniel had made. If he had broken her down to release a new woman, then she too had broken him—though in this case she suspected that that remaking was the release of an older man, a forgotten man, someone more humane, someone who was remembering how to love and not merely possess. She did not fear him in the slightest any more, though she was afraid
for
him, of what he would do.

Yesterday, he had taken her advice and avoided further meetings with Felix and Francis, but instead spent time consulting with lawyers. “They’re still trying to screw me,” he had told her. “And I just can’t let them, not yet. I’ve got to fight—for us.”

She had not been entirely convinced of this final remark. For us? she thought. Or for you? Yet she had immediately been ashamed by that thought. He was no longer separate from her, nor she from him.

Her reflections were interrupted by the sight of Maria Karstans walking towards her. The older woman was dressed in a sober skirt and jacket with a white blouse and her hair, a similar colour to Kris’s but much shorter, was impeccable. She carried a briefcase at her side. For some reason, Maria Gosselin sprang into Kris’s mind at that moment and she frowned slightly before she realised why: another meeting at a restaurant, but at least this woman did not hide her face behind sunglasses.

Indeed, as she sat down across from Kris, Miranda’s brown eyes looked a little tired. “Thank you for waiting,” she said. “To think I used to do this kind of transatlantic flying all the time without any adverse effects.” She pulled a wry expression. “I guess age is catching up with me.”

“Thank you for coming,” Kris said, measuring her words cautiously. “I realise just how much I’m asking of you.”

Miranda nodded and beckoned to the waiter. Ordering coffee, she then glanced back towards Kris. “Actually, I’ve missed breakfast,” she said, “and I realise it’s a little too early for lunch yet, but my body hasn’t caught up. Do you mind if I get something to eat?”

“Of course,” Kris replied. She then felt her stomach stretch a little and realised that she too was famished—as she was far too often these days. “Hell, I’ll join you.”

Miranda smiled at this and glanced down towards Kris’s thickening waist. “How much longer?” she asked.

“Just over twenty weeks, if all goes well.”

The other woman nodded at this, and for a second Kris thought she saw a glint of sadness in her eyes.

“Do you have children?” she asked, tentatively.

Miranda shook her head. “I kept postponing a family for work, career—you know, the usual. And then when I began to have second thoughts, it was too late.”

“Surely not,” Kris said quickly. “I mean, you must have plenty of time for children yet.”

With a not unkind smile, Miranda eased herself back in the chair and looked at Kris. “Bless you, child,” she said. “I’m sorry, that sounds very patronising. No, you’re not a child, but I could—perhaps—just be your mother, though I would have been a teenage parent.” She raised an eyebrow and looked away at this comment. “How very different my life would have been,” she said almost too quietly for Kris to hear.

For a few seconds, the two of them said nothing then Miranda returned her gaze to Kris. Though she smiled with her mouth, her eyes retained something of their sadness. “I won’t lie,” she said at last. “I’m a little jealous of you and Daniel. I’m a little jealous, but also glad for you. Part of me wishes it had been me, but another part is very glad that it’s not.”

“Was it that bad?”

Miranda laughed. “No. No.” She paused for a moment. “At the time it was... wonderful.” She could not help blush at this and her eyes flickered downwards, away from Kris’s face. When she mastered her emotions, however, and raised her head once more her expression was more steely. “When the end came, however, it nearly broke my heart. If it had continued much longer, God alone knows what I would have done to myself.”

Now Kris felt embarrassed. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but at the same time she did not know how to form the words. To distract both of them she eventually inquired politely: “What were you doing in Chicago?”

Realising what Kris was doing, Miranda laughed but replied equally politely: “Financial planning for a client. I used to be a hotshot in such matters, but it gets harder for women in particular as they get older. I’ll be glad to get home and rest.”

“Are you... are you married?”

Miranda nodded. “Yes. Four years now. Alex. He’s very sweet, and closer to my age. He is nothing like Daniel, but I consider that a small mercy.”

Kris couldn’t help but frown at this. “What was it like?” she asked at last. Both of them knew why they were here, and it was pointless skirting around the real subject of their conversation.

As the waiter brought across her coffee, Miranda sat back in her seat and considered her response. As she raised her hands before her chest, once more Kris caught a glimpse of the emerald bracelet that Daniel had given her.

“It was like nothing I’ve ever known—before or since,” she replied at last. “Oh, I liked to give off an air of sophistication, of knowing the world, but the truth was that I was much more naive than I let on before I met Daniel. I’d let work take over. We have to work harder, women like us: it’s easy for men. If we want to succeed it sucks up our whole life.”

Kris was silent at this, unable to respond, and so Miranda continued: “Daniel Stone came into my life and... well, frankly he wrecked it. And it was wonderful. I honestly don’t know why he even looked twice at me. There were plenty of women who were younger, more beautiful,” Kris felt pain as she said this. The woman sitting across from her was immensely beautiful, with a grace and elegance that put even Maria Gosselin to shame. “And yet he chose me.” Once more Miranda blushed. “And when we were together... well, I’m sure you know how it is. He saw something in me that would... respond to him. And respond to him I did.

“Christ!” she sipped at her coffee, lost in a reverie for a few moments. “I couldn’t think about anything other than Daniel Stone. I... I rediscovered myself, my body. I was crazy for him.” She suddenly broke off and gave a nervous laugh, fanning herself slightly with her hand and looking away for a moment. “Anyway, it was wonderful,” she repeated at last. Was this a mantra, Kris wondered, to convince her that it had been that way?

“And if he wrecked me, if he took the perfect life I thought I had been living and showed me that it wasn’t quite so perfect... well, he also lifted me up, gave me something new, something better. He opened doors for me—and I don’t just mean sexually, though he opened so many doors there.”

“You were working for him?” Kris bit down the sudden pang of jealousy she felt and tried to return the conversation to something she could deal with less emotionally.

Miranda nodded. “He needed someone to trust, and he trusted me completely. He was hungry, hungry for everything—and I couldn’t give him everything he needed, but I helped him willingly, even against my better judgement.” Her face darkened at this thought. “Which brings me to why we’re here.”

She reached down to the briefcase and placed it on the table, opening the locks and swinging up the black top. Inside was a file with a sheaf of papers, which she placed on the table alongside a small thumb drive.

“These are the most important papers. They’re copies I printed out, but all the information you need is on this drive. It’s encrypted so no one will be able to read it unless they have the password. The only other person who has all of them is me. They’re a kind of insurance.”

Kris reached across to take hold of the file but Miranda’s hand came down over hers and held it tightly. The emerald bracelet refracted sunbeams brightly in the noon light.

“Just be sure that you want these,” the older woman said quietly. “Once you know what’s in here, you can’t forget it.”

Kris pulled her hand backwards and Miranda released it instantly. “What do they contain?”

Miranda paused and breathed in deeply. “This information is... toxic. As I say, I couldn’t give Daniel everything he wanted, but Maximilian Roth thought he could.” She gave a hollow laugh. “Oh, I don’t believe for a moment that Daniel was innocent, but if he was Faust then Maximilian was Mephistopheles. Have you ever met him?”

Kris nodded and Miranda looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds.

“I don’t think evil is the right word to describe him. Calculating, ruthless, utterly passionless. In the end, everything comes down to money with Maximilian Roth: nothing else matters to him, not his wives, not friendship, not even that bastard son of his.” Miranda’s face went into a spasm as she referred to Francis and a look of utter revulsion filled her eyes for a second, but she quickly gained self-control.

No longer looking at Kris, she opened the file. “The company was Pharzon—it was a very successful holding company, involved in energy, pharmaceuticals, electronics. Actually, what Roth and Daniel realised was that what it ostensibly created and traded was much less important than what it provided cover for.”

Kris frowned. “I remember the name from somewhere,” she said.

“So you should. There was a scandal three years ago. One of the biggest bankruptcies in US history—more than 50 billion. The case is still going through the courts and it’s an unholy mess. Pharzon had made use of all sorts of accounting loopholes and special purpose entities, as well as outright fraud, to hide a huge number of bad debts.”

“And what... what does this have to do with Daniel?”

Miranda smiled thinly. “Fortunately, not as much as could have been the case. Shortly before I met Daniel, he and Maximilian had hatched a scheme to leverage some of Pharzon’s debt as well as the substantial pension holdings it had. Roth wanted to become a major shareholder, with the promise of even more billions to add to his wealth. When he met me, Daniel put me onto the team that was involved in a takeover bid: in the end it didn’t go as planned—fortunately for Daniel as it happened.”