Chapter IV:  PARIS

 

 

 

"Sorry...I was showering..." He grimaced as he lied to Zoe. The first lie of many, he wondered.

"Sergei...what's this I hear on the BBC? What the hell have you done today? My God, don't you think you might have shared your plans with me before you went ahead and declared war on the Russian government! Do I have to rely on reading it in tomorrow's paper? I simply cannot believe you would have done this to us and not had the decency to at least give me some warning..."

Her tirade continued. He did not respond. She had every right to feel aggrieved. Why hadn't he warned her in advance? He wasn't entirely sure other than it was something to do with the fact that she might have tried to talk him out of it. It was hard for him to refuse her anything. Or perhaps it was because until the moment he had stood up to speak today, he still hadn't entirely decided to go ahead. Whichever was the real reason, he knew from her point of view, what he had done was inconceivable. He had no idea how he would justify it in a way she would accept.

Finally, she began to slow down; he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I didn't prepare you for it. My behaviour is completely unacceptable. In truth I was thinking of this course of action for some time. Many things have shaped my beliefs over the years, things mostly unknown to you, although the obvious issues in Russia are evident to everyone. Zoe, my sweet Zoe, how can I make you understand the place my country has in my heart? I have toyed with the idea for a long time and held back until this opportunity presented itself. And then it came - and it seemed fated..."

"...What are you saying, Sergei? That when it comes down to it, your country is more important than your family? That old Commie ideal about 'the whole before the individual?' I thought you were long past that - but maybe not, eh? Indoctrination lies deep, I suppose..."

"I did not say that. Nothing is more important than my family..."

"Really? Somehow your behaviour belies that, pal."

"I know. I know how it seems... I think I was afraid to tell you. Or maybe I was afraid to do it. I simply closed my eyes, took a deep breath and began to speak...and it all came out, almost unplanned, definitely unrehearsed. Maybe not entirely unplanned. That would not be true to say. Zoe, I have a position of strength that few in my country hold. I am one of the only people who can wield this kind of influence. Sometimes one has to accept a role that one doesn't wish for, even at the risk to one's private life...I had been building up this store of anger and sense of injustice for years. Eventually it sought an outlet...I'm not sure I could control what happened today..."

Her mood seemed to change in an instant, at the very moment that he opened up and showed her his own frailty and fears, his own uncertainty.  It was so rare for him ever to admit weakness, especially to her. Although she knew he had his vulnerabilities, ones he would not share.

When she spoke next, her voice had softened, her demeanour entirely different. "It's not as if I blame you, baby. Everything you said is true. I have long wished someone would speak out and say those things. Russia is in crisis. We all know it. Someone has to step up and take a stand.  I have even dreamed that it be you. But the die is cast now. Irretrievably.  There's no turning back. I wish I had known beforehand. I wish I could have helped you prepare us all. It will affect us, won't it? How can it not? Are we in danger now?"

Her willingness to share his burdens, the unconditional love she had for him stung him almost as much as her quick acuity at understanding their predicament. It had never occurred to him that she might have already been thinking along the same lines herself. He had underestimated her. 

"...I don't think we should talk further on the phone. I'll be with you soon. Then we will talk ..."

"They may be listening in, is that what you mean?"

"They are always listening..."

Zoe sank her head in her hands. "What has been going on behind my back? Why don't you let me in, Sergei? I'm the only one who is always on your side no matter what- and yet still you keep me in the dark, like a little plaything, too fragile to be allowed to hear what goes on in the real world. That is not the kind of woman, I am! Don't you understand that, even now?"

He groaned. "You are the strongest and bravest woman I have ever known! It was never about not trusting you! I simply want to shelter you for as long as I can from anything that will worry you! Your life has been hard enough..."

"...That's a load of crap. Things are always worse if you keep them secret- worse for both of us. Now get back here as soon as you can- and then we can sit down and talk...but Sergei, I beg you, take care...They might be preparing to do something already..."

He smiled sadly. "They wouldn't dare touch me at the moment...not when the eyes of the world are upon me. It would validate everything I have said. They will wish to discredit me first- not make a martyr out of me...that gives us some space..."

"Martyrs have to be dead, Sergei, " she reminded him bluntly. "... and whoever they are, they might not care about world opinion as long as they scare anyone else off who might be likely to follow in your footsteps. Not that anyone could walk in your footsteps... There is no one in this world who could...Just be safe, Serzhya. Be safe! Make them check everything twice before you take off...and be here soon...."

He replaced the receiver, slumping back into a chair, his head in his hands. He should have told her beforehand. That she should heard it like everyone else on the TV news! It was unconscionable. There had been enough time to contact her, even after he had left the auditorium. In the intervening hours, he could have got through to her, hours he had preferred to spend instead with a spoiled and vacuous former girlfriend. He was ashamed of himself. Truly ashamed. Thank God Zoe didn't know where his real breach of trust lay...

Zoe stared out of the window across the darkening summer sky. The pressure building on Sergei must have been formidable for some time, no doubt the catalyst for the sense she had of late that he was distant from her. In her self-centred immaturity she taken that as a sign he was growing bored. In reality he had been trying to shield her from serious threats as yet unknown. She might be annoyed with him for his silence on the matter but she should have known that his behaviour sprang from a genuine desire to love and protect her. Even if misguided, his motives were honourable. She, however, has recognised his distress yet had made no attempt to prise him open and try to find the source. Did she not know her husband well enough by now?

What if someone smuggled a bomb on board his private jet? An uneasy sense of dread had gripped her the moment the notion of a stalking enemy had risen up to haunt her. Her husband might be surrounded by security men,  but how safe was he really? How safe were any of them if someone set out to do them harm?  The very men who protected them might be the ones who could be turned by money or other pressures to use their access. Nick had always said those closest would always present the greatest danger. Infiltration often became easier when security was highest because a larger team provided endless possible weak links - and a false sense of security was almost more dangerous than anything else. Fears, real and imagined, plagued her as the hours slipped by. Reading or watching a movie did not hold her attention, sleep would not come, so instead she paced the floor, until her agitation was increased to fever pitch.

Finally she wandered up out onto the balcony that surrounded the upper storey of their penthouse. The building might be Second Empire but their renovation had turned the family floors into a comfortable home. Where their London house was state of the art modernism -a style they both preferred- the historic Paris apartment demanded that respect be paid to its flamboyant period elegance. But for the sake of the children and their need for space and fresh air, they had decided to convert the roof of the property into a balcony space with garden and play areas. A building extension had given them bedrooms for the family on that level, quite separate from the formal grandeur of the public areas of the house.

From her perch high up above the city, Zoe looked out over a very different cityscape than the one of the chic streets below her. A higgledy-piggledy panorama of attics and rooftops, chimneys and turrets spread out before her, a lost portal to an earlier Paris of fading grandeur and superfluous embellishment. Tiny architectural details usually lost to any eyes but those of passing pigeons, revealed a visual feast closer to the darker worlds of Zola and Hugo than the twenty-first century boulevards beneath.

She breathed the warm night air, and gazed out thoughtfully. Even here, in her current state of mind, she could not but dwell on the security issues surrounding their location. Maybe she should ask Jamie to send a team over from London to audit their people and this apartment, advising on enhancing the security systems? Nick would have had no problems with a spot like this, she thought ruefully; he loved city targets with plentiful overlooking platforms for holing up and waiting for the money shot, locations riddled with sufficient rabbit warrens of potential escape routes for the vital seconds of the confused aftermath. This was her professional eye at work.

Security had always been something of a contentious issue between Zoe and Sergei. She was also not overly fond of some of the men in Sergei's guard or their style. Maybe it was because they were of a certain Russian type steeped in dubious backgrounds as KGB officers and the like that made her resistant. Maybe it was that to a man they were dour, brutal and monosyllabic, rarely showing any sign of emotion, as if they had been hewn from the same stone merely to do their jobs, with no personality or humanity about them.

She was probably being unfair. Her own father himself was ex-SAS and in his long and varied career had done his fair share of bodyguard detail. No doubt he had his robotic professional face for the client, too. It was also wrong to assume that any special ops or military intelligence background was inherently worse than any other. It didn't matter whether they were KGB, Mossad, Stasi, CIA or MI6 - Nick had always been quite clear on that subject. When called upon such men all employed the same dubious and brutal tactics. They came from a paranoid world in which every side was capable of acts of callous ruthlessness. Some regimes were more given to fear and intimidation as a tool of government than other - but none of the men working for any agency were angels when it came to ethical choices. The end always justified the means, whatever the prevailing opinion. To believe Russians were intrinsically less given to the milk of human kindness was the worst kind of racism.

But surrounded by silent towering 'mountains' who never gave her or the children a flicker of expression, that's how her bodyguards often made her feel. It was difficult to live with these people around day after day without building up some bonds, establishing some form of relationships. She had occasionally caught Andreas tormenting their men with silly antics, trying to get a reaction, much as kids did with the Guard at Buckingham Palace - but as with those famous custodians, Sergei's men never cracked even a grin or tried to win over the children's trust and affection.

Their eyes never left them all the same- which was, of course, their job.  On their part, it was probably unwise to have too much familiarity because it could lull everyone into forgetting the prime reason they were there. Nevertheless underneath Zoe always suspected that these men probably despised what they did and those whom they guarded. She couldn't shake that feeling, even though her own company Siphos, was in much the same business and she didn't imagine that was the mindset of her own men.

Then there was the uncomfortable feeling that was what passing through their minds was probably of a sexual nature. Men were men, after all. Especially when doing boring surveillance for hours on end while she and the children went about their everyday lives. What better than to fantasise the boss's wife naked and seeing to your every whim? They might show cringe-worthy deference to her station when Sergei was around but when alone with them, she could sense that undertow of chauvinism that characterised so many Russian men. She was just a beautiful woman and if she hadn't been Litvinov's plaything, then she might be fair game for them.

Valeri Gudovin, the head of the team, was the worst of a bad bunch. He was relatively young, very good-looking and carried himself with a casual arrogance that suggested he feared no one. Sergei said he had a formidable CV - but omitted to tell her exactly what that meant in real terms. Zoe imagined from his undoubted physical gifts, he was used to attention from the ladies. Even with her he seemed to expect some sort of reaction to his charms: six foot five, broad shouldered, slim-waisted, long fair hair held back in a pony tail - and always impeccably attired in suits that were probably way above his salary scale. God knew how he afforded them - or who funded his lifestyle. To her mind a man like that was a perfect candidate for treachery.

She sighed, absently searching the night sky for aircraft, as if by some miracle Sergei's jet would fly right past and she would know he was near. Lost in contemplation, she missed his actual arrival, his voice from behind the first sign that her husband was home.

"I wondered where you were...!" Zoe jumped, her hand instinctively raised to her racing heart, turning to face him.

He was walking slowly across the space, pulling off his jacket as if casting away the cares of the day. For a moment she stood rooted to the spot still surprised by his physical presence, as if conjured up from her desires. Then his warm smile and arms open in greeting stung her into action. Running lightly towards him, she slipped into his arms burying her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his smell.

He held her tight, letting the familiar pleasure of her body wash over him, rocking her to him, calming them both, his lips seeking out her forehead and placing a gentle kiss. "It's so good to be home...! So good to touch you again...!" he whispered. She murmured something intelligible as a reply, lips pressed to the flesh of his neck.

Tilting her chin up, he looked down at her face, devoid of makeup, hair falling haphazardly in thick waves. She was so beautiful. So young. So in love with him. What more than this sight did any man need in life? His lips found hers; they melted into each other. No need for words. Their bodies had to speak first to clear the confusion between them.

With an easy movement, he hoisted her into his arms, and carried her back into the building, his jacket discarded carelessly on the floor. Once inside, he set her down so she could pull his T-shirt over his head and he could kick away his shoes. Then he pulled her back to him, kissing her eagerly as they stumbled awkwardly towards their bed, falling onto it together, rolling into each other, he sliding above her, his hands running up her legs.

He brushed aside the silken drape of her negligee, his knee burrowing between her thighs to make contact with the soft wet warmth he craved. Rolling onto his back while she eased off his jeans, he quickly returned to her body, impatient for satisfaction, no intention in either mind to prolong gratification this time. Sex games could come later. For now he just wanted to be inside her - and she wanted the same.

"I'm sorry..." he muttered as he slid home.

She cried out. "Me too! Sorry... I was such a fool to doubt you..."

"Not now. Don't speak...just...let me...'' Pleasure stripped his ability to finish a sentence in her language; his remaining audible grunts were guttural crude exhortations in his own tongue.

It was fast, intense and powerful, as it always was when they had fought -or been apart for any length of time. Tonight an even stronger madness was driving them inside each other's skins.

Lying in the aftermath, sheet hastily pulled up over naked bodies, Zoe lay caressing his chest while he dozed fitfully, stroking her body absently. 

"How have the children been?" He broke the comfortable silence first. 

"Restless. It's not the ideal place in hot weather. They want to be back in the garden in London. But they're okay. Driving me nuts but what's new?"

Sergei smiled. "Tomorrow I will spend the entire day with them. You go pamper yourself. Get some ridiculously expensive treatment to prepare for tomorrow night. Spend my money. That's how the wife of a billionaire should spend her days, not looking after her children..."

"Is that so?" Zoe raised herself up to lean against his chest, smiling. " Well, in that case, I think I will...Actually, I already planned to. But I want to do a bit of shopping first in the morning. Alone for once- I have no intention of dragging those three around Parisian boutiques..."

"You could always leave them at home...we have a whole staff devoted to looking after them..."

"It's their holiday too! Why should they be shunted from one hired help to another? " Zoe insisted.

Sergei did not demur. He loved that the children were her primary concern although he sometimes felt guilty that marriage to him had stripped her of so much of her former independence. And yet, in his heart of hearts, he had to admit, that was what he most wanted for his wife - to be the traditional mother and homemaker, bringing stability and values to her boys - and amongst that group be included himself. They all loved her so much, this beautiful woman who had given life to them - and a different kind of life to him.

One thought led inevitably to another. The usual stab of sadness reminding him how he continued to fail her as a man. He could not make life in her as other men had. She would never have another child. There would never be a daughter - they would both have loved a little girl!  Zoe had never once reproached him for his failing. She never would. If he raised the subject at all, she insisted that she had given birth twice and that was more than enough for her; she had no desire ever to do it again. He knew she lied to save his feelings.

Some time ago, the possibility of adoption had come up- or maybe even some sort of medical intervention. He had some live sperm. There was IVF treatment - and conception on a Petri dish. But it had been too much, too soon for him; he had stalled her with words like 'perhaps' and 'soon', 'one day', 'when Alexei is older...'

She hadn't raised the question again. It was a matter of shame to him - she knew this- and his pride would prevent him seeking an alternative solution. He did not want his secret to be revealed to others.

But she never called him on it. The knowledge that she was prepared to bear the cost of his pride in the curtailment of yet another of her rights, gave him an even greater sense of guilt. The price to pay in this marriage was always to be hers.

"You asleep?' she murmured, snuggling in close to his naked body, inserting a leg between his, her knee stroking up his thigh and beyond.

"No," he replied by wrapping himself around her. "I was just thinking..."

"We need to talk, Sergei...I'm worried. All night I've been running it backwards and forwards in my mind - I need some answers..."

Sergei sighed deeply, but nodded, pulling himself up to lean on the head board, drawing her to him into his arms. "Where should I start? I don't even know where it all begins. Putin, he's behind everything that happens, we all know that, huh? Medvedev, his little lap dog, runs at his heels and does whatever he is told. In this way, the West is appeased that we have a democracy...but nothing ever changes. In some ways, it's worse than the old days when at least there was pretence of ideology to justify what was going on. Now the driving force of my country is the acquisition-through any means possible- of wealth and influence, usually at the expense of the majority of the people. The black economy has never been so vibrant. Fortunes are to be made by those who bully and cheat and defraud and steal - and their actions are bolstered up by a system built to sustain corruption...It has to stop! We cannot let Russia sink into an oligarchy based on winners take all..."

"...Is this why you have been meeting with those awful Bratva types?"

Sergei gave her a rueful smile. "They wouldn't regard themselves as Bratva now although that is how they made their fortunes. They are smart enough to have ditched the gangs and to appear to be running bona fide companies. But, naturally, nothing has changed. They are rich enough to be able to create a front behind which they still trade in flesh and drugs and crime...I have to deal with them- because to remain outside makes me a target. You remember what happened to Mikhail Khodorovsky? For sure, he was no saint...but he didn't deserve what they did to him..."

"Khodorovsky? The billionaire they sent to prison...?" Zoe sat up, paying attention. This was the sort of thing she was worrying about.

"He was the richest man in Russia at one point.  Ran YUKOS, a vast petroleum company. Back in 2004, he was arrested for fraud, and sentenced to nine years...the government froze his shares...the price collapsed...in other words, they destroyed him...and gobbled up the pieces..."

"They wanted the petrol company? Why didn't they just work with him? Why frame him? Or was he guilty?"

Sergei shrugged. "Probably. Fraud? You can't run anything in Russia without some measure of dubious practice - and I already said he was no saint. But he was also nowhere near as bad as many others...He was interested in politics, however. He was funding a few political parties...including pro-Kremlin groups..."

"Putin saw him as a potential rival? And knew he was rich enough to buy power?"

"Exactly. So they destroyed him. Today, he is still in a labour camp. Still a rich man, no doubt, but his fortune is a shadow of what it was and he will not be able to cross Putin when he gets out...But not everyone is quite so lucky...last month Shabtai von Kalmanovic was shot dead in Moscow. He' was a colourful character, larger than life, Russian Israeli...former KGB...owned a woman's  basketball team. Born in Soviet Lithuania, emigrated to Israel, made a fortune. Close with Israeli leaders until he was imprisoned for being a KGB agent...released on health grounds 10 years ago, although he's been remarkably healthy ever since...until he was shot 20 times in a drive by in Novedevichy Place, that is..."

Zoe winced. "Professional hit?"

"What else?"

"Why?"

"A number of theories...he made another fortune- this time in Russia- after his release in construction and entertainment. Some say, he didn't respect the gangs enough, treading on their patch-and that's quite likely...but there's another theory that he was released early by Israeli's because he promised to spy for Mossad...and the Americans...and Putin didn't like that much..."

"Sergei...the night you had Glebov and Mendelsky over...what happened?"

Sergei's laugh was harsh. "I threw Glebov out after I half throttled him...No man insults my wife and gets away with it..." he added. "I was trying to tell you that, but you locked me out. Surely you didn't imagine I wasn't going to react to what you told me? I just needed you out of the way so I could deal with him..."

"Sergei, that was insane! All your efforts to court them were for nothing. You made an enemy of Putin's best ally..."

He threw up his hands. "I was only playing for time anyway. They had been gunning for me all along. They just wanted an excuse..."

"...Which you gave them...What happened to me was not important enough to risk all our lives...!"

Sergei took her hands and held them to his heart. "Yes, it was. There is nothing more important to me than you and the children. Nothing. I was also waiting my time. I knew already by that night that we were not safe. I could sense they were watching, waiting, knowing that something was going to happen. I'm not one of them and I never will be. Putin doesn't trust me because, although I stay out of politics for the most part, I also don't play his game. He can't understand that so he presumes I must have an ulterior motive...and he wants to strike first...I'm relieved it's all out in the open now because now- no more waiting. If the knives are out - at least I know. I'm not boxing shadows any more..."

They stayed quiet for a few moments, he giving her time to digest his words.

"I should have known all this..."

"Yes, you should have. It is my fault..."

"No, it's mine. I have been living in a dream world. I knew about these things. I knew about Khodorvsky. I read about von Kalmanovic. I just didn't put it all together...."

"Why should you? I didn't tell you there was cause for concern..."

Zoe shook her head. "No blame game. It's pointless. Just promise you'll be honest with me from now on. This is now our problem and I have to be kept informed of everything that happens behind the scenes..."

"I promise...I've been such a fool..." She could see his pain. It made her heart ache.

Lying down on him, she held him tight. "You are not a fool. Just a man. It's okay to get things wrong from time to time. But we have to make plans. I want our security beefed up. By people I trust..."

Sergei pulled away. "What's wrong with my people? I trust them..."

She threw up her hands in frustration. "Another opinion is valid, Sergei. I own a very successful and well-respected security company. It's insane not to make use of that! They might just have different approaches, ones that could be useful...I could get Jamie in. He'd fly over with a team, do an audit..."

"Not Farrow. I can't work with him. That cocky little thug..." Sergei muttered.

Zoe smiled. Men! What he really meant was he was not prepared to be in the same room if he could help it with any man who had slept with his wife. She had expected that reaction. The only reason she had even mentioned Jamie was so that she could then make a compromise and suggest her father -leaving Sergei with no alternative to accept. She had learned a lot from Terry Thorne over the years about negotiation.

"Then what about my Dad? He could do the job better than anyone. He's not an outsider. Your men would accept your father-in-law, surely? And he will be discreet. No one will ever know..."

Sergei recognised he had been played, breaking out into laughter, ruffling up her hair. "You really are a very clever woman, are you not? I have no idea why I ever try to treat you with silk gloves...you're a little street fighter, meliotschka..."

"Ain't that the truth...so, I can go ahead and ask Dad to lead an audit? Get a few guys to assist..."

"Whatever you like. But Gudovin won't like it..."

"Oh good...that makes it even more appealing...!" Zoe teased. Sergei tossed her down and launched himself on top of her. She fought back playfully, but his strength was too great for her to escape. Not that she resisted very hard.

"At least, in bed, I can still hold you down..." he bit her ear softly, licking and kissing a trail down her neck to her breast, where he took her nipple in his mouth and rolled it sensually between his teeth. " Maybe you want another trip to paradise...? This time slow...so that I don't miss a single inch of your flesh on the way to your beautiful cunt..."

She moaned in exaggerated pleasure at his crude words, writhing beneath his tongue. The night was still young enough for games...

 

 

~~~

...Morning arrived too soon, after a night spent in passion. Unawares that Sergei was back, Andreas ran in to wake his mother with some request or other only to yell at the top of his voice for the others when he saw his father lying asleep beside her, his mother wrapped in his arms.

"DAD'S HOME!!!! COME ON EVERYONE...!" He announced before running forward to dive head first onto the bed. Zoe groaned and pulled the covers over her head. Sergei rolled onto his side, instinctively protecting himself from the impact. He did not want a foot in the groin again this time.

"MUM!!!! Why didn't you wake us up last night?" He demanded. " Why didn't you tell us Dad was home! It's school holidays. It doesn't matter if we're up late..." the boy reasoned.

Sergei shot Zoe an amused glance. "I wanted a word with your mother first..."

Zoe sniggered into the pillow. "Leave us alone, Andy. Scram...I'll be up in fifteen...Give me a break..."

"...Dad, can we do something fun today? It's been dead boring since we got here... Mum never lets us have fun... We even had to go to see a museum..! How boring is that? " Andreas ignored his mother's request for him to leave them alone.

"...If you leave us alone a little while to wake up properly, I promise we do something very fun today. Now go...disappear - and keep your brothers out...!" Sergei gently kicked out at Andreas who rolled off the bed grudgingly and made for the door, just as the others bounded through.

"Papa! Daddy...!" there was a chorus of excitement from Nikolai and little Alexei toddling in behind, trying to keep up with his big brothers.

"...We have to leave them alone. Dad told us to go back to bed...I think they want to kiss or something first..." Andreas reported bossily. "...But we're going out with Dad later...he says we're going to have fun..."

"Where?" Nikolai began.

"OUT!" Sergei threw a pillow towards the door. " If you're still here when I get to ONE, no one's going anywhere...except to every Museum in Paris...FIVE...FOUR...THREE..."

The room emptied in an instant. Sergei flopped back against the pillow. "Jesus Christ, that boy's like a human tsunami...!"

"You've got 15 minutes, mister. Shall we do that kissing he mentioned first?" Zoe pulled herself up against the headboard, laughing.

"After last night, you are still asking for more? Is this woman completely insatiable? I gave you my best shot already...I'm only human..." Sergei complained but still wrapping his arms around her waist all the same, dragged back down beneath the sheets, as she giggled and protested feebly.

The telephone rang. "Shit...!" he muttered, emerging from the covers, ripping the offending object from its cradle, answering with a curt: "What is it?"

His tone immediately changed as he listened to the speaker. "...Anna, Anna...My apologies...I thought it was business...Wait, Zoe's here...One moment..."

He passed over the handset, mouthing: 'Your mother' with a roll of his eyes. Zoe raised her own to the ceiling and took it, covering herself, as if suddenly conscious of her nakedness.

"Hi Mum...you know what time it is here?" She was speaking to her mother; she did not even try to be polite.

Annie grimaced. "Sorry. I thought you'd be up by now with the children...I didn't know Sergei was with you...I thought he was still in Rome...." She was already backtracking, wishing she hadn't made the call, feeling like an interfering, neurotic mother.

"...It's still school holidays, Mum. We tend to take the mornings slowly at the moment. Was it anything important? Or can I call you back later...?"

"We're on our way out. To dinner. With Liam. He's here with us. Zoe, there was something on the news here and we thought you might be upset...Something about a speech Sergei made in Rome...it's getting big attention in the media...But if you're busy too talk, then I'll leave it until some other time...when you're free..." Annie could also be sarcastic.

Zoe pouted. "Come on, Mum! Don't be like that! I'm only half awake. Sergei got back late last night, you know? Yeah, there've been a few interesting developments. I don't really understand all the ramifications yet, but we're cool...don't worry..."

Annie gave a sigh of relief. "We just concerned and wanted to know if you needed any help..."

Zoe looked across at Sergei, who shrugged as if giving her permission to speak freely.

"Yes, we're fine. Mum, it's difficult to talk on the phone. I can't pretend this isn't going to throw up a whole host of challenges but I need to sit down with Sergei first and get some perspective -then I promise I'll get back to you. Soon. One thing we're concerned about, however, is security, I'll admit that..."

She looked across at her husband, who rubbed at his face as if already sloughing off the warm pleasure of the marital bed and girding on his armour for the world outside. He eased himself to the edge of the bed, listening intently all the while to her side of the conversation.

"Is Dad there? Could I speak to him for a moment?"

"Yeah, he's here...I'll put him on...Terry, Zoe wants to talk to you..."

There was a silence - and then her father's deep voice: "Morning, love...!"

Zoe smiled. It was astonishing how his voice alone made her feel more reassured. "Evening, Dad...! I was just wondering, what's your schedule like over the next few weeks?"

Terry immediately knew what was coming next. He had been hoping she made a suggestion of this nature. "I'm tied up until the end of the week but then pretty free...you want us to come over?"

"Dad, I'd love you to come over! Any time! The kids would love it, too. But, I'd also like you to cast an eye over our security arrangements while you're here. Just a second opinion to make sure we're at optimum efficiency. It's particularly essential in view of this new development... I'd really appreciate your overview. It's just a precaution, you know? Nothing to worry about..."

Terry glanced over at Annie who was trying to guess what was being said. He smiled over to set her mind at rest while thinking of how to phrase his answer so not as to alarm his wife. "I know. Everything's cool. Leave it with me, princess. We're due a bit of a break and we've already talked about Europe before the cold sets in...So, sure, sounds like a plan...We can be there next week if you like..."

There was nothing in his answer to betray apprehension; both knew that the request was hiding a whole host of issues arising from the news. Zoe didn't need to enlarge further on the matter. If she was thinking along the lines of boosting up security already, then it was obvious that his concerns were justified. But there was no need for Annie to start worrying just yet.

"Great. Can't wait. Talk to you later. Go, enjoy your evening. Tell Liam I'll see him back in the smoke soon. Give Mum a kiss, tell her I'm sorry I snapped at her - you know what a bear I am in the mornings...and Dad...thanks....you know? I appreciate you dropping things and coming over..."

"Always...Catch you later. Love to the littlies...Tell Sergei, I've got his back, eh?"

Zoe sighed as she handed the phone back to her husband. Just talking to her father always made her feel secure, a throwback to childhood, when  climbing into his arms always drove away the scary things.

Sergei set the receiver back down with a firmness that suggested he was aggrieved, addressing her with his back turned. "We are still discussing the issue of the security...you could have waited before asking him..."

She scooted across the bed to him, placing her hand on his back, encouraging him to turn to face her. "You could have warned me before you made that speech...It works both ways, Sergei..." she gently reminded her husband.

He conceded, shaking his head in grudging admiration at his wife's skill in laying down the winning card.

"Touché, meliotschka. Touché, once again..."

 

 

To be continued in Book II... (coming soon!)

Featured Song: Babylon by David Gray from 'White Ladder'

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