Although Karl and I were on different resident blocks, we met up regularly for a.s.sociation. But it still took several walks around the yard before I squeezed the story of Richard Barnsley out of him.

DON'T DRINK THE WATER. Richard Barnsley stared at the little plastic card that had been placed on the basin in his bathroom. It was not the kind of warning you expect to find when you are staying in a five-star hotel. Unless, of course, you are in St Petersburg. By the side of the notice stood two bottles of Evian water.

When Richard (known as d.i.c.k) strolled back into his large bedroom, he found two more bottles had been placed on each side of the double bed, and another two on a table by the window. The management were not taking any chances.

d.i.c.k had flown into St Petersburg to close a deal with the Russians. His company had been chosen to build a pipeline that would stretch from the Urals to the Red Sea. It was a project that several other, more established, companies had wanted. d.i.c.k's firm had been awarded the contract, against great odds. But those odds had shortened once he promised Anatol Chenkov (the Minister for Energy and close personal friend of the President) two million dollars a year for the rest of his life. The only currencies the Russians trade in are dollars and death especially when the money is going to be deposited in a numbered account.

Before d.i.c.k had started up his own company, Barnsley Construction, he had learnt his trade working in Nigeria, in Brazil and in Saudi Arabia for large corporations. Along the way he had picked up a trick or two about bribery. Most international companies treat bribery as just another form of tax, and make the provision for it whenever they present their offer to carry out work. The secret is always to know how much to offer the minister, and how little to dispose of among his workers.

Anatol Chenkov (who had been appointed by the Russian President, Putin) was a tough negotiator, but then under an earlier regime he had been a major in the KGB. However, when it came to setting up a bank account in Switzerland, the minister was clearly a beginner. d.i.c.k took full advantage of this as Chenkov had never travelled beyond the Russian border before he had been appointed to the Politburo.

d.i.c.k flew Chenkov to Geneva for the weekend, while he was on an official visit to London for trade talks. He opened a numbered account for him and deposited $100,000 so-called 'seed money' but more than Chenkov had ever been paid in his lifetime. This sweetener was to ensure that their bond would last for the necessary nine months until the contract was signed. It was a contract that would allow d.i.c.k to retire on far more than two million a year.

d.i.c.k returned to the hotel that morning after his final meeting with the minister. He had seen him every day for the past week sometimes publicly, more often privately. It was no different when Chenkov visited London. Neither man trusted the other, but then d.i.c.k never felt at ease with anyone who was willing to take a bribe because there was always someone else happy to offer him more. However, d.i.c.k felt more confident this time, as both of them seemed to have signed up for the same retirement policy.

d.i.c.k also helped to cement the relationship with a few added extras that Chenkov quickly became used to. A Rolls-Royce would always pick him up at Heathrow and drive him to The Savoy hotel. When Chenkov arrived, he would be shown to his usual riverside suite. Women then appeared every evening, as regularly as the morning papers. He preferred two of both one broadsheet, one tabloid.

Now, back in St Petersburg, when d.i.c.k checked out of the hotel, the minister's BMW was parked outside the front door waiting to take him to the airport. As he climbed into the back seat, he was surprised to find Chenkov waiting for him. They had parted after their morning meeting just an hour before.

'Is there a problem, Anatol?' he asked with concern.

'On the contrary,' said Chenkov. 'I have just had a call from the Kremlin which I didn't feel we should discuss over the phone, or even in my office. The President will be visiting St Petersburg on the sixteenth of May and has made it clear that he wishes to be present at the signing ceremony.'

'But that gives us less than three weeks to complete the contract,' said d.i.c.k.

'You told me at our meeting this morning,' Chenkov reminded him, 'that there were only a few is to dot and ts to cross (an expression I'd not come across before), before you'd be able to finish the contract.'

The minister paused and lit his first cigar of the day, before adding, 'With that in mind, my dear friend, I look forward to seeing you back in St Petersburg in three weeks' time.' Chenkov's statement sounded casual. But, in truth, it had taken almost three years for the two men to reach this stage, and now it would only be another three weeks before the deal was finally sealed.

d.i.c.k didn't respond as he was already thinking about what needed to be done the moment his plane touched down at Heathrow.

'What's the first thing you will do after the deal has been signed?' asked Chenkov, breaking into his thoughts.

'Put in a bid for the water supply contract in this city, because whoever gets it would surely make an even larger fortune.'

The minister looked round sharply. 'Never raise that subject in public,' he said gravely. 'It's a very sensitive issue.'

d.i.c.k remained silent.

'And take my advice don't drink the water. Last year we lost countless numbers of our citizens who got sick with . . .' the minister stopped, not wanting to add belief to a story that had been splashed across the front pages of every Western paper.

'How many is countless?' enquired d.i.c.k.

'None,' replied the minister. 'Or at least that's the official statistic released by the Ministry of Tourism,' he added, as the car came to a halt on a double red line outside the entrance of Pulkovo II airport. He leant forward. 'Karl, take Mr Barnsley's bags to check-in, while I wait here.'

d.i.c.k leant across and shook hands with the minister for the second time that morning. 'Thank you, Anatol, for everything,' he said. 'See you in three weeks' time.'

'Long life and happiness, my friend,' said Chenkov as d.i.c.k stepped out of the car. d.i.c.k checked in at the departure desk an hour before boarding began for his flight to London.

'This is the last call for Flight 902 to London Heathrow,' a voice came crackling over the tannoy.

'Is there another flight going to London right now?' asked d.i.c.k.

'Yes,' replied the man behind the check-in desk. 'Flight 902 has been delayed, but they are just about to close the gate.'

'Can you get me on it?' asked d.i.c.k, as he slid a thousand-rouble note across the counter.

d.i.c.k's plane touched down at Heathrow three and a half hours later. Once he had picked up his case from the carousel, he pushed his trolley through the 'Nothing to Declare' channel and emerged into the arrivals hall.

Stan, his driver, was already waiting among a group of chauffeurs. Most of them were holding up name cards. As soon as Stan spotted his boss, he walked quickly across and took his suitcase and overnight bag.

'Home or the office?' Stan asked d.i.c.k as they walked towards the short-stay car park.

d.i.c.k checked his watch it was just after four. 'Home,' he said. 'I'll work in the back of the car.'

Once d.i.c.k's Jaguar had come out of the car park to begin the journey home to Virginia Water, d.i.c.k immediately called his office.

'Richard Barnsley's office,' said a voice.

'Hi, Jill, it's me. I managed to catch an earlier flight, and I'm on my way home. Is there anything I should be worrying about?'

'No, everything is running smoothly this end,' Jill replied. 'We're all just waiting to find out how things went in St Petersburg.'

'Could not have gone better. The minister wants me back on May sixteenth to sign the contract.'

'But that's less than three weeks away.'

'Which means we will all have to get a move on. So set up a board meeting for early next week, and then make an appointment for me to see Sam Cohen first thing tomorrow morning. I can't afford any slip-ups at this stage.'

'Can I come to St Petersburg with you?'

'Not this time, Jill, but once the contract has been signed, block out ten days in the diary. Then I'll take you somewhere a little warmer than St Petersburg.'

d.i.c.k sat silently in the back of the car, going over everything that needed to be covered before he returned to St Petersburg. By the time Stan drove through the wrought-iron gates and came to a halt outside the mansion, d.i.c.k knew what had to be done.

He jumped out of the car and ran into the house. He left Stan to unload the bags, and his housekeeper to unpack them. d.i.c.k was surprised not to find his wife standing on the top step, waiting to greet him, but then he remembered that he had caught an earlier flight, and Maureen would not be expecting him back for at least another couple of hours.

d.i.c.k ran upstairs to his bedroom, and quickly stripped off his clothes, dropping them in a pile on the floor. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, allowing the warm jets of water to slowly remove the grime of St Petersburg and Aeroflot.

After he had put on some casual clothes, d.i.c.k checked his appearance in the mirror. At fifty-three, his hair was turning grey early, and although he tried to hold his stomach in, he knew he ought to lose a few pounds, just a couple of notches on his belt he would once the deal was signed and he had a little more time, he promised himself.

d.i.c.k left the bedroom and went down to the kitchen. He asked the cook to prepare him a salad, and then strolled into the drawing room, picked up The Times, and glanced at the headlines. A new leader of the Tory Party, a new leader of the Liberal Democrats, and now Gordon Brown had been elected leader of the Labour Party. None of the major political parties would be fighting the next election under the same leader.

d.i.c.k looked up when the phone began to ring. He walked across to his wife's writing desk and picked up the receiver, to hear Jill's voice on the other end of the line.

'The board meeting is fixed for next Thursday at ten o'clock, and I've also arranged for you to see Sam Cohen in his office at eight tomorrow morning,' Jill said over the phone. d.i.c.k removed a pen from an inside pocket of his blazer. 'I've emailed every member of the board to warn them that it's important,' she added.

'What time did you say my meeting was with Sam?'

'Eight o'clock at his office. He has to be in court by ten for another client.'

'Fine.' d.i.c.k opened his wife's drawer and grabbed the first piece of paper available. He wrote down, Sam, office, 8, Thur board mtg, 10.

'Well done, Jill,' he added. 'Better book me back into the Grand Palace Hotel, and email the minister to warn him what time I'll be arriving.'

'I already have,' Jill replied, 'and I've also booked you on a flight to St Petersburg on the Friday afternoon.'

'Well done. See you around ten tomorrow.' d.i.c.k put the phone down, and strolled through to his study with a large smile on his face. Everything was going to plan.

When he reached his desk, d.i.c.k wrote the details of his appointments into his diary. He was just about to drop the piece of paper into a wastepaper basket when he decided just to check and see if it contained anything important. He unfolded a letter, which he began to read. His smile turned to a frown long before he'd reached the final paragraph.

He started to read the letter, marked 'private and personal', a second time.

Dear Mrs Barnsley, This is to confirm your appointment at our office on Friday, 30 April, when we will continue our discussions on the matter you raised with me last Tuesday.

Remembering the full effects of your decision, I have asked my senior partner to join us on this occasion.

We both look forward to seeing you on the 30th.

Yours sincerely, Andrew Symonds d.i.c.k immediately picked up the phone on his desk, and dialled Sam Cohen's number, hoping Sam hadn't already left for the day. When Sam pick up his private line, all d.i.c.k said was, 'Have you come across a lawyer called Andrew Symonds?'

'Only by reputation,' said Sam, 'but then I don't work on divorce law.'

'Divorce?' said d.i.c.k, as he heard a car coming up the gravel driveway. He glanced out of the window to see a Volkswagen swing round the circle and come to a halt outside the front door. d.i.c.k watched as his wife climbed out of her car. 'I'll see you at eight tomorrow, Sam, and the Russian contract won't be the only thing on the agenda.'

d.i.c.k's driver dropped him outside Sam Cohen's office in Lincoln's Inn Fields a few minutes before eight the following morning. The senior partner rose to greet his client as he entered the room. He gestured to a comfortable chair on the other side of the desk.

d.i.c.k had opened his briefcase even before he had sat down. He took out the letter and pa.s.sed it across to Sam. The lawyer read it slowly before placing it on the desk in front of him.

'I've thought about the problem overnight,' said Sam, 'and I've also had a word with Anna Rentoul, our divorce partner. She confirmed that Symonds only handles marriage disputes, and with that in mind, I'm sorry to say that I will have to ask you some fairly personal questions.'

d.i.c.k nodded without comment.

'Have you ever talked about divorce with Maureen?'

'No,' said d.i.c.k firmly. 'We have had rows from time to time, but then what couples who have been together for over twenty years haven't?'

'No more than that?'

'She once threatened to leave me, but I thought that was all in the past.' d.i.c.k paused. 'I'm only surprised that she hasn't raised it with me before consulting a lawyer.'

'That's all too common,' said Sam. 'Over half the husbands who are served with a divorce pet.i.tion say that they never saw it coming.'

'I certainly fall into that category,' admitted d.i.c.k. 'So what do I do next?'

'Not a lot you can do before she serves the papers, and I can't see that there is anything to be gained by raising the subject yourself. After all, nothing may come of it. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't prepare ourselves. Now, what grounds could she have for divorce?'

'None that I can think of.'

'Are you having an affair?'

'No. Well, yes, a fling with my secretary but it's not going anywhere. She thinks it's serious, but I plan to replace her once the pipeline contract is signed.'

'So the deal is still on course?' said Sam.

'Yes, that's why I needed to see you so urgently in the first place,' replied d.i.c.k. 'I have to be back in St Petersburg for May the sixteenth, when both sides will be signing the contract.' He paused. 'And it's going to be witnessed by President Putin.'

'Congratulations,' said Sam. 'How much will that be worth to you?'

'Why do you ask?'

'I'm wondering if you're not the only person who's hoping that the deal will go through.'

'Around sixty million ' d.i.c.k hesitated 'for the company.'

'And do you still own fifty-one per cent of the shares?'

'Yes, but I could always hide-'

'Don't even think about it,' said Sam. 'You won't be able to hide anything if Symonds is on the case. He will sniff out every last penny, like a pig hunting for truffles. And if the court were to discover that you tried to trick them, it would only make the judge feel more kind towards your wife.' The senior partner paused, looked straight at his client, and repeated, 'Don't even think about it.'

'So what should I do?'

'Nothing that will arouse suspicion; go about your business as usual, as if you have no idea what she's up to. Meanwhile, I'll fix a meeting with counsel, so at least we'll be better prepared than Mr Symonds will think. And one more thing,' said Sam, once again looking directly at his client, 'no more affairs until this problem has been sorted out. That's an order.'

d.i.c.k kept a close eye on his wife during the next few days, but she gave no sign of there being anything wrong. If anything, she showed an unusual interest in how the trip to St Petersburg had gone, and over dinner on Thursday evening even asked if the board had come to a decision.

'They most certainly have,' d.i.c.k replied.

'Once Sam had taken the directors through each clause, gone over every detail, and answered all of their questions, they pretty much approved the contract.' d.i.c.k poured himself a second cup of coffee. He was taken by surprise by his wife's next question.

'Why don't I join you when you go to St Petersburg? We could fly out on the Friday,' she added, 'and spend the weekend visiting the Hermitage and the Summer Palace. We might even find enough time to see Catherine's amber collection something I've always wanted to do.'

d.i.c.k didn't reply immediately, aware that this was not a casual suggestion as it had been years since his wife Maureen had accompanied him on a business trip. d.i.c.k's first reaction was to wonder what she was up to. 'Let me think about it,' he eventually said, leaving his coffee to go cold.