After a sound night’s sleep Frank spent the first hour of the morning running along the promenade with the rising sun at his back. In his mind he carefully settled on a strategy for dealing with Ivan then dedicated the remainder of his run to thoughts of his wife. He’d recently noticed, and without humor, the decline in his stamina and an unhealthy sentimentality over Joey. Back at the hotel he enjoyed a hot shower and another hearty breakfast then called the concierge to arrange for a rental car, a convertible, to be delivered to him.
Dressed in freshly laundered khakis and a plain white polo shirt Frank went down to the lobby and found a shiny black Mercedes SL55 being driven up to the entrance.
“Doctor Franklin, your car has arrived.” Albert, a member of the staff smiled and held out the car keys.
Frank looked at the flashy Benz and failed to fully disguise a reaction. He’d asked for a Volvo or some other more pedestrian car.
“Is there a problem, Dr. Franklin?”
“No, Albert, the Mercedes will be fine.” It won’t attract as much attention as a Ferrari, anyway. And, the damn thing is fast. Couldn’t hurt.
“Very well, sir.” Albert gave him a relieved smile.
Frank tipped the concierge ten euros, slid behind the wheel and familiarized himself with the controls. Then, with a friendly wave, he headed off into the sunny blue Mediterranean morning. With no particular destination in mind he decided to take the short drive over to Nice to surveil the Negresco. Afterwards he would play things by ear.
Not far away Ivan was getting accustomed to his new Lamborghini as he drove eastward in the direction of Monte Carlo. He looked forward to driving the route of the famed Gran Prix then taking a tour of a couple of residences. He had spoken with an agent the day before and she became positively giddy at the prospect of showing him two properties she assessed as "perfect for your needs." Buying a home in Monaco is required to qualify for Monegasque citizenship and, hence, the key to paying no income taxes for the rest of one's life. Ivan figured he could make all the money he wanted and never need to expend the effort to hide his income from some tax man or the other. That would leave more time to make more money.
Ivan enjoyed his new toy. The sleek and brutally powerful car suited him and he anticipated driving to Italy or Germany where he could cruise at much higher speeds. Even so, he could already feel the urge to buy a new Ferrari or perhaps a Bugatti Veyron. Why not? Money was no longer a limiting factor in his thinking. So, he tooled around Monaco until he became bored then drove to the Hotel Metropole where he was to meet the real estate agent. As he took a seat at the Lobby Bar his phone vibrated. The caller id displayed the name "Serge M". He sent the call straight to voicemail and smirked to himself. Let him wait. I have more important things to do. The next caller, however, could not be ignored.
“Yes, sir.” He answered deferentially as he always did with the Prime Minister.
“How soon will you deliver your work product to me?” The man seemed to have a greater sense of urgency than usual.
“I saved the file on a thumb drive. It should be delivered by courier rather than electronically.”
“Send it to my agent in Zurich. Do you have his contact information?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Make certain it is done today.”
“Yes.” He apparently failed to conceal his concern about being paid. The understanding had been for payment in advance of release of the code. The sly Prime Minister picked up on his reticence.
“Do not worry. You will be paid upon receipt of your work.” He hung up without giving Ivan time to respond.
Once I give up the thumb drive I have zero leverage. On the other hand, considering whom I'm dealing with, what are the options?
Ivan was drinking a Compari and soda and considering his next move when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It startled him for a moment.
“Monsieur Rusikov?”
Ivan turned quickly and found himself face to face with one Claire Montaigne, the real estate agent.
“Monsieur Rusikov, I apologize for startling you. I am Claire Montaigne.” The woman extended her hand as she introduced herself. Ivan shook it firmly and invited her to sit at the bar with him.
“Yes, perhaps for one quick drink before we visit the properties I have selected for your inspection.” Claire was a bundle of energy and a spectacular sight to boot. She had flaming red hair that appeared to be natural. She possessed a striking but not conventionally attractive face. However, her body was very well proportioned. Unfortunately, her choice in clothes was amazing. To Ivan, her dress looked like a fruit salad had exploded all over it. Not surprisingly, she appeared to be a regular at this bar.
“Kir?” the bartender asked.
“Oui. Merci, Henri.” She smiled cheerfully at the man and he produced her drink almost immediately. Looking at Ivan’s now empty glass he asked, “Another Compari, Monsieur?”
“No. Vodka on the rocks.” The bartender chuckled as he poured a stiff Grey Goose and garnished it with a wedge of lime.
“Merci.”
“Tres bien.” Henri turned to another customer. Claire flopped a brochure on the bar while making a half assed toast Ivan couldn’t understand.
“I thought we would go to the small penthouse first, Monsieur Rusikov. The building is a bit older, but it is quite close to the hotel and a most desirable area.”
Ivan’s cell phone vibrated. Serge again, and once more he sent the call to voice mail laughing to himself as he wondered if he should go outside and look for a mushroom cloud in the eastern sky.
“I’m sorry for the interruption Claire, but this morning has been much busier than I expected.”
“Of course, Mr. Rusikov. Most of my clients are busy all the time.”
The phone buzzed again and this time displayed a Zurich number.
“I must take this call.”
“Of course.” The bizarre woman downed her drink and ordered a second.
“Hello.”
“Monsieur Rusikov, I understand I am to receive a package from you.”
“Correct.”
“Do you need to confirm the address for delivery?”
“No.”
“Very well. I will await your package.” The toad hung up the phone without listening for a reply from Ivan.
That was my first warning. Ivan’s nerves twitched for the first time in days so he took a long pull on his drink then spoke so as not to give the colorful woman a chance to speak.
“Claire, you will find me to be a man who makes important decisions very quickly. Unfortunately, I must attend to pressing matters with a colleague in Switzerland.”
“But Monsieur Rusikov, I can assure you these properties will not be on the market long.”
“I know. I am purchasing the penthouse. Please have the documents drawn up and sent to me at the Hotel Imperator.”
Before the startled agent could speak he put a hundred euros on the bar and walked away. Smiling, Claire Montaigne replaced the bank note with her company credit card. She’d just made a six million euro sale in less than fifteen minutes, a record, even for her. Now all she had to do was close the transaction.