As Ivan came up to face him, Richard read his ID badge. Ivan Larentovitch Yagula, Head of Security, Bashnev Oil and Power. ‘Richard. I have something for you,’ said Ivan, pulling his hand out of his pocket. It was a roll of red felt. Richard looked down at it, frowning. Then he understood, even as Ivan unrolled it and gave it to him. ‘Me and my Spetsnaz guys had a talk,’ he said. ‘We agreed you’d earned it.’
It was a red beret. Richard took it, overcome. For once in his life he was speechless.
‘That’s quite a car,’ said Robin disapprovingly. ‘Max’s babe-catcher.’
‘I don’t need a babe-catcher,’ said Ivan easily with a wide grin. ‘Anyway, it’s not mine. It’s the boss’s. I just get to drive it once in a while.’
‘The boss’s,’ echoed Richard, looking up from the red beret.
Ivan nodded once and stood aside. ‘The boss’s,’ he said emphatically.
There behind him, standing tall in a black business suit that looked to be Chanel, with a sable wrap and a cloche hat boasting a half veil, stood a woman whose simple beauty took Richard’s breath away. As with General Laurent Kebila, the change was so unexpected, the transformation so absolute, that it took a moment before he registered who he was actually looking at. Then the little half smile gave it away. That and the ID badge beneath the sable and the rope upon rope of lustrous black pearls: Mme Anastasia Asova, Chief Executive Officer, Bashnev Oil and Power.