Schwartz was about to say, ‘Exactly’, but checked himself after the Baron’s admonition at an earlier meeting. Instead he nodded.

‘It will hurt him? Otherwise it’s not worth doing.’

‘Oh, yes. He will be gutted, Baron. He says this is the most wonderful woman he’s ever met.’

‘Where did they meet?’

‘In a downmarket London nightclub.’

‘Russian, you say?’

‘We think she must be a tart, a hooker. London is flooded with Russian prostitutes.’

‘Hmm. A worthy object for our purposes.’

‘We think so.’

‘Will you carry it out?’

‘No, sir. I have a former senior British policeman on the payroll. He is, shall we say, brutal and efficient.’

‘Good idea to delegate.’

‘Exactly.’

Bleulance glared.

‘Sorry, Baron.’

‘This policeman doesn’t know of our connection?’

‘Definitely not, Baron.’

*

Natalia was on the way home after dining with Russian girlfriends in London’s West End. She jumped on a tube at Hyde Park and alighted at Notting Hill Gate just after 10 p.m. She walked along narrow Uxbridge Street towards Campden Hill Road. She became aware of a car behind her. She looked around and could only make out shapes in a black Mercedes sedan. The car roared forward and onto the footpath, blocking her. Two men in suits and hats grabbed Natalia and bundled her into the back seat. The car drove off, turning right in Campden Hill and left towards Notting Hill Gate. Natalia was shocked, but remained calm.

‘We are taking you to a safe place,’ a solid Englishman whom the others called ‘Ben’ said.

‘What is this,’ Natalia asked, ‘a kidnap and ransom? What?’

‘Worse than that, I’m afraid.’

The man next to her tied her hands behind her back. Natalia did not resist. She was led into a warehouse in Pembridge Square and pushed to the ground. She was punched in the face and kicked several times in the stomach until she fainted.

Natalia woke the next morning just before dawn. Her stomach and clothes were soaked in blood, some of which had formed a small pool around her. She was in terrible pain. She began trying to make sense of her whereabouts. Her wrists were still strapped together with rope that had lacerated them. No one else was in the warehouse, which had boxes stacked against all walls. A motorbike was parked near a roller door.

Every movement brought more pain. Natalia persevered with wriggling her wrists to a point where she could free one hand and then the other. She was about to pull away the rope when she heard voices. She lay as if still unconscious.

‘She’s still out to it,’ Ben said to the other man. ‘Let’s work her over again after we’ve had breakfast.’

They left the warehouse.