The only thing he had learned from having Reboul’s car followed was that Reboul was aware of it, and more than capable of dealing with it. “So,” he said to Nikki, “the man’s not a fool, and he knows something is up. I don’t know how good his ferrets are, but there’s a chance they might find out that I’m involved. That would not please me.” Nikki, distracted from the magazine he had been reading, Body Beautiful, nodded sympathetically. They were on board The Caspian Queen, heading east down the coast toward Cap d’Antibes. Vronsky was to have lunch with Sergei Kalinin, an old friend from Moscow who had mysterious but clearly very lucrative connections with the ministry in charge of exploiting Russia’s natural gas. He, like several of his well-heeled compatriots, had decided that a large villa on Cap d’Antibes was in every way more attractive than a dacha in the dank and gloomy forests outside Moscow or even a palatial beach hut in Sochi. Better food, for one thing, and a wider choice of girls.
What do You think about The Corsican Caper (2014)?
