Mikhail Popov, once again at his chess board and ruminating over a particularly audacious offensive by his opponent (whom he had never met face to face), was somewhat startled by the ringing of the telephone at his elbow. He was not accustomed to receiving calls without prior warning. Everyone on his staff knew better than to put a call through to him directly, without screening it first. And this was a call to his direct office line. Most irregular. Mikhail picked up the receiver and said: "Yes?"

"Guess who?"

"Wayne. How are you?" Mikhail abhorred the English fascination with banal pleasantries, but at the same time, he knew it was a custom which was ultimately inescapable. And so he asked Wayne Carter how he was when really all he wanted was to demand who the fuck Wayne thought he was to be calling his direct number like this, without a prior arrangement.

But Carter Junior could be a useful ally, if used correctly. It was important not to waste his potential. So Mikhail held his tongue.

"I've had a thought," said Wayne.

Mikhail resisted the urge to say something sarcastic about what a novelty that must have been. Instead he just took the bait and said: "About what?"

"About a way in."

"Where are you calling from?"

"Home. Why?"

"Is it a secure line?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

The sudden peppering of questions was enough to throw Wayne off-guard, but not to take away his resolve. "I'm completely sure. Do you want to hear about this, or not?"

Mikhail admitted that he did. Unaccustomed to being spoken to in this manner, he would usually have sliced the balls off of anyone who dared to snap at him in this way. He would have done it himself with a straight-razor and a smile on his face. But, alas, this time it was not to be.

"Two words: Rob Linley."

"Max Linley’s son, yes. I'm aware of him. What about him?"

"My father's got big plans for Rob Linley."

"I see."

"But Rob's got weaknesses. You can get to him in a way that you could never be able to get to my dad."

"I see. What do you have in mind?"

"If you want to bring down Silvertown, you could do it through Rob."

Mikhail sat in silence for a moment. He swapped the receiver over to his other ear and then said: "You have a lot of resentment, still."

"What did you say?"

"You heard me perfectly well, Wayne. You think you are the only one who is clever enough to find out people's secrets? Did you really think I would not look into your background before I agreed to do business with you? I know about your history with Rob. I know about Chloe."

Wayne's sharp intake of breath made a serpentine hissing sound. He had not heard Chloe's name spoken aloud in a long time. Subconsciously, he had been avoiding it. And now here she was again, back to occupy his thoughts and to wrench his heart from his chest. He tried to speak but couldn't.

She had been in Wayne's physics class at secondary school. She was about the only thing that got him to show up to school in the first place. He conspired to sit with her, to chat to her, and, finally, to take her out on a date. She was his first love, and now he looked on their relationship as a kind of glorious beacon amid the haze. She was also his "first time," which was something no one would ever be able to take away.

During their relationship, Rob had managed to keep himself to himself. He had plenty of girls flocking round him, so why should he be bothered by Wayne's puppydog infatuation with Chloe? But it did not occur to Wayne until afterward that Rob had simply been biding his time. Chloe was the one who ended the relationship; it had lasted maybe six months. Six of the most important months in Wayne's life. But she got sick of hearing about football; sick of Wayne missing dates because he had to attend extra training; sick of Wayne choosing his career over her. Because the whole thing was so new to Wayne, he never saw it coming. And when she broke the news to him, it hit him like a freight train. He took it badly, didn't emerge from his bedroom for a couple of days, and starved himself. But soon enough he emerged from his hormonal stupour and carried on with his life. His dad would not have tolerated anything less.

The final nail in the coffin of his friendship with Rob Linley came the following summer, when he found out via the grapevine that Rob and Chloe were now together. She had traded Wayne in for a more interesting model. Rob had business prospects, he was funny, he was clever. He was everything that Wayne was not. To make matters even worse, they were a perfect couple. Local celebrities, almost. Made for each other. To a casual observer, it would be impossible to imagine either of them with anybody else.

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Wayne found this very humiliating, and it caused him to scrutinise the latter days of his relationship with Chloe more closely. Had she already set her sights on Rob at that point? Had she used Wayne to get to Rob, who, after all, had no shortage of prospective dates?

They invited Wayne to the wedding, but he couldn't bring himself to attend. He remained on cordial but somewhat frosty terms with Rob, whom he met sometimes at the stadium for parties and things like that. But he made a point of avoiding Chloe. He knew that if he laid eyes on her again, he'd be overwhelmed by the sense of loss; the pain of wondering what might have been.

"She is a beautiful woman," Mikhail said. "A good wife for any man. And an excellent mother to those two children."

Yet again, it occurred to Wayne how dangerous Mikhail Popov could be. And just how out of his depth he, Wayne, might be. Chloe was Rob Linley's weakness, but she was also his. He regretted making this call. He should have just left things alone, rather than trying to orchestrate an elaborate revenge that would take down everybody who had ever wronged him. He ended the call with a prod from his index finger.

Mikhail smiled as he replaced the receiver. Then he leaned forward and delicately moved a chess piece. After all, Wayne's suggestion was not such a bad one. Rob Linley was shaping up to be quite a formidable figure in the Carter organisation, if the rumours were true and he was destined for the CEO position. Mikhail could certainly see the advantage in removing him from the equation. But he would need to let Wayne cool off for a while before pumping him for details about Rob Linley's personal life. Mikhail had not been able to resist that little jibe about Chloe Linley.

Naughty Mikhail! he smiled to himself. He would call back, he would apologise. He must try and remember that – for now, at least – he and Wayne Carter were allies.

*

Chloe Linley woke earlier than she had planned. One of the twins was crying again. The two-year-olds both had chicken pox and had been keeping each other (and her) awake for most of the night with their shrieks. Somehow, Rob managed to sleep through the whole thing, as per bloody usual. He’d gotten up and headed off to work without troubling to make her a cup of coffee or anything else that might be construed as caring, husband-like behaviour. He just got dressed and fucked off, like every other day.

He kept her fed and clothed, so really, she mustn't complain. But these days, Chloe was finding married life to be much more of a strain than she’d expected. Since the kids. It was inevitable that kids would change a relationship, but all the same, it had come as a shock to Chloe just how much had changed. Rob was finding more and more excuses to stay out late. A paranoid part of her brain even convinced her that he had another woman. Some tart in a flat that he was visiting on the side. But she knew that wasn't Rob's style. At least, she didn't think it was Rob's style. She thought he was more likely to sleep with call girls or one-night stands he picked up on exclusive dating apps, rather than go through the hassle of keeping a mistress, who would inevitably be almost as much work as a wife.

But did she really know Rob as well as she thought she did?

She finally managed to settle the twins down with a quick spritz of calamine lotion, then she hopped in the shower. Afterwards, she dressed and got the twins ready for their outing. The fresh air, she told herself, would do them good.

They had a particular liking for Victoria Park, and they often demanded to go there to feed the ducks. Maybe being there would miraculously revive them.

The twins burbled and chittered happily as she got them into their double pram, and she was pleased to see that the pox themselves were fading. It had been a difficult week.

Chloe thought about Rob as she pushed the pram along the pavement. She tried to remember what it was about him that had attracted her in the first place. Whatever it was, it was now gone. He was as handsome and charming as ever, but those two things alone were not enough to sustain a marriage. She also began to wonder what he saw in her, if anything. She was his property, of course. As were the kids. But she was still young – still in her early twenties, for God's sake! Too young to be so jaded. There had to be more to life than this, didn't there?

She barely noticed the overcast day as she rolled the pram through the gates and into the park. It was always overcast in London. They headed straight for the duck pond, which was the twins' favourite place, and sat on a bench for a minute or two.

She didn't see the man approach. He must have crept up, as if from nowhere. Or else sprung from the bushes.

But he was friendly and polite as he came up to her. "Good morning," he said. He had an accent of some kind. Eastern European? Russian? Rob would have known, he was good with accents.

"Morning," she said to him, a little surprised.

"Lovely day," he said, in spite of the fact that clouds were now gathering overhead.

"Yeah." The man was clean-shaven and wore a suit. He was perhaps a few years older than she was and had a professional air about him. He was also handsome, with blonde hair, sharp blue eyes and a chiselled jaw. If he weren’t so good-looking she would have ignored him and simply walked away. She had learned long ago not to engage with strange men in the park. And yet this guy seemed perfectly harmless. Maybe he was some sort of religious character, who wanted to tell her about Jesus.

But no, all he wanted was to ask for directions. "Excuse me," he said, his accent seeming to grow heavier, "but can you direct me to the... bagel shop?"

Chloe could, and did. It was back along the path, the way she had come.

"Ah! Thank you, thank you so much.” He then gave her an ostentatious (and highly incongruous) bow. He was gone before she could think about him in too much detail. She would most likely never see him again. All the same, this little encounter ignited the tiniest spark in her imagination. It got her thinking that there were other out there in the world. Rob, who kept her at arm's length these days, was not the be-all and end-all.

She was young. She had a lot to give. And why shouldn't she enjoy herself a bit? After all, she did not doubt for one second that Rob would fuck anything that moved if he got the chance.

But before she could pursue this train of thought much further, she was distracted by a sudden shriek from the pram. One of the twins had smacked the other, which had produced a sudden and startling cacophony of screams.

Of course, while Chloe Linley's attention had been caught by the mysterious (but not unappealing) Russian man in the suit, she had barely noticed the other man about a hundred yards away, who had been fiddling with his phone and generally looking innocuous. It did not even occur to her that he might have been using the phone camera to capture immaculately framed shots of her and her children.