Poisoned by His Love

3

Theresa got straight to the point. "Mr Putin, as your foreign minister Sergei Lavrov requested, the British government brought a sample of Novichok nerve agent found on Mr Skripal, so that you can test it matches your sample," she said coldly, gesturing to the armoured suitcase one of her aides was holding. A Russian guard took it from him and quickly walked away, in fear the multiply sealed samples contained within might somehow contaminate the room.  
"Thank you," Vladimir said. Please. Let us sit down. How was your journey?"

"It was fine, thank you." Theresa said politely, as Vladimir pulled out a chair for her and gestured for her to sit down. There was a glass of water on the table. And Theresa couldn't help wondering if it too, was poisoned. She held it to her lips but couldn't bring herself to drink it.

"Was it only fine?" Vladimir said in a strong Russian accent. "Tell me. Something was wrong?"

"Mr Putin," Theresa said, determined not to be deflected. "I am here because of the poisoning of Sergei Skripal. Evidence was found, which strongly suggests that the Russian Federation, which means you, Mr Putin, were responsible."

Vladimir laughed. "What evidence? I think we say this is fake news. I have never poisoned anyone."

"Well, the fact that Mr Skripal was poisoned with a rare substance that is only found in a few Russian chemical labs. The fact that there have been many Russians who have died suspicious deaths in our country. And the fact that you have a track record of disregarding international law."

"Disregarding international law, well, I can ask you, Mrs May, what about invasion of Iraq, invasion of Libya," Vladimir said. "And I believe that the sample of this Novichok poison will be sent to a Russian chemical lab for analysis, will it not?"

"Yes, although - " Theresa began.

"Well, then we have nothing to worry about." Vladimir smiled. There was no doubt about it, Theresa thought. He was very charming. That must have been why he won an election with 76.3% of the vote.

"Now, about international law," Vladimir said, the fabric of his suit brushing against Theresa's leg gently. The briefest of touches made her tingle. 'When is British government going to recognise new status of Crimea?"

"No, the British government has no plans to recognise the illegal annexation of Crimea, which is regarded as completely unacceptable," Theresa May snapped, remembering herself. She couldn't fall victim to his charms, like the Donald Trump voters who had read his dodgy facebook ads. 

"But Theresa," Vladimir said, pronouncing her name slowly and carefully. "You surely didn't come all this way to Moscow, just to talk about this tragedy with an ex-spy. Did you?"

"Of course that's why I came," Theresa said. "British relations with Russia are at their worst point in decades. And it is your fault, because you poisoned Mr Skripal. Didn't you?"

Vladimir looked at Theresa in annoyance. "Mrs May. I did not poison anyone. Where is your evidence? What happened to ... innocent until proven guilty, a great British tradition."

Theresa looked into his piercing blue eyes and found herself unable to answer. 

"I have question for you," Vladimir said, holding her gaze, but softening a bit. "This Boris Johnson, your foreign secretary. Why did he say that I am the new Hitler? Why did he say these things about me. Doesn't he know about Russian sacrifice in the Great Patriotic War, and myself growing up in Leningrad shortly afterwards? It may surprise you, but I was hurt by his comment. I'd like an apology."

Theresa sighed. She had to admit that perhaps she had made a mistake in making Boris Johnson foreign secretary. He was not a diplomat and seemed to embarrass her constantly. And he was after her job. He made no secret of that. The pity was that many people agreed with him. 

"I'm sorry your feelings were hurt," she said gently. "Boris is ... a difficult person to be around."

"Difficult, yes, very difficult," Vladimir said. "You have trouble with him too?"

Theresa looked around at the Russian guards, who were deliberately turning away. Her bodyguards too were standing by the door, talking among themselves. For a second it seemed as though her and Vladimir were the only two people in the grand room. 

"Sometimes I feel he's not the most suitable person for the job," she admitted. 

"It may surprise you to learn, but I respect you a lot," Vladimir said. "I have always respected Great Britain, I always hoped we could be partners. And I respect such a strong woman like yourself. That's why I say I was hurt."

Theresa said nothing. Vladimir seemed to genuinely mean it. She felt herself blushing. 

"Why you didn't congratulate me for winning the election, Theresa?" Vladimir asked.

"Because it wouldn't have been appropriate," Theresa replied after pausing for moment. The Russian leader had the power to make her feel almost guilty about not doing so. Vladimir laughed. His face had become almost gentle. 

"Appropriate, you think I care what is appropriate? That's why I helped Donald Trump into the White House, if you remember. I put him there. You are so sweet, Theresa, with all your British niceties. Sweet but strong. I like that." The room felt very warm; the Grand Kremlin Palace was protected from the harshness of the Moscow winter. But Theresa May felt goosebumps on her arms. 

Vladimir laid his hand gently on Theresa's arm. "You've had a long day. A long journey. Come, let us have dinner, just you and me. Let us do this as a sign of reconciliation, as our two nations should not be enemies but friends."

Theresa wasn't sure about this, but understood to refuse would be regarded as a diplomatic snub, and her mission would end in failure; something that would not reflect well on her when she returned to the UK.

"Very well," she replied, as she felt her face begin to flush. "I accept."