A Darker Place (10 page)

“Now we wait,” Svetlana said. “The rest, I suppose, is up to you.”

“I’ve got time off from the university.” Monica gave her a kiss. “I’ll stay in close touch.”

Katya came all the way down to the gate with them. “Now comes the hard part, I think. Paris. They’ll be guarding him closely. The Russians can be very difficult.”

“Don’t worry. We can be difficult too.” Dillon smiled, and he and Monica followed Roper out.

MOSCOW / LONDON

O
n the firing range in the cellars of the GRU safe house outside Moscow, the three men who were to be responsible for Kurbsky’s protection in Paris stood facing the target area, supervised by a hardened sergeant major with a cropped head named Lermov. Kurbsky, dressed in a tracksuit and woolen hat, sat on a stool, watching, and smoked a cigarette. The three GRU men were in uniform.

“Six single shots, and take your time. Kokonin first. First two head shots, then four in the heart and chest area.”

The lights came on in the gloom, the target figure moved from right to left, pausing, and Kokonin loosed his shots. His first round chipped an ear, the next went through the left cheek, the chest grouping was widely dispersed.

Kokonin was a junior lieutenant in rank, but Lermov didn’t take prisoners. “If that’s the best you can do, I wonder how you handle your cock, sir. Stand back. Next.”

Which was Burlaka, who managed to catch the head once, but his grouping in the chest was very poor.

“Even worse,” Lermov said, and called to Burlaka, “Just fire six times at the body,” which Burlaka did, peppering the torso area.

Lermov shook his head. “Terrible.”

Burlaka was angry and said, “I did the job, Sergeant Major—hit whoever it was six times.”

Lermov laughed harshly. “That’s one point of view, sir.” He turned to Kurbsky. “Afghanistan, Chechnya, it’s all gone. They’re sitting behind desks these days, doing everything by computer. What’s happened to the world? Where did it all go?”

“We’re dinosaurs, Sergeant Major.”

The three young GRU officers were angry. Ivanov put his pistol on the table after removing the clip. “If you can do any better, show us. I’m tired of being put down like this. If you’re so much better, let’s see it. And what about you, Comrade?” he said to Kurbsky. “Your books make a lot of claims.”

Kokonin said, “Maybe that’s all it ever was.”

There was a moment’s silence. Kurbsky dropped his cigarette on the floor and stood. Lermov picked up a Stechkin. “I’ve got a certain affection for this. I’ve had it since Afghanistan. It should take you back, Comrade.”

“It certainly should,” Kurbsky said.

He held it against his right thigh. Two targets swung up. He double-tapped, shooting the left target twice in the heart, then twice in the forehead. He swung right, double-tapping the heart, then a single shot through each eye. There was silence.

Kurbsky handed the Stechkin back to Lermov, who was thoroughly enjoying himself. “I must say you keep it in perfect working order, Sergeant Major. My compliments. Now I’m going to go for my run.”

He went out, and Lermov turned to the other three. “What was it you were saying, sir?” he asked Ivanov. He shook his head. “He’s not like other people, he’s a one-off, but don’t let it get you down. I’m going to give you your most important lesson.” He pushed a fresh clip in the butt of the Stechkin. “Come with me, all of you.”

He led the way down to the range and stopped three paces away from the targets. “Watch this.” He raised the Stechkin and shot the target in the heart, then in the forehead. He handed the weapon to Ivanov. “Now you.” The shots slammed home, and he said, “Let the others do it.”

They obeyed him one after another. “Perfect.” He held out his hand, and Burlaka passed him the pistol again. “Now you know—get that close if possible. There’s only one alternative that’s better.”

“What’s that, Sergeant Major?” Ivanov asked.

Lermov replaced the clip on the Stechkin, stepped close to the target, rammed the muzzle into it, and fired several times.

“There you go, Comrades, a job well done. But that’s enough. I believe your task is never to leave Alexander Kurbsky for a moment, and there he is running through the orchards on his own.”

Ivanov looked hunted. “Come on, you bastards.” He rushed out, followed by the others.

In fact, as they emerged into the entrance hall, they discovered Kurbsky talking to a man in an old-fashioned fedora and a black leather coat. Kurbsky turned. “Ah, here they are. We were just having a little pistol practice on the range. This is Major Gregorovich from Moscow. Good boys, this lot, Major, they never leave me for a moment.”

“Following our orders, Major, that’s all,” Ivanov said piously.

“As you should,” said Gregorovich. “Now into the commanding officer’s office. I need to discuss Paris with you.”

HE DIDN’T EVEN take his coat off, but did remove his hat as he sat behind the desk and opened a briefcase and took out some documents. “There is a copy for each of you, including you, Comrade,” he said to Kurbsky. “Lieutenant Ivanov will be in charge.”

Kurbsky said, “So the ceremony? Is it afternoon or evening?”

“Seven o’clock at the Élysée Palace. There will be other honorees—scientists, academics, fifteen in all. It’ll be an exclusive affair, government officials, a few ministers. A buffet will be served.”

He sounded as if he didn’t approve. “I know how it goes,” Kurbsky said. “The worst excesses of decadent capitalism. Great-looking women in gorgeous frocks, champagne, mountains of caviar. They know how to seduce us Russians.”

His minders were struggling not to laugh, and Gregorovich was not amused. “Kurbsky, you have a sacred duty to the Motherland to serve her at all times.”

“But I do, I assure you, Major.”

“Back to business. You will fly by private plane next Tuesday afternoon and land at Charles de Gaulle Airport. In view of the importance of the affair to our reputation, you will stay at the Ritz Hotel.”

The young men perked up considerably. Kurbsky said, “My goodness, Major, are you sure we can afford it?”

“Such levity does not become you.”

“My apologies. The ambassador will be there, I presume.”

“No, he’s needed at an important meeting in Brussels.”

“How interesting. I didn’t realize we were now in the European Union.”

“That is not amusing. You book into the Ritz immediately. This is to guarantee your presence the next day. As I’ve already made clear, the ceremony is at seven. You return to Moscow in the jet at ten o’clock Thursday morning from Charles de Gaulle.”

“Well, there you go, lads,” Kurbsky said. “No chance even to get laid.”

“Your kind of frivolity does not amuse me, Kurbsky.” Gregorovich closed his briefcase and put his hat on. “The Motherland has treated you well. I would suggest you remember that.”

“Oh, I will, I will,” Kurbsky assured him.

Gregorovich got up. “Good morning. I can’t wait to get back to Moscow and sanity.” He opened the door and paused. “I don’t like you, Kurbsky. I never approved. They spoil you too much. But what goes around comes around. You should remember that.”

He went out. Ivanov and his friends looked troubled. Kurbsky stood up. “Don’t worry, lads, he’s been a desk man all his career. Guys like that hate real soldiers for obvious reasons. Anyway, I’m going for a run. I don’t know what you lot are going to do, but if you want to keep up with me, you’ll have to get your running shoes on.”

He left them there, ran through the hall and out across the car park, where he saw Gregorovich leaving in his limousine, went down the terrace steps, and ran toward the orchards and the woods in the distance.

 

 

AT HOLLAND PARK, Katya Zorin finished demonstrating her reconstruction of Alexander Kurbsky to the full crew, including Ferguson and the Salters.

“You’ve got to admit, it’s brilliant,” Harry said. “Absolute genius. I’ve known a lot of villains over the years who’d have paid you a fortune to have given them a workover like that,” he told Katya.

“I’m for it completely,” Ferguson said. “Is everyone agreed?” They all nodded. “Good, now his identity. I’ll give it to the MI6 Office Five forgery department. A French father, an English mother, born here. Parents dead, and so on and so on. He’ll need documentation from the Royal Marsden and insertion into their system. London University, English degree. Journalist. Maybe a war correspondent in the Balkans, something like that. Passport filled with all the right stamps. Henri Duval—that name sound about right?”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Monica said. “You should have been a writer yourself.”

“Leave it to that nice lady at Office Five,” Dillon urged him. “So can we get down to how we lift him?”

Ferguson said, “ A fast flight out, I’d say. Nothing official. If Parry and Lacey do it, it’s got to be out of the way somewhere. Certainly no airport in the Paris area. There are plenty of small airfields in Brittany that deal with business clients. I’ll speak to Squadron Leader Lacey and put it in his hands.”

“And who goes to Paris?” Dillon asked.

“You and Billy.”

Billy smiled coldly. “That suits me fine.”

At that moment, Monica’s phone rang. It was Kurbsky. “I haven’t got long. Listen carefully. I fly down to Charles de Gaulle on Tuesday, arriving in the evening. The Ministry has decided to splash out, so I’ll be at the Ritz with my three minders. The ceremony is at seven on Wednesday evening. We fly back from Charles de Gaulle at ten on Thursday morning.”

His voice echoed over the speakers. Roper said, “We’ve got that. We’ll work out how to snatch you and tell you next time you call.”

“Have you come up with a way of guaranteeing my anonymity?”

“Absolutely. Katya Zorin has come up with a most ingenious suggestion. It will make you into a totally different person—one that no one would recognize as Alexander Kurbsky. You must trust us on this.”

“All right. But I must go now. My minders are looking for me.”

Ferguson said, “The Ritz, by God. He should surely be able to give them the slip from there.”

“I would say so,” Dillon told him.

Katya said, “I’ll be on my way,” and left.

Ferguson said, “There is one other matter, now that Katya’s gone, so sit down again for a minute. The six of us make a nice tight crew, but it’s starting to go at the edges. First Katya and Svetlana. Now I’m going to have to include Lacey and Parry.”

“Yes, Charles, but come off it. Those guys have supported us for years. We’ve been to the war zones with him: They brought Billy back from Hazar, shot to pieces. If you can’t trust them, who can you?”

“All right, I accept that, but what I’m working my way up to saying is that I haven’t informed the Prime Minister.”

“Jesus,” Billy said.

“Is that legal?” Harry put in.

“Since when have we ever been legal?” Dillon told him. “So what exactly are you getting at, Charles?”

“If we tell the Prime Minister, we have to tell Blake Johnson.”

“The man who was in Kosovo with my brother?” Monica said.

“He does for President Cazalet what I do for the Prime Minister. We usually do things in tandem.”

“I see,” she said. “Does that give you a problem?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I mention it. I’d appreciate your opinions, so just think about it. We’ll leave it at that for the moment.”

 

 

KURBSKY HAD MADE his call from an old ruined chapel in the wood beyond the orchard. It had a distant view of the house to one side of the track, and he’d been able to keep an eye out for the three young men as they approached, searching for him.

“Where is the bastard?” Kokonin was saying.

“He’s playing with us, I’m sure of it,” Ivanov told him.

Kurbsky let them pass and vanish into the wood and lit a cigarette. So the enterprise was afoot. It struck Kurbsky as ironic that Ferguson and company were going to such trouble to extract him and to protect his identity when his own people were aware of everything—his new identity, where he was living.

But that, of course, would depend on him. What if he kept his identity completely to himself? Thanks to the mobile phone, the greatest invention of all time in some ways, he could receive encrypted calls from people who did not know where he was. He could also make calls that could not be traced.

So he, who had been a prisoner of his own people, was now in a strange way free to do what his people wanted or to refuse. It was absolutely beautiful, and then he remembered Tania at Station Gorky and realized that his thoughts of freedom had only been an illusion.

There were voices down below on the track, and he emerged from the ruins and ran down the hill and confronted them. “Were you looking for someone?”

They seemed put out, then Ivanov laughed. “Damn you, you’ve been playing with us again.”

“Well, there isn’t much else to do round here, but there’s Paris to look forward to. Great chambermaids at the Ritz. You never know, you could get lucky.”

They smiled at that, but Ivanov said, “Chance would be a fine thing. One of us has always got to be on guard in your suite.”

Kurbsky, who had expected such a thing, said amiably, “And how are you going to manage that?”

“I have to work out a rota,” Ivanov said.

“Well, that’s okay. It means that when one of you is busy watching me, the other two can play.” He grinned. “I’m starving. Lunchtime, lads, so race me back.” He ran away from them very fast.

 

 

THE ONE TIME he was assured of total privacy was when he stayed in the house, using the bar facilities or the gymnasium and swimming pool or the extensive library, which included computers. Luzhkov had provided him with codes offering access to classified GRU information, and after lunch he sat down, brought up a screen, and accessed the British Security Services.