No Time for Heroes (57 page)

And if everything was to be resolved discreetly, maybe his own past – compensated for by what he had achieved at Petrovka – might be treated with less than an outright dismissal. His survival, at some level within the service, would be a minimal guarantee for his and Larissa's future. Olga's too. Recognising it as hypocritical, he decided nevertheless that he really had to remember to buy Olga some of the things she wanted when he made the trip to Switzerland. And try to convert some money into dollars, for the Tatarovo apartment. Double hypocrite, he thought.

‘You any idea of the pressure you put me under?' demanded Kosov.

‘You told me several times.' The man was becoming more coherent, although repetitive.

‘What's Antipov said?'

‘There've been a lot of interviews.'

‘That isn't an answer! I can't work with you like this! I need to
know
!'

‘He's talked about a lot of things. It comes down to what is presented to the authorities and what isn't.' Danilov liked the sound of it, believing it would be as good when he repeated it later. From the surroundings, he recognised they were coming into the district regarded as the Chechen slice of Moscow. He hoped the journey would soon end.

‘So he's named names?'

They'd undoubtedly question Kosov independently. So there was benefit at this stage in the man believing he knew just how serious it could be for his paymasters. ‘He's named everyone he knows.'

The only initial sound was a wheezing intake of breath. ‘This is terrible!'

‘Didn't I tell you everything was taking a lot of planning?'

‘Did he name me? Had he heard of my connection?'

‘No,' said Danilov, which was the truth.

This time there was a relieved sigh. ‘What are we going to do?'

‘Not panic,' insisted Danilov. ‘There's a way.'

‘What way?'

‘I need to talk it through, with the others.'

‘Tell
me
! Aren't we working on this as partners?'

No, thought Danilov: nor would they work as partners on anything, ever. ‘I've got to judge their attitude before deciding what is possible and what isn't.'

The hitherto unseen monitoring cars swept by, light flashing, and Danilov recognised they had arrived. He recognised where, too. The cafe was hidden in an unexpected loop off Glovin Bol'soj, little more than an indentation in the line of houses, and was not as secure as the club to which he had been first taken. The only similarity was that it was in a basement, with a receptionist behind a small desk, this one not revealing as much cleavage.

The same gold-bedecked man was at a table just inside the actual restaurant. He began to rise when he saw Danilov, who shook his head in warning refusal: the bull finished getting to his feet, but didn't approach for a body search. A sign of concern, judged Danilov: they were letting him play his independence game. He was still glad he'd again refused the urging of Pavin and Cowley to wear a body microphone, which apart from risking everything would have picked up any reference to incriminating photographs.

The guard slotted in directly behind as Danilov passed, following him through the restaurant. It was a long, corridor-style room: Danilov guessed the doors to the kitchens, creating a break halfway along, formed the division between genuine customers intentionally positioned in the front and Chechen people in the booths at the rear. A group of intruders could not, unopposed, make the sort of still unsolved firebomb attack mounted in the last week or so on the suspected Ostankino restaurant in Ulitza Moskina: innocent people, unwittingly forming a human barrier, would be hurt or maimed, but the Chechen could escape through either the kitchens or the rear, with minimal casualties.

In the booth closest to the doors to the private dining facilities, Danilov recognised two of the men who had sat guard at the separate table at Pecatnikov. He smiled at them. They ignored him. Before he reached them, one disappeared through a central door, re-emerging almost at once and holding it open for Danilov to enter. Danilov didn't turn to check, but he had no impression of Kosov entering behind him.

Apart from Gusovsky and Yerin the room, set with four other tables, was empty. Again there was no evidence of any food before either man, although there was a wine bottle and two already filled glasses. As Danilov sat, Gusovsky poured wine into the third.

‘We've been trying to make contact,' announced Gusovsky. The overlarge dentures were displayed in a supposed smile.

‘I've been busy,' said Danilov. There really wasn't a lot to say, but they had to be too frightened at the end even to begin thinking clearly. He knew they would be.

‘We know,' said Yerin. ‘Why was Mikhail Antipov arrested?'

‘Because you used a careless man,' said Danilov. ‘Which I warned you about. Antipov made mistakes: dropped clues that couldn't be missed. He
had
to be arrested.'

‘We didn't begin well last time,' said Gusovsky. ‘We want to establish our relationship properly tonight. That's what we're meeting for, isn't it?'

‘I hope so,' said Danilov. The humility must have taken a supreme effort of will from the emaciated man.

‘We're concerned about the mistakes Antipov has made,' conceded Yerin, in his carefully enunciated tones. ‘Not just before but
after
his arrest.'

‘You should be.'

‘Please don't be so aggressive,' said the blind man.

‘I want you to understand how serious it is, for you …' Danilov hesitated. ‘… Personally serious.'

Gusovsky topped up Danilov's glass. ‘That's precisely what we want to understand.'

‘He's named you: both of you. Zimin too, obviously. Told me everything he knows, in fact. Hierarchy, structure, at least twenty other names. All your locations of which he's aware. Rackets. What the operations are. Identified hits you've ordered. With his evidence – and what could come out in Italy – the Chechen won't exist any more. You two – and a lot of others – could go to jail for life. You'd be finished.' Danilov supposed he was in the Federal Prosecutor's position, the previous day: looking at the truth through the turned-around telescope. And it
was
the truth: in his panic to mitigate what might happen to him, Antipov had talked of every one of those things, in as much detail as he knew. Knowing he had to swamp them with a lot of that detail to satisfy them he
did
know, Danilov gave examples, selecting three murders – of other Mafia members – at random and itemising airport heists and hotels where they ran the prostitutes, taking particular care to include Lena Zurov to let them know their photographic blackmail had been further reduced.

They
were
swamped. So completely that, when Danilov finished, Gusovsky turned speechless for response to the blind Yerin, seeming to have forgotten the sightless man could not see the gesture.

It was Yerin who did speak, recovering first. ‘You've come here.'

‘Yes.'

‘“Told
me
,”' echoed Yerin, verbatim, having identified another qualification in what Danilov had said.

‘Yes,' agreed Danilov. The blind man was very definitely the cleverer of the two Mafia chiefs.

‘“
Could
go to jail for life,”' continued to isolate the other man.

‘Yes,' said Danilov, for the third time.

‘So it could all be avoided?' said Yerin.

‘I think so,' declared Danilov simply.

Tension eased from both men, as if the too-taut wires supporting them had been slightly relaxed. ‘You'd better tell us how,' said Gusovsky. The resonant voice was still hoarse, from the shock of all he had been told.

‘It wasn't possible for Antipov to tell us all he did, at one session,' said Danilov, embarking on the unchallengeable lies. ‘It took a long time: one of the many reasons I couldn't come any sooner. I was careful, how the interviews were conducted. It would be extremely easy to prepare Antipov's final confession in a selective way.'

Gusovsky smiled in understanding. ‘How selective?'

‘He
has
to go before a court. There has to be public satisfaction in America that the murders there have been solved and the killer convicted. But neither of you need personally be mentioned. We could cut out a lot of the other names, too. And most of the detail. It was the Ostankino who were involved with Serov and Paulac, not you. That Family could be substituted, a lot of the time …'

There were expressions of satisfaction from both men. Yerin said: ‘You're talking of satisfying American opinion. Does Cowley know about your meeting us? About this conversation?'

Definitely the cleverer, thought Danilov. This was probably going to be the most difficult part. ‘You have some photographs of him, with the dead woman. And of my wife with her, as well.'

The smiles went, replaced by expressions of wariness. Gusovsky said: ‘So that's the exchange? The photographs – and the negatives, of course – for selectively presenting Antipov's evidence?'

‘No,' said Danilov, causing the confusion he wanted.

‘What then?' frowned Gusovsky.

‘We haven't talked yet of Switzerland,' reminded Danilov.

‘We were going to,' promised Yerin.

‘Let's do it now,' suggested Danilov. Already knowing the answer but having to ask the question, he said: ‘Did you try to access the account?'

‘It's blocked,' said Gusovsky.

‘With thirty million dollars in it,' enticed Danilov.

‘At your last meeting you said you controlled it,' said Yerin.

‘It becomes unfrozen the moment I officially inform the Swiss government the investigation is complete. Which it is,' said Danilov.

‘Go on,' urged Gusovsky, beginning to smile again.

‘The government are going to recover it. The bureaucracy will take time. I'm involved at every stage, but not directly
responsible
, if that bureaucracy goes wrong. Which bureaucracy often does … So I can orchestrate everything. I'll trigger the release the day after tomorrow. You've got the replacement Founder's Certificate: present it at the opening of financial trading that day. It will take a further day to be formally registered …' He paused, wanting the announcement to be dramatic. ‘… Four days from now, at the opening of trading in Switzerland, you'll have unrestricted control of thirty million dollars, maybe for as long as a week. It won't take you more than a week to move it all somewhere else, will it?'

Again – although more briefly this time – the Mafia leaders didn't speak. But again it was Yerin who did break the silence. ‘I think we could probably do it in under a day.'

‘So what's the deal you want?' persisted Gusovsky.

‘I can't suppress or edit the evidence alone. Or by myself create the untraceable delay in recovering the money. There'll have to be substantial payments to others,' declared Danilov. ‘I want a
very
substantial payment, for myself and for the others involved, a week from now …' He allowed the brief silence, although it was obvious he had not finished speaking. ‘ … And I want,
before
I do anything about the money in Switzerland or about adjusting the statements that incriminate you, all the photographs and all the negatives …' He allowed himself to smile at last. ‘It'll be payment in two parts: photographs first, then money. How does that seem?'

‘I think that's very fair,' said Gusovsky, without bothering to consult the other man.

‘We haven't decided what substantial means,' said Danilov.

‘What's your figure?' asked Yerin.

‘What's yours?' bargained Danilov.

‘Our relationship is to be ongoing?' said Yerin.

‘That's what we both want, isn't it?' said Danilov.

‘How about a clear million dollars from the Swiss money?' sugested Yerin. ‘We'll fix a permanent weekly retainer: no need to hurry about that, we'll decide the figure when all this is settled. But it'll be good; very good. You name the Western car you want and you get it. Anything, in fact – clothes for your wife, whatever you want for your home. You're never going to have to worry about anything for the rest of your life …'

Was this the sort of arrangement Kosov, cringing outside, enjoyed? He had the car, and there was always the wad of dollars. ‘A
clear
million?' qualified Danilov. It would be wrong to appear overwhelmed, although he was. ‘Deposited in Switzerland, I think.'

Gusovsky nodded. ‘How much, for the others?'

‘Two-hundred-and-fifty thousand.'

‘Is Cowley one of those others?'

‘Additional.'

‘So he knows?' said Yerin.

‘How could he
not
know?'

‘What does he say?' asked Gusovsky.

‘All that is necessary for America is a conviction for the two Washington murders. He has no interest in anything else: anything in Russia. Unless, of course, it's forced upon him.'

Yerin gave a hunch of his shoulders at the threat, as if he were laughing, although he didn't. ‘What does he want?'

Danilov smiled. ‘To hear the outcome of my meeting with you today.'

‘Suggest half a million,' said Gusovsky. He stretched across the table, offering his hand. ‘This is going to be a very good arrangement.'

Danilov completed the handshake. Yerin extended his hand, sensing his partner's gesture, and Danilov shook that as well, then said: ‘There is one problem, of course. Antipov will know his statement has been tampered with, when he gets to court. He's made it as full as he has, to get a prosecuting deal.'

‘
His
problem,' said Gusovsky at once. ‘You've got access to him: remind him we forgive him, so far. But just this far. He's to take things the way they're presented, to the prosecutor and then in court. He'll have to serve some time, after the sentencing, until he's forgotten in the system. Then we'll get him out and he'll be looked after very well. He knows it's possible, because he's helped us do it before …' The thin man stopped and Yerin took over, almost as if they had prepared themselves, which Danilov accepted wouldn't have been possible.