No Time for Heroes (58 page)

Yerin said: ‘If he doesn't – if he argues or thinks he can get a better deal from the authorities – you tell him we will have him killed. Not at once. For as long as it pleases us there won't be a moment when he'll be safe from attack: not even if he goes into solitary confinement. And he will be attacked. Badly. He'll be crippled and he'll be blinded and then he'll be killed. You tell him all those things, just like I've told you. He'll believe it because he knows we can do it.'

Danilov certainly believed it. Antipov would be tortured and killed: so would Maksim Zimin, when they learned the man was being brought back from Italy after his trial there. Danilov didn't think any precaution or protection he tried to evolve would prevent it happening. ‘I'll make sure he understands.'

‘A very good arrangement,' repeated Gusovsky.

‘I want it even better,' said Danilov. ‘I don't see any reason to go on arranging our meetings through Yevgennie Kosov. You'll have my direct line. I want always to be able to contact you quickly …' Danilov finished the demand by offering the card with his Petrovka number.

Gusovsky at once responded with the number Danilov already had, of the house at Kutbysevskij Prospekt.

‘And I'd like the photographs and negatives. Tomorrow. They're no further use to you, now we've reached this understanding.'

‘None at all,' agreed Yerin. ‘Best got out of the way. Forgotten.'

‘Be our guests for lunch here,' suggested Gusovsky.

‘I'd like that,' accepted Danilov.

‘Will the American join us?' invited Gusovsky.

‘I'm sure he'll be delighted.'

‘It could be a
really
good arrangement,' said Gusovsky.

‘The best,' agreed Yerin. ‘By releasing the photographs, we get the money. From it we can easily pay out less than two million dollars to get not just one but
two
investigators on the payroll. Once we create an account for Danilov in Switzerland, he's
ours
. We can bargain the details of wherever we pay Cowley his money to the Genovese in New York, which gives
them
a senior executive in the FBI. It's perfect! And it doesn't cost us a single kopek!'

‘Antipov will have to be killed
before
any trial,' said Gusovsky conversationally. ‘We obviously can't take the chance of his staying alive. Danilov will have to organise that, the moment he's taken the money and committed himself: he'll have to arrange for the bastard to be held where we can most easily get to him.'

‘Let's hope the Liccio people can get to Zimin, like they say.'

‘That would make it complete, wouldn't it?'

‘More than complete,' agreed Yerin. ‘We'll have won absolutely.'

‘There's no-one in the world who can't be bought,' said Gusovsky, wistfully.

‘Let's hope there never is,' said Yerin.

‘You think they want to gloat, having me personally accept photographs of my dick in a whore's mouth?'

‘Probably,' accepted Danilov.

‘I've never met Mafia dons. Punks, yes. But never dons.'

‘You want to know something?' said Danilov rhetorically. ‘They frighten the shit out of me.'

‘So what's it going to be like, later?'

‘I don't know,' admitted Danilov, still honest. ‘There's not much they can do.'

‘You don't know that.'

‘There's only one way I can go now.'

‘Kosov going to be with us tomorrow?'

Danilov shook his head. ‘He almost wet himself with relief, on the way back. But it was a great recovery. Before we got here, he was making plans for what it was going to be like when he's transferred and we're a team.'

‘You any idea until today he was on the sort of deal they talked about with you?'

‘There was the car,' said Danilov. ‘But no, not really.'

‘It occur to you we could handle this another way?' asked Cowley, solemn-faced. ‘That we could accept the money?'

‘From the moment it was offered,' replied Danilov, just as seriously.

‘The Medal of Valour!' exclaimed Rafferty, reading the FBI internal bulletin. ‘A Russian's going to get the Medal of Valour. What about us guys who stayed at home and did all the mix-and-match stuff!'

Johannsen grimaced at the apparent resentment. ‘Stayed at home, safe and warm,' he pointed out. ‘Not sat on our asses in the Sicilian dirt and got shot at with wolf guns.'

Rafferty pulled down the corners of his mouth, apologetically. ‘Just talking, that's all. Just talking.'

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

The notification of the award was duplicated to Cowley, who reached Danilov at Petrovka slightly ahead of the official advice from the Foreign Ministry, to which it had been formally communicated by Washington. Cowley made the congratulations light, saying if Danilov kept thinking the way they'd both been doing before they'd parted the previous night, he could be the richest honorary FBI agent in history. The Foreign Ministry message was signed personally by Sergei Vorobie, who along with his congratulations called it an honour of which they were all proud: the information was being released to the press. Danilov telephoned Larissa before Olga with the news. Larissa said it was wonderful and could she tell everyone: Olga asked if it was just a medal or whether a cash award went with it.

During the morning, while he was arranging the following day's trip to Switzerland with Raisa Serova, congratulatory notes arrived from the Deputy Minister and the Federal Prosecutor. Nikolai Smolin repeated the praise when they spoke, for Danilov to learn that a Foreign Ministry lawyer would accompany him, carrying the Russian documentation in support of the official American release of the
Svahbodniy
corporation. When Danilov telephoned, Heinrich Bloch said that as well as Cowley, the American side was going to be represented by a legal team from the US embassy in Bern: the small luncheon party he had arranged, prior to the formalities, could now be extended into a small celebration for the American recognition of bravery, of which he'd just heard. He added his congratulations, too.

Despite the interruptions, Danilov still reached the Savoy in time for a drink with the American before they had to go to Glovin Bol'soj. They talked generally about the forthcoming encounter but agreed there was no purpose in the advance preparation that had gone into their interrogations in Rome and Moscow: the last thing they could appear to be doing that day was interrogating anyone. As a worried afterthought, Danilov asked Cowley if he'd fitted himself with any recording apparatus. Cowley said he hadn't.

On their way to the Mafia restaurant Cowley disclosed Washington were pressing for a return date; he'd vaguely indicated another fortnight, but guessed it could probably be sooner. Danilov had grown so accustomed to spending most of the day and many evenings with the American it was difficult to imagine their not being together much longer. The thought seemed to be with the American, too. He said he looked forward to their meeting in Rome for the eventual trial there, although he guessed the restrictive security under which they would have to live would become a pain in the ass after a while. It reminded him to pass on that David Patton was on day release from hospital: the story was he'd a DEA headquarter's job when he was fully recovered. Patton had also sent a message of congratulation about the medal, through the embassy. Of them all, it was the one Danilov appreciated most.

Their reception at Glovin Bol'soj was extreme, the courtesy and smiles stopping just inches short of patronage. Cowley decided they did want to gloat, and that all the men who nodded and grinned broadly at him, as he walked through the restaurant to the private rear room, probably had seen the photographs of him with his dick in a whore's mouth. Lena Zurov had died because of him, Cowley thought, in familiar recrimination. She hadn't been a whore, despite her profession: she'd been a chosen victim, like he'd been a chosen victim. He was sure he was going to enjoy – savour – what was going to come.

They were ushered into the private salon without the attempted body search of which Danilov had warned the American. A small bar had been installed – which Danilov decided was to provide at least one minder, acting as bartender – and there were elaborate flower arrangements which both investigators thought funereal. There were generous introductions and effusive handshakes. Yerin, sufficiently at home to move around without hint of blindness, offered champagne but announced for Cowley's benefit there was every American liquor: all Cowley had to do was name it. The American asked for Chivas Regal, not to be awkward but from preference. There were numerous toasts to health and lasting association.

There was sufficient food for a banquet for a starving African nation: a starving Russian nation, for that matter. Beluga caviare formed the centrepiece of the
zakuski
. There was smoked sturgeon, separate selections of dumplings and mushrooms in sour cream,
basturma
cured meats, meat-stuffed Siberian
pelmini
– the Russian ravioli – and chicken and pork
shashlik
. Again to impress Cowley – and themselves – there was a selection of Californian wines to go with other choices from France and Georgia. Cowley had limited himself to one whisky and took only one glass of wine: toadying to their posturing, he chose Napa Valley chardonnay.

That posturing stopped very positively halfway through the meal: so, too, did most of the eating, both sides impatient with the pretence. Gusovsky called themselves businessmen, and thought there were going to be a lot of business opportunities in the future. From now on each would be mutually dependent upon the other: Cowley was not to imagine his involvement limited to this one occasion. Despite the setback of Italy, links
would
be formed with American organisations, so what was being established today would be a continuing situation when Cowley returned to America.

Again the conversation was split between the two Chechen leaders. Directly to the American, Yerin repeated, with chilling casualness, the threats against anyone who talked openly in any court, and insisted Cowley made it clear during any pre-trial interviews in the future, with anyone involved. With businesslike practicality, he demanded how and where Cowley wanted his money paid. It was one part of the encounter Cowley and Danilov had rehearsed: Cowley said he thought he'd keep it in Switzerland, as Danilov intended to, and would let them know the bank details when they were fixed. He responded well aware the posturing was beginning again: they were going to make him and Danilov plead for the photographs.

‘Part of our arrangement is to begin today?' he said. He didn't resent appearing to beg: he was going to get more enjoyment out of the game than they were, although they didn't know it yet.

‘For both of us,' came in Danilov, accepting like the American they were expected to demean themselves, despite the business-together shit. He was as unoffended as Cowley, sure now the final victory was theirs.

From the guessed-at recess beneath the table where they always sat Gusovsky took two sealed manila folders, one thicker than the other: he pushed the thicker towards Cowley, saying: ‘You'll want to ensure every negative corresponds with a print?'

‘No,' said Danilov. ‘We trust each other, don't we?'

Picking up on their own double act, Cowley said: ‘We're partners now.'

Gusovsky said: ‘This is forgotten by us: we regret it. We hope it is forgotten by you.'

‘Entirely,' said Danilov. No, he thought.

‘Completely,' said Cowley. No, he thought.

‘The sort of misunderstanding that arises sometimes in business,' said Yerin. the false apologies all part of the affectation.

Cowley thought there was a lot adopted from Hollywood: except that in Hollywood the players were acting. These two – one who appeared to be dying from some wasting disease, the other a white-eyed blind man – weren't acting but were, literally, deadly serious: they could still have stepped from the screen of any Mafia movie he'd ever seen. Or any parody of one.

Hands came out and were shaken. Gusovsky's grasp was cold, like lifeless people were cold: Yerin's hold was warm, cloying.

‘I'm worried about the money,' said Danilov.

‘You've no need to be,' said Yerin.

‘I meant getting control, from Switzerland. It's got to be exactly right.'

‘It's already being done.'

‘Don't let us down,' said Danilov.

‘Don't let
you
down!' said Gusovsky.

‘Don't let either of us let anybody down,' said Cowley. ‘We're just anxious to make everything work out as it should.'

‘The replacement Founder's Certificate will be presented at the opening of trading tomorrow,' assured Gusovsky.

‘That's perfect,' said Danilov, for the satisfaction of Cowley and himself.

‘A week from now you'll be rich!' said Yerin.