Our Kind of Traitor (41 page)

‘Has he got anyone with him?’ Gail asked, getting back into bed.

‘Not that he mentioned.’

According to Ollie, Hector’s wife Emily had ceased to live with him in London after Adrian’s crash. She preferred the arctic cottage in Norfolk, which was nearer to the prison.

*

Luke stands stiffly beside his bed, encrypted mobile to his ear and Ollie’s lash-up connecting it to the recorder parked on the side of the handbasin. It is four-thirty in the afternoon. Hector hasn’t called all day and Luke’s messages have gone unanswered. Ollie is out shopping for fresh trout, and Wienerschnitzel for Katya, who doesn’t like fish. And home-made chips for everyone. Food is a big topic these days. Meals are taken ceremoniously, since each one may be their last together. Some are preceded by a long grace in Russian, whispered by Tamara to many crossings of the breast. At
other times, when they look to her to do her piece, she declines, apparently to indicate that the company is out of divine favour. This afternoon, to fill the empty hours before dinner, Gail has decided to take the small girls down to Trümmelbach to see the terrifying waterfalls that tumble down the inside of the mountain. Perry is less than happy with the plan. Agreed, she will have her mobile with her, but deep inside the mountain, what kind of signal is she going to get?

Gail doesn’t care. They’re going anyway. Cowbells are chiming in the meadow. Natasha is reading under the maple tree.

‘So here it is,’ Hector is saying in a rock-steady voice. ‘The whole, dismal fucking story. You listening?’

17

Luke listens. Half an hour turns to forty minutes. Dismal fucking story is right.

Then, because there is no point in hurrying, he listens again, for another forty minutes, lying on the bed. It is a short story. It is a play complex in itself, whether comedy or tragedy to be revealed in due course. At eight o’clock this morning, Hector Meredith and Billy Matlock were arraigned before a kangaroo court of their peers in the Vice-Chief’s suite of rooms on the fourth floor. The charge against them was then read out. Hector paraphrased it, sauced with his own expletives:

‘The Vice said the Secretary to the Cabinet had summoned him and put a certain proposition to him: to wit, one Billy Matlock and one Hector Meredith were jointly conspiring to besmirch the fine reputation of one Aubrey Longrigg, Member of Parliament, City mogul and arse-licker to the Surrey oligarchs, in return for the perceived injuries that the said Longrigg had inflicted on the accused: i.e., Billy getting his own back for all the shit Aubrey had made him eat while they were at daggers drawn on the fourth floor; and me for when Aubrey tried to bankrupt my family fucking firm, then buy it for a French kiss. There was a perception in the mind of the Cabinet Secretary that our
personal involvement was clouding our operational judgement
. Still listening?’

Luke is. And to listen even better, he now sits up on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, and the tape recorder on the duvet beside him.

‘I am then, as the prime instigator of the conspiracy to shaft Aubrey, invited to explain my position.’

‘Tom?’

‘Dick?’

‘What on earth has shafting Aubrey – even if that’s what you two were up to – got to do with getting our boy and his family to London?’

‘Good question. I will answer it in the same spirit.’

Luke had never heard him quite so angry.

‘Word is abroad, according to the Vice, that our Service is proposing to put on to the public stage a supergrass who will effectively discredit the banking aspirations of the Arena Conglomerate. Do I need to dilate on what the Vice-Chief was pleased to call the
linkage
here? A shining White Knight Russian bank, billions of dollars on the table and many more where they came from, with a promise not only to release these many more billions on to a cash-strapped money market but to invest in some of the great dinosaurs of British industry? And just when the good will of the said White Knights is about to reach fruition, along come us Intelligence wankers wanting to upset the apple-cart by spouting a lot of moralistic candyfloss about the profits of crime.’

‘You said you were invited to explain your position,’ Luke hears himself remind Hector.

‘Which I did. Rather well, I must say. Gave it to him with everything I’d got. And what I didn’t give him, Billy did. And bit by bit – you’d be amazed – the Vice began to prick his ears up. Not an easy role for a chap to play when his boss is putting his head in the sand, but by the end of the day he came through like a lady. Cleared the room of everybody except the two of us, and heard us out all over again.’

‘You and Billy?’

‘Billy now being
inside
our tent and pissing vigorously out. A Damascene conversion, better late than never.’

Luke doubts this, but charitably decides not to express his doubt.

‘So where do we stand now?’ he asks.

‘Back where we started. Official but unofficial, with Billy aboard and the charter plane on my tab. Got a pencil poised?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Then listen up. Here’s how we go from here, no looking back.’

*

He listens up twice, then realizes that he is waiting for the courage to ring Eloise, so he does. It looks as though I could be home quite soon, maybe even late tomorrow, he says. Eloise says that Luke must do whatever he thinks right. Luke asks after Ben. Eloise says Ben is fine, thank you. Luke discovers he has a nosebleed and gets back on the bed until it’s time for supper, and a quiet word with Perry, who is in the sun room practising climbing knots with Alexei and Viktor.

‘Got a minute?’

Luke leads Perry to the kitchen, where Ollie is wrestling with an obstinate deep fryer that refuses to achieve the desired heat for the home-made chips.

‘Mind giving us a minute, Harry?’

‘No problem, Dick.’

‘Great news at last, thank God,’ Luke began, when Ollie had departed. ‘Hector’s got a small plane standing by at Belp from eleven p.m. tomorrow GMT, Belp–Northolt. Cleared for take-off and landing and a clean walk both ends. God knows how he’s swung it, but he has. We’ll jeep Dima over the mountain to Grund once it’s dark, then drive him straight to Belp. As soon as he touches down in Northolt they’ll take him to a safe house, and if he delivers what he says he’ll deliver, they’ll officially land him, and the rest of the family can follow.’

‘
If
he delivers?’ Perry repeated, tilting his long head quizzically to one side in a way that Luke found particularly irksome.

‘Well he will, won’t he? We know that. It’s the only deal on the table,’ Luke went on when Perry said nothing. ‘Our masters in Whitehall won’t have the family round their necks until they know Dima’s worth his salt.’ And when Perry still failed to respond: ‘It’s as far as Hector can get them to move without due process. So I’m afraid that’s it.’

‘
Due process
,’ Perry repeated at last.

‘That’s what we’re dealing with, I’m afraid.’

‘I thought it was people.’

‘It is,’ Luke retorted, flaring. ‘Which is why Hector wants
you
to be the person who tells Dima. He thinks it’s best coming from you rather than me. I fully agree. I suggest you don’t do it now. Early tomorrow evening will be quite soon enough. We don’t need him brooding all night. I suggest six-ish, to give him time to make his preparations.’

Has the man no
give
in him? Luke wondered. How long am I supposed to meet this lopsided stare?

‘And if he
doesn’t
deliver?’ Perry inquired.

‘Nobody’s got that far. It’s step by step. That’s the way these things are played, I’m afraid. Nothing’s a straight line.’ And letting himself slip, and instantly regretting it: ‘We’re not academics here. We do action.’

‘I need to talk to Hector.’

‘That’s what he said you’d say. He’s standing by for your call.’

*

Alone, Perry walked up the path to the woods where he had walked with Dima. Reaching a bench, he swept away the evening dew with the flat of his hand, sat down, and waited for his thoughts to clear. In the lighted house below him, he could see Gail, the four children and Natasha squatting in a ring on the floor of the sun room with the Monopoly board at their centre. He heard a squawk of outrage from Katya, followed by a bark of protest from Alexei. Dragging his mobile from his pocket he stared at it in the twilight before touching the button for Hector and immediately hearing his voice.

‘You want the dolled-up version, or the hard truth?’

This was the old Hector, the one he relished, the one who had berated him in the safe house in Bloomsbury.

‘The hard truth will do fine.’

‘Here it is. If we bring our boy over, they’ll listen to him and they’ll form a judgement. It’s the best I can get out of them. As of yesterday they weren’t prepared to go that far.’

‘They?’

‘The
authorities
. The
them
. Who the fuck d’you think? If he doesn’t measure up, they’ll throw him back in the water.’

‘What water?’

‘Russian probably. What’s the difference? The point is, he
will
measure up.
I
know he will,
you
know he will. Once they’ve decided to keep him, which won’t take more than a day or two, they’ll buy into the whole catastrophe: his wife, kids, his pal’s kids, and his dog if he’s got one.’

‘He hasn’t.’

‘The nub of it is, they’ve accepted the whole package in principle.’

‘What principle?’

‘D’you mind? I’ve been listening to over-educated arseholes from Whitehall splitting hairs all morning and I don’t need another. We’ve got a deal. As long as our boy comes through with the goods, the rest of them follow with due expedition. That’s their promise, and I’ve got to believe them.’

Perry closed his eyes and took a breath of mountain air.

‘What are you asking me to do?’

‘No more than you’ve done from day one. Compromise your noble principles for the greater good. Soft-soap him. If you tell him it’s a maybe, he won’t come. If you tell him we accept his terms without qualification, but there will be a short delay before he’s reunited with his loved ones, he will. Are you still there?’

‘Partly.’

‘You tell him the truth, but you tell it selectively. Give him half a chance to think we’re playing dirty on him, he’ll grab it. We may be fair-play English gentlemen, but we’re also perfidious Albion shits. Did you hear that or am I talking to the wall?’

‘I heard it.’

‘Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m misreading him. Tell me you know a better plan. It’s you or nobody. This is your finest hour. If he won’t believe you, he won’t believe anyone.’

*

They lay in bed. It was after midnight. Gail, half asleep, had barely spoken.

‘It’s been taken away from him somehow,’ Perry said.

‘Hector?’

‘That’s how it feels.’

‘Perhaps it was never his in the first place,’ Gail suggested. And after a while: ‘Have you decided yet?’

‘No.’

‘Then I think you have. I think no decision’s a decision. I think you’ve decided, and that’s why you can’t sleep.’

*

It was the next evening, quarter to six. Ollie’s cheese fondue had been enjoyed and cleared away. Dima and Perry remained alone in the dining room, standing face to face under a multi-coloured metal alloy chandelier. Luke was taking a tactful stroll in the village. The girls, with Gail’s encouragement, were watching
Mary Poppins
again. Tamara had removed herself to the sitting room.

‘It’s all the apparatchiks can offer,’ said Perry. ‘You go ahead to London tonight, your family follows in a couple of days. The apparatchiks insist on that. They have to obey the rules. Rules for everything. Even this.’

He was using short sentences, watching for the smallest change in Dima’s features, for a hint of softening, or a glimmer of understanding, even of resistance, but the face before him was unreadable.

‘They want I go alone?’

‘Not alone. Dick will be flying to London with you. As soon as the formalities are completed, and the apparatchiks have satisfied their rules, we all follow you to England. And Gail will look after Natasha,’ he added, hoping to allay what he imagined would be Dima’s first concern.

‘She
ill
, my Natasha?’

‘Good Lord no. She’s not
ill
! She’s young. She’s beautiful. Temperamental. Pure. She’ll need a lot of looking after in a strange country, that’s all.’

‘Sure,’ Dima agreed, nodding his bald head to confirm this. ‘Sure. She beautiful like her mother.’

Then jerked his head abruptly sideways, then downwards, as he
stared into some dark gulf of anxiety or memory to which Perry was not admitted. Does he
know
? Has Tamara, in a fit of spite or intimacy or forgetfulness,
told
him? Has Dima, contrary to all Natasha’s expectations, taken her secret and pain upon himself instead of tearing off in search of Max? What was certain to Perry was that the outburst of fury and refusal that he had anticipated was giving way to a prisoner’s dawning sense of resignation in the face of bureaucratic authority; and this realization disturbed Perry more deeply than any violent outburst could have done.

‘A couple days, huh?’ Dima repeated, making it sound like a life sentence.

‘A couple of days is what they say.’

‘Tom say that?
Couple days?
’

‘Yes.’

‘He’s some good fellow, Tom, huh?’

‘I believe he is.’

‘Dick too. He nearly kill that fucker.’

They digested this thought together.

‘Gail, she look after my Tamara?’

‘Gail will look after your Tamara very carefully. And the boys will help her. And I’ll be here too. We’ll all look after the family until they come over. Then we’ll look after all of you in England.’

Dima reflected on this, and the idea seemed to grow in him.

‘My Natasha go Roedean School?’

‘Maybe not Roedean. They can’t promise that. Maybe there’s somewhere even better. We’ll find good schools for everyone. It’ll be fine.’