Turgenev’s criminal activities had been a profound shock and a temporary embarrassment. The smuggling of nuclear scientists had to be stopped at all costs. The other criminalities of which he had been guilty were of much less account.
He shrugged.
‘Waste of time/ he murmured, more to the late autumn temperature and the light snow than to his companions. ‘We made the trip for nothing.’
Their escape had been easier than he had expected. From Novyy Urengoy to Nadym at first, then skirting the Gulf of Oh to Salekhard. The blizzard had blown itself out during their journey.
They’d waited less than two hours for a flight to Vorkuta, and from there had flown direct to Moscow. If there had been any organised pursuit, they had never been aware of it.
I’m sorry, John Lock, he thought. I’m sorry.
Dmitri was dead, and he carried that weight on his back like a great rock. Lock — only Lock had achieved something; his revenge.
‘The American was the only one who got what he wanted/ he announced.
Marfa snorted angrily.
‘You’re feeling very sorry for yourself, ColonelV she snapped.
‘That bastard Turgenev’s dead, the smuggling of the scientists has been broken up — we broke it up! — and the heroin supplies have been disrupted for months, maybe even for a year. That’s something — isn’t it?’
‘That’s right — sir,’ Lubin chorused, rubbing his gloved hands as if before a warming fire. His wife appeared anxious to return to the hotel. ‘We did achieve something’
‘Quite a lot, in fact,’ Marfa persisted.
Vorontsyev shifted on the cannon. His bruises still ached. His ribs protested as his good hand slapped the gun’s old metal. He stood up, adjusting the sling on his broken arm. Grinned.
‘You’re sure, are you, children?’ Marfa’s anger was evident.
Lubin merely smirked. Vorontsyev raised his hands. ‘OK — we did it. We got one of the bastards. One of the very biggest …’ He gestured towards the Kremlin. ‘They’re out there — hundreds, thousands of them. The politicos, the old apparatchiks, the mafiosi and the biznizmen. This country’s endemically corrupt’
‘We’re not — you’re not!’ Marfa snapped at him. ‘We won’
After a silence, he put his good arm around her shoulder, then began walking across the cobbles towards the nearest gate in the high Kremlin wall, beyond which lay Moscow. Katya Lubin, holding her husband’s hand, trotted beside them, clutching the baby against her.
‘Very well,’ Vorontsyev announced. ‘But before the next crusade, I think a dinner to celebrate your promotion. I’ll pay!’
He did not feel lighthearted. Dmitri and Lock rubbed against him in memory, preventing the dissipation of his mood. But Marfa was right. Turgenev was dead. And there were other crooks out there easier to catch and convict. A lot easier. Yes, they had done something — won a battle if not the war.
He patted their shoulders, grateful for their innocence.