‘Not like this.’
‘Oh.’ Lomax regarded Sean. He had changed since he heard the news about Natasha. Lomax couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He had lost confidence, certainly. And he was more introverted and taciturn than usual. Obviously it had affected him much more than Lomax had first thought. That set him thinking. ‘When did you first notice?’
‘About six months ago.’
‘That would be about the time you and Natasha started to get serious.’
‘I guess so.’
‘Ah.’ Lomax hit his hand on the table with a sharp tap. ‘You silly bugger. Any amateur psychologist could tell you what’s been causing the tremors. I expect you thought it was fear — or worse, cowardice?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I’ll say it again, Sean Quinlan. You’re a daft bugger. You started to feel real fear only when you knew Natasha cared for you, and when you cared for her. It’s not cowardice, it’s just human bloody nature!’
Sean shrugged. ‘Doesn’t make a difference anyway, I’m still going.’
‘Listen Sean. It might be worse than you think. Suppose they send another team after you from Russia? They would hunt you down. And don’t believe for one minute the Section would protect you. They’d be more likely to support the Russians if they spotted a vendetta developing.’ He saw Sean wasn’t really listening; the bleak eyes were set in a pale determined face. He’d seen that look before; nothing would persuade him to change his mind.
‘I’ll need some help.’
‘Jesus, Sean. Do you want to get me into trouble too?’
‘Will you come?’
Lomax looked away. In truth he felt guilty since he had given the Russians the name of Sean’s girlfriend. But what Sean was asking might well cost him his newly acquired job at the Section. He took another swallow from the pint, wondering how to say no. That answer never came.
‘Very well, I’ll go with you.’
Sean slapped him on the back with his good hand. ‘Great!’
‘But remember, Sean. The only reason I’m going is to keep you out of trouble while you’re there.’
‘Call on line two. President Donahue for you.’ The secretary slipped out of the Prime Minister’s office, closing the door gently behind him.
The PM picked up the phone.
‘Terrance, good to speak to you again.’ President Donahue’s voice boomed down the connection.
‘Hello Robert. How’s the weather north of you?’
‘Ha ha. You always get straight to the point. The contamination is low, thank God. We’re monitoring the sea, the currents, the air, and high atmosphere. Radioactivity in the Arctic is just above background. The level in the ocean itself is higher, but nothing like what we were expecting.’
‘I’m glad to hear that Robert. Our own observation stations are reporting the same, so that is reassuring. One of our oceanographers tried to explain it to me — something about the Arctic Ocean being a basin, a sort of inland sea. It looks as if the pressure at the seabed contained the worst of the fallout, and the Ocean is keeping the radioactivity to itself, for now.’
‘Khostov certainly knew the best way to contain it.’
‘I agree.’
‘Speaking of Khostov, we were wondering how he was making out?’
‘Ah, I see. I know his son has started school here and he has begun to settle in. It seems that Alexei is enjoying work here too.’
‘He’s definitely an impressive character. We thought he might like an opportunity to get experience on some advanced projects we have going.’
‘You’re welcome to try Robert. I can’t speak for him, but he doesn’t seem to be the sort that would be easily persuaded by money.’
‘No? Maybe we could arrange a sabbatical at some point?’
‘Perhaps. How is progress with the treaty?’
‘Great. We’ve been meeting in secret with the rest of the council, and we’re pleasantly surprised by the level of consensus. Some of them are welcoming the initiative with open arms.’
‘So you are on track to complete by the deadline?’
‘Well, not so fast. We’re expecting a lot of resistance from the Eco-lobbyists.’
‘How much of a problem will that be?’
‘Not that much, really. Once we conclude the meetings with the council, we’ll open it up for a public debate. We’ll explain the benefits to everyone, and the Eco lobby will condemn it. The global warming groups will jump on the band waggon, and after they’ve had their say we’ll sign the accord. We’ve tabled meetings in six months’ time and we’re very hopeful that heads of agreement will be signed then.’
‘That’s excellent news, Robert. I’m really pleased.’
‘A great deal hinged on your late intervention. If you hadn’t exposed the evidence that the Russians were already planning to mine oil and gas at the North Pole, it could have all been for nothing.’
‘I have to thank you for playing your part too, Robert. If you hadn’t objected to the idea as strongly as you did, the Russian’s wouldn’t have fallen for it. You’d make a good actor.’
Ashdown caught the familiar sound of a chuckle down the line. ‘We’ve had enough actors in the White House. But I do want to remind you of one promise you made.’
‘Yes?’ Ashdown replied.
‘You promised never to put me in such a position again.’
‘Robert, you have my word as a politician.’ Smiling, the Prime Minister replaced the phone.
Sean placed his eye to the Dragunov’s scope. He could see Serge Zlotnik sitting alone in the restaurant by the window. He came here every evening at the same time and sat at the same table. Sean knew, because he had followed him for three days, establishing his patterns and routes.
Sean couldn’t help the feeling of déjà vu; but this time it was just a bit too simple. He had spotted the office block on the second day, and getting to the empty rooftop unseen was easy. He lay on a mat, with a cheap mobile phone alongside.
God knows where Lomax had acquired the rifle, but it was the best old fashioned long gun the Soviets ever made. Lomax had kept his promise to deliver him safely, and was staying in the background until he completed the shot. Whatever else Sean felt about him, at least he followed through when he said he would.
Sean gripped the curved magazine with the free fingers of his left hand. It held a total of ten rounds but with a range of less than one and a half kilometres, he knew he would only need one cartridge. Each contained a tungsten alloy at its centre, surrounded by a copper jacket. He would have to shoot through the window. The soft copper would disintegrate on contact with the glass, but the hardened centre would continue. If the slug so much as touched Zlotnik, he would die.
The restaurant was top class and the wine list was superb. He thought that at those prices they ought to be. Soon Zlotnik would be ordering his meal, and Sean wondered how he earned enough money to pay for it all, coming here day after day. Sean stirred uneasily; something was just not right. As he lay prone on the mat his mind was in a whirl. The tungsten steel-rimmed glasses filled his field of view. He wondered at the irony; shortly his tungsten bullet would smash through those spectacles, ending his life forever.
Adjusting the sights, he focused on a white napkin on the table cloth. Now there were no nerves; no annoying tics betrayed the nervousness of the last six months. Here in his sights was the person who ordered Natasha’s death. But the question still gnawed his consciousness. Why did he do it? Was it really out of revenge because Khostov had been snatched from his grasp? Zlotnik was a professional, and professionals in his game rarely acted out of a sense of personal anger.
Sean had heard the rumours in the Section: a mentally ill Zlotnik, becoming more psychotic over time, looking for any opportunity to kill. But no-one knew for sure what his motivation was. Sean shook his head in despair. Even a man like him must have been aware of the suffering he caused.