‘What is it?’ he frowned.
‘Nothing.’
He smiled back. ‘Yes,’ he said, wrongly guessing what she was thinking. ‘There is a lot of time before we have to meet Oskin. Hours. And it has been a long time for a hard-working mining engineer who’s missed his wife.’
Natalia held her smile but wished he hadn’t misunderstood. Of course she loved him and of course she wanted to go to bed with him and for him to make love to her because it was always so good because he was such a consummate lover and Natalia liked sex. But not now, not at this moment in these circumstances. She hadn’t understood enough; been told enough. It would have been better later, when she’d settled in after the flight from Moscow and asked all her questions and met Oskin. But she was meeting Oskin, she realized. He was Aleksai’s source and it was probably better if she heard everything herself from the regional Militia chief rather than entering the conversation with preconceived impressions from what Aleksai told her.
Aleksai was a consummate lover. Natalia couldn’t remember a time when he’d failed her and often, like now, there was surprise as well as excitement because lovemaking to Aleksai was a complete pleasure to which he gave himself completely, arousing her to total abandonment. He loved her with his mouth and she loved him the same way and when she tried to pull him into her he held back until she mewed with frustration and slapped at him, hard, and said she was coming but still he refused. When he did, finally, she exploded almost at once and he did as well but he didn’t stop and she came again and then clung to him, exhausted, panting ‘bastard’ over and over again into his ear, slapping him again, although not so hard, when he laughed back at her.
They slept as they lay and Natalia would have missed the meeting with Oskin entirely if Popov hadn’t awakened her. As it was, she had to hurry to bath and repair her love-bedraggled hair. In the reflection of the mirror when she was doing that she saw Popov check the clip of the Markarov and settle the gun comfortably in the rear waistband of his trousers. She thought the gun looked enormous and felt another flicker of fear.
Popov became aware of her attention and looked back at her, in the mirror. ‘It’s best. Just a precaution. Nothing’s going to happen.’
‘If you say so.’ Natalia was authorized to carry a weapon but had never done so and was glad her rank had for years now freed her going through the once-required range practice. She’d hated the noise and the weight of a pistol she could never hold properly or fire without squinting her eyes closed at the trigger pull, so that her score rate had always been appalling.
The restaurant was virtually in the shadow of the Uspenskii cathedral and their last three or four hundred metres were slowed by people making their way to the evening service. Natalia, who had followed her religion even under communism, hoped she would have time to go there before returning to Moscow.
Popov parked some way away, although there was space far closer, and further bewildered her by fully circling the square and even stopping to look into the window of a hunting equipment shop instead of going directly into the restaurant. Which was unexpectedly good, an ancient lopsided and crannied place with a main eating area dominated by a huge central fireplace open on both sides with the chimney mouth hung with hooks and grids to smoke the meat and fish.
They were late because of the straggled churchgoers and their meandering approach but Nikolai Oskin was not there. Their reservation was at a corner table furthest from the main door. Popov ordered a flask of vodka for himself and Georgian wine for Natalia and told the waiter they’d delay ordering because there was a possibility of their being joined by someone else.
‘Possibility?’ queried Natalia.
‘Oskin won’t come if he thinks we were under any sort of special attention.’
‘He was watching us?’
Popov nodded. ‘There’s a public kiosk near the hotel. If he doesn’t show up tonight he’ll phone there at eleven tomorrow.’
Natalia didn’t smile, like she had at the criss-crossed map to account for his being a mining engineer. For several moments she stared fixedly at the door, at people following them in. ‘Where was he?’
Popov shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘How do we know he isn’t being watched? He’s far more likely to attract attention than us, isn’t he?’
‘We don’t. And yes he is. All this is for his benefit – and peace of mind – not ours.’
‘But if he doesn’t come it means…’
‘… Nothing. He and I have been very carefuclass="underline" had our meetings like this all the time. So I’m absolutely sure no one has linked us, in any way. If he imagines anyone outside that’s exactly what it will be, imagination…’ He smiled, sadly, at her seriousness. ‘We’ll laugh about it when it’s all over. But at the moment it’s got to be done his way. Their way.’
It was a further thirty minutes before Nikolai Oskin came into the restaurant. He remained unmoving just inside the door and Popov’s warning touch upon her arm enabled Natalia to study the man. He was extremely short and his fatness made him appear even smaller. Oskin’s approach, having located them, was a strut of quick, jerky steps. He wore civilian clothes, of course. The suit had no tailored crease but was bagged and shiny from wear and neglect. The shirt was reasonably clean but did not appear to have been ironed. Natalia tried to remember the man from his Moscow headquarters posting but couldn’t, although she knew from his personnel records, which she’d read before coming to Kirov, that he had served at Ulitza Zhitnaya until eighteen months earlier. He stood politely and virtually to attention during Popov’s introduction and appeared surprised when Natalia offered her hand. It was only when she did so that Natalia realized he was deferring to her with the respect befitting the absolute head of his department. He sat, at her invitation, and accepted the vodka Popov offered. They did not attempt any conversation until they had ordered. Natalia disinterestedly chose quail, without any appetite.
‘No trouble, then?’ opened Popov.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Oskin. Then, hurriedly, ‘No. None at all. I made sure.’
Natalia wondered if he normally spoke in such a high-pitched voice or whether it was another indication of nervousness. He wasn’t sweating now but as close as he was, Natalia could smell that he had been, very recently. And badly. She moved to speak, stopping just short of referring to her deputy as Aleksai. Instead she said, ‘Colonel Popov believes there is going to be a genuine robbery attempt?’
‘There’s no doubt,’ agreed Oskin, positively. The voice was still high.