‘I gave an undertaking,’ reminded Viskov, his voice cracked by fatigue and despairing inability to avoid responsibility.
‘Which has been rescinded,’ pointed out Badim, in a reminder of his own.
‘Who will tell them?’ asked the deputy.
‘I am officially their liaison,’ offered Popov. ‘It should be me.’
‘Then do it!’ ordered Badim. ‘Let’s do something to start recovering an initiative! Make it clear everything is suspended. They can get the positive cancellation through the Foreign Ministry.’
She had been right – Charlie had been right – in arguing their need for Western help but there was not the slightest point in protesting. The decision was irrevocable, like her dismissal would be irrevocable.
Popov’s heavy combat boots clattered over the floor but Natalia was too dulled even to look around at his re-entry. It was Badim’s frown towards her lover that concentrated Natalia’s attention.
‘What is it?’ demanded the minister, discerning Popov’s uncertainty.
‘The American says they know how it was done: how many vehicles were involved, the number of men in the ambush. Even the road they took, to escape! And that containers are strewn around the train!’
Kestler was early picking Charlie up from the embassy, with things to talk about. ‘Popov started to tell me everything was suspended!’ he announced. ‘That we were out!’
‘I agree with you,’ said Charlie. ‘Space technology is a wonderful thing.’
‘You are directly impugning my ability!’ protested Johnson.
‘I am doing nothing of the sort. And you know it,’ said the Director-General. ‘I’d be failing in my responsibilities if I didn’t take over personal control.’
‘It’s a matter for the full committee!’
Dean regarded the other man quizzically. ‘Under your personal control it can be handled alone! Under my personal control, it requires a committee!’
‘Of course that wasn’t my imputation! I would have convened the committee.’
The man was letting his bruised pride cloud his reasoning. ‘Which is precisely what I intend doing. As and when there is sufficient reason to call everyone together and to whom I shall be the conduit of every development.’
chapter 20
I t was the American’s game so it was right Kestler should run with the ball. Which suited Charlie fine. His most recent embassy confrontation needed thinking about. Charlie had no doubt the ambassador himself would have accepted the explanation that he was waiting until after this meeting before making a full presentation, which was the easy excuse Charlie offered, but the defence had been weakened by his not having arranged an appointment – and giving a reason for it – with Wilkes. The censure had been a double act masterpiece, the Head of Chancellery mouthing the words with Bowyer providing a lot of the feed lines. It had culminated with the threat of an official protest to Peter Johnson, whom Saxon said had already asked for any indication of insubordination. Had he not immediately before the bollocking spoken to the Director-General, Charlie would have been more concerned than he was. He nevertheless determined to do better in the future, which did not mean conforming, just getting his story better next time.
Far more worrying was Kestler’s embassy arrival remark that Popov had been about to shut them out until hearing what they had to trade. That was warning enough that post-mortem blame was already being apportioned and that a lot was being dumped on them. What he didn’t know and couldn’t guess was how much Natalia was getting. Charlie doubted the recrimination fallout could have moved so fast in so few hours, but Natalia was the most obvious internal target and there’d be a lot of flak flying. If she were absent it could mean she was the first casualty. What about Popov? The man was hardly endangered at all. The Kirov and Kirs interception appeared to have gone perfectly and the man’s approach to the American put him still very much at the centre of things. That call itself was interesting. Why to Kestler and not to him? Careful, Charlie warned himself. There were a hundred possible answers to each uncertainty with as many chances of his not getting any of them right: the danger of spinning the conspiracy carousel too fast was ending up too giddy to think straight.
It was a good feeling not to be any longer apprehensive about Kestler. The brash gaucherie wasn’t there any more. Kestler hadn’t been overawed in the presence of the deputy Interior Minister during the night, seeming to think of what he was saying before he said it. And Charlie was reasonably confident the younger man was not trying any sort of shell game. He believed Kestler’s isn’t-space-technology-wonderful call had come within minutes of the man being told what the satellite had picked up. Just as he believed Kestler had shared everything that he had been told. And hadn’t held back during their initial preparation discussion during that telephone conversation and again during the car journey.
As they were escorted up to the executive floor of the by-now familiar ministry, Kestler grimaced to Charlie, Trickle it out, a little at a time.’
‘It’s down to you,’ agreed Charlie, standing back for the American to enter first.
The tension in the room was palpable. So was the ill-concealed hostility: like preparing to do root canal dentistry on rattlesnakes with toothache. The relief Charlie felt seeing Natalia was brief. The freshly neat appearance in a suit she hadn’t been wearing earlier was belied by her expression and her physical attitude. She sat slump-shouldered, her usually unlined features creased by what Charlie guessed to be a combination of fear and despair. Natalia stared directly at him and Charlie would have liked to think it was an imploring look for help, but didn’t allow himself the fantasy. By comparison Aleksai Popov appeared positively vibrant, clear-eyed and thrust forward half out of his seat towards them. Charlie thought a Superman cape might have complemented Popov’s action-man outfit and at once stifled the sneer: personal jealousy didn’t have any place in this room, this afternoon.
From the top table arrangement Viskov clearly wasn’t in charge any more. Having carried out his intended embassy photographic comparison after Kestler’s wake-up call, Charlie recognized Rado-mir Badim in the chairman’s role, which was hardly surprising in the circumstances. He quickly surveyed the rest of the room, seeking more identities from the previous night’s scrutiny. There was no one else he could positively label but a tall, austerely dressed and austerely demeanoured man directly in front of the Interior Minister looked similar to Dmitri Fomin, a member of the President’s secretariat.
Badim waved them towards a table yet again set apart from the rest of the room and demanded, ‘You have information!’
‘I hope we both have information to exchange with each other,’ said Kestler and Charlie decided he couldn’t have done better himself.
The minister’s face tightened. ‘You have already been accorded access to a considerable amount.’
It was to Popov that Kestler briefly turned before coming back to the minister. ‘As you will have already been told, we have a considerable amount of data collected at the actual moment of the robbery at Pizhma. A complete documentary record of everything that occurred will, of course, be made available to you.’
Made available after detailed photo-analysis and image enhancement, Charlie knew. It would be up to Rupert Dean to make certain they got all that from Washington separately, to match what the local Bureau office made available to him.
Popov’s impatience at Kestler’s offer was so obvious that Badim looked enquiringly towards the man, who inferred it to be an invitation. ‘How?’ Popov questioned, loud-voiced. ‘Quite obviously you had advance intelligence that there was to be a second robbery; advance intelligence intentionally withheld from us, enabling the theft to take place!’