Charlie made a careful list of what he considered the salient points, double-checking and then checking again to ensure he’d missed nothing before sitting back, quite content. By themselves what he’d itemized were insufficient proof of anything, although perhaps good enough for a defensive argument if he was called upon to make one, but Charlie felt a familiar satisfaction at isolating colours that just might match in an intricate jigsaw. He was curious if he’d find any more when he succeeded in speaking to Natalia. Although it would probably have been meaningless, Charlie shredded his itemizing list in advance of any later office search by Thomas Bowyer.
Charlie was actually about to try Popov again when his own telephone rang.
‘You want to come across, Charlie?’ invited Kestler.
‘What is it?’
‘I just got back from a full briefing at the Interior Ministry.’
‘ Who, specifically, excluded me?’
‘I guess it was a committee decision: that’s the way they’re working now. All the usual people.’ Kestler was flushed, sweating slightly, moving around the FBI office more quickly than usual.
‘But who actually told you?’ persisted Charlie.
‘Popov, when he called about a meeting. Said you weren’t to be included any more…’ The younger man pulled his lower lip several times through his teeth. ‘I didn’t want to endanger our own access. I’m sorry…’
‘My decision,’ volunteered Lyneham. ‘I said he had to go ahead without telling you. Damage limitation. This way we’re still in the game. All of us.’
Charlie shook his head against the apologies. It was the only thing the Americans could have done. It would be wrong to ask outright if Natalia had been present. ‘ All the usual people, except me?’
Kestler nodded.
‘No discussion about my not being there?’
‘At the beginning,’ said Kestler. ‘Popov said it had been decided the British were not being allowed to participate any more. And Badim and Fomin kind of nodded and that was that.’
‘I was not positively connected with the leak?’
‘Not by name, no.’
‘Anything said about our working together?’
‘Not in as many words. After the meeting Popov told me our continued liaison – between me and the Russians – was being reviewed.’
‘So we could be out too,’ added Lyneham. ‘My guess is that we will be. It’s a bastard.’
Not for him it wasn’t, mused Charlie. Because he wasn’t out. Through Natalia he was very much in. ‘They can’t afford to exclude us! That stuff’s on its way into the West.’
‘They don’t think so,’ disclosed Kestler. ‘That was the purpose of today’s conference. They’ve got some back and think they’re going to get the rest. So they don’t need us.’
With difficulty Charlie stifled the anger: practically a whole fucking hour before they’d told him, almost as an afterthought! ‘I’d really like to hear all about getting stuff back!’
What was so far known appeared to support Popov’s insistence that the Pizhma haul was still in the Moscow area, said Kestler. The promised round-ups of the Agayans and Shelapin Families had gone on, after the previous day’s conference and throughout the night. At 8 p.m. the previous evening – ironically around the time the Reuter story of the robbery was breaking – a combined Special Forces and Militia squad had raided an apartment block at Ulitza Volkhonka, near the metro station, where it was believed some members of the Shelapin Family lived. Three gang members had been shot dead, resisting arrest. One Militia officer had died and two more were injured, one seriously. In a basement garage belonging to one of the dead men were three containers from the Pizhma train. They were still being checked but if full they would contain several kilos of enriched plutonium. Radomir Badim was holding a press conference for the international news media that afternoon at which they hoped to display the recovered canisters. Before that, assurances were going to Western governments through the Foreign Ministry.
‘Assurances about what?’ demanded Charlie.
‘That wasn’t made clear.’
‘They talked of assurances?’ Each and every word was essential if he was to advise the Director-General properly.
‘Yes.’
‘What, exactly, was said?’
‘That Western ambassadors were being called in…’ Kestler looked at his watch. ‘… about now. To be told of the recovery before any other official announcement.’
‘It’s clever,’ admitted Charlie, begrudgingly.
‘Classical,’ agreed Lyneham.
‘You’ve got to concede it’s pretty damned good,’ suggested Kestler, misunderstanding.
‘Three from twenty-two leaves nineteen,’ said Charlie, impatiently. ‘So where’s the great recovery, with nineteen containers still missing! From the markings Hillary found in those trucks yesterday we know it wasn’t transferred anywhere near Moscow!’ To Kestler he said: ‘Didn’t you make that clear?’
The young American momentarily stopped his office wanderings. ‘They’re not accepting those marks came from a support frame. Or from any heavy lifting gear. According to Popov, and the Russian forensic report, everything could have been caused by the normal use to which the trucks were put, before they were stolen.’
‘They can’t be serious!’
‘That’s what they’re saying; what they want to believe,’ said Kestler.
‘They’ve let Hillary go to Volkhonka,’ said Lyneham. ‘That’s where I was when you called: running her there.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘Still there.’
‘The containers are sealed?’
‘I specifically asked,’ said Kestler. ‘There’s no danger.’
‘So it’s part of the smokescreen,’ judged Charlie.
‘Thicker than a donkey’s dick,’ agreed Lyneham.
‘What’s Volkhonka like?’
‘Like every other apartment block you’ve ever seen and loved in Moscow,’ said the Bureau chief.
To Kestler again Charlie said, ‘You ask about the cordon beyond Moscow?’
Kestler nodded. ‘Everything’s still in place, according to Popov.’ The man paused. ‘But the search is very definitely being concentrated in Moscow.’
The repeated phrase caught Charlie’s attention. ‘Popov appears to have done most of the talking?’
‘Virtually all of it,’ confirmed Kestler. ‘But he is the operational commander. It’s his responsibility.’
‘It’s wrong!’ insisted Charlie. ‘All wrong! Kirs was a decoy and dumping the lorries in Moscow was a decoy and finding the stuff at Volkhonka is a decoy.’
‘I’m prepared to believe it,’ said Lyneham. ‘No one else is.’ London would, determined Charlie. Sir William Wilkes would be one of the ambassadors getting the reassuring bullshit. ‘I’m going to do my best to see that as many other people as possible believe it.’