He’d got away with it! Charlie thought he’d made a reasonable case – but only reasonable – and the postponement the previous evening obviously for a private discussion had worried him. ‘But I can go back right away?’ Charlie had spent a depressing night in London. He’d actually gone back to The Pheasant, which had completely changed in three months: there was a bank of light-cascading fruit machines that had made his eyes ache and a constantly blaring juke box that had made his head ache. Excusing himself to ease past him, a shaven-headed youth with an earring had called him Pops’. And they’d stopped stocking Islay whisky.
‘If the idea is accepted, you’re going to have to be careful going to the embassy.’
‘I always was,’ said Charlie.
‘There won’t be any more misunderstandings,’ assured Dean.
He might as well try to win everything. ‘Was there some misunderstanding with Washington, too?’
The spectacles moved smoothly through the man’s fingers and Charlie wondered if Dean ever used them for their proper purpose. ‘Not any longer.’
‘Do I need to know what they were?’
‘No,’ refused Dean, shortly.
He had been right about the man being like Sir Archibald Willoughby! ‘I’m to continue dealing with you, personally?’
Dean nodded. ‘We’ll only give it a limited run, if they do agree.’
‘I understand that.’
‘How are you finding Moscow, apart from the job?’
‘Pleasant enough,’ said Charlie, non-committal.
At that moment, in Moscow, the final tape of Natalia’s interviews clicked off. For several moments no one in the ministerial or presidential group spoke. Then to Natalia the expressionless Dmitri Fomin said ‘Thank you,’ and led everyone from the room and Natalia knew the recent commendation had become meaningless.
chapter 29
N ataila contacted Charlie within an hour of his getting back to Lesnaya and admitted calling several times before, the relief obvious in her voice that he was finally there. It was Natalia who wanted an immediate meeting and suggested the botanical gardens at Glavnyy Botanincheyskiy Sad, one of their favourite places when they’d been together. Charlie began to attach a significance until Natasha said it was conveniently close to the creche from which she had to collect Sasha later that afternoon.
She was already there when he arrived, on the arranged seat near one of the tropical hothouses. She’d come close, but not quite, to covering the dark half-circles under her eyes, her mouth was pinched and for once the usually kept-in-place hair was disarrayed.
‘It’s all gone terribly wrong,’ she declared, even before he lowered himself on to the bench beside her. ‘And I’m the one identified with it, no one else.’
‘How?’
Natalia had a debriefer’s cohesive recall and recounted in detail and in sequence the contemptuous interview with Shelapin and what had happened immediately afterwards with Agayans. The escorts had been suspended but were still denying any collusion: one had left Agayans to collect the key to the central prison area, which regulations insisted be held at all times in the main control room and there were two other warders supporting the story of the second of his being called to a corridor telephone to a supposed summons from her, leaving Agayans momentarily unguarded. ‘A minute, no more.’ There hadn’t yet been a public announcement of the killing but she’d told Shelapin, trying to shake him. And hadn’t. He’d actually laughed at the murder and at her and continued accusing her of attempted extortion. All the other arrested Shelapin gang members denied any knowledge of the Pizhma robbery and of the canisters either in the Mercedes or in the garage at Ulitza Volkhonka. Shelapin’s lover had named six people from the transvestite chorus line who’d been at a homosexual orgy at the time of the Pizhma theft and every one had testified Shelapin had been there. Although the Federal Prosecutor had ruled the satellite photographs inadmissible in a Russian court she’d asked the Americans for every positively identifying factor from the pictures. None of the men in custody, and certainly not Shelapin himself, matched any of the height, weight or physical details obtained by high-focus analysis. Because of the public concern the intended prosecution, based solely upon the evidence of the canisters, was to be open to the world media. Shelapin had warned his defence lawyers would publicly strip the skin off her, layer by layer ‘until I bleed to death, as Agayans did’.
‘And like it’s been stripped off at every ministerial meeting,’ Natalia added.
Charlie listened with his mind ahead of what she was saying, isolating points he considered important but not setting them out to her: he always had to keep in mind that in her permanent anxiety about the baby, Natalia might inadvertently say something to snag the fragile net he still hadn’t properly woven. Gently, consciously taking advantage of Natalia’s distraction, Charlie probed for more. There was a stir of satisfaction when Natalia identified the Up and Down club as the meeting place claimed by Yatisyna for the witnessed encounter between Agayans and the Arab and French nuclear purchasers. Natalia said they’d decided against publishing the artist’s sketches until they were surer Yatisyna wasn’t concocting the whole story: the club owners and staff denied ever having seen either man on the premises, which could have been more through fear than lack of recognition. Charlie had her go into much more detail of her interview with the Moscow Militia commander, confirming Gusev’s presence at the very earliest planning meetings and at every major arrest and qualified several points in Natalia’s account of the man’s close-to-despairing resignation at the extent of Militia corruption.
‘Which I’m now dragged into,’ reminded Natalia. ‘It was my name that was used to get the second guard away from Agayans. How’s that going to look in an open court, alongside Shelapin’s accusation that I wanted a bribe?’
Bad, in the way a clever lawyer could manipulate it, he thought. ‘What’s Popov say?’
‘That it’s not as bad as I’m making it.’
‘I don’t think it is,’ lied Charlie, trying to lift her depression. ‘These are professional Mafia. It’s ridiculous to expect them all to roll over and play dead at their first interrogation.’
The weak autumn sun was abruptly swallowed by cloud and Natalia shivered. ‘Neither he nor you are at the ministerial meetings. That’s what they do expect. I don’t want assurances, Charlie. I want advice on what to do. How to break them.’
Which Popov obviously hadn’t offered. ‘Any public trial is a long way off. That’s not an immediate problem. Does Yatisyna know Agayans has been killed?’
‘I haven’t told him. The guards may have done.’
‘Tell him. And tell him you might have to move him out of the security of solitary confinement, into a more open regime. Trade his continued protection against everything else he can tell you. Make sure he’s properly frightened.’
‘What about Shelapin?’
‘Let him stew. He knows the canisters are enough.’
It sounded more constructive than it really was but Natalia nodded, her face softening very slightly. She looked at her watch, shivering again. ‘I have to collect Sasha.’
‘I’ve got something to talk to you about, first. Let’s walk in the hothouse.’ That had been another favourite.
She got up at once and they went side by side into the artificial heat and humidity. The giant-leafed plants and technicolour flowers seemed larger and more vivid than he remembered. ‘I’ve only got a few minutes.’
‘How is she?’
He did want to see his daughter! It was ridiculous living in the same city and not being able to be with his own child! Careful, he cautioned himself, for yet another time: he’d made Natalia a promise, which he had to keep. He had no rights: no demands.