He seemed much more interested in Jasminder’s background, and got her to tell him about her previous life as a civil libertarian lawyer and the dilemma she’d felt about taking the MI6 job. He asked lots of questions and actually seemed to be listening to the answers, and she began to realise there was a deeper, more thoughtful side to this man, though he seemed at pains to hide it behind his flippant front. At any other time she would have liked to get to know this deeper Bruno better, but right now she wanted him indiscreet. And he had started to be just that, describing the personal peccadillos of the Athens Station head and the expenses scandal from several years before that had seen an accountant prosecuted, but it was infuriating the way he wriggled lizard-like away from any attempt to pin him down.
Finally, as they were having coffee (with a small cognac for Bruno), she managed to get the subject back to Russia. ‘If Putin’s the savage everybody is saying, then there must be plenty of disenchanted people in the government. He can’t have turned the clock back completely, can he?’
‘No, though he’s trying.’
‘I mean, there must be plenty of opportunities for us with dissidents or perhaps inside the political establishment. Even in high places.’
‘Especially in high places,’ Bruno said emphatically. ‘Putin has to be a little careful. Live by the sword, die by the sword – that kind of thing.’
‘But I suppose it would be very dangerous for anyone to be in touch with the Embassy – let alone the Station – though some of them must want to talk.’
‘Talk? What do you mean?’
Jasminder realised that Bruno was not as tipsy as she’d thought. She shrugged, trying to sound casual. ‘I just mean we must be able to find good sources of information – other than official ones. Someone was telling me last week that we have more informants in Russia and the Baltic States than we know what to do with. And without all the cloak-and-dagger business of the past.’
‘Oh, there’s still plenty of that,’ Bruno declared. ‘Lots of hair-raising escapades I could tell you about.’
I wish you would, thought Jasminder, but he was looking at his watch. ‘Golly, time does fly when you’re having fun. I suggest we move on.’ And he waved to the waiter for the bill.
Outside, the doorman had already driven the Audi into place and was rewarded by something slipped into his hand. Bruno sat at the wheel for a moment. ‘Now, where am I taking you?’ He paused and Jasminder wondered whether one option might be his place. She was willing enough, hoping he might expand on these exploits he’d referred to. But he added, ‘I don’t know where you live.’
‘Islington,’ she said. When he didn’t react she added, ‘Is that too far out of your way? I can always get a taxi.’
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘We’ll be there in a jiffy.’
And three jumped amber lights and a succession of deft manoeuvres later, Bruno pulled up in front of Jasminder’s flat.
She took a deep breath and said, ‘Would you like to come in for coffee?’ The implication was as clear as she could make it. Her only worry was that her cleaner might not have shown up that day. The state of Jasminder’s bedroom as of that morning would have put off any man.
But to her surprise Bruno shook his head. ‘Very sweet of you, especially after a long evening listening to me waffle on. But I’ve got a big day tomorrow so I hope you won’t mind if I take a rain check.’
‘Oh,’ said Jasminder, with a disappointment she could not disguise. Already she could envisage Laurenz’s reaction. ‘I’ll hold you to it,’ she added.
Bruno leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘We’ll tackle the Russians next time then.’ It sounded light-hearted but it struck her as an odd thing for him to say. As she said goodnight and got out of the car, she felt as if, for all her questioning, Bruno had been the one who’d got most out of the evening.
49
Peggy came in very early the next day and joined Liz in her office. ‘I hope you weren’t here all night,’ she said.
‘Not quite. I did go home.’ Liz didn’t say that it had been at two in the morning. She’d managed to nap for a couple of hours but was up again at five and here at Thames House by six. ‘How’s that feeling?’ she asked, pointing at the sling on Peggy’s left arm.
‘Not bad. It’s only when I forget about it and knock something that it hurts.’
‘Did you get anything on the Mercedes?’ Liz asked.
‘Yes, it’s registered to a private company. I’ve sent an enquiry to Companies House, but they haven’t come back to me yet. They’re probably still in bed. I’ve also got some news on the phone number Hansen gave to the pub – it’s a pay-as-you-go, bought three months ago in Manchester. I should have the list of calls from and to it later this morning. And of course, if he’s used it since last night we should be able to get a fix on him, but I don’t suppose he’s stupid enough for that.’
‘No. So far he’s been very professional. That car swap at the pub was clever.’
‘Do you think he saw A4 yesterday? Do you think he knows we’re on to him?’
‘Not sure,’ replied Liz. ‘Wally Woods doesn’t think so. Let’s hope he’s right.’
Peggy stifled a small yawn, and blushed slightly when Liz smiled. ‘What’s going on up there now?’ Peggy asked.
‘I’ve just had a report from Wally. Yesterday’s teams are holed up in a Travelodge south of Manchester, getting some rest; a new team was sent out from the city as soon as we got the Number Plate Recognition information and they’ve been scouring around the area near Sale, where he disappeared, all night, but no sign of the car so far. They’ve passed the number to Greater Manchester Police, but no reaction from them either.’
‘Let’s have a look at a map,’ said Peggy. ‘I’m not sure where Sale is.’ She tapped a screen. ‘Just off the Manchester ring road, apparently. On the south side.’
‘Gosh,’ she added, as a satellite photo of the area came up on her screen. She turned the computer sideways so they could both study it more easily. ‘It looks a rather unpromising place to drive to late at night. Especially with all that complicated counter-surveillance. What on earth can he be doing up there?’
‘Well, if he is a Russian Illegal and not a Norwegian banker at all – and given his behaviour that seems increasingly likely – and if we are looking at this pincer operation, then we need to think what connection the Russians have with that part of the North of England.’
Peggy pointed at the screen. ‘There’s the airport not far away. Maybe he was going there.’
‘Or…’ said Liz slowly, now peering at the screen as well. ‘Look, there… Altrincham. That’s where that oligarch Patricov has his mansion. I went to see it with the Chief Constable.’
‘You don’t think he could have anything to do with it, do you? I thought he was anti-Putin.’
‘That’s what I was told. But you never know. It’s the only Russian connection I’ve heard of in that area. I’m sure if there was anyone else Russian in the neighbourhood, the Chief Constable would have mentioned it. I’m going to ring him.’
Liz reached the police switchboard in Manchester, and was put through straightaway. She was impressed; not many Chief Constables answered their own phone, especially this early in the day.
‘Pearson,’ he said quietly.