‘Who were the gunmen?’ one of the suits from the Cabinet Office queried, pencil poised to make a note. ‘And why would they be after a former officer? Is this a revenge thing?’
‘I was coming to that. They are thought to be Russian FSB operatives, most likely from their Special Purpose Centre, and responsible for the death of Roman Tobinskiy in King’s College Hospital’s Major Trauma Unit three nights ago. As you might know, Tobinskiy was a close friend and associate of Alexander Litvinenko, and shared his disenchantment with the Russian government. He had also made public those views, like Litvinenko. However, the reason for their attack on Miss Jardine was because she was a patient in the same corridor as Tobinskiy and witnessed the men’s presence in the unit.’
‘Was a patient?’ Deane lifted an eyebrow as if this was news. All heads swivelled her way, then back.
Ballatyne didn’t miss a beat. ‘Yes. She speaks Russian and had heard Tobinskiy rambling while sedated. It told her enough to know that he considered himself at severe risk — a fact already reinforced by his own shooting in Brighton several days before, which was why he was in the unit in the first place. . as you know.’ He waited a brief second for the meaning to sink home to the others, then continued, ‘The attacker then was thought to be East European, most likely also FSB or at least a contractor. The moment Jardine heard the two men speaking, she guessed what they were going to do and that they wouldn’t want any witnesses. There was nothing she could do to stop them, so she left the hospital before they could return.’
‘What did they do to Tobinskiy?’ asked a woman from the Joint Intelligence Committee. ‘I mean, I suppose they weren’t there for his health, were they?’
‘No. They weren’t. They held him down in his bed and suffocated him.’
THIRTY-FOUR
There was a stunned silence as they digested the blunt words. The woman from the JIC looked almost embarrassed, as if she had attended the event in person and wished she hadn’t.
Harry glanced around the assembled faces. Only Deane and Crampton seemed less than shocked, and he guessed they had already heard the grisly details.
‘The purpose of this meeting,’ Ballatyne continued, ‘is to bring everybody up to speed so that we’re aware of the ramifications. Tobinskiy was probably killed on orders from Moscow — like Litvinenko. Exactly who stands to gain by it is anybody’s guess. It could be old scores being settled, or a prelude to something else involving friends of the government jostling for position.’
‘That wouldn’t be unusual,’ the woman from the JIC murmured. ‘They’re like a nest of hornets, anyway.’
‘Yes. Either way, we have to handle this with care. More accusations against the Russians of wrongdoings without proof will not help international relations. I’m aware of the need for continued trade talks and negotiations regarding events in the Middle East, and that we must try to avoid fouling the atmosphere. But that is more long-term. What I want to highlight is that our problem is much more short-term and immediate.’
‘Really?’ Deane looked up. ‘Involving the Jardine woman? Where is she, by the way? Do we know?’
‘Just a second.’ The representative of COBRA — the Cabinet Office Briefing Room committee, which dealt with regional and national emergencies — spoke up. ‘I’m unclear as to why this Jardine woman was in this hospital in the first place. Isn’t it a specialised unit? And am I correct in my understanding that she was let go from MI6 following serious disciplinary measures — and accused of a violent attack against another officer?’ He spoiled his supposedly independent stance by glancing at Candida Deane with a faint smirk.
Ballatyne’s face was blank, but Harry knew him well enough to guess that the word ‘bitch’, aimed at Deane, might have floated across his mind. The COBRA representative had clearly been got at.
‘She was there,’ Ballatyne said quietly, ‘because she had been shot and nearly killed while assisting Mr Tate here, in mopping up a gang involved in trading secrets to foreign powers. She saved his life and that of a colleague, and undoubtedly saved many others by bringing down this gang, known as the Protectory. I don’t think it was asking too much for her to be given the best possible treatment in return. Do you?’
The man said nothing, but flushed under the gaze of the others.
‘What about her now,’ said Deane, filling the gap quickly. ‘Where is she?’
‘She’s safe. She’s still recovering from her wounds and this hasn’t helped.’
‘But you can tell us where she is, surely. Unless you think this room is bugged?’
A chuckle went around the table, but Ballatyne stopped it in its tracks.
‘That’s on a need-to-know basis.’ The words were flat and left no room for discussion.
‘So what now?’ Commander Crampton, the CO9 officer, queried.
‘For now, we keep looking for the two gunmen. I’m grateful for your unit’s cooperation, commander, and we’ll conduct an exchange briefing later. What we do if we catch them is not for me to decide, however.’
The meeting broke up shortly afterwards, leaving Deane at the table. The minder remained by the door, giving Harry a clear indication of who he worked for.
‘I object strenuously to having an outside contractor involved in this,’ she said, once the door had closed behind the last of the suits. ‘I take it Tate is a contractor?’
‘Your objection is noted,’ Ballatyne replied, shuffling some papers into a folder and standing up, pointedly refusing to answer her question. He waited while she digested that, then got to her feet and moved to the door.
‘I’ll be making a full report of this, Richard,’ she warned as a parting shot. She threw a last look at Harry. ‘This isn’t over, believe me.’
Once Deane had gone, scooping up her minder on the way, Ballatyne sat down again and looked across at Harry. ‘You’re very quiet.’
‘I’m still trying to figure out why you brought me here. I obviously couldn’t contribute, being an outsider.’
Ballatyne waved a hand. ‘I wouldn’t feel too bruised about what Deane said. She was just sounding off. Anyway, she uses contractors all the time; the bloody asset files attached to the Russian desk are bursting with former military and security spooks. It’s cheaper and reduces costs. You’d be amazed how much extra National Insurance payments can add to the budget every year.’
Harry wasn’t convinced. He’d been ushered here for a reason, like a prize dog at Crufts. ‘I was on show, wasn’t I?’
‘Not at all. Why would I do that?’ Ballatyne looked innocent.
‘I haven’t figured that out yet. To make a point, perhaps.’
Then he had it.
‘What?’ Ballatyne caught something in his face, thoughts betrayed.
Harry thought about formulating his next words with care, but decided it was too late for that. The shit was already sliding off the shovel. If professional sensibilities got bruised along the way, it was too bad. Anyway, he suspected Ballatyne already knew.
‘That was the point you were making: they were too organised and you wanted to make it obvious you knew.’
‘Who — the Russians?’
‘Yes. They had a plan to deal with Tobinskiy, which was one thing. But then they realised Clare had disappeared from the hospital. That shouldn’t have bothered them; by now they should have been long gone, back to Moscow or Minsk or wherever.’
‘So?’ Ballatyne’s expression was bland, waiting.
‘They didn’t; they stuck around. Worse, they went after her, using people on the street as a collective search team. They probably used CCTV footage, too, the same as we did.’