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He looked out of the cabin window, but could see little other than the terminal lights, and a sky full of stars he hadn’t seen since he was a boy.

His emotions were torn. He wasn’t sure if he was glad to be back, but the moment he disembarked, he was reminded of the pace things moved in Russia. There was slow, slower, and if you were stupid enough to complain, even slower. They waited for over two hours to have their passports checked, and he realized how many things he took for granted living in the States. Had he imagined it, or did the inspector take even longer when he saw the name Karpenko? They then had to wait around for another hour before their bags were released and they were finally allowed to escape.

Pushkin led them out of the terminal and onto the pavement. He raised a hand in the air and five cars immediately swerved across the road, coming to a halt in front of them. Alex and his team looked on in disbelief as Pushkin selected three of them. Everything on four wheels in Leningrad is a taxi, he explained.

‘The Astoria,’ he instructed each of the chosen drivers. ‘Make sure you don’t charge more than a rouble,’ he added as his new associates piled into the waiting cars.

‘But that’s only about a dollar,’ said Alex, when Misha joined him in the back seat.

‘More than enough,’ he replied as the car shot off towards the city centre. Another long journey.

By the time they’d all checked into the hotel, they were exhausted.

‘Get a good night’s sleep,’ said Jake, ‘because I need you all at your best tomorrow.’

They met up in the dining room for breakfast the following morning, and although one or two of them looked as if they were still struggling with jet lag, after a couple of black coffees had been drained, and caffeine had entered their bloodstreams, they were all ready for their first assignments.

Jake and Alex set off for the Commercial Bank to try and discover if they could wire transfer twenty-five million dollars to Leningrad at a moment’s notice. After last night’s airport experience Alex couldn’t help feeling a little pessimistic. Dick Barrett accompanied Misha to the LGP factory on the outskirts of the city, while Andy Harbottle went off to meet the company’s lawyers to discuss the contract for the biggest and most complicated deal he’d ever come across. His father would have considered there were altogether too many noughts involved for it to be credible.

Andy had already prepared the first draft of a contract, but he warned Alex, ‘Even if the Russians sign it, what guarantees do we have that any payments will ever be forthcoming? This may be the new gold rush, but with it went cowboys and this lot aren’t even our cowboys.’

The one statistic he was able to confirm was that when an American sued a Russian in the Soviet courts, he had a four per cent chance of winning the case.

The team reassembled in Jake’s room at the hotel at six o’clock that evening. Jake and Alex reported that although Russian banks had been overwhelmed by the government’s recent 180-degree policy U-turns, it had been made clear to them that foreign investors should be welcomed, and unlike Oliver, encouraged to come back for a second helping.

Barrett confirmed that everything Pushkin had claimed about the operation on the ground had proved accurate, although he did feel the company’s safety record left a little to be desired. Alex didn’t stop making notes.

‘And the balance sheet?’ asked Jake, turning to their number-cruncher.

‘They don’t seem to understand the basic tenets of modern accountancy practice,’ said Mitch Blake. ‘Which isn’t surprising, as their economy’s been run by party hacks for decades. But it’s still the best goddamn bottom line I’ve ever seen.’

‘So let’s play devil’s advocate for a moment,’ said Alex. ‘What’s the downside?’

‘They could steal our twenty-five million,’ said Andy Harbottle. ‘But I don’t think we should pack our bags just yet.’

Over dinner that night, Alex was pleased to see the team relaxing for the first time.

‘Are you still seeing your uncle for lunch tomorrow?’ asked Jake.

‘Sure am. I’m hoping he might be able to give me some inside knowledge on how to handle the current regime.’

‘Do you know what this country needs?’ said Jake as he cut into a tough steak.

‘For my mother to open a pizza parlour on Nevsky Prospect — Elena 37.’

‘That first, and then you should stand for president. An honest Russian who understands free enterprise is exactly what this country needs at the moment.’

‘That was always my boyhood dream,’ said Alex. ‘If my father hadn’t been killed, then perhaps...’

‘Perhaps what?’ said Jake, but Alex didn’t reply as he stared directly ahead. He’d just noticed the three men seated at a table on the other side of the restaurant. The one fear he’d pushed to the back of his mind was suddenly facing him. He wasn’t in any doubt who the older man was, or why the two thugs seated on either side of him were there.

The vicious scar that stretched down the left side of the man’s face and neck was an instant reminder of where he and Alex had last met. Polyakov’s chilling words, ‘You’ll hang for this,’ reverberated in his ears. Anna was right, he should never have made the trip. Jake and his team were more than capable of handling the deal without him. But he’d allowed the thrill of the chase to overrule common sense.

The man continued to stare at Alex, his eyes fixed on him. Alex wasn’t in any doubt of his intentions. While the rest of the team discussed tactics for the next day, Alex sat on the edge of his seat, tense and alert as he waited for the major to make the first move in a game of chess which wasn’t likely to end in stalemate.

Alex touched Jake’s elbow. ‘Listen carefully,’ he whispered. ‘The man I nearly killed the day I escaped from Leningrad is sitting directly opposite us, and I don’t believe in coincidences.’

Jake glanced across at the three men, and said, ‘But, Alex, that was over twenty years ago.’

‘Look at that scar, Jake. Would you forget?’

‘And the two men with him?

‘KGB, so they’re above the law. They’ll have no interest in how I die, only when.’

‘We must get you to the American Consulate as quickly as possible.’

‘I wouldn’t make it to the front gate,’ said Alex. ‘What’s important is for all of you to carry on as if nothing has happened. If anybody asks, tell them I’ve been held up at a meeting, or I’m visiting my Uncle Kolya. Just keep stalling. I’ll let you know when I’m safe.’

‘Shouldn’t we at least call the consulate and ask their advice?’

‘Take another look at the three of them, Jake, and ask yourself if they’re the sort of men you’d invite to a lunch. This isn’t the time for diplomatic exchanges.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘Go native. Don’t forget I was born and raised in this city. You concentrate on closing the deal. I’ll take care of myself.’

As Alex was speaking, a party of six was being shown across the restaurant to their table. The moment they passed between him and Polyakov, like a cloud blocking the sun, Alex slipped away. Jake turned and said, ‘Did you notice—’ but he was no longer there.

Alex didn’t waste time waiting for the elevator, but headed straight for the stairs. He charged up them three at a time, constantly looking back over his shoulder. When he reached the sixth floor, he quickly unlocked the door of his room then locked himself inside, not bothering to put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. He tapped six numbers into the pad of the little safe in the wardrobe, opened it and grabbed his passport and some loose change. He touched his jacket pocket to make sure his wallet, containing the roubles Miss Robbins had supplied, was still there.