They stepped into the infirmary, its silence like a morgue’s. Once again Purkiss found himself outside the door to the bedroom-cum-cell.
He went in with Gar, and as before, the two guards — different ones this time — left silently.
Vodovos was sitting up, massaging his leg. His face was flushed and damp, and Purkiss supposed he had been exercising.
He looked at Purkiss with something new in his gaze. There was recognition there, now.
His eyes shifted to Gar. ‘Only him. You leave.’
Gar stayed put. Purkiss could feel anger radiating from him, even though his expression didn’t change.
Purkiss nodded.
Just before Gar reached the door, Vodovos said, ‘I want pen and paper.’
Purkiss pulled a notebook and a ballpoint pen from his jacket pocket. ‘This do?’
When Gar had gone and they were alone, Vodovos said, ‘The pen and paper is because I assume this room contains audio surveillance.’
‘I thought as much.’ Purkiss handed him the pad.
‘You read Russian?’
‘Yes.’
Vodovos hesitated before starting to write. He tore off the page and gave it to Purkiss.
Purkiss read the crabbed, Cyrillic script.
Mossberg is complicit with Rossiter. I saw them shake hands after the attack.
Purkiss read it again.
He looked at Vodovos. ‘You’re absolutely certain?’
Vodovos gave a single, almost imperceptible nod, as if he was afraid that hidden watchers might correctly interpret even the mildest gesture.
Purkiss took a walk around the room.
If it was true, it could mean one of several things.
Rossiter had somehow, from custody, co-ordinated the exchange with Mossberg. That was hardly feasible.
The Russians had masterminded the exchange, had persuaded the British government to hand over Rossiter in return for a high-value asset, while knowing that Rossiter and Mossberg had a history together.
The British had done the same.
Or, one or the other side had set up the exchange and then deliberately sabotaged it, freeing both men.
This was the scenario Purkiss least wanted to consider. But it was, he thought, perhaps the most plausible.
He looked at Vodovos. The man had his back to Purkiss, and made no attempt to turn and face him.
Yes, Purkiss understood the Russian’s reluctance to divulge this information earlier. And he understood why the man insisted on secrecy now, without an official member of SIS present.
Vodovos had realised, or had been told, who Purkiss was. And he saw in him the only ally he could hope to find at present.
Purkiss walked back round the bed until he was in Vodovos’s line of sight. He screwed the slip of paper into a tight ball and put it in his mouth and swallowed it.
He tore a second sheet off his notepad — if he wrote on it while it was still attached, it would leave a faint impression on the page below — and scribbled quickly.
He handed the note to the Russian.
It read: Which side do you believe is responsible?
Vodovos took the pen and wrote underneath. He passed it back.
Mine.
Twenty-one
The swapping of notes proceeded with quickening pace, like some bizarre ritual between two people who were electively mute.
Purkiss: Why?
Vodovos: I’ve had time to think about it, and it makes sense. If Rossiter has an atrocity planned, my government can allow it to happen in full knowledge that he will be blamed.
Purkiss: That doesn’t make sense. The atrocity may be directed against your own people.
Vodovos: In that case, we would have leverage over you. We would forever be able to say that your government allowed him to escape, and to commit violence against the Russian people. If he takes action against your country, you will be weakened in all kinds of ways, and Moscow will not be blamed.
Purkiss: If you suspected this before, why did you insist on a representative of your government being present?
Vodovos: As I said, I’ve had time to think about it. I believe this is the most likely explanation, that Moscow is behind the sabotage of the exchange. And I believe you can be trusted to find and stop Rossiter.
Purkiss: Where does Mossberg fit into this?
Vodovos: He’s a minor scientist. Perhaps someone who once worked for MI6, or the CIA, and whom the UK and US governments believe to be useful still. In reality, he’s a tool. Perhaps my government offered him clemency in exchange for going thorough with this charade. Perhaps Rossiter has handed him back to Moscow and he’s been quietly disposed of.
Purkiss: Unlikely. They might as well have killed him on the spot.
He handed the paper to Vodovos, but the man had no reply to give.
Purkiss: There’s also the possibility that my own government engineered this.
Vodovos: I don’t think so. Why would they release a man like Rossiter, who’s caused them such embarrassment in the past, and will likely do so again? But it’s not beyond the realms of possibility, which is why I’m communicating with you like this.
After a moment’s pause, Purkiss wrote: Do you know a woman named Yulia Saburova?
Vodovos: An FSB asset here in London, based in the Embassy.
Purkiss: She’s working with me. She claims to be impatient with the FSB’s methods of catching Rossiter and to be willing to defy them in assisting me to bring him down. Do you think it likely she’s telling the truth?
It was Vodovos’s turn to hesitate.
He wrote: I can’t be sure. Her story sounds implausible. But anything’s possible now.
Purkiss considered for a moment. Then: And a man named Paul Asher? He says he’s CIA. Also working with me.
Vodovos: I don’t know the name.
Vodovos’s eyes darted over Purkiss’s shoulder at that point, and it took Purkiss a second to realise the door had opened behind him.
He turned, and saw Rupesh Gar.
‘You need to hear this,’ Gar said.
Gar waited until they’d reached the lift and were ascending before he said: ‘The cargo ship has docked in Liverpool. We have eight of our people there, four in place already and another four we sent up after you requested them.’
Purkiss looked at his watch. Twelve after midday. He’d lost track of the time.
‘Plus a contingent from Security, and Special Branch. We involved them because this is no longer solely our baby.’
Security was MI5, the internal counter-intelligence service. Special Branch was a division of the police, tasked with carrying out arrests on MI5’s behalf, among other things.
‘Have they boarded yet?’ said Purkiss.
‘As of five minutes ago, they were hanging back. Waiting for the ship to start unloading.’
Purkiss shook his head. ‘Get them on board immediately. If it’s Rossiter, he’ll seize any opportunity he has to slip away. Hit the ship hard and fast. You can always apologise later if we’re wrong about this.’
Yet again, Gar managed to convey his emotional state without the slightest change in his expression or bearing. This time it was one of intense annoyance.
‘We need to assess risk,’ he said. ‘And I don’t mean that in some sort of bureaucratic, health-and-safety way. That ship could be laden with booby traps. It could be wired to the gills.’
The lift slowed, then stopped. The doors opened.
Purkiss stepped into the corridor and took out his phone and dialled.