‘Yes. Okay. Speak to you later.’
Purkiss ended the call.
He found Vale’s eyes searching his.
‘You didn’t call her.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘No.’ Purkiss picked up the phone.
He’d expected it to ring a long time before the voicemail prompt was triggered. Instead, she picked up immediately.
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you?’
‘I am returning to London.’
‘Asher just told me. Why?’
‘I saw two men in the crowd near the docks. I recognised them. FSB.’
Purkiss thought about this.
‘You think they’re on to you?’
‘No. They did not see me. I believe they are there to find out what is going on. Perhaps Osip still has contacts and tipped them off. But I cannot risk them identifying me.’ The connection wavered for a few seconds. ‘I told Asher you had called me back to London because it was the quickest way to separate from him.’
‘Where are you heading?’
‘I’ll be in London,’ she said. ‘I cannot say where. But I will remain in contact.’ Again, the line broke up a little. ‘Are you going back to Liverpool?’
‘There’s not much I can do up there that’s not already being done.’
For a moment he thought the connection had been severed entirely. Then she said: ‘The FSB man in custody. Vodovos.’
‘Yes.’
‘What did he want to tell you?’
Purkiss looked straight at Vale as he said, ‘I can’t tell you over the phone. But as you’re on your way down here, I think we should speak to him together.’
Saburova said: ‘I cannot come to SIS headquarters.’
‘No. So I’ll make arrangements for him to be transported elsewhere. I’ll be in touch.’
After he killed the call, Purkiss stood in silence.
Vale said, ‘John. What was that about?’
Before Purkiss could reply, the door opened.
Gar said: ‘The device in Liverpool has been identified. A plastic explosive charge wrapped around a caesium source. A dirty bomb.’
Twenty-three
‘No,’ said Gar. ‘Under no circumstances.’
‘Then you’re throwing away possibly our last chance to find Rossiter.’
They were still in the side office, Purkiss and Vale and Gar. Vale stood off to one side as the other two men squared up.
Gar said, ‘If Vodovos has information that’s as critical as you say, we’ll get it out of him. Whatever it takes.’
‘You won’t,’ Purkiss said. ‘Not quickly enough, anyway. He’s a high-echelon operative. He’ll hold out. If you do crack him, it’ll all be academic by then.’
Gar’s hands were clasped before him almost prissily, his feet braced apart. ‘Explain it again, Purkiss. Explain why you can’t continue talking to Vodovos here.’
‘Because there’s another party involved. An outsider, who can’t come near the building.’
‘Who, exactly?’
‘I can’t tell you.’ Purkiss looked pointedly at the clock on the wall. ‘Time’s ticking, Gar. If you won’t help me, I’ll go straight to Waring-Jones.’
‘Sir Peter will say the same thing.’
‘We’ll see, won’t we?’ Purkiss took a step towards the door.
‘This other party,’ Gar said. ‘Is it a Russian?’
‘I can’t tell you. It’s somebody who’s on our side. Somebody in whose interests it is to find Rossiter, just like us. And somebody whom Vodovos is willing to speak to.’
Purkiss reached the door, put his fingers on the handle.
‘Don’t go to Sir Peter,’ Gar said, without looking at him.
Purkiss paused.
‘There’ll be a car ready for you in five minutes.’
Purkiss said: ‘No driver. No escort of any kind.’
‘Agreed.’
‘And I mean no escort, Gar. No surveillance, human or electronic. If Vodovos, or the person we’re meeting, has the slightest suspicion that they’re being tagged — and they’re both skilled professionals, they’ll have a nose for such things — then the whole thing’s scuppered. And our chance is blown.’
‘You have my word.’
‘And you have mine, that I’ll provide full disclosure afterwards.’
‘Afterwards. Yes.’ The bitterness was in Gar’s emphasis rather than his tone.
Vale walked with Purkiss down the corridor towards the lifts. Gar had said the car would be waiting outside a hidden exit from the infirmary.
‘I appreciate the need for secrecy,’ Vale said. ‘But is there anything you can tell me?’
‘Strictest confidence?’
‘Yes, of course.’ With Vale, strictest confidence was an absolute. Vale wouldn’t divulge anything to the Prime Minister himself if asked.
‘The bomb on Merseyside was a decoy,’ said Purkiss. ‘We were meant to intercept and neutralise it.’
Vale’s expression didn’t change. ‘A decoy for what?’
‘Something bigger.’ The picture was taking focus in Purkiss’s mind. Much of it was still hazy, but the overall image was there. ‘I’m speculating, but London’s likely to be the flashpoint.’
‘And your meeting now? With Vodovos, and this other person? Assuming they exist.’
‘They exist.’ Purkiss considered telling Vale. He decided it was unnecessary. ‘If things go according to plan, the meeting might give me a way in.’
Purkiss watched Vodovos hobble down the corridor, flanked by two escorts. He’d been given a greatcoat to throw over his pyjamas, and a pair of steel crutches.
He stared at Purkiss, his eyes intense and questioning.
Gar pressed his hand against a sensor in the wall and a door slid open. Beyond, a tunnel lit with harsh fluorescent light curved into shadow.
The door closed behind Purkiss and Vodovos and they were alone.
Neither man said anything as they made their way along the tunnel. At the far end, it terminated in a door. Purkiss used a swipe card he’d been given to open it.
He saw Vodovos blink at the sudden glare of afternoon sunlight, saw him recoil slightly at the breeze.
The car, a nondescript Volvo saloon, was parked on the kerb directly opposite the exit. Purkiss helped Vodovos into the back seat and climbed behind the wheel. He found the keys in the ignition. Normally he’d have done a sweep for tracking devices beneath the bonnet or attached to the chassis. But he knew there was no point. The vehicle had been provided for him by the Deputy Director of SIS. If there was a bug on board, he’d never find it.
He would just have to take Gar at his word.
Purkiss pulled out. Vodovos turned his head to look at him. The question was implicit in his gaze.
‘We’re going to meet someone,’ said Purkiss, in Russian. ‘She can’t come here.’
‘She. You mean the FSB operative you mentioned? Saburova?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
Purkiss ignored the question. ‘You said back there you knew of her. Do you know her personally?’
‘No. I’ve never met her. But I know the names of all our London assets. It’s part of my job.’
Purkiss took out his phone. In his jacket, he felt the heft of the SIG pistol. He’d asked for it to be returned before he left the headquarters.
Saburova picked up on the second ring. Purkiss said, ‘Where are you?’
‘King’s Cross.’
‘On foot?’
‘Yes. But my car is outside. I have been waiting here for your call.’
It made sense. Late on a Saturday afternoon, the quickest way to get to an impromptu rendezvous in London was often via public transport, rather than struggling through the chaotic and congested streets.
Purkiss said, ‘I have Vodovos with me. I’ll pick you up in front of the station in half an hour. A grey Volvo.’ He recited the licence plate number.