His eyes watched Purkiss’s, expressionless. He’d barely glanced at Gar, as though he’d already had enough contact with him to gain the measure of him.
‘Stepan Vodovos,’ Purkiss said.
There was no twitch of recognition in the man’s face. Purkiss didn’t know what that meant. His own identity was well known to the FSB. Two and a half years ago, Purkiss had saved the Russian President’s life, and he’d been accorded untouchable status by Moscow. One year ago, out in Siberia, all that had changed, and the Russian state had tried to kill Purkiss. He didn’t think he was on any kind of Kremlin hit list now, but he suspected his identity had been even more widely circulated.
But he had no clear knowledge of this man’s rank within the organisation, and he might be junior enough that Purkiss’s face meant nothing to him. On the other hand, he was more than likely trained not to give anything away in his expression.
Vodovos said, ‘Who are you?’
He spoke English, though with a moderately strong accent. That told Purkiss the man wasn’t accustomed to undercover field work in Britain.
‘We can speak Russian,’ Purkiss said fluently.
‘That will not be necessary.’ Vodovos responded in English again.
Purkiss ignored the man’s original question. ‘It’s been fourteen hours now,’ he said. ‘Fourteen hours since you were attacked, and your men were killed, and the prisoners were taken. I understand you’ve refused to talk so far. That has to end. Now.’
Vodovos shifted on the bed a little, winced as he moved the propped-up leg. A bullet had chipped the tibial bone, apparently. It wasn’t a serious injury, but it would make weight bearing painful for a while yet.
He said, ‘I repeat: I will give a full account of what happened in the presence of a representative of my government. Not before then.’
Beside Purkiss, Gar stayed silent. He’d escorted Purkiss down into the hospital wing, leaving Waring-Jones and Vale in the office. On the way, he’d given a clipped account of what was known about Vodovos. The Russian had immediately identified himself to the backup team which had arrived on the scene a few minutes after the attack. His name and picture had been run through the database SIS kept of known and suspected FSB personnel, and a match had been found. Apart from that, Vodovos had volunteered nothing, other than the conditions under which he would be willing to speak.
Gar was allowing Purkiss to take the lead now.
Purkiss took a step nearer to the bed. He gazed down at the injured man, noting how haggard he looked at close quarters.
‘Your government doesn’t know you’re here,’ Purkiss said. ‘Doesn’t know, even, that you’re alive. We haven’t permitted them access to the site of the attack, and we’ve let it be known that there were no survivors. Moscow may, in fact, never learn that you survived.’
‘Moscow will find out.’ There was no defiance in Vodovos’s tone, just a quiet certainty. ‘You cannot conceal something like this.’
‘Why not?’ Purkiss began to stroll round the end of the bed, forcing its occupant to twist a little to look at him. ‘What can your government possibly do? They can’t raise a public fuss, because London will deny all knowledge of any prisoner exchange. This episode is highly embarrassing to both our countries. So, it all stays hush-hush. And that means Moscow has no leverage at all.’
‘Then it is in your country’s interest that we cooperate,’ Vodovos said. ‘As I have said, I will provide full disclosure if you —’
‘Yes, yes, if we provide you with an FSB chaperone.’ Purkiss paused. He leaned over the end of the bed, gripping the metal frame, so that Vodovos’s wounded leg was just below him. ‘Here’s the problem, though. We don’t have any reason to trust you. You were the only survivor of the massacre, apart from the two prisoners. You must see that there’s something highly suspicious about that. A token injury to your leg, for authenticity’s sake.’
Purkiss gestured at the leg, not quite touching it. He thought he saw the hint of a flinch.
‘So we have to consider that you were instrumental in the attack. That you were planted on the scene, to provide us with disinformation afterwards.’
A muscle jumped in Vodovos’s right cheek. He said, ‘Even if that were true… what is to be gained by preventing me from having one of my compatriots present?’
‘Because you’re either acting on official instructions from Moscow,’ said Purkiss, ‘or you’re a rogue agent. In the first instance, you might give some signal to whomever we allowed to be with you. Some message. On the other hand, if you’re a renegade, you’d feed lies to both of us. London and Moscow.’
Purkiss laid a palm gently on the man’s propped-up ankle. He felt it twitch a fraction beneath the covering sheet.
‘So it’s better that we find the truth out now, without getting the Kremlin involved.’
He kept his hand where it was. The seconds passed. The room was absolutely soundproof so that the only noise Purkiss heard was his own, soft breathing.
And, once, a tiny click as the man on the bed swallowed.
Abruptly, Purkiss lifted his hand away. In a brisker voice, he said: ‘Do you have family?’
Vodovos watched him.
‘Sorry, yes.’ Purkiss frowned, shaking his head. ‘Stupid of me. You’ve already made it clear you won’t say anything until we get a Russian in here.’ He began walking round the bed again, on the other side this time. ‘We can get that information from the database, anyway.’
He circled the bed until he was back where he’d started. He didn’t glance at Gar, who stood motionless, off to one side.
With his back to Vodovos, Purkiss said: ‘Of course, we could always just hand you back.’
He waited a few seconds, his words hanging in the air.
He turned.
‘Because if we’re suspicious of you, can you imagine what the Kremlin will think when we tell them we have one of their men, who survived the attack with only minor injuries? You’re FSB, Vodovos. You know exactly what’s in store when they get you down there in the Lubyanka, in the underground cells. They’ll subject you to the most extreme form of interrogation they can think up. Even if they satisfy themselves that you had nothing to do with the attack, you’ll be forever tainted. Your career will be at a dead end, if not over entirely.’
The man stared back at him flatly.
‘So as I see it, your options are limited,’ Purkiss continued. ‘You can talk to us now. If it turns out that you saw or heard anything that might give us a clue as to what happened, we’ll look very favourably upon your cooperation. We’ll work out a way to square things with Moscow so that you’re in the clear. Or —’ Purkiss hooked a forefinger around the thumb of his other hand, ‘or, you can keep your mouth shut, maintain this wall of dignified silence, and we may get fed up and make a phone call to the Kremlin, asking them to come and pick you up.’
The soundproofing in the room wasn’t quite one hundred per cent, Purkiss realised. Somewhere, deep within the bowels of the building, a heating pipe creaked.
Vodovos said, enunciating very clearly, very quietly: ‘I will say nothing without a representative of my country’s government present.’
Purkiss held his gaze for a full ten seconds.
He said, ‘Suit yourself,’ and turned to the door.
Gar opened it for him and they went out. The two nurses, or security personnel, disappeared back inside immediately.
In the empty corridor, Purkiss said, ‘He had nothing to do with it.’