The same gold-bedecked man was at a table just inside the actual restaurant. He began to rise when he saw Danilov, who shook his head in warning refusaclass="underline" the bull finished getting to his feet, but didn’t approach for a body search. A sign of concern, judged Danilov: they were letting him play his independence game. He was still glad he’d again refused the urging of Pavin and Cowley to wear a body microphone, which apart from risking everything would have picked up any reference to incriminating photographs.
The guard slotted in directly behind as Danilov passed, following him through the restaurant. It was a long, corridor-style room: Danilov guessed the doors to the kitchens, creating a break halfway along, formed the division between genuine customers intentionally positioned in the front and Chechen people in the booths at the rear. A group of intruders could not, unopposed, make the sort of still unsolved firebomb attack mounted in the last week or so on the suspected Ostankino restaurant in Ulitza Moskina: innocent people, unwittingly forming a human barrier, would be hurt or maimed, but the Chechen could escape through either the kitchens or the rear, with minimal casualties.
In the booth closest to the doors to the private dining facilities, Danilov recognised two of the men who had sat guard at the separate table at Pecatnikov. He smiled at them. They ignored him. Before he reached them, one disappeared through a central door, re-emerging almost at once and holding it open for Danilov to enter. Danilov didn’t turn to check, but he had no impression of Kosov entering behind him.
Apart from Gusovsky and Yerin the room, set with four other tables, was empty. Again there was no evidence of any food before either man, although there was a wine bottle and two already filled glasses. As Danilov sat, Gusovsky poured wine into the third.
‘We’ve been trying to make contact,’ announced Gusovsky. The overlarge dentures were displayed in a supposed smile.
‘I’ve been busy,’ said Danilov. There really wasn’t a lot to say, but they had to be too frightened at the end even to begin thinking clearly. He knew they would be.
‘We know,’ said Yerin. ‘Why was Mikhail Antipov arrested?’
‘Because you used a careless man,’ said Danilov. ‘Which I warned you about. Antipov made mistakes: dropped clues that couldn’t be missed. He had to be arrested.’
‘We didn’t begin well last time,’ said Gusovsky. ‘We want to establish our relationship properly tonight. That’s what we’re meeting for, isn’t it?’
‘I hope so,’ said Danilov. The humility must have taken a supreme effort of will from the emaciated man.
‘We’re concerned about the mistakes Antipov has made,’ conceded Yerin, in his carefully enunciated tones. ‘Not just before but after his arrest.’
‘You should be.’
‘Please don’t be so aggressive,’ said the blind man.
‘I want you to understand how serious it is, for you…’ Danilov hesitated. ‘… Personally serious.’
Gusovsky topped up Danilov’s glass. ‘That’s precisely what we want to understand.’
‘He’s named you: both of you. Zimin too, obviously. Told me everything he knows, in fact. Hierarchy, structure, at least twenty other names. All your locations of which he’s aware. Rackets. What the operations are. Identified hits you’ve ordered. With his evidence – and what could come out in Italy – the Chechen won’t exist any more. You two – and a lot of others – could go to jail for life. You’d be finished.’ Danilov supposed he was in the Federal Prosecutor’s position, the previous day: looking at the truth through the turned-around telescope. And it was the truth: in his panic to mitigate what might happen to him, Antipov had talked of every one of those things, in as much detail as he knew. Knowing he had to swamp them with a lot of that detail to satisfy them he did know, Danilov gave examples, selecting three murders – of other Mafia members – at random and itemising airport heists and hotels where they ran the prostitutes, taking particular care to include Lena Zurov to let them know their photographic blackmail had been further reduced.
They were swamped. So completely that, when Danilov finished, Gusovsky turned speechless for response to the blind Yerin, seeming to have forgotten the sightless man could not see the gesture.
It was Yerin who did speak, recovering first. ‘You’ve come here.’
‘Yes.’
‘“Told me,”’ echoed Yerin, verbatim, having identified another qualification in what Danilov had said.
‘Yes,’ agreed Danilov. The blind man was very definitely the cleverer of the two Mafia chiefs.
‘“ Could go to jail for life,”’ continued to isolate the other man.
‘Yes,’ said Danilov, for the third time.
‘So it could all be avoided?’ said Yerin.
‘I think so,’ declared Danilov simply.
Tension eased from both men, as if the too-taut wires supporting them had been slightly relaxed. ‘You’d better tell us how,’ said Gusovsky. The resonant voice was still hoarse, from the shock of all he had been told.
‘It wasn’t possible for Antipov to tell us all he did, at one session,’ said Danilov, embarking on the unchallengeable lies. ‘It took a long time: one of the many reasons I couldn’t come any sooner. I was careful, how the interviews were conducted. It would be extremely easy to prepare Antipov’s final confession in a selective way.’
Gusovsky smiled in understanding. ‘How selective?’
‘He has to go before a court. There has to be public satisfaction in America that the murders there have been solved and the killer convicted. But neither of you need personally be mentioned. We could cut out a lot of the other names, too. And most of the detail. It was the Ostankino who were involved with Serov and Paulac, not you. That Family could be substituted, a lot of the time…’
There were expressions of satisfaction from both men. Yerin said: ‘You’re talking of satisfying American opinion. Does Cowley know about your meeting us? About this conversation?’
Definitely the cleverer, thought Danilov. This was probably going to be the most difficult part. ‘You have some photographs of him, with the dead woman. And of my wife with her, as well.’
The smiles went, replaced by expressions of wariness. Gusovsky said: ‘So that’s the exchange? The photographs – and the negatives, of course – for selectively presenting Antipov’s evidence?’
‘No,’ said Danilov, causing the confusion he wanted.
‘What then?’ frowned Gusovsky.
‘We haven’t talked yet of Switzerland,’ reminded Danilov.
‘We were going to,’ promised Yerin.
‘Let’s do it now,’ suggested Danilov. Already knowing the answer but having to ask the question, he said: ‘Did you try to access the account?’
‘It’s blocked,’ said Gusovsky.
‘With thirty million dollars in it,’ enticed Danilov.
‘At your last meeting you said you controlled it,’ said Yerin.
‘It becomes unfrozen the moment I officially inform the Swiss government the investigation is complete. Which it is,’ said Danilov.
‘Go on,’ urged Gusovsky, beginning to smile again.
‘The government are going to recover it. The bureaucracy will take time. I’m involved at every stage, but not directly responsible, if that bureaucracy goes wrong. Which bureaucracy often does… So I can orchestrate everything. I’ll trigger the release the day after tomorrow. You’ve got the replacement Founder’s Certificate: present it at the opening of financial trading that day. It will take a further day to be formally registered…’ He paused, wanting the announcement to be dramatic. ‘… Four days from now, at the opening of trading in Switzerland, you’ll have unrestricted control of thirty million dollars, maybe for as long as a week. It won’t take you more than a week to move it all somewhere else, will it?’
Again – although more briefly this time – the Mafia leaders didn’t speak. But again it was Yerin who did break the silence. ‘I think we could probably do it in under a day.’