*
Nikola brought him up to date, which was when Calvary mentioned the Russians.
‘They were surveilling Gaines from the start. He’s a traitor, possibly working for them. They’d have him under observation, it stands to reason. The Russian who got shot on the tram was one of them.’
Jakub watched him, rubbing the stubble on his cheeks.
Calvary said, ‘Can you think of any connection Blažek might have with the Russians?’
‘He hates them,’ said Nikola. ‘He’s completely bigoted about them. It’s well known. He won’t have them in his crew.’
‘So, snatching Gaines could be Blažek cocking a snook at the Russians? That assumes he knew they had some link with Gaines.’
Calvary sat against a desk, steepled his hands, blew slow air between them. An impasse.
All right.
He said to Nikola, ‘Do you have any information on properties Blažek owns?’
She stood beside Jakub, who was still regarding Calvary with hooded distrust. Contempt, even. Nikola said: ‘He owns enormous quantities of property. If you are wondering whether we might narrow down the range of places this Gaines has been taken to... no. There are scores of possibilities.’
‘Then there’s one course of action.’ Calvary pushed himself upright. ‘I have to advertise myself. Get in Blažek’s way.’
*
They took two cars. Krupina and Lev in his Audi, Tamarkin and Arkady in the Toyota that Gleb favoured. Two cars meant two directions of approach, and twice the chance of their having a set of wheels on the road in case of a violent attempt at escape by their target, Calvary.
Lev didn’t object when Krupina cranked the window down and lit up. She wouldn’t have cared if he had. Something was alive in her blood, something she hadn’t felt for years. Before even the posting previous to her current one.
Back at the office Yevgenia had both cars on her monitor and was tracking their approach to the target, represented by the blue beacon. They were linked up telephonically so Yevgenia would be able to advise them as soon as the target moved. He hadn’t, so far.
There was, Krupina admitted to herself, the possibility that he had found the tag, the spider, and had ditched it. Or, simply, that it had fallen off, or that he’d discarded whichever item of clothing Oleg had planted it on. Krupina thought of herself as a realistic pessimist. A pessimist because she was Russian. Realistic because she recognised when pessimism was of limited usefulness. And this was such a case: their was absolutely nothing to be gained from assuming the worst.
They were armed this time. Not Krupina; it wasn’t her style. But the men, Gleb Tamarkin and Lev and Arkady, carried Makarovs. The Pistolet Makarova, in service since the time of Stalin and supremely reliable. The carrying of concealed handguns wasn’t illegal in the Czech Republic, unlike in most EU countries and indeed in Russia itself. But none of them had licences, and if randomly stopped and searched, each of the three men – and Krupina by association – faced questions at the very least. Under routine circumstances she baulked at authorising the packing of heat, as the Americans said.
These weren’t routine circumstances.
Lev swung the Audi through bleak nighttime streets, ones not to be found in the city’s tourist brochures. Here the appearance was not far removed from the rundown greyness of outer Moscow. In a way Krupina pitied these old Warsaw Pact capitals. Prague, Budapest, Warsaw itself: all had been touched by socialism, had tasted its benefits for a diminishingly brief period in their histories, but had reaped none of its benefits. The mighty architecture of Soviet Moscow remained still, its heroic Metro system. All that these European cities had left to show for forty years of enlightenment was a dying fringe of industrial wasteland, around a chocolate-box commemoration of feudal and capitalist exploitation.
Through Krupina’s earpiece, and the earpieces of the three men, Yevgenia said, ‘Target’s on the move.’
Damn. ‘How close are we?’
‘You’re half a kilometre away.’
‘Any idea what direction?’
‘Northeast. He’s moving at a fair speed. It suggests he’s in a vehicle of some sort.’
Krupina said, ‘Gleb, you keep on the periphery. When Lev and I get on top of the target, Yevgenia, you let us know.’
‘Boss, I think Arkady and I should go in first.’
‘Your opinion is noted, Gleb, but this is my baby. Plus, we have to assume Calvary saw Arkady before, and that he might recognise him.’ She worked on the cigarette – a Marlboro – knowing there might not be time for another.
Krupina peered at the satnav display. ‘Yevgenia, we’re turning into Berounska Street now.’
‘He’s heading towards you.’
Lev pulled in at the kerb when she waved. Up ahead, on the left, was the building. The one Yevgenia had identified as the location of the signal.
A car, an old Fiat by the look of it, was approaching from that direction.
*
Calvary said: ‘You told me you followed the big man, this Pavel Kral.’
‘Yes.’ Nikola replied quickly. She didn’t glance at Jakub but she didn’t have to. Calvary could tell that she was anxious to ease the tension in the room, to act as a buffer between him and Jakub’s dislike. The hooded eyes watched him, throughout.
‘So how did you pick up his trail? How did you know where to find him in order to follow him?’
‘He has breakfast most weekday mornings at a particular cafe. We got lucky today.’
‘You know where he lives? Or any of Blažek’s crowd?’
‘No.’ It was Max who answered, swivelling round in his chair. ‘It’s the holy grail, man. To find out one of the lieutenants’ addresses. Blažek’s himself would be like winning the Euro lottery.’
Calvary considered. ‘Are there any favourite haunts? Bars, restaurants these people like to frequent? Somewhere I might find a crowd of them?’
Jakub muttered something. Again Nikola shook her head.
‘Jakub, you must use English. Please. Mr Calvary speaks no Czech.’
The eyes unhooded a fraction. Jakub said, ‘Nebe. It is restaurant near Old Town. Regular place for Blažek.’
‘Okay. Good.’ Calvary paced. ‘Is it likely to be open now?’
Nikola: ‘No reason why not. But I do not know if Blažek or his people will be there tonight. They will be out on the streets, looking for you. For us.’
‘You have a point.’ Calvary pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘But it’s worth a try.’
‘Why you want to get us killed?’
It was the first time Jakub had addressed him directly. The man stood with his hands clasped low, head lowered. His gaze openly belligerent.
‘You wish to walk into Blažek’s company – and then? You meet him, and he catches you. Catches us. Kills us. Why? What is achieved?’
‘That’s not how I see it playing out,’ said Calvary. ‘What I need to do is separate one of the crew from the others. Preferably a higher-echelon member. Get him on his own. Interrogate him. But I need a way in. And,’ he went on, as Jakub opened his mouth once more, ‘I’m not looking to put any of you in danger. I’ll go in alone.’
Glances were shooting around the room like projectiles. Calvary sighed.
‘Look. I haven’t said it yet, but thanks for saving me. You didn’t have to, but you still did. That took decency, not to mention guts. I don’t expect anything more from you. I don’t want to drag you in any deeper, into a problem that’s mine. Let me give you a couple of minutes. Talk it over. Decide what you want to do. If you decide to call it quits, that’s absolutely fine, I’ll walk out of here and you won’t see me again. No hard feelings.’