With her towel, she wiped the mirror free of steam and looked at her normal self, absent heavy make-up and her hair parted where it customarily fell. Quickly, she pulled on her clothes, jeans, a fresh T-shirt and sweater and with the dregs of the coffee headed back into the living room.
Terentev was talking to a man who must have arrived when she was in the shower. He nodded in acknowledgement but did not introduce himself. Two of the photos were gone. She assumed they were now stowed in his shoulder bag.
‘If you will excuse me,’ the stranger said, and let himself out.
Natasha handed her a plate of scrambled eggs.
‘I have to be going too. Maybe I will see you again,’ she said and followed the other man out of the door.
The colonel scooped up the remaining photos and handed them to her.
‘No, please keep them; they’re safer with you now.’
He disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared a minute later minus the envelope.
‘So… where’s Yuri? Please tell me what you can, everything,’ she said, sitting back down again on the sofa.
Terentev sat down on the dining room chair opposite.
‘Not good, I’m afraid. Yuri’s locked up in the KGB prison in Lubyanka, the general secretary is under effective house arrest twenty kilometres south-west of Moscow, and General Ghukov has been replaced by a new chief of staff, General Volkov.’ Terentev paused for breath. ‘If that is not bad enough, the East German government is on the brink of collapse and there is a simmering mass uprising.’
‘How do you think the new Emergency Committee will react?’
‘Suppress it… start World War Three probably.’
‘Not good then.’
Terentev smiled. ‘Yes, I think that is a good assessment.’
‘Can you do anything?’
‘I may be a colonel in the KGB, but I have no political affiliations, money, or influence, to any degree… and I am up against some very powerful people, including the chairman of the KGB himself.’
‘What about Yuri? Doesn’t he have a following?’
‘Not in Lubyanka… the old communist diehards are not giving up without a fight.’
‘It would be interesting to know how much support this committee has from other ministers and how much they know about what is going on. Many of them are going to suffer – financially – if the communists gain the upper hand now. Do you know Federov?’
‘The oil minister? Not personally.’
‘He would be a good place to start. I spoke with him yesterday by phone, but he was necessarily circumspect… Do you have a phone?’
Terentev nodded.
‘I am going to call him to arrange a meeting this morning at that café next to the ministry, you know the one. I’m not going to give him my name, but I’m sure he’ll recognise my voice.’
‘And you think you can get him to a meeting, just like that?’ He snapped his fingers.
‘Absolutely… if I know Stephan Federov.’
Chapter 63
Viktoriya remembered the café from her last visit with Federov: the French-style coffee bar and high stools, the mirrored wall behind, and low-hanging smoked-glass pendant lights. Terentev sat at the bar, facing the mirror with a clear view of the booth she had occupied in a corner out of sight from the street window.
She took a sip of the cappuccino that had been placed in front of her and thought back to her earlier call to Federov’s office. At first she had struggled to be put through; his secretary had been understandably suspicious but Viktoriya had insisted. It was personal, she had said, Stephan would be very unhappy if she weren’t put through immediately. Federov had taken the call. ‘Federov,’ he had said, his voice filled with suspicion. ‘Stephan’, she had replied, in the warmest voice she could muster. To his credit he had understood the situation immediately, played along with the demanding girlfriend routine and agreed to meet her at the café at ten o’clock. She looked at her watch: now, in fact.
On cue, the door to the café opened and Federov walked in.
At least he is alone, she thought.
‘I thought you were still in Leningrad? How is Mikhail Dimitrivich?’ Federov said as he slid into the booth next to her.
‘Showing signs of improvement, thank you. Stephan, I appreciate the position you may be in, but some candour would be useful.’ There was no point in asking Federov if she could trust him. A simple yes wasn’t going to prove anything.
‘There is more at stake here than simply our business relationship, as important as that is. I need to understand your position and that of your colleagues. The information I have is that the Emergency Committee has the general secretary under house arrest.’
Federov looked surprised.
‘You are well informed… who is the man at the bar?’
‘He’s with me. He’s totally trustworthy.’
He nodded. ‘The Emergency Committee is not the Politburo. I have been told the same story as the rest of the public, although I know from my own contacts that what you say is true. The deputy secretary has assumed the levers of state, backed by the KGB chair and the defence minister. Those opposed have been detained or eliminated, like your friend General Marov, for instance. The Emergency Committee is relying on us to keep our heads down.’
‘While it decides?’
Federov looked away.
‘The opposition is too strong. It will be like Khrushchev. The general secretary will be replaced.’
‘But it won’t be so silent this time, not with Volkov about to risk a war in Europe.’
‘No, it won’t,’ his voice trailed off. ‘All I know is we haven’t got long. There is a meeting of the Emergency Committee this afternoon. They are not going to let this drift, especially with the East German situation. I get the impression the general secretary is not going to resign through reasons of bad health either,’ said Federov.
‘What do you think will happen to General Marov?’ asked Viktoriya.
‘He’ll have to fall in line or not, and if he doesn’t… a posting to the Far East would be a good outcome.’
Viktoriya knew he was right. It was all or nothing for the Emergency Committee. They would have to legitimise their coup, and anything that challenged that legitimacy would be dealt with. The KGB was not squeamish about such things, arrests and payoffs would be the order of the day.
‘And you, Viktoriya Nikolaevna, what will you do?’
‘I don’t want to think about that for the moment.’ But she knew she would have to very shortly. Kostya would close in for the kill if the committee became the new government. Nobody was going to worry about the wellbeing of a wealthy street trader cum banker. Kostya would have delivered and no doubt be rewarded with RUI. It wouldn’t take long to make back his lost eighty-five million.
The oil minister stood up.
‘I have to be going, I’m afraid. If I can do anything for you, I will. My advice to you is to follow your money out of the Soviet Union. Don’t wait too long. And if Mikhail is well enough to travel, him too… even if he isn’t, you will have to risk it.’