‘Yeah, well, the Cypriots might see it differently.’
Popov shrugged carelessly. ‘The bank manager’s fine. You have to remember this was theft, Tony. A lot of Russians lost a lot of money, and it wasn’t their fault that the banks in Europe got into trouble.’
‘Including you?’
‘Me? Of course not. But I have a lot of friends who work in Cyprus and they are very unhappy. They lost fortunes. Small fortunes, but fortunes nonetheless.’ He nudged Shepherd towards the Bentley. ‘You should ride up front. And please, treat what I have said as confidential.’
‘Of course,’ said Shepherd.
They climbed into the Bentley and the three vehicles moved off. It took them less than an hour to drive to Grechko’s mansion. Grechko said he was going to bed and left Popov and Shepherd in the hallway under a massive crystal chandelier. ‘Are you going home?’ Popov asked Shepherd.
Shepherd looked at his watch. He was dog tired and couldn’t be bothered driving back to his flat. ‘I’ll crash here tonight,’ he said.
‘Excellent,’ said Popov. ‘We’re effectively off duty so we can sample a bottle of vodka that I’ve been wanting to try. I shall get it from the freezer.’ He slapped Shepherd on the back. ‘You check that all’s OK outside and I’ll get some snacks and see you in the recreation room.’
As Popov headed for the kitchen, Shepherd walked out of the house and down to the guardhouse. Lisko was there and he waved to Shepherd through the bullet- and bomb-proof glass. Shepherd smiled and flashed him a thumbs-up. He looked back at the house. There were no lights on the upper floor, Grechko was still sleeping below ground. It seemed an overreaction as the house wasn’t overlooked so there was no way a sniper could strike from outside the grounds. His phone rang as he walked back up the driveway. It was Jimmy Sharpe. ‘Still in Cyprus pimping for that Russian mobster?’ asked Sharpe.
‘Back in London, and I never said he was a mobster.’
‘He’s a Russian with money, that makes him a mobster,’ said Sharpe. ‘None of them have clean money, you know that.’
‘I couldn’t possibly comment,’ said Shepherd.
‘Yeah, well, at least you can take me for that drink.’
‘Happy to,’ said Shepherd.
‘Because I’ve got some intel for you on Farzad Sajadi. He’s known, but minor stuff. He was stopped for driving without insurance three years ago and has been done for speeding a couple of times. Never went to court or anything, just points and fines. Nothing major. Same address as you gave me. He has a four-year-old Honda CRV.’
‘And you checked with Immigration?’
‘He’s not known to them. Not under that name. And I got them to check under Khan using that date of birth. Nothing.’
‘That’s not possible,’ said Shepherd. ‘He had to have got into the country in the first place.’
‘He could have used any name for that. Or no name at all – he could have come in the back of a lorry from Calais.’
‘Sure, but at some point the name Khan or Sajadi must have come up during the asylum process.’
‘You’d have thought so, but he’s not on the Border Agency database and there’s no record of an immigration tribunal ever looking at either name. You’re sure the passport is kosher?’
‘The guy who checked for me would have known if there was anything wrong with it,’ said Shepherd. ‘The passport’s real and so is the driving licence. And presumably the traffic cops found nothing untoward.’
‘Other than the fact he wasn’t insured and is a bit heavy on the accelerator, he seems a fine upstanding citizen. He’s not even claiming benefits.’
‘He’s got a job?’
‘That I don’t know, but I ran a check with DWP and they’re not paying him. He’s responsible for his own council tax, too. Like I said, he’s an upstanding citizen.’
‘What about finding out where he works?’
‘I can’t do that without speaking to him, and that’s probably not a good idea, is it?’
‘Yeah, you’re right. Let me have the car registration, will you?’
Sharpe gave him the number and Shepherd promised to call him back about the drink. He looked at the clock on the screen of his phone. It was almost eleven o’clock. He was walking towards the house when Alina Podolski drove out of the garage on a bright green Kawasaki trail bike. She was wearing a black helmet and she flicked up the visor and grinned at him. ‘You not going home, Tony?’
‘I’m dog tired. What about you? You don’t sleep on the premises?’
She laughed, flashing perfect white teeth. ‘What, sleep down there with farting and belching men, you must be joking. I’ve got a flat in Camden.’
‘Yeah, Camden’s nice.’
‘Where do you stay?’
‘Not far. Near the Heath.’ He pointed off to the west. ‘That way.’
‘You run on the Heath?’
‘How do you know that?’
She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I saw you running before. You were heading to the Heath, right? I pegged you for a runner. You’ve got a runner’s build.’
‘Yeah, I do some training there.’
‘We should run together some time,’ she said. She jerked a thumb at the house. ‘The guys, they’re all gym rats. I prefer my exercise outside with the wind in my hair.’
‘Bring your gear in whenever you want,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m always up for a run.’ She waved and drove towards the gate, which was already opening for her. As she turned into the road she beeped her horn and accelerated. Shepherd watched her go. She wasn’t heading towards Camden, he realised. She was going in the opposite direction.
He heard excited barking from the kennels and realised the Dobermans were about to be released for the night, so he hurried inside.
Shepherd was up at six the next day. He had brought an overnight bag with a washbag and several changes of clothes, so he showered and shaved and put on a clean shirt before heading to the control room. As he was checking the overnight log, one of Grechko’s male chefs turned up with a tray of bacon and egg rolls, freshly made porridge and a large bowl of fruit salad. He ate with Dudko, Volkov and Sokolov, and they were just finishing when Popov arrived. Popov grabbed a breakfast roll and poured himself a coffee. He sat down at the table. ‘We can do the morning briefing now if you want,’ he said to Shepherd, and Shepherd nodded. ‘Basically Mr Grechko’s in for the day. He’s taken to heart what you said about getting people to come to him, so he was going to see his designers today in Mayfair but they’ve agreed to come here.’
‘Designers?’
‘Mr Grechko has commissioned a new boat and a new jet and the designers are being briefed on his specifications. They were with Mrs Grechko in France last week but everything has to be cleared through him first.’ He grinned. ‘I was talking to one of our guys over there and apparently there’s a problem with having chandeliers on planes. Who knew?’
They all laughed and Shepherd sipped his coffee. He was warming to Popov. He ran a tight ship but he had an easy way with his men, working them hard but letting them have enough fun to stop them getting bored. And he had the same sarcastic sense of humour as policemen the world over.
‘So, we have the designers arriving at ten. He was due to see his bankers at Canary Wharf for lunch but they have agreed to come here, though considering the vintages in Mr Grechko’s wine cellar I don’t think they needed much persuading. And he was due to go to Claridge’s for dinner with friends but he’s asked them to come here for eight.’