‘That skinny guy, the one with the shaved head. What’s his name? Volikov? Volvakov?’
‘Volkov,’ said Shepherd.
‘Yeah, that’s the one. He was talking to that big guy, the one who’s forever watching porn on his iPad. Molotov.’
‘Molchanov,’ corrected Shepherd.
‘Yeah, well, Volkov apparently knows one of the guys who was on this Buryakov’s team. Apparently the round missed Volkov’s mate by inches and hit this other guy. The head of security was fired and the whole thing was hushed up.’
‘Why?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Volkov said it was because this Buryakov reckoned no one would do business with him if they thought he was being targeted like that. Fair point, right? You’d hardly want to sit down with him if at any point a sniper was going to take a pot shot. Collateral damage, and all.’
‘This was all said in Russian, right?’
‘Yeah, they had no idea I was listening. I tell you, some of the things they say about me, I have trouble pretending not to understand. When this is over, I’m going to have a few scores to settle, I can tell you.’
‘Sticks and stones, Jock, remember that.’
McIntyre grinned wolfishly. ‘I won’t be needing sticks or stones,’ he said. ‘My fists’ll do the job just fine.’ He leaned closer to Shepherd and lowered his voice. ‘What about the other thing?’
‘Soon,’ said Shepherd. ‘Lex and I will dig the hole tomorrow night, and Jimbo and Lex are keeping tabs on Khan, making sure we’ve got his movements off pat.’
‘Who’s Pat?’ He laughed when he saw Shepherd’s look of contempt. ‘Just trying to lighten the moment, Spider.’
‘And don’t use my bloody name,’ whispered Shepherd.
‘OK, got you,’ said McIntyre. ‘So we’re ready to go the day after next?’
Shepherd nodded. ‘Two days, three at the most. Lex is keen to get back to Thailand. And the longer we leave it, the more chance there is that something will go wrong.’
‘Nothing’ll go wrong,’ said McIntyre. ‘That bastard deserves what’s coming to him.’
The door opened and Popov walked in. ‘You two are a devious pair,’ he said.
Shepherd felt his cheeks flush. ‘What do you mean?’
Popov grinned and pointed at the plates on the table. ‘You kept quiet about the sandwiches.’ He grabbed a couple of sandwiches and headed for the briefing room. ‘As leader of the pack I’m entitled to first bite of every kill,’ he said.
Charlotte Button arrived at the house at just after midday. Shepherd had called her the previous evening to tell her about the attack on Yuri Buryakov and she had woken him with a 6 a.m. phone call to tell him that she needed a meeting with Grechko.
Grechko was sitting in his study, signing letters with one of his secretaries, a striking Russian blonde called Emma. He didn’t get up when Button and Shepherd entered, in fact he studiously ignored them and continued to sign letters with a Mont Blanc fountain pen. Only when he had finished and Emma was gathering the letters together did he look up. ‘Miss Button, you are becoming a regular visitor.’
‘Something has come up, Mr Grechko,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if we sit?’
Grechko waved at a chair on the other side of the desk. Button sat down but Shepherd went to stand by the window.
Button smiled pleasantly at Grechko. She was wearing a dark blue suit that was almost black and a pale blue silk shirt. ‘Things have moved on since I last came to see you,’ she said. ‘We’ve taken a look at the case of Yuri Buryakov. You were also a friend of Mr Buryakov’s, weren’t you?’
‘It is a small world, Miss Button. There are not many Russians like us and we tend to stick together.’
‘But you were aware that he had died, surely?’
Grechko nodded. ‘Of course. I was at his funeral. But he had a heart attack. He was at a conference and he had the heart attack there and then he died in hospital.’
‘Why didn’t you mention to me that Mr Buryakov had also been the victim of a sniper attack?’
Grechko’s jaw dropped. ‘A sniper?’
‘About two months before he was murdered, a sniper shot at Mr Buryakov. One of his bodyguards was shot in the arm.’
Grechko shook his head. ‘He never mentioned it to me.’
‘Did you see Mr Buryakov before he died?’
‘About three weeks before. We were at a racetrack. Ascot, I think. He owns many racehorses.’ He put up a hand. ‘I’m sorry. Wrong tense. He owned many racehorses,’ he said, correcting himself.
‘And he didn’t say anything about a sniper?’
‘I would have remembered,’ said Grechko. ‘Are you sure about this? I read nothing in the papers.’
‘We have since spoken to members of Mr Buryakov’s former security team and we have confirmation that there was an attempt to shoot him at long range in Berlin. According to the people we spoke to, Mr Buryakov didn’t want anyone to know. He saw the attack as a sign of weakness on his part. One of his bodyguards was hit in the arm and was paid a substantial sum for his silence.’
Grechko frowned. ‘So he was attacked by a sniper, and then he died. Exactly the same as happened to Oleg.’
‘You see the pattern, then? Yes, Oleg Zakharov narrowly escaped being shot by a sniper. Then he died. And the same happened to Mr Buryakov.’
Grechko sat back and folded his arms. His face had gone as hard as stone. ‘Yuri had a heart attack.’
‘And you yourself were recently shot at by a sniper. Possibly the same sniper who shot at Mr Zakharov and Buryakov.’
Grechko’s eyes fixed on Button. ‘What are you saying?’ he said, his voice a low growl.
‘I think you know what I’m saying, Mr Grechko,’ she said. ‘There is every likelihood that you will be attacked again. Not by a sniper, but by an assassin who is much closer.’
‘I keep telling you, Yuri wasn’t assassinated. He had a heart attack.’
‘Heart attacks can be induced.’
‘This makes no sense to me,’ he said. ‘If they are using an assassin, why use a sniper first? And how is it that the sniper misses?’
‘Well, did he miss, that’s the question,’ said Button. ‘Did he miss, or was he shooting at the bodyguards?’
‘Why would he deliberately shoot a bodyguard?’ growled Grechko. ‘Bodyguards are ten a penny.’
‘Thank you,’ said Shepherd quietly.
Grechko turned to scowl at him but Shepherd was already looking out of the window.
‘That’s a very good question,’ said Button. ‘But until we have the answer, I’m going to suggest that you minimise your travel arrangements, and increase your security. After what happened to Mr Zakharov, Mr Czernik and Mr Buryakov, I think you have to be very, very careful until we identify this man and apprehend him.’
‘Apprehend him?’ said Grechko? ‘When you find out who he is you tell me and I’ll have him taken care of.’
‘That’s not how we do things in this country,’ said Button.
‘Which is one of the many things wrong with it,’ said Grechko. ‘When you catch him you need to get him to give up the person who is paying him. It won’t be enough to just talk to him severely with that stiff upper lip of yours. Some Russian persuasion will loosen his tongue, though.’
‘We are perfectly capable of handling this, Mr Grechko,’ said Button, icily.
‘You need to get him to tell you the truth, that he is working for those bastards in the Kremlin,’ said Grechko. ‘You need him to tell you and then you need to go public.’
‘If that’s the case, then of course that information will be released. But one step at time, Mr Grechko. First we need to catch him.’ Button took a deep breath, knowing that the Russian would not react well to what she was about to say. ‘Mr Grechko, we are coming to the opinion that the attempt on your life is personal, not political.’