“I bet that isn’t in the script,” Ferguson said.
“He’s an actor,” Dillon said. “Can’t resist making the most of his role. I was one myself.”
“Yes, we do know about that,” Ferguson said. “The one person who appears to be missing is Volkov.”
“Not any longer,” Dillon said, as Volkov moved through the crowd, taking two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and pausing beside Putin and handing him one. He murmured something to Putin and they turned and looked across at Ferguson, Dillon and Billy. And then Putin did a strange thing. He raised his glass toward them, and Ferguson raised his.
“Old adversaries from the Cold War, a long time ago,” he said.
A voice echoed over the speaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.”
Volkov moved across to Zubin and Levin and spoke to them, and Levin nodded, touched Zubin on the arm and they made for the door. Those going on to the dinner flooded out. Quite a number who obviously were not stood around finishing their drinks.
Ferguson said, “I’ll get off home and leave you to it. Good luck upstairs and let me know instantly how it’s gone.”
He walked away and Dillon said, “Let’s get on with it, Billy. We’ll take the stairs.”
They made it to the room with no trouble, went in quietly and Dillon tried the earpiece again and put his head to the door. There was a murmur of voices.
“Levin must still be with him,” Dillon said, as he checked his watch. “Just after nine. We’ll have to wait.”
“For as long as it takes.”
Billy lay on the bed, head pillowed on his hands. Dillon sat on the dressing table chair. At half past nine, he checked and still heard voices. Not long after, there was the sound of laughter and then silence and then there were two distinct knocks on the door.
Zubin stood there, undoing his black tie. “Ah, Mr. Dillon. Who’s your friend?”
“Salter,” Billy said. “I look after him when he can’t look after himself.”
“Sorry I’m late, as it were,” Zubin said. “My security man was talking over old times. We were paratroopers together in Chechnya. Not exactly cheek to cheek. I was a captain in those days, he was a lieutenant. Big hero.”
“We know him well,” Billy said.
“How well?”
“Traded shots,” Dillon told him. “Are we coming in?”
“Of course. Levin’s okay in a strange way. He can’t take things seriously. He’s an actor.”
“Where have I heard that before?” Billy said. “Your new friend here went to RADA.”
Zubin positively glowed. “My goodness, I am impressed.”
“Well, don’t be,” Dillon told him. “I was waylaid by the IRA and took to the Theater of the Street, and a bloody awful role it was. Now let’s get serious. Do you feel like going for it?”
“By God, I do. I’ve been trapped, forced into another man’s skin, my moves monitored, my life. I’m a puppet. Volkov pulls my strings, I jump. I’m fifty years of age. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life this way?”
“I shouldn’t imagine so.”
“But I’ve got no choice. In Paris the other year, I couldn’t make a break for it because of my mother. I can’t try and drop out of things here in London because of my mother. They use her, I know that, but Volkov also knows I would never let her down. You talked earlier of my return to Moscow and you bringing both of us out. Can this be possible?”
“It could be, but how would your mother feel about it?”
Zubin poured a little champagne. “For both our sakes and to get us out of this situation, she would come.”
“Excellent. Read this.” Dillon gave him Ferguson’s letter and poured himself a glass of champagne as well.
Zubin finished and handed him the letter back. “Yes, I understand.”
“You’re sure?”
“One of my strengths is my ability to retain lines.”
“Right. I’ll just go over it again with you. You return to Moscow on Putin’s plane tomorrow. Is Levin going with you?”
“No, he stays here. I’m in Volkov’s hands. I’m put up at my usual hotel, the Excelsior, and the day after tomorrow, I sign the Belov Protocol at the Kremlin.”
“No, you don’t, that’s why our timing is so crucial. You leave in Putin’s plane, and the Royal Air Force courier plane, the Citation X, follows an hour, perhaps two, later. It lands with legitimate documents for the British Embassy, receives legitimate documents for the return journey, which is logged out of Belov Complex at seven-thirty, Russian time. You know Belov Complex?”
“Of course. I landed there from Station Gorky.”
“The timing has been chosen because it’s dark. We’ll make a quick getaway, and with the extraordinary speed of this plane, we should be out of Russian airspace in thirty minutes.”
“You say ‘we’?”
“Yes. Two pilots, RAF naturally. Billy here will wear the uniform of an RAF sergeant as steward. I will wear the uniform of a GRU captain, one Igor Levin, complete with paratrooper wings, medals, the lot. You won’t be the only one acting.”
“And you’d do this, you’d take this chance? My God, if it went wrong, you’d be shot or sent to the Gulag.”
“True, but the simplicity of the whole thing is in its favor. I’ll ask you one more time. Will your mother do it? She’ll be walking out of her apartment with nothing. All the mementos of a remarkable life gone.”
“She’ll do it for me, and I’ll do it for her.”
“Good. There’s something not mentioned in Ferguson’s letter.”
“What’s that?”
“Once in London, there’s your future to think of. Our computer expert has been able to access Belov International bank deposits in London, using your authority. You are, after all, Josef Belov.”
“How much?” Zubin asked.
“Twenty million didn’t seem unreasonable. I mean, property prices have gone up in the city.”
Zubin smiled. “I think you could say that will be perfectly satisfactory.”
Billy took two things from his pocket, a Colt.25 and a Codex Four. “The gun is for obvious emergencies and is silenced. The mobile was specially manufactured for our purposes. It doesn’t look like much, but it can go anywhere, do anything; it’s waterproof and the battery lasts a year. It’s programmed. You press the red button and you’re through to a guy named Roper. He’ll contact us on your behalf. There are one or two extras in the briefcase, just in case.”
“It is simple.” Zubin shook his head. “If everything works, it really would be very simple.”
“At all times, remember you are Josef Belov. In a way, Volkov’s created a Frankenstein’s monster. Only a few important people know your real identity. To everyone else, you’re the great man.”
“I suppose that’s right.”
“Ferguson was telling me that during the Second World War, SOE had someone very like you who impersonated Field Marshal Erwin Rommel on a mission to Jersey in the German-occupied Channel Islands. It was said that what helped him most was discovering that everyone who met him believed he was Rommel, but more importantly, he himself discovered that to be Rommel was to be all-powerful. People automatically obeyed him. You might be surprised how effective that could be.”
“I’ll try to remember it.”
“You’ve been seen on British television already tonight. During the next few hours, it’ll be the same for the USA, Europe and the Russian Federation. When you get off the plane in Moscow, you’ll be a star on the level of the President. Everyone will recognize you.”
Zubin took a deep breath and pulled himself together. “A short run, if we’re lucky.”