“He believed the lie fed to him by his father that his sister was in that grave in Minsky Park, and you told me how sorry you were to have to tell him she’d been sentenced to life imprisonment in Station Gorky. He already knew that; he’d been told only a couple of months ago that she was still alive, and that he could earn her release by making a false defection that would introduce him into the center of British security-you people. It was by presidential decree, and he was shown a doctored DVD to prove she was alive.”
“Oh my God,” Monica said.
“Everything, from meeting you in New York, Monica, to all that happened later, was like following a script. Those three GRU men on the train to Brest were not informed that their masters wanted him to defect. The men were ordered to kill him if he tried to. He was blackmailed, pure and simple. He killed Basayev because the Chechen was a monster who butchered his friends. He saved Blake Johnson because, although he was supposed to be under Luzhkov’s orders, he couldn’t bear to see another human being buried alive in Station Gorky.”
There was a moment’s silence, and Harry said, “Why is it I think of cheering for the guy?”
Ferguson said, “Where is he now, Katya?”
“He received a nasty stab wound as a result of the Johnson affair, and he’s gone off somewhere. To bury himself in London.”
“Tell him to come in.”
“I have.”
“Good.” Ferguson got up and turned to Roper. “The computer room, and I’d be obliged if you’d get me Luzhkov. The rest of you are welcome to listen.”
LUZHKOV HAD JUST called Bounine back into his office when he received Ferguson’s call.
“My dear Charles, what a pleasure.”
“Don’t ‘dear Charles’ me, you bastard. Two things. Number one, I now know everything about Alexander Kurbsky. I held you and your master in a poor light before, but I now totally despise you. We intend to help Kurbsky in any way we can. He’s already done us and the President of the United States a wonderful favor by saving Blake Johnson from a truly terrible fate. Let me make myself perfectly clear. If you in any way again involve yourself in matters detrimental to the interests of the United States or the United Kingdom, I shall personally see to it that you and at least twenty of your GRU staff at the Embassy in London are packed off to Moscow with twenty-four hours’ notice.”
“Damn you, General, you can’t do that.”
“Try me,” Ferguson said.
He nodded to Roper, who switched off. “So now to the day’s really important business, the meeting on the Garden of Eden.”
“Which gives me great pride,” Harry said, “since it’s my riverboat company that owns the Garden of Eden.”
“I am aware of that,” Ferguson said. “And we’re all very grateful. Now, as you would expect, the substance of the accord, the measures proposed for improvement in the Gaza situation, will be announced and signed by the Big Four aboard the boat. A certain amount of jubilation will ensue. The people on the Garden of Eden will then have a jolly for a while, take in the Houses of Parliament, and disembark at Westminster Pier.”
“For which there will be no charge to the national exchequer,” Harry pointed out. “I’m proud to serve.”
“You’ll get a knighthood yet, Harry,” Ferguson told him. “As to security, Lord Arthur Tilsey’s seeing to our people. There will also be the Vice President’s Secret Service men, and of course, the Israelis and Palestinians have added security as well.”
“And what about us?” Dillon asked.
“I’ll be there, obviously, you and Billy-and I think Monica. You’ll blend in well with the great and the good, Monica, as an extra pair of eyes and ears.” He turned to Katya. “I think you’d be better employed handling the Kurbsky situation.”
“So everybody’s going to have fun but me,” Roper pointed out.
“This is a very particular day,” Ferguson said. “No one could be more important than you, Roper, viewing the entire proceedings on your screens via the CCTV cameras. Of all people, you will be in control.”
“Now you’re stroking me, but true enough.” His fingers danced over the keys and there on screen was the Garden of Eden at Cadogan Pier, a hive of activity. “There’s a much better view from here, anyway. So get out of here, all of you, just go away and have an absolutely wonderful time.”
They all moved on except Katya. “I know I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what you discovered about him. It just all poured out.”
“A good thing it did.”
“It was Svetlana. I had to tell her, and he was on the terrace of the conservatory and overheard.”
“It’s all right.” He reached for her hand. “It’s worked out for the best, or let’s hope it has.”
“But what’s going to happen to him?”
“He could always seek asylum, sit around here till his hair grows back, write a truly great book, and reappear on the international scene.”
There was hope on her face. “Would that be possible?”
“Well, if we wouldn’t have him, the Yanks certainly would. After what he did for Blake Johnson? President Cazalet would see to that.”
“What a world.” She shook her head.
“Isn’t it? Anyway, you go home and reassure Svetlana, and if Kurbsky calls you, let me know at once.”
She went, leaving him there in his only true home.
ENDGAME
14
Kurbsky had driven around the streets for some considerable time with absolutely no idea of a destination. His Codex trembled on occasion, and when he checked, it indicated Katya. He didn’t reply, because he couldn’t think of anything to say. He finally lost himself in a maze of side streets in the general area of the Dark Man and Cable Wharf. He found a small café on a corner and had a burger and a cup of tea while he thought.
There was a television behind the bar and a bulletin came on, the news of the day’s events having leaked. Old footage of each of the Big Four came on as the reporter talked, and then some stuff showing the Garden of Eden and all the preparations under way. It was raining again, just to make things difficult for the workers, and it occurred to him that the men in suits should have considered the possibility of bad March weather on the Thames.
He returned to the Ford, got behind the wheel, and his Codex trembled, Katya again. This time he decided to speak to her.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Does it matter? Backstreets, the river. How’s Svetlana?”
“Very upset, obviously. I’ve been to Holland Park and met with Ferguson and the others. They understand, Alex, they really do now that they know everything. Ferguson wants you to just come in.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. He told me that was what I had to tell you if we spoke, but there’s something more.”
“And what would that be?”
“He had us all in the computer room while he spoke to Luzhkov on the speakerphone. Told him he was aware of his part in the whole business, from the blackmailing of you with the fake DVD and file, to the attempt to kidnap Blake Johnson.”
“What did he say in reply?”
“There wasn’t much he could say.” She told him about Ferguson’s threat of mass deportation.
Kurbsky actually found that quite amusing. “It would certainly denude the Embassy of staff. There are dozens of GRU people posing as commercial attachés, economic attachés, even arts attachés. It would hit the bastards hard to be banished back to Moscow.”
“Anyway, you must think hard, Alex. They’re all busy today with this conference on the Thames.”
“Yes, I saw something about that on a café television.”
“Please, Alex, I’m begging you. If not for me, then Svetlana.”
He was very touched. “Give me a little time. I’ll see how I feel. Perhaps I could come back to Chamber Court again tonight.”
“Your arm-is it okay?”
“Of course it is. Hitesh did a wonderful job. I’ll be fine.”