Shes got a point, Kurbsky said, and unzipped the false bottom of his bag. There were two Walthers in there, and the one that had killed the GRU men on the train had some surgical tape hed found in the bathroom around the butt.
The youth reached in his anorak, produced a flick knife, and sprang the blade. My friends got one too, he said as his companion produced a similar weapon. Lets see what youve got in the bag.
My pleasure. Kurbsky took out the Walther from the train and hit him across the side of the head. The youth dropped his weapon with a cry of pain and fell on one knee, his friend backed away, and Kurbsky picked up the knife, closed the blade, and put it in his pocket. This is a Walther PPK, the real thing, not an imitation. It has a fantastic stopping power. He fired at a tin can among the rubbish, there was a dull thud, and the can jumped in the air. Imagine what that could do to your knee. Now go away very fast.
The undamaged one said, Come on, for Christs sake, he means it. He darted away up toward the High Street while the woman was piling her belongings into her bag and the old man was getting to his feet. The youth Kurbsky had injured had fallen to his knee again, and the old couple moved past him surprisingly fast. He came up slowly, a brick in his hand.
You bastard, Ill smash your skull.
Kurbskys hand swung up, he fired, and the lower half of the youths left ear disintegrated. He screamed, and plucked at his ear, blood oozing between his fingers. He fell back against the wall.
Kurbsky said, You never learn, people like you. Now clear off and find a hospital.
He walked away, swallowed by darkness. The youth cried, You fucking bastard, then turned and stumbled away.
KURBSKY CAME OUT of the darkness and walked along Cable Wharf. On his left was the panorama of London on the other side, lights gleaming everywhere, the sound of distant traffic, a pleasure boat sailing by, all lit up. He came to a multistoried development of what looked like exclusive apartments, but the Dark Man standing beside it was a typical river pub that obviously dated from Victorian times. There was a car park and, beyond, several boats moored at the jetty. He went to the entrance, paused, then went inside.
It wasnt particularly crowded. The bar was very Victorian: mirrors, lots of mahogany and marble. The beer pumps were porcelain. The Salters were sitting in a corner booth, two hard-looking men leaning against the wall behind listening to the conversation. As he discovered later, they were Joe Baxter and Sam Hall, Harry Salters minders. Nobody noticed him, and he hesitated and turned to the bar, where an attractive blonde was serving. She looked curiously at him, as did two or three customers standing enjoying a drink together.
Whats your pleasure, love? she asked.
Vodka, if you please, Madame.
Tonic?
No, as it comes.
She put the glass before him and he took off his woolen hat. She winced perceptibly. Are you all right, love?
Absolutely. He took the vodka straight down.
Billy appeared. Henri, my old friend, wed just about given you up. Youve met our Ruby, Mrs. Moon? Shes captain of the ship, keeps us all in order. Henri Duval, Ruby.
She seemed uncertain, and Kurbsky said, You have been very kind, Madame.
Billy whisked him away, and she watched as Harry greeted him, and Baxter and Hall were introduced, and then Billy returned. Another large vodka for him and a scotch for Harry.
Billy whisked him away, and she watched as Harry greeted him, and Baxter and Hall were introduced, and then Billy returned. Another large vodka for him and a scotch for Harry.
Is he all right? she said. Or does he have what I think he has?
Answering your first question, he gets by, and yes, he has lung cancer. Hes on chemotherapy at the Marsden.
So hes French?
Billy proceeded to give her Henri Duvals background, which included his lack of relatives. He normally lives in Torquay, but he needed to be in London for the treatment. His mother was a cousin of Harrys.
I see. I feel so sorry for him.
Well, youve got a good heart, Ruby, we all know that.
She took the drinks across and said to Kurbsky. Im so pleased to meet you. Billys been telling me all about you. When you feel like something to eat, let me know. Steak-and-ale pie tonight.
Sounds marvelous, Kurbsky told her.
Well all have a go at that, Harry said.
Ruby nodded and went away, and Baxter and Hall drifted to the other end of the bar and joined two men drinking there.
Harry nodded at the vodka. Should you be drinking that in your condition?
Ive checked it out. It varies with people. He took it down, Russian style. I suppose it reminds me that theres still a real me lurking around inside.
I take your point, Billy said. Hows it going?
So far so good. I walked down from the safe house, hailed a cab. Dropped off in Wapping High Street.
And walked down here? Harry asked. Youve got to watch that, Harry told him. What with all those streets empty and waiting for the developers, you get some funny people hanging around.
Not that I noticed, Kurbsky said.
Anyway, it does seem to be working? Billy asked.
So it seems. Take Ruby, she was troubled. I had a cabdriver who asked me if I was okay. He said I didnt look too well.
Yes, well, he was sorry for you.
Kurbsky didnt even smile. Im not used to that, but Katya Zorin would be pleased. Its all working out exactly as she had hoped.
And wheres it all going to end, thats what Id like to know, Billy said.
Kurbsky shrugged. Dont ask me, Im just passing through.
Ruby waved from behind the bar, and Harry said, Thats enough for now. Lets have you in the back parlor for a big slice of Rubys steak-and-ale pie. Youll love it, believe me.
AROUND TEN, Kurbsky decided hed had enough and said hed order a taxi back to Holland Park, but Billy wouldnt hear of it and insisted on taking him in his scarlet Alfa Romeo.
Its no hardship-I like driving by night, particularly after midnight. I find it calming, locked in tight in your very own world.
And rain, Kurbsky said. Theres something special about that, the windscreen wipers clicking back and forth. Its hypnotic.
Billy said suddenly, When I finished On the Death of Men, I felt such a sense of loss, I started again at the beginning straightaway.
Im flattered.
Its the truth. I may be a gangster, but one day years ago, I was in some waiting room when I found a paperback about famous philosophers. It bowled me over. I loved that stuff, then Dillon came into our lives spouting the same ideas.
Dillon was that important to you?
Harry, me, and the boys were handling a hot package from Amsterdam on one of my uncles riverboats. Diamonds from Amsterdam. There was a police sting. Wed have gone down the steps for ten years, only Dillon diverted the package.
What happened then?
He worked for Ferguson and drew us in. Weve never looked back. To be honest, Harrys made millions out of development.
So who needs to rob banks?
Something like that.
They drew up at Holland Park. Are you coming in? Kurbsky asked.
Just give Roper my love, and good luck tomorrow.
Kurbsky got out, watched the Alfa Romeo drive away. It was quiet, and he turned and walked to the Judas in the main gate, was about to speak into the voice box when the Judas swung open. He stepped inside, walked forward, and it closed behind him.
Roper was seated in his usual spot, gazing at the screens. He turned. Did you have a good night? Tell me about it.
Which Kurbsky did, sitting down and helping himself to another vodka. There is one thing, he said. People do look at me, because Im unusual
Or because they recognize you for what you are, an outpatient on chemotherapy, which means cancer. Most people know that, if only because its a staple of medical soaps on television. They feel sorry for you.
Or uncomfortable. There were fifty or sixty customers in the bar just before I left, and Ive got the feeling a number of them were happy to see me go.
I know what you mean. Its like people not wanting some soldier whos lost a leg in Afghanistan swimming in the local pool.
Human nature, Kurbsky said, glancing up. Just a moment, whats that?
A late-night news program.
It said something about Shadid Basayev, or maybe I was wrong.
You werent. General Shadid Basayev, a Chechen general. Hes been granted asylum. It was on about an hour ago. I recorded the program because there was an end piece I needed on Al Qaeda. Hold on, Ill rewind. Here we go.
There was some footage from the first Chechen war, the general in a tank, then inspecting men at some hill station, a burly man with a brutal hard face and the cheekbones of some Mongol warrior. His uniform was understated, the cap crumpled, the military shirt of a common soldier, a worn leather coat, boots. As he walked along the front rank, men turned their faces toward him.
Thats a nice touch, Roper said.
Yes, Nazi style. He introduced it to his men.
Did you know him?
And Alexander Kurbsky, who had known him very well indeed, said, Everybody in the Russian Army in Chechnya knew the bastard.
The television program said Basayev had applied for and been granted political asylum after fleeing the Russian Federation and living for a while in Monaco. Political pressure aimed at his extraction had forced him to move to London, where similar pressure from Russia had proved futile, judges of the High Court having accepted that to return him would most certainly put his life in danger.
So, asylum granted, Kurbsky said.
It seems that while he was in charge of certain affairs in Chechnya, oil revenues or something like that, he succeeded in transferring millions into the City of London. Roper shook his head. He has it all. Its been crawling through a court for nine months, but hes finally made it.
What happened to the war crimes charges? Kurbsky asked, although he knew very well what had happened.
Witnesses disappeared, intimidation. Nothing came of it. I like this bit. They were interviewing Basayev in his house in Mayfair, and he was speaking of going to evening mass every Sunday. They even showed the church. It was Roman Catholic-St. Mary and All the Angels. Basayev was a Christian, not a Muslim. Kurbsky remembered that, remembered it well. He had a memorial to his wife in the churchyard and visited it on a daily basis in the morning.