The room was a delight: paneled walls painted in seventeenth-century style, heavily gilded furniture of the correct period, portraits of what were probably obscure tsars confronting each other across the room, a large ornate desk in the center.
Its very beautiful, Luzhkov said. Astonishing.
This was General Volkovs private office, the lieutenant informed him. The use of the past tense confirmed Luzhkovs misgivings. The Prime Minister will be with you directly. Help yourself to a drink.
He withdrew, and Luzhkov, in a slight daze, moved to the sideboard bearing a collection of bottles and vodka in an ice bucket. He opened the bottle, filled a glass, and drank it.
Its going to be all right, he murmured. Just hang on to that thought. He turned, glass in hand, as a secret door in the wall behind the desk opened and Vladimir Putin entered. Comrade Prime Minister, Luzhkov stammered.
Very old-fashioned of you, Colonel. Sit down. My time is limited. He sat himself, and Luzhkov faced him. Youve read my report.
Every word.
A great tragedy, the loss of General Volkov. My most valued security adviser.
Can he be replaced, Comrade Prime Minister?
I shall handle as much as I can myself, but on the ground, I need a safe pair of hands, particularly in London. You will now be reporting directly to me. You agree?
Its its an honor, Luzhkov stammered.
More and more, London is our greatest stumbling block in intelligence matters. We must do something about it. These people- Ferguson, Dillon, those London gangsters of theirs, the Salters. What is your opinion of them?
The London gangster as a species is himself alone, Comrade Prime Minister. Ive employed them myself, although they wrap themselves in the Union Jack and praise the Queen at the drop of a hat.
This Miller has suddenly become a major player. Do you think theyll appoint him to Carters post?
I dont see him wanting the job. More likely, itll be Lord Arthur Tilsey. He held that post years ago, and was awarded his peerage for it. Hes seventy-two, but still very sharp, and hes old friends with Ferguson. Hell do for the interim at least.
And Millers sister, Lady Starling. You think there is something in this attachment with Dillon?
It would seem so.
Putin nodded. All right. It is clear we need to infiltrate this group, people at the highest level of security in the British system. Youve read my suggestion. What do you think?
Alexander Kurbsky? An astonishing idea, Comrade Prime Minister. He is so infamous.
Exactly. Just like in the Cold War days, he defects. Who on earth would doubt him? It fits like a glove. The UN wants him for some gathering in New York. Lady Starling will also be there. All Kurbsky has to do is approach her and turn on the charm. A colossal talent, a much-decorated war hero, and handsome to boot-he cant go wrong. Shes the key; her links to her brother and Ferguson and now Dillon-they make everything possible. If she passes the information to her friends, theyll think of Paris, and the right arrangements will be put in hand, Im certain of it.
But Luzhkov-make sure you dont tell his GRU minders in Paris whats going on. His escape must at all times appear genuine to the British. If the minders fall by the wayside, so be it.
Of course, Luzhkov said hastily.
Finally, Kurbsky makes it clear that his defection attracts no publicity. He will demand a guarantee of that. Otherwise, he wont do it.
And you think Ferguson and company will accept that?
Absolutely, because he knows what jackals the British press are. We stay quiet about the whole matter, but all our security systems go through the motions of trying to recover him. As far as the general public knows, hes working away somewhere, faded from view. Any questions?
I was just wondering this suggestion regarding the journalist Igor Vronsky in New York? That Kurbsky eliminate him?
Is there a problem?
No, Luzhkov said hastily. I was just wondering, would this set a precedent? I mean, would that kind of thing be part of his remit?
If you mean would I expect him to assassinate the Queen of England, I doubt it. On the other hand, should a more tempting target present itself, who knows? I doubt it would bother him too much. He was in the death business for long enough, and in my experience few people really change in this life. Was there anything else?
Only that everything hinges on him actually agreeing to this plan, Comrade Prime Minister.
Putin smiled. Oh, I dont think that will be a problem, Luzhkov. In fact, I expect him any minute now. Ill leave him to you.
And he disappeared back behind the secret door. Moments later, the door behind Luzhkov opened and Alexander Kurbsky entered, the GRU lieutenant hard on his heels.
AN HOUR EARLIER, Kurbsky had been delivered to the same rear door of the Kremlin by Military Police. Although he had been drinking when they picked him up at his hotel, hed been enough in control to realize that when the Kremlin was mentioned, it meant serious business. Hed been led into a small anteroom next to the main office, with chairs and a TV in the corner.
He said, All right, I bore easily, so what is this about?
The lieutenant gave him the DVD. Watch this. Ill be back. He opened the door and paused. Im a great fan.
The door closed behind him. Kurbsky frowned, examining the DVD, then he went and inserted it, produced a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and sat down. The screen flickered. A voice quoted a lengthy number and then said, Subject Tania Kurbsky, aged seventeen, born Moscow. He straightened, stunned, as he saw Tania, his beloved sister, gaunt, hair close-cropped, with sunken cheeks. The voice droned on about a court case, five dead policemen in a riot, seven students charged and shot. Tania Kurbsky had been given a special dispensation obtained because of her father, Colonel Ivan Kurbsky of the KGB. Instead of execution, shed been sentenced to life, irrevocable, to be served at Station Gorky in Siberia, about as far from civilization as it was possible to get. She was still living, aged thirty-six. There followed a picture that barely resembled her, a gaunt careworn woman old before her time. The screen went dark. Kurbsky got up slowly, ejected the DVD and stood looking at it, then turned, went to the door, and kicked it.
The door closed behind him. Kurbsky frowned, examining the DVD, then he went and inserted it, produced a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and sat down. The screen flickered. A voice quoted a lengthy number and then said, Subject Tania Kurbsky, aged seventeen, born Moscow. He straightened, stunned, as he saw Tania, his beloved sister, gaunt, hair close-cropped, with sunken cheeks. The voice droned on about a court case, five dead policemen in a riot, seven students charged and shot. Tania Kurbsky had been given a special dispensation obtained because of her father, Colonel Ivan Kurbsky of the KGB. Instead of execution, shed been sentenced to life, irrevocable, to be served at Station Gorky in Siberia, about as far from civilization as it was possible to get. She was still living, aged thirty-six. There followed a picture that barely resembled her, a gaunt careworn woman old before her time. The screen went dark. Kurbsky got up slowly, ejected the DVD and stood looking at it, then turned, went to the door, and kicked it.
After a while, it was unlocked and the lieutenant appeared. One of the guards stood there, machine pistol ready. Kurbsky said, Where do I go?
Follow me. Which Kurbsky did.
IN THE NEXT room, he looked Luzhkov over. And who would you be? Behind him, the lieutenant smiled.
Colonel Boris Luzhkov, GRU. Im acting under Prime Minister Putins orders. Youve just missed him. How are you?
For a man whos just discovered that the dead can walk, Im doing all right. Ill be better if I have a drink. He went to the cabinet and had two large vodka shots, then he cursed. So get on with it. I presume theres a purpose to all this.
Sit down and read this. Luzhkov pushed the file across the desk, and Kurbsky started.
Fifteen minutes later, he sat back. I dont write thrillers.
It certainly reads like one.
And this is from the Prime Minister?
Yes.
And whats the payoff?
Your sisters released. She will be restored to life.
Thats one way of putting it. How do I know it will be honored?
The Prime Ministers word.
Dont make me laugh. Hes a politician. Since when do those guys keep their word?
And Luzhkov said exactly the right thing. Shes your sister. If that means anything, this is all you can do. Its as simple as that. Better than nothing. You have to travel hopefully.
Fuck you, Kurbsky said, and fuck him. But there was the hint of despair of a man who knew he had little choice. Anything else?
Yes. Igor Vronsky. Does he mean anything to you?
Absolutely. The stinking bastard was in Chechnya and ran a story about my outfit. The Fifth Paratroop Company, the Black Tigers. We were pathfinders and special forces. He did radio from the front line, blew the whistle on a special op we were on, and the Chechens ambushed us. Fifteen good men dead. Its in my book.
Hes working as a journalist in New York now. We want you to eliminate him, just to prove you mean business.
Just like that.
I believe you enjoyed a certain reputation in Chechnya. The smiler with a knife? An accomplished sniper and assassin who specialized in that kind of thing. A lone wolf, as they say. At least three high-ranking Chechen generals could testify to that.
If the dead could speak.
That story in On the Death of Men where the hero is parachuted behind the lines when he had never had training as a parachutist. Was it true? Did you? Luzhkov was troubled in some strange way. What kind of man would do such a thing?
One who in the hell that was Afghanistan decided he was dead already, a walking zombie, who survived to go home and found himself a year later knee-deep in blood in Chechnya. You can make of that what you will.
Ill need to think about it. Im not sure I understand.
Kurbsky laughed. Remember the old saying: Avoid looking into an open grave because you may see yourself in there. In those old Cold War spy books, you always had to have a controller. Would that be you?