Mark was swallowing a mouthful of prawn satay and for some time was able only to nod and raise his eyebrows in response.
Why do you want to know? he asked eventually, wiping a napkin over his bottom lip.
He intrigued me. As you can imagine, we get a lot of lawyers coming into the firm. Hes still relatively young, highly competent, somebody whom I imagine would be an asset to Libra.
Toms all right. A bit flash, bit lippy. Good lawyer, though.
Does your work dove tail?
Mark could not hear the question over the noise of the restaurant and he cocked his head to one side to encourage his father to repeat it. Keen leaned in.
I said, does your work dove tail? How much of him do you see, apart from when youre both abroad together?
I was out with him last night, matter of fact. Toms a big drinker, likes to whip out the company credit card. If theres a new secretary in the office hes always the one who asks her out. Champagne and oysters, loves all that shit. Never has any luckwith the birds, mind, but youll have a good time if you tag along.
Whenever Mark discussed Libra business his voice unconsciously dropped into a mannered sub-Cockney that cloaked its true origins in private education. His workaccent, his music industry drawl, deliberately shaved off consonants and slackened vowels. It was an affectation that irritated Keen, though he had never mentioned it.
And what happens when you go on these trips? he asked, pouring himself a glass of water. The woman with whom he had briefly flirted rose from her table and managed a final seductive glance. Keen ignored her. You must get sick of the sight of one another.
Not necessarily. Mark was using a pair of chopsticks to pickup a pork dumpling. He held it in the air for some time, like a jeweller examining a gem for flaws. I like the company, to be honest. He popped the food into his mouth and began chewing it vigorously, smiling as he ate.
All of this was of interest to Keen. Is Viktor Kukushkins syndicate providing Libra with protection in Russia, or is there a larger conspiracy evolving here in London? Taploe had almost whispered his requests, eyes glued to Keens lapel. Mark could prove vital in giving us a clear picture of Roths and Macklins activities. Wed like to know everything you can find out. But Mark did not appear unsettled by the line of questioning: on the contrary, he seemed comfortable and relaxed, just chatting and enjoying his lunch.
Good, these, arent they? he said, and picked up another dumpling.
Yes, Keen nodded. I must say I was impressed by all of your people. Sebastian, of course, though we met only briefly. The two marketing girls as well. And that Frenchman you brought in last time, Philippe dErlanger.
Philippe, yeah. Hes Belgian, actually.
Keen acknowledged the mistake.
But Macklin stood out. Very bright, very capable. During our initial meetings he impressed me a great deal. I acted only as a conduit, as you know, so I have no idea how hes behaved latterly. But he was very well informed, seemed to know his stuff. A bit pushy, clearly, not necessarily someone one would want to buy a used car from. Do you trust him?
No, Mark replied, swallowing. But I wouldnt have thought he trusts me either.
Now why do you say that?
Best policy, isnt it? Rule of thumb. Never trust the people at the top. Dont put yourself in a position where you have to rely on anyone. That way you wont be too disappointed when they fuck you over.
Keens eyes narrowed. He wondered if the sentiment had its origins in Marks childhood.
Do you think hes capable of that?
But he had pushed too hard.
Why are you so interested in Tom? Mark asked. Have Divisar had trouble with him? Has he not been paying our bills?
No, no. Im just fascinated by the way your partnership works. He obviously has the ear of Roth, so where does that leave you?
Well, Im not a lawyer, am I? Thats not my area of expertise. So the relationship he has with Seb is different from the one he has with me. More personal, if you like. Those two share a lot of secrets which nobody else is privy to.
Perhaps there was something here for Taploe.
What kind of secrets? Keen asked.
Well, they wouldnt be secrets if I knew, would they? Financial stuff, I guess; plans for the future. That sort of thing.
I see. Mark looked vaguely bored, but Keen was anxious to probe further. Just while were on the subject, he said, were there any developments on your trip that I should know about? The position on the roof, for example?
No. Toms handling it. He deals with those boys.
So youve had no contact with the gangs?
I wouldnt say no contact. The waitress picked up two plates from the table, smiled at Mark and walked off. Theyre everywhere out there. Hotel foyers, restaurants, sitting in their shiny four-by-fours on Novy Arbat. You can hardly move without bumping into some wanker in a cheap leather jacket who thinks hes Chechnyas answer to Al Pacino. Macks all for it, of course, loves hanging out with them. Acts like hes landed a walk-on part in The Sopranos. But theyre not for me. Far as Im concerned, the mafia makes a living out of other peoples misery and thats not a good reason to go drinking with them.
Keen registered this last remark: at SIS he had been trained to be wary of the man who declares his innocence unprompted. It was usually the case that those who made a frequent expression of their moral outrage were most often the ones who turned out to be unscrupulous.
Surely Macklins just doing his job, just trying to get the best deal for Libra? he suggested. I would have thought it was important to keep them onside.
Mark smirked.
Whats so funny?
He keeps them onside, all right.
What do you mean?
Whenever were in Moscow, Tom makes sure to get a hooker up to his suite. Her twin sister as well, if hes feeling perky. Hed like to call that keeping them onside. That way he could run it through expenses.
Keen frowned.
Hes got sucked into that, has he?
Well, lets face it, no one else is going to sleep with him.
Keen duly grinned but the conversation appeared to have exhausted itself. As he had both hoped and expected, there had been nothing of any content to unsettle him, nothing he would feel obliged to reveal to Taploe. He felt an odd, protective urge to tell Mark that his flat was most probably wired, that the grass skirts had eyes and ears in the homes of every one of the senior employees at Libra. Yet he was bound by an older loyalty, barred even from advising caution. He placed his chopsticks to one side, put his napkin on the table, and was quiet.
You look worried about something.
Mark had also finished eating.
I do?
Yeah.
Keen frowned and said, No, Im fine. Just digesting.
Is it Ben?
The question took him by surprise, if only because, for once in Marks company, Keen had not been thinking about Ben. It was a rare occasion on which the two failed to discuss the possibility of reconciliation. Their last two meetings, for example, had descended into an awkward row about Bens stubborn refusal to put the past behind him. Mark had been sympathetic to his fathers position, but his first loyalty was to his brother.
Have you thought any more about that? If this was an opportunity to reopen the subject, then Keen would grasp it.
Not much, Mark said.
I see.
But youre still eager to make amends, to tell him how sorry you are?
Something like that. Keen wondered if Mark had a plan, but his manner seemed dismissive and offhand. Have you seen him lately?
Matter of fact, I have. Mark finished off the last of the wine. Had dinner with him the night I got back. Brother cooked up a green curry and spent most of the evening arguing with Alice.
That seems to happen a lot.
All the time lately.
Are they unhappy?
Mark breathed in deeply and puffed out his cheeks.
Who knows? he said. Sometimes I wonder what he sees in her, beyond the looks, the lifestyle.
Yes, youve said that before. But Alice was very helpful to Ben when your mother died, wasnt she? Isnt that the case?
That was the case. Mark paused briefly. He was reluctant to betray Bens confidence, but the wine had got the better of him. But theres more to it than that, he said.
Expand.
A waiter placed two steaming napkins on a plate in front of them. Mark turned his hands heavily through the cloth and then wiped his mouth.
Its like this, he said. Theyve been together a long time. Brother helped to get her career started and Alice supported him when he wanted to get into painting. Far as I can tell they have great sex, you know, so that helps when things turn nasty. And besides, a part of me reckons they love all the arguments, that they feed off the aggro and tension.
Keen leaned back in his chair.
Interesting, he said, with apparent empathy. So you dont suppose hes any closer to the idea of meeting up? He was aware that the question was cack-handed, yet determined to make an approach. You dont thinkhed be amenable to, say, a drinkor perhaps dinner?
Mark laughed and stared at the ceiling.
Is that what this is about? he said. You want to have this conversation every time we meet up?
Until hes prepared to forgive and forget, yes.
Keen had not intended to sound angry, but his words had a remarkable effect. Mark, ever the conciliator, resolved to calm his father down.
All right, all right, he said. You just have to understand that Ben is stubborn, that hes very set in his ways. For him to agree even to talk to you would mean a betrayal of Mum. Thats how he feels about things. Weve spoken about this. In his mind, its either you or her.
Keen managed to look appropriately dismayed, but he had been taken with a sharp, persuasive idea. Earlier in the day he had collected a signet ring from a jeweller in Paddington who had reset the bloodstone. The box was in his briefcase. He could use this as a lever, something to play on Marks sense of decency.
I had your photograph framed, he said.
My photograph?
Of Bens wedding. Its hanging in the flat. Two weeks earlier, Mark had given him a photograph of Bens wedding day, taken moments after he had first emerged from the church with Alice at his side. Keen had had the picture enlarged and framed and it now hung in the sitting room of his London flat. I thought that I might give you something in return.