‘Get out,’ she cried, her voice thick with grief.
‘Please, Katya,’ he said, stepping back, spreading his hands.
The blow when it came took him by surprise. It was sharp, across his face, making it sting. Still he stood there. He reached out to her once more as if she were a frightened filly, trying to calm her, fearing that in her anguish she’d hurt herself. She hit him again, this time in the chest. Pain shot through his body. She was crying, harder now, raining blows, blaming him for Ruslan’s death and the shambles that her life had become. Her face was a mess of tears and crying. This was what conflict did to ordinary people, he thought grimly. It crushed them, sapped their spirit, and made even the most reasonable individual insane. It also made good people bad people. As she raised her hand again, he caught it, looked into her eyes, saw the defeat and shame and utter vulnerability; saw something else, something basic and human. When Tallis pressed his mouth to hers, Katya didn’t resist.
They both stared at each other in wonder. He was lying naked in Katya’s bed, her fingers lightly tracing the bruises on his body. It was as if a storm had passed.
When Katya asked about Ruslan’s death, he told the truth.
‘And you left him where?’
‘In a lean-to, out in the open, between Vedeno and Mahketi. Katya, I’m sorry.’
She gave a sad smile. ‘Ruslan is in good company. The Ossetians have a tradition of leaving their dead unburied in mausoleums, the poor among them left in stone huts.’
‘Unburied?’
‘Entire families are piled one on top of the other so that their mummified remains and clothes mould together, become as one. The huts are guarded by gatekeepers, usually women,’ she added. If this was some attempt to make him feel better, it wasn’t working. Macabre and strange seemed characteristic of the region. She stroked the side of his face. ‘Ruslan was always headstrong. Not like his father at all.’
More like Lena, Tallis thought, dreading how he was going to break the news when he finally returned. Suddenly England hurtled back into his mind, and with it the mission. He could hear Darke moving about downstairs. Whatever their injuries, whatever his feelings, they had to get back to Moscow. ‘The assassination attempt,’ he said, perching himself up on one elbow.
‘What about it?’
‘Have they detained anyone?’
‘Why, yes, a Chechen by the name of Dr Abzo Gaziev. I knew him. It’s unbelievable that he wished the Prime Minister harm, even if Ivanov is personally responsible for thousands of deaths and abductions that have taken place over the last decade,’ she said, a bitter note in her voice. ‘Abzo was a pacifist. He was well respected. The type of man who would treat wounded Russian soldiers and Chechen fighters without discrimination. It was reported that a letter was found on him declaring his intention to kill the Prime Minister, but I don’t believe it.’
‘Never mind the letter. Did they find a weapon on him?’
‘They didn’t need to.’
‘But, surely, with all those people in attendance, someone must have seen something.’
‘Confusion and panic do not generally reveal the truth.’ She shrugged and gave another sad smile. ‘But there were alternative reports from foreign news agencies that suggested a single shot was fired from a different aspect. Whoever it was got away, which in the Kremlin’s eyes means that there’s no tangible evidence. It suits them better. That way they can blame us and get the Russian people behind them.’
It had the ring of authenticity about it, but it wouldn’t stop the men in the FSB from investigating, not when Andrei Ivanov’s life was at risk, Tallis thought. The Kremlin would be unrelenting in its pursuit. ‘Katya, I have to get to the Embassy.’
‘Impossible.’
Nothing’s impossible, he believed, reminded of Grigori Orlov’s opinion of life in Russia. ‘Is there any way you can get to a phone?’
‘Maybe, at school.’ She wrinkled her nose, which made her look cute.
‘Right.’ He flicked a smile. ‘This is what I want you to do.’
That morning, Tallis told Darke that they could stay.
‘Kind of gathered that,’ he said with a teasing smile. ‘Don’t worry, I found my own blankets.’
They washed and shaved for the first time in days. Darke was almost unrecognisable. The scarring to his face had seen to that. With great care Katya splinted the fingers on his left hand and bound them together.
Later, after Katya had gone, and they’d feasted on bread and cheese and bottled fruit, Tallis told Darke of his plan. ‘Think it will work?’
‘Don’t see why not,’ Tallis said. ‘It worked coming in so why not going out?’
‘Things were different then.’
Yes, they had been. Ruslan was alive and he hadn’t met Katya. The idea of leaving her behind struck him with a clarity that made him wince. The thought was inconceivable. He glanced out of the window. Outside the birds sang, the trees were in leaf, sun sent a shimmer of gold across the neighbouring streets. Beyond lay the rest of ravenous Russia. ‘Graham?’
‘Yeah?’
‘How the hell did you get to be an intelligence officer?’
‘Could ask you the same.’
‘Long story.’
‘Got plenty of time.’
‘You go first.’
So Graham Darke did. He told Tallis that, abandoned and penniless after his disastrous love affair, he’d joined the army where he’d served with the Marines, becoming a sniper. Coincidentally, while Tallis had served in the army during the First Gulf War, Graham had gone to Bosnia as part of a UK team to protect UN convoys. ‘Fucking madness,’ Graham said. ‘After the peace agreement was brokered, I stayed on, was quite happy, but a visit from a bloke in a bar changed all that.’
‘You were head-hunted?’
‘Yeah. To be honest, I didn’t think I was the right kind of material. I’d always thought SIS blokes were sons of diplomats, like you had to go to the right school, know the right people, but they seemed pretty keen to have me on board. Looking back, I wonder now whether they always had me in mind for this mission. I mean, the bloke knew more about me than my own mother did.’
‘That wouldn’t be difficult.’ Tallis laughed.
‘Yeah.’ Graham grinned, getting the joke. ‘I suppose she’s still trundling on. You ever see her?’
Tallis studied him. How had Graham managed to excise his family from his life? What mental gymnastics did you perform for something like that? Again, he had that odd feeling about Darke’s ability to morally disconnect. ‘No.’
‘And your old man?’ he asked Tallis.
‘Died last year.’
‘You sorry?’
‘Not really.’
Darke nodded in understanding. ‘Mean sort of a bastard, wasn’t he? And what about you? They didn’t recruit you just to find me, did they?’
Tallis smiled and gave him a potted version of what he’d been up to for the past three years.
‘Jesus! You certainly get around in your tea break. So what’s your take on the current situation?’
‘Apart from the fact it stinks?’
‘Definitely looks like someone gave Christian Fazan dodgy information.’
‘Which is why we have to get you out and prove your innocence. One look at your ugly mug should do the trick.’ Tallis flashed a smile.
Katya returned. ‘It’s all arranged,’ she said, cool. ‘The pick-up’s tomorrow night.’
‘That soon?’ Impossible, given the current situation, Tallis thought. He was standing by the stove. Darke was upstairs, having a sleep. The truth was, Tallis didn’t want to leave.
‘Fly to Mozdok, collect a car there, and drive straight down. Go back via the same route. It’s a good plan.’
‘Right.’ He could feel the tension in the room. He knew she felt it, too. The way she was standing, at a distance from him, gave the game away. It revealed a facet of her personality for which he was unprepared.
She bit her
lip slightly. ‘You are worried?’ She reached out, lightly touched his arm. It felt as though he’d been hit with an electrode.
‘It’s not that.’
‘Look, what happened last night…’
‘Are you going to say it was a mistake?’
‘No,’ she said with an awkward smile.
He’d never felt so gauche or full of injured pride. This wasn’t like him at all. ‘Come with me,’ he blurted out. ‘I could take you to Lena. I know people,’ he said, thinking of Viva and Rasu. ‘They could help you with finding asylum. Failing that, we could…’
She smiled, looked up into his eyes, cupping his chin in her hands like she’d done with Ruslan. ‘Hush,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’ He’d never felt so disappointed in his life. It was bizarre. He didn’t know this woman and yet the thought of leaving her was totally abhorrent to him. Had he been infected with madness while in the mountains?
‘I’m needed here. This crazy state of affairs won’t last for ever.’
‘It will. You know it will.’
‘It might,’ she conceded, ‘but if people like me run away, there’s no chance for peace. Teachers are vital to prevent our children from turning to the gun, essential to countering the hatred.’
‘But if you come with me—’
‘It wouldn’t work.’ She smiled sadly. ‘This is my home. That’s what I told Ruslan.’
‘Then I’ll come back.’
‘No,’ she said, resolute. ‘We’re different people, you and me. You believe in the power of the gun. I believe in the power of words.’
So that’s how she saw him, he thought, destroyed.
‘You’re a good man, Paul Tallis.’
‘But—’
She pressed a finger to his lips then kissed him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE Land Cruiser pulled up sharp, tyres spitting rubber and dirt. Two men got out and strode into Katya’s with a flourish. Chaikova took Katya’s hand and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Sorry to hear about Ruslan,’ he said, his craggy face expressing genuine sympathy. ‘I really liked the boy.’
She dipped her head, thanked him, and looked awkwardly at Tallis. His face burnt with shame.
‘Tallis.’ Chaikova beamed, striding over, hugging him and making him wince. As Tallis looked over his shoulder he saw Orlov standing there, cigar plugged into his mouth.
‘Isn’t this a bit outside your comfort zone, Grigori?’
Orlov flashed a grin. ‘My dear fellow, I’m safeguarding my investment.’ The helicopter he’d promised him, Tallis remembered. ‘Anyway, I like you, Tallis, and when Chaikova said you needed a little help, I thought, Why not?’
‘And you.’ Chaikova turned his massive head to Darke. ‘You must be Tallis’s friend.’
‘Sorry for dragging you out here to get us,’ Darke said.
‘It’s alright,’ Orlov said with an ironic smile, sending a cloud of smoke into the atmosphere. ‘Chaikova enjoys adventures.’
‘So how do you propose we get through the checkpoints?’
‘Piece of cake.’ Orlov lapsed into colloquial English with a grin, drawing himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest a little so that his gold necklace and wristband rattled expensively. ‘We have plenty of vodka and cigarettes on board.’
Darke exchanged a look with Tallis that suggested Orlov was cracked. ‘It’s fine,’ Tallis assured him with a relaxed smile. ‘Grigori is a most persuasive man. He has a lot of contacts.’
‘Getting out of the country may prove more difficult,’ Chaikova said. ‘Some flights have been suspended. Communications are not good.’
‘If we can get to the Embassy, we’ll be fine,’ Darke said.
‘I wouldn’t bank on that,’ Orlov said, less lively.
‘There’s a problem?’ Tallis frowned. He could feel Katya’s eyes on him. The tension between them was unbearable.
‘You have a lot of enemies. Timur Garipova came sniffing round, asking a lot of searching questions.’
Tallis shared a complicit smile with Darke. ‘He won’t be searching any more.’
‘Mother of God,’ Chaikova said, part fear, part admiration. ‘No wonder the country’s in uproar.’
Orlov was more sanguine. ‘Never liked the creep anyway, but we’ve also had, or rather Kumarin has received, some strange calls from your firm.’
That would be Asim trying to make contact, Tallis thought. ‘What sort of strange?’
‘Wishing to know your whereabouts.’
‘It’s fine,’ Tallis said, dismissive.
Grigori shrugged and looked at Chaikova. ‘OK,’ he said, looking around at everyone. ‘Are we ready?’
The others went on ahead. Tallis hung back. He wanted to look at Katya and make one last attempt. ‘Still time to change your mind.’ He sounded upbeat. He felt in despair.
‘I know,’ she said softly, opening her arms, letting him hold her, clinging to him as if her life depended upon it. His shirt became wet and he knew that she was crying. He drew away a little, smoothed a lock of gold behind her ear.
‘Come with me, Katya,’ he whispered, nuzzling her neck.
She said nothing, seeming to hesitate. Hope briefly blossomed inside him.
‘You’re entitled to a life, too,’ he pressed.
She looked at him intently, staring right into the heart of him then, shaking her head sadly, she let her arms fall to her sides. ‘Go now. Go quickly.’
Choked, he turned on his heel and walked to the waiting vehicle. He did not look back.
Chaikova was decent enough not to pass comment, simply handed him a bottle of Stoli. Darke remained silent. Orlov, alone, oblivious, talked about his favourite subjects—Svetlana, his latest art acquisitions, and the state of a recent building project. A thick fug of smoke built up around them. After a while, even Orlov dried up. Tallis was glad of the vodka. Like an anaesthetic, it dulled his physical senses. His intellect, however, remained pin-sharp. To relieve the hurt he felt, he turned his mind to work. He’d done the job, completed the mission, averted conflict, yet still the mystery remained. Who was the lone assassin? Who was responsible? How had Fazan come by what had proved to be clearly false intelligence? Not that he was a stranger to such situations. False intelligence had been responsible for Tallis’s original decision to quit the police three years before.
He glanced across at Darke—asleep, face slumped against the glass—wondered, not for the first time, who exactly he’d spirited away.
After negotiating two checkpoints without incident, they drove through Mozdok and turned off the main road and down a dogleg, past a small truck company with a yard and mesh fencing where they abandoned the Land Cruiser.
‘It’s fine, I know the owner,’ Orlov assured them.
They walked a short distance past a sewage works then down a dirt track with high hedges and fields to a gateway, beyond which the Agusta 109 was waiting, rotors running. The pilot, a young Russian with blond good looks, wore a Panama hat, light linen suit over a navy shirt. Reminded of an old TV advertisement when he was a kid, Tallis thought the man from del Monte had turned up.
They all climbed in, putting on headsets to communicate, Orlov in front in the passenger seat, giving the orders. As Tallis was lifted into the air, he briefly fell asleep.
Their first port of call was Chaikova’s dacha. Dawn was breaking, sunshine falling in vertical bars giving the impression of mullioned windows. As soon as they touched down, Chaikova insisted they eat. While he prepared breakfast, Tallis called Asim, waited for the call to be routed, Darke at his side, listening in.
‘Mission accomplished,’ Tallis said.
‘I thought we’d lost you.’
Not a chance. ‘Understand you’ve been trying to get hold of me.’
‘Only by telepathy. I didn’t know where the hell you were, remember.’
‘Right,’ Tallis said, making light of it, feigning that he was too knackered to
worry about that now. ‘I’ve got Darke with me.’
‘Good,’ Asim said, clipped. ‘And?’
‘He’s innocent. I can personally vouch that I was with him when the killer attempted to murder Ivanov. Whatever intelligence Fazan’s received about Darke, it’s wrong.’
Silence.
‘Asim, you still there?’
‘Sure, look, can I call you back?’
Tallis pulled a face, gave the number. ‘One other thing, Darke wants to speak to Fazan. Is he at the Embassy in Moscow?’
‘Already taken up his post in Berlin. Don’t worry, I’ll make the necessary arrangements for you both to come in.’
Come in? This was starting to feel like they’d done something wrong, that they were fugitives. Tallis was getting a really bad vibe. ‘Fine,’ he said, breezy. ‘You’ll get someone to pick us up?’
‘Sure, give me your co-ordinates.’
‘What? Sorry, can’t hear you…line’s breaking up…Have to…’ Tallis put down the phone and stared at Darke.
‘What’s the matter?’ Darke said.
‘Something’s off. Asim’s not acting normally.’
‘Think he’s under pressure?’ Darke said.
Tallis thought and shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘OK, let’s think this out. Fazan approached your guy and asked him if he could borrow you to find me because he thought I’d turned rogue.’
‘And to avert international disaster.’
‘Understated, but I get the drift.’ Darke flashed a smile. ‘And who had the intelligence?’
‘Fazan.’
‘Who supplied the intelligence to Fazan?’
‘Source unknown. What are you suggesting?’ Tallis said. ‘That Fazan set this whole thing up as a smokescreen? Why? To discredit Asim, or you?’
Darke scratched the side of his face. ‘Rather an exotic way of thinking.’
‘And who the hell is carrying out all the hits?’
‘Supposing Fazan is responsible…’
‘Is he capable? I mean, you’ve got to be good.’
‘Not that good. Anyone with the right expertise can set a bomb, cut someone’s throat, punch someone in the leg with a hypodermic.’
Land of Ghosts Page 27
