The Russian Doll (Ben Sign Book 3)

by Matthew Dunn

  “And you thought your curry trick would be just the tonic?! Foolish boy!”

  Knutsen laughed again. “Look at it from my point of view. There’s nothing on TV tonight apart from bloody dumb quiz shows and documentaries about farmers and their new born fluffy baby lambs. It was far more fun to watch you suffer.”

  Sign breathed in deeply. The internal attack on his body had abated. And Knutsen was right about one thing – the intensity of the meal was a cleansing process of sorts. That still didn’t mean he’d trust him with food choices ever again. He finished his cider, walked to the drinks cabinet, and poured two glasses of brandy. As he returned to his seat, he told Knutsen about the call he’d received from Archer. “We must be in suits tomorrow.”

  All sense of hilarity was now gone from Knutsen. “I’ve never been to a foreign agent meeting before. It’s above my paygrade.”

  Sign had a dismissive expression. “Your paygrade is the same as mine. But, I concede that it is a delicate and intricate process to win over an agent during a first meeting. Tomorrow, and in the presence of Natalia, I will ask you to do something. Don’t, under any circumstances, be offended by my instruction. It will be directed for tactical reasons.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if I wasn’t at the meeting?”

  “No.” Sign sipped his brandy. “Bring your handgun.”

  “What?!”

  “Please.”

  Knutsen leaned forward, his brandy cupped in both hands, and sighed. “Look. I trust you. And I know you like to keep your cards close to your chest.”

  “Because often I don’t know what the cards are until they reveal themselves to me.”

  “I realise that. But is a gun in a London hotel the right decision?”

  “It shall be a prop. Do make sure it’s loaded, though.”

  Knutsen leaned back and looked at the fireplace. It was now the beginning of autumn. The fire would need to be lit soon. It occurred to him that he’d have to call Dave, who supplied them with wood and coal. He didn’t know why that thought had just entered his head. Maybe it was because it was a normal thing to think about. “Do you have a strategy for dealing with Natalia? Do you have a theory on what happened to Susan and if so how you can prove that theory to be fact?”

  Sign looked at the fireplace. “You’re thinking about calling Dave, aren’t you?”

  “Stop reading my mind and answer my questions.”

  Sign swirled brandy in his mouth. The spirit was a bad idea. It exacerbated the inferno atop his tongue. “I have an idea about Natalia and how to find out what happened to Susan. It may work, or it may fail. That isn’t what’s troubling me.”

  Knutsen was silent as he looked at Sign.

  Sign placed his brandy down. “Call Dave. We need to stock up before every Tom, Dick, and Harry buys his logs.” He looked serious as he addressed his business partner. “There’s something that’s worrying me about this case. It is based on the usual.”

  “One of your hypotheses.”

  “Yes. It is a nagging thought. When I get the nags, I don’t ignore them. I do hope I’m wrong. I must prove myself wrong.”

  “What’s the nag?”

  Sign smiled. “Dear fellow: sometimes in life we must hold the upper hand until we are exposed as fools. You tried to trick me with your curry. I bettered you. But, I could have failed. The nag pertains to an issue that may go well beyond the current issues we’re presented with. If so, we have a major situation. And if, as I hope, I’m wrong then I have my reputation to uphold. I don’t want to tell you what’s on my mind and make myself look stupid when it turns out to be a load of codswallop.”

  Knutsen nodded. “I understand. But I’ve yet to see you achieve anything other than the complete opposite of codswallop. Hold on to your nag. I’ll stand by you.”

  Sign smiled. “You are indeed the finest friend. Now: let us drink our drinks. I’ll put the coffee on in a moment. And I’ll spray the lounge and kitchen with air freshener. This place smells like the back-end of a balmy Bombay.”

  CHAPTER 3

  At two forty five PM the following day, Archer was sitting in an armchair in a room within the five star Langham Hotel, Portland Place, Regent Street. The room was far larger than the one she’d visited in Duke’s Hotel,. Indeed, the whole hotel was huge by comparison to the bespoke but luxurious Mayfair hotel. She’d paid for the room using a credit card that was in the name of a non-existent French woman. Her attire was smart, but casual. The room contained four chairs, a stationary desk, a bed that was covered with expensive linen, a bathroom with complimentary designer soaps, and a minibar stocked with fine wines, mineral water, chocolates, and spirits.

  Archer waited.

  At precisely three PM there was a knock on her room’s door. She answered. Natalia was there. Natalia gave the slightest of nods and entered. Archer shut the door, locked the entrance, opened the minibar cabinet, withdrew two bottles of water, and handed one to the Russian.

  When both women were seated, Archer said, “I’ve been reflecting on your decision to put our work together on hold.”

  Natalia looked angry. “Not put on hold. I’ve made it clear – I’m not doing this anymore, full stop.”

  Archer calmly replied, “That’s not acceptable. The job’s not complete. You’ve come too far to quit now.”

  “Are you threatening me?! If I don’t keep working for you then you’ll throw me to the dogs?”

  Archer shook her head. “Of course not. I don’t work that way. You’ve done a brilliant job for my service thus far. That will always be remembered. But imagine the kudos you’ll get if you hang in there a bit longer and give us the rest of the Russian spies. You will be rewarded – money, asylum in Britain, a new identity, a new life.”

  Natalia huffed. “There’s no such thing as a new life where Russia’s concerned. They’ll find me and kill me. It may take weeks, months, or years. It doesn’t matter. Their memories are long. My murder will be a message to others in the SVR, FSB, and GRU ranks that betraying the motherland only ever results in the death sentence. The SVR has a long reach. It can go anywhere. You could house me on the remotest Scottish island and they’d get to me. They wouldn’t make it look like an accident or suicide. They’d want to hammer home to Russians that this was cold-blooded murder. Publicly they’d deny to Britain and other western countries that Russia had any involvement. But, Russians would know. My country is held together by fear of the state. My death would make many people think twice about working for the likes of you guys.”

  “That is true. But, you underestimate us. We can make Natalia Asina vanish and give birth to a new young woman. The Russian Intelligence agencies may be more brutal than us, but they are not as sophisticated. If MI6 helped you, the SVR would never find you.”

  “Mrs. Banks.” Katy Banks was the alias Archer used with Natalia. The Russian spy didn’t know her real name. “I believe that you believe in what you’re saying. But you are not me. Should I gamble my life on the basis that you may be ninety nine percent right and one percent wrong?”

  Archer sighed. “What your brother advise you, if he were still alive?”

  “Don’t try that one on me! He took his life because he was riddled with demons. I wanted his death to be revenged. I’ve done that.”

  “No you haven’t. Not yet, anyway. Are you religious, Natalia?”

  Natalia shrugged. “Not practicing. But I guess I have faith.”

  “Do you believe in the afterlife?”

  The hostility was back in Natalia’s expression. “I can see where this is leading!”

  “I’m sure you can. So, to use the percentage ratio you used a moment ago, what if there was a ninety nine percent chance that the afterlife didn’t exist, but a one percent chance it did? Would you risk shaming your brother’s memory if the one percent turned out to be true? He’d be watching you. And he’d be sad that his little sister didn’t have the courage to see matters through to their natural conclusion. He deeply admires yo
u. I suspect that he believes that you have greater mental fortitude than he did at his end. He would be disappointed if his analysis of you turned out to be inaccurate.”

  “Stop it with the mind games!” Natalia stood.

  “Sit down.” Archer decided to change the subject. In a soothing voice she said, “I’ve ordered some tea and cake. It’s your afternoon off and I know you like cake. Room service should be here any minute.”

  Natalia sat back down. “No more reference to Petrov.”

  “Agreed.” Archer leaned forward. “I don’t want you to be put in prison or killed. But, I do want you to work for me for a few more months. Russia is on a covert war-footing. We’ve had cyber attacks, meddling in the British and American leadership elections, assassinations, land grabs in the Crimea, indiscriminate bombings in Syria and Iraq, veto after veto in the United Nations Security Council, flagrant abuse of sovereign nations’ air and sea space by Russian military craft, sleeper cells spread across the West, constant lies and misinformation, and ultimately the diplomatic relations between Russia and the West are the worst they’ve been since the height of the Cold War. If we’re not careful, there’ll be a flashpoint that will lead us to war. The flashpoint won’t come from Russia. It will either happen somewhere that Russia, Britain, and its allies didn’t expect; or, it will be the brainchild of Russia and in a place that Russia knows will matter to people like me. Either way, Russia is playing a very dangerous game. It thinks it knows how to play chess. But right now it has all the competency of an eight year old learning the game for the first time and going for broke. People like you and me must keep the child in check but resist going for checkmate. Containment is the right course of action in the current climate. We must protect Russia from itself. The alternative would be catastrophic. Western military action against Russia would result in the decimation of Russia as we know it. We don’t want that. Instead, we want to play the long game. One day, we hope to see a Russia that has evolved into a democratic and less paranoid nation. You and I are taking steps to help that happen. Don’t underestimate how important your work is to MI6. I know you love your country and hate the regime. So, let’s get rid of the latter and focus on the former.”

  Natalia looked sarcastic as she smiled. “That’s a pretty speech. But I might not be alive to see this new wonderful Russia you speak of.”

  “Maybe both of us will be long dead by then. But I like to think we’d have died of natural causes, with smiles on our faces because we knew that we’d influenced history.” There was a knock on the door. “Thank goodness! Room service has arrived.” Archer walked to the door and opened it.

  Sign and Knutsen walked in.

  Natalia stood, eyes wide, mouth open, shock evident across her face. “What the hell’s going on?!

  Archer went to her, but Natalia pushed her aside, grabbed her handbag, and tried to get past Sign and Knutsen.

  Knutsen grabbed her and forced her back into her chair. “Stay there. You are not in danger.”

  Natalia was breathing fast. Her eyes were venomous as she glared at Archer. “I trusted you!”

  Archer replied, “It’s because you trust me that I’ve asked these men to be here. They’re friends of mine. Do not be alarmed.”

  “Who are they?” Natalia looked at Sign. “He’s MI6; senior; maybe your boss.” She looked at Knutsen. “He’s the hired gun; the man that protects people like you.” She stared back at Archer. “You knew I wouldn’t agree to meet anyone else from MI6, so you bounced me with this. You lied to me!”

  “Natalia, we’re just worried about you. And I don’t think I can help you now.” Archer pointed at Sign and Knutsen. “These men work for British Intelligence, but they they’re employed in different circles to mine. They’re independent. And they’re untouchable. You can trust them as much as you trust me.”

  “Right now that trust is at a low point!”

  Sign sat in one of the seats, crossed his legs, and clasped his hands. “My name is Ben. My colleague is Tom. They are our real first names. We will not be supplying you with real or fake surnames.” He pointed at Knutsen. “Tom’s job is to protect you. He won’t hesitate to jump in the way of a bullet that’s intended for your head. Tom – open your jacket and show Miss Asina what’s attached to your waist.”

  Knutsen did so, revealing his pistol and holster, before closing his jacket.

  Sign kept his eyes on Natalia. “Tom – be a good fellow and go into the corridor. Stay there until Natalia leaves. Shoot anyone who tries to disturb our meeting. Katy – leave now. I wish to speak to Miss Asina alone.”

  The instructions shocked Archer. She said, “Natalia’s my agent. You have no authority to…”

  “Yes, yes. Just get out and have a gin and tonic or latte downstairs, or go and see a movie, or do anything else other than being here.”

  “You arrogant…”

  “Stop there, your tongue is equipped with a masterful command of English. Don’t corrupt it by the use of expletives. Leave now. I’m in command now.”

  Jayne shook her head. “This wasn’t the deal.”

  “Leave now!”

  Archer’s face was flushed red as she stormed out of the room. Knutsen winked at Sign and also exited.

  When they were gone, Sign said to Natalia, “I do apologise for our unexpected arrival. Would you prefer to converse in Russian or English?”

  She replied in English. “Who says I want to converse with you?”

  “I did. You are in a pickle. I’m here to sort out matters.”

  “Against my will.”

  “You’ll reconsider that stance.” Sign scrutinised her, his gaze cold. “I’ve not read your file. I don’t want to. I prefer to make my own judgements on people. MI6 and SVR files are usually filled with lies and guess work. I like to start afresh, because I never lie to myself.” He picked a peanut out of an adjacent bowl and tossed it into his mouth. “You are refusing to continue working for MI6 because you are scared. That’s understandable.”

  Natalia shouted, “And you think you can change my mind?”

  “Actually, I don’t want to change your mind. It’s your brain. Why would I tinker with it?”

  “Because it’s what people like you do!”

  “And people like you. But why don’t we get off to a good start and agree not to do any tinkering. What say you?”

  Natalia frowned. “What do you want?”

  “Katy Banks has been hard on you, has she not?”

  “She’s just doing her job.”

  “Yes, but her job is a high wire balancing act. Have you heard of Phillippe Petit?”

  “Should I have?”

  Sign grabbed a handful of nuts and held them cupped in his palm. “He was an impeccably brave and crazy adventurer, specialising in tightrope walks. He decided to be the first man to do a tightrope walk between the Twin Towers. It was 1974. The towers had just been built, though were not quite completed and ready for occupancy. Petit enlisted the help of some friends. He and they devised a devious yet highly risky plan to infiltrate one of the towers, set up the tightrope, and allow Petit to do one of the most death-defying ventures of the last century. Of course, the whole thing was completely illegal. That didn’t stop Petit. And absolutely nothing was going to stop him getting on the wire. His successful transition from one tower to the other is well documented, and was caught on video camera. It was breath taking and brought lower Manhattan to a standstill as people one thousand three hundred and sixty eight feet below him couldn’t believe what their eyes were seeing above the streets. But here’s the thing – what if it had gone wrong? What if halfway across the tightrope, Petit started losing his balance and knew he was going to fall? If that had happened, there would have only been one outcome: death. There could have been a way out. He could have used every muscle and instinct in his body and mind to correct his balance. He couldn’t turn around, because the task would have been impossible. His only hope would have been to keep walking to the other side.”<
br />
  Natalia was quiet for a moment. “You think I’m on that tightrope?”

  “Yes. Katy Banks is watching you. If you fall left, it’s because you’ve given up on yourself. If you fall right it’s because your treachery has been discovered. You’re damned either way. So, Katy imagines herself on that tightrope with you. She can only make one decision. And it’s the toughest decision.”

  “I must keep walking the tightrope if I’m to survive.”

  “Correct. You see, when you’re walking a steel wire that is barely two inches thick, only you can finish the journey. Katy and I can shout instructions at you from our safe positions at your start point, but that’s not going to help you. I don’t want to change your mind or tinker with your brain. To do so would be catastrophic to your circumstance.”

  Natalia’s demeanour mellowed; her tone of voice softened. “Keep spying or fall to the devil or the deep blue sea?”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “And the other?”

  Sign rubbed his hands to get rid of peanut dust. “Petit couldn’t resist high wire acts. It was in his DNA. And when the Twin Towers were constructed, he knew he was facing his Everest. Every neuron in his body was yearning to be up there. But, was he ready? That was the question. He practised for years; had successes in the incredible Notre Dame act; and failures on low slung wires. A wire is a wire, whether it is one foot above the ground or one thousand feet high. So, on the day he embarked on the Twin Towers escapade, the thought going through his mind was did he now possess all the skills to avoid death? He did. If he’d done the crossing a year or so before, he’d have probably died.” Sign pointed at Natalia. “The problem you have is that you were put on the wire before you were ready. I’m here to safely take you off, dust you down, give you more training, and wait to see if you’re ready to put one foot in front of the other on the tightrope.”

  Natalia was confused. “I thought Katy brought you in to bully me into doing my job for MI6.”