by Greg Wilson
Best to let bygones be bygones. Let the past rest in peace, look the other way and move on. So long, of course, as it was agreed everyone would play by the same rules.
Nikolai reached the end of the corridor and let himself into the apartment using the code. Not the same code as before: it had been changed more than likely a dozen times since then. Instead he used the code Zalisko had obtained for him as part of the price they had agreed in their telephone conversation two weeks before… Zalisko from Samara, the first friend of only two he had made in his nine-year journey through hell.
Tracking him down after so long had been easier than Nikolai had expected but that was because Hartman’s connections were his connections now as well; all Nikolai had to do was ask. Since the Senate hearing and the blitzkrieg of publicity that had followed, Hartman had been deluged with requests for advice from law enforcement agencies and corporations of every kind and it had been that reaction, reinforced by Kelly’s prompting, that had led him to set up the security consultancy in which he had made Nikolai his equal partner.
So he had been able to return to Russia using his own name, with a clean record, a new nationality, a new career and money in the bank. Perhaps not a lot of money by American standards, but enough. Enough to provide for Larisa and to pay their share of the rent. More than enough for Zalisko and everything else he needed here, now that he was back in Moscow again.
Nikolai stepped inside and eased the door silently shut behind him.
Vari wasn’t here, he knew that. By all accounts he hardly came here at all these days since, according to Zalisko’s contacts, he now spent most of his time in the apartment above the club. But he would come tonight when he received the message, Nikolai had no doubt about that.
He crossed to the window looking out across the city. It was dark outside. Dark and snowing, the flakes drifting down through the air, veiling all the crudeness and the ugliness, draping everything but the golden domes and spires of the Kremlin cathedrals in a molten carpet of white. From where he stood before the wall of glass that led out to the balcony, it occurred to Nikolai that he could have been looking into a crystal snow globe enclosing an imaginary world of purity and light.
The last time he had been here he was on the inside but now he stood somewhere beyond, the swirling storm of the past settling further every day. Patrushev and Stephasin, dead. Vitaly Kolbasov, dead. Malcolm Powell, ruined and disgraced, indicted on charges of securities fraud, residing now in the Danbury Federal Correctional Institute, bail denied pending trial, those of his assets that had so far been located confiscated while the FBI and the Department of Justice waited in line behind the SEC for their turn at the carcass. And Marat Ivankov?
In the wake of Hartman’s testimony the stock he was believed to control in a dozen US corporations had been frozen by the SEC pending a full investigation of Hartman’s claims. If Hartman’s people were right he would most likely end up being indicted and convicted in his absence but so long as he stayed well away from America the only damage he was likely to suffer would be to his wallet and his reputation. Nikolai had thought about that. A lot. It was one of the reasons he had returned.
He made his way across to the high-backed leather swivel chair facing the television on the far side of the room, standing there for a moment, looking down, then turning away.
One of the reasons. There were others as well.
Yesterday, after three days of searching records and being shoved from one uncooperative government department to the next, they had finally located Natalia’s grave.
She had been buried by the State in a pauper’s cemetery near the Monastery of the Savior and Andronicus beside the railway line on the banks of the canal. He and Larisa had gone there together that morning while Kelly stayed back at the hotel, understanding that however much she had come to care for both of them it wasn’t her place to intrude on the past. Her place was in the present, she’d told Nikolai as they lay together the night before, and if the present worked out, then maybe the future as well. The past was another world, she’d whispered as her finger traced the lines of the citadel scored across his chest. A world in which she could never join him and it would have been wrong of her, and disrespectful of Natalia, for her to try.
It had been Nikolai’s intention to have Natalia taken somewhere else – somewhere he and Larisa chose for her – as if it would take that act for her to know for certain that they had found one another and her as well. But the little cemetery, despite, or perhaps because of, its lack of pretense turned out to be a strangely serene and beautiful place, and as they stood beside her grave with its simple marker, surrounded by the sprawling magic carpet of snow, it had been Larisa who said what he had been thinking himself.
“She knows we’re here. I can feel it. I think she’s happy here, Daddy. Let’s not disturb her.”
So they didn’t. They turned away and started to go and then Larisa remembered something and ran back again, pulling a small round bundle from her coat and when he turned around Nikolai saw her nestling Boris the bear into the snow beneath the cross.
So now the past was settling. Soon Vari would be here and then it would settle further still.
Nikolai heard the sound of the door and turned to face it.
Vari Vlasenko’s thick form was silhouetted for a moment against the corridor light then his hand rose to the switch and his jaw fell open with surprise as he saw Nikolai standing on the other side of the room.
“Niko!”
Nikolai smiled. “Hello, old friend. I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.”
Vari’s brow tightened in puzzlement, his brain working frantically behind his dark eyes. “How?”
Nikolai appeared bemused. “You gave me the code, remember?”
Vari’s eyes narrowed. He shook his head, cautious. “It’s changed. It’s a different code.”
“Is it really?” Nikolai pretended surprise. “I didn’t notice.”
Vari hesitated, his expression wary. He eased the door gently shut behind him. Shrugged out of his black leather coat and tossed it across the back of a chair.
He hunched his shoulders, rubbing his hands together, trying to appear unconcerned. “It’s cold in here, no?” He shuffled across to the sideboard and picked up the remote to work the heating. His lips rose in a tight smile. “So… What brings you back here, Niko?”
Nikolai regarded him. “What do you think brings me back here?”
Vari reached for a bottle of vodka and spun the lid, holding it up and turning back to Nikolai, his brows raised in question.
Nikolai smiled. “For old times’ sake. Why not?” He waited as Vari poured then took the glass, matching the other man’s sip with one of his own. Vari inspected him again, wrestling aside his distraction.
“You look good, Niko. America has been kind to you.” Nikolai nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps not as kind yet as Russia has been to you, old friend.”
There was a cigar box on the sideboard. Vari flicked the lid and examined its contents. Made his selection and lit it slowly, playing for time, Nikolai presumed. He drew in the smoke, held it a long moment then let it escape. Pushed out the last of it in a long steady stream. “So you know about my new business arrangement then?”
Nikolai nodded. “I know.”
Vari shrugged. “We screwed him, Nikolai. We screwed Ivankov. You should be pleased.”
Nikolai blinked slowly. “Who exactly is ‘we’, old friend?”
Vari regarded him a moment then tossed his head. “Just people. You wouldn’t know them. People I met down south.” He changed the subject. “I heard what happened. You know you’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.”
“You sent Bukovsky.” Nikolai smiled. “I assumed that. I’m just not absolutely sure why.”
“Bukovsky?” Vari drew on the cigar again. “Is that what he called himself?” He drained his glass; turned to refill it. “Why? I didn’t want you dead, that’s why.”
Nikolai pondered the answer
. “You didn’t want me dead? Or you didn’t want Hartman dead?”
Vari shrugged. “What do you think?”
Nikolai swirled his vodka. Took another sip. “I think you didn’t want Hartman dead. I think you wanted him to have a chance to expose Ivankov because you were hoping that would finish him off and then you would never have to make your final payment.” Vari smiled. “So you know about that? You’re well informed. And smart, little brother. But then you always have been. And you know what? It worked. Not quite as well as I planned but well enough. In the end he needed money so he settled on a third of the original price.”
Nikolai nodded slowly. “And so now, you run everything.”
Vari shrugged. “Pretty much. You should be grateful, little brother. Think about it. I got rid of Kolbasov. I brought Ivankov to his knees. I got you and Larisa safely out to America. What more could you ask?”
“When?” Nikolai asked quietly.
“When what?” Vari’s eyebrows arched in question.
Nikolai blinked. “When did you get the disease, Vari? When did you decide to sell me out?”
The older man looked aside, chewing on the cigar. “The exact moment?” He thought about it, drawing back on the past.
“I suppose the first I thought about it was at the bar that day after I picked you up from the meeting with Hartman. I was sitting there listening to everything you told me they’d promised you. The new identity. The house. Money. And all the time there was this voice inside me saying, ‘And what do you get, Vari? You get nothing. You get to stay here in Moscow with your crappy job and your lousy pay, making ends meet by moonlighting for the CIA. This is crazy!’”
He grimaced a second at the reflection.
“But then I’m being too honest. Even you would realize, Niko, that was just a natural reaction in the circumstances. Anyone would have those thoughts. So, I packed them all away in the little dark box you carry those things around in and I took you home and left you at your apartment and that’s where it would all have ended, except a couple of hours later I get this panic call from Hartman telling me all his plans have turned to shit, and now he needs my help to pull you out of the fire.
“So I go and meet him like he asks and then – I can’t believe it – he tells me he’s quitting the CIA. Just walking out! And all he’s concerned about is you, because he’s made you a promise; given you his word.” A flare of anger lit the older man’s eyes. “So what about the promises he’d made to me? No sooner is he back in Moscow than he looks me up and gives me his offer. It’s going to be just like old times, he tells me. The two of us working together like we did when he was here ten years before. He needs people, he tells me, people like me he can trust. He’ll put me on the payroll and I’ll pick up two, maybe three thousand a month, and we’ll be working together like the old days, except now he’s got the power, so this time we’ll really be able to make a difference. And he guarantees he’ll be there to cover my back. Anything ever goes wrong, he’ll look after me.” Vari’s face creased in a cynical smile. “And you know what, Niko? I went for it. I bought the whole bullshit package because I needed to believe in something. Because everything else I’d ever believed in had turned to crap!”
He tossed his hands apart, a shower of ash from his cigar tracing through the air. Nikolai watched the gleaming embers turn to gray dust as they fell.
“So what happens?… There I am, screwed again. I’ve gone out on a limb for him, climbed out even further for you, and now I’m left there swinging in the breeze and no one gives a rat’s. Not even a second thought.”
The older man paused, his voice falling softer.
“That was when it really happened, Niko. I think up until then I would have let it go, but now he expects me to risk everything to get you out and what about me? Fuck me. I’m on my own!” He shrugged. “So he begs me to help him.” A tight smile pulled at the older man’s lips. “And I think about it. I consider all the options and I decide it’s time to change my life. Time to look after myself because I’m the only one who cares a fuck what happens to me!”
Nikolai regarded him through a long moment. “The shooter in the park? You were behind that?”
Vari’s face soured in a frown of distaste. “Once I’d made the decision I had to, Niko. I didn’t have any other choice. I’d crossed over. Only you and I knew where the tapes were.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Once I’d made up my mind, that was the only option. While I was organizing things for Hartman I set up the contract. Hartman had given me the details of the pick-up so it was easy. All I had to do was let my guy know so he could wait until Hartman arrived and you came downstairs to let him in.”
Nikolai drew a breath. “And Hartman would have thought it was Ivankov who was behind it.”
Vari winked. “I told you you’re smart.” His grin faded to a frown. “But then, of course, it didn’t work exactly as I’d planned, did it? Ivankov’s American connections must have passed on the details of Hartman’s plan to pull you out so he was already ahead of the game. He must have brought in Stephasin and then Stephasin must have called in the MVD, but still…” he shrugged the allowance, “it wasn’t a complete disaster.”
“You mean you were still able to get the tapes.”
Vari had had enough of the cigar. He stubbed it out but it didn’t die. A thick curl of smoke continued to trail from the quartz ashtray. “You may not believe me but the rest of it, Niko, is pretty much as I told you before. I raced around to your place as soon as Natalia called. I hadn’t heard anything from the guy who was supposed to look after you. I tried to call him but his phone was off. To tell you the truth I was expecting to find you dead, but when I got there the place was wall to fucking wall MVD.” He blew out a breath. “I admit, that was a shock.”
Nikolai regarded him impassively. “But you managed to get the tapes anyway?”
Vari cast his hands apart. “Using the doctor. Just like I told you. That was all true. Exactly the way it happened.”
“And then what? Were you going to try and cut your own deal with the Americans?”
“You think I’m crazy?” Vari stared at him in dismay. “I go to all that trouble to make them think it’s Ivankov who’s killed you, then I do that?” He let out a hollow laugh. “Besides, you forget, they weren’t buying and I had no one to sell to. Hartman had gone. Anyway,” he shrugged. “Even if they’d changed their minds, I knew any offer they might have come up with would have been chickenshit compared to Ivankov.”
Nikolai blinked. “So that was always your plan? To blackmail Ivankov?”
The older man grinned. “That was the plan and it worked. Like I said, most of the rest of what I told you was the truth. The guy he sent to the bar. His meeting with me at the Tretyakov Gallery. It all happened just like I told you, Niko. The only thing I didn’t explain to you was that Ivankov knew exactly where I stood. He hadn’t tried to take you out. Hartman wouldn’t have, so who else could it have been? He knew it was me.”
Nikolai nodded slowly. “So you cut a deal. He set you up in Bulgaria and you kept the tapes as insurance.”
‘See?” Vari grinned with delight. “You really are smart.”
Nikolai blinked. “And Natalia?”
Vari’s eyes flickered an instant. “I tried to get her to come with me just like I told you, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let go. She was pushing and probing everywhere.”
“So she was disposed of. Overdosed on heroin.”
The older man studied the floor. “It could have been much worse for her, little brother. You saw what they did to Gilmanov.”
Nikolai’s hands closed to fists at his side. He fought to keep his voice steady. “And after that? Larisa?”
Vari drained his glass. “I tried to take her back with me to Sofia but they wouldn’t allow it. You have to remember, Niko, I still had the tapes. They still didn’t trust me. Handing her over to Vitaly to look after was Ivankov’s idea. A precaution. A card in his hand. That was always his sty
le, Niko. Take the cards when you can. You never know when you might need them. So…” he drew a breath, ‘there was nothing more I could do. I went back to Sofia and made a lot of money. Then, after a few years when everything had settled down, I moved back here to Moscow again.”
Nikolai’s lips set in a grim smile. “And when they decided they had to get rid of Hartman, they arranged for me to escape.”
Vari’s face rose in a wry smile. “It was clever, you have to admit that. It would have been a lot more difficult to manage if you and the old man hadn’t already come up with your plan, but as it happened everything worked out perfectly. The rest of it, I think you pretty much know.”
Nikolai set down his glass and thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. A trace of caution fell across Vari’s eyes. Nikolai held his gaze as he spoke. “They wanted Hartman dead and they intended to make it look as if I’d killed him. They assumed I would come to you since I had nowhere else to go. Your job was to reunite me with my daughter then deliver us to Kolbasov’s people in New York. After that they knew they could do whatever they wanted with me. If I didn’t go along with it, all they would have to do was take Larisa. They knew I would do anything rather than risk losing her again.”
Vari’s silence was an adequate response.
“One thing I’m curious about,” Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “Trading the tapes for Larisa. I realize that was important for credibility, but what did they pay you in the end?”
Vari ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “Over time I got a lot, Niko. I milked Ivankov for all I could and I turned it into more. A lot more. One thing I have to say for him is that he always treated our arrangement as business. In the end? Maybe you won’t believe me but in the end I didn’t ask for anything more. I didn’t need anything more.” His eyes flicked up to Nikolai’s. “It was over as far as I was concerned. I’d kept my word. I’d never released the tapes. I had my fortune and you had paid for it. The least I owed you was to help you get your daughter back again. Think about it, Niko. There was no way that could ever have happened if we hadn’t played their game.” Behind them the floodlight on the dome of the Redeemer Cathedral turned on suddenly, scattering the room with a golden glow.
