‘Can I help you?’ asked the young receptionist.
‘Yes. I have an appointment with Susan Hillard.’
‘Your name, please?’
‘Vassily Maskhadov.’
She consulted her screen and picked up the phone. ‘She will be with you in two minutes. Do take a seat.’
In fact she arrived in less than a minute, hardly time to sit and read the first pages of the newspaper.
‘Mr. Maskhadov?’
He started and jumped to his feet, unused to hearing his cover name called out. In front of him was a pretty dark-haired woman. He shook her hand and accompanied her to a tiny lift, only just big enough for the two of them. Susan was excellent at small talk, and by the time they arrived at her office on the fourth floor he was beginning to warm to her.
She poured out tea for both. ‘Before we start, would you be happy to tell me how you got in touch with us?’
‘You were recommended by a friend of mine, Yakov Petrovich.’
‘Ah yes, he is a good client of ours. Now, how can I help?’
‘I have some important documents. I’d like you to look after them for me,’ he said, indicating his black leather briefcase.
‘That’s no problem at all. How long are we to keep them?’
He hesitated. ‘These are crucial files. Before I hand them over, could you tell me what security arrangements you have?’ Pausing, he observed the curious expression on Susan’s face. ‘When I say important, I mean life or death.’
‘Are they legally yours?’
He considered the question for a moment. ‘Yes. I compiled them for a client. Unfortunately I didn’t have a chance to finish them before coming to the UK. I am also the owner - at least until I get an opportunity to give the dossier to my client.’
‘I see,’ Susan replied in a voice which implied she didn’t see at all. ‘May I ask who your client is?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. You mentioned earlier about life or death?’
‘I did.’
She waited, but Vassily didn’t elaborate. ‘Well then Mr. Maskhadov, I can put your mind at rest regarding our security arrangements. Is there anything else you require?’
‘There is one more thing. It’s em, a delicate matter.’
‘Your friend Yakov is aware how discrete we are. We have been established for over a hundred years. We would not still be in business if we didn’t know how to carry out the wishes of our clients, no matter how sensitive.’
He nodded, accepting the reassurance. ‘If I should die before I come back to collect them, I want you to pass them to the police.’
‘Fine, we can certainly arrange that.’
‘Not to the local police station. I want them handed into Scotland Yard with this.’ He opened the briefcase and fished out a letter.
She took the envelope and checked the address. ‘That’s fine.’ She began typing on her computer, talking at the same time. ‘There are some formalities you need to complete and I will give you a client care letter confirming we now work for you. Afterwards I’ll phone for our office manager who can show you the strong room in the basement and take you to our archive store.’ She turned towards him. ‘I hope all that is satisfactory?’
‘Perfectly, thank you.’ Alexei Khostov smiled.
At the National Geospatial Intelligence Agency headquarters in Virginia, Peter Lint remembered he hadn’t heard from his trainee in a while.
‘What’s happening with your icebreaker Sarah? Did you find where it’s headed?’
Sarah glanced up at her boss as he squatted on the corner of her desk. ‘She’s named LK-80, and she hasn’t stopped yet, so I can’t even guess her destination.’
‘Any clues? Did she meet another vessel?’
Sarah shook her head and pulled up a chart of the northern coast of Russia on her screen. ‘Last time you thought she might be heading for the Pechora Sea. She pointed to the area. ‘But she transited through into the Kara Sea via the Kara strait. That’s when I became curious. Basically the ship has been following the North East Passage. Most countries avoid this route because the channel is ice-free only from August to November.’
‘Whereabouts is she now?’
‘That’s the funny thing. She changed course recently, tracking due north.’ Sarah turned back to her monitor. ‘Right now she’s at latitude 80 degrees, with the Severnaya Zemlya archipelago about 50 miles off their starboard bow.’
‘Where do you believe she’s headed?’
Sarah gestured to the map on the screen. ‘There’s nothing out there for thousands of kilometres. I mean, unless there’s a bunch of tourists on board who want to visit the North Pole.’
Peter smiled. ‘There are some tour operators who take people up there.’
‘What do you think, sir?’
Peter made a face. ‘She could be making for the Lomonosov ridge.’ He leaned over and drew his finger in a line from Russia, through the North Pole and towards Greenland.
‘I read about that,’ she replied. ‘It’s an underwater range. Russia claimed it is part of its continental territory.’
‘Correct, you’ve being doing some homework.’
Sara beamed. ‘The case is still ongoing. But the ridge extends well beyond the 200 mile economic limit from Russia’s border. If they can prove it arises from their continental shelf, they might be entitled to exploit it.’
‘Not until an accord has been signed by all the members of the Arctic Council. If the ship began to mine for oil or gas, Russia would be breaking the terms of its international treaties.’
‘I guess that would stir up many problems for the politicians involved.’
‘Right, Sarah. There’s a lot at stake for the eight member countries.’
‘Ah, sir. One more thing I ought to mention.’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve done some research about this icebreaker. She’s brand-new. In fact, she’s the first of a new class of nuclear vessels. I hear the reactor designs are new also, and largely untested.’
Peter nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’m aware you’re concerned about the safety aspect. But Russia has led the world for the last 50 years in developing reactors for their Arctic fleets. Are you saying the design is completely different from before?’
‘No, not at all. I just wanted to raise the issue; those reactors are untried.’
Peter shrugged. ‘Each new class builds on a previous class. So far they’ve got a pretty good safety record.’
‘Mm. Let’s suppose a problem developed here.’ Sarah prodded the screen ahead of the last known position of LK-80. ‘There would be next to no help available at such an isolated place.’
He examined the map. ‘I agree - you have a point.’
‘I hope I’m not overstating the issue.’
‘Not at all - you’re doing a good job Sarah. I’ll find out what assets are in the area and pass on the Intel.’
When the American embassy car came to pick them up, they sat apart on the back seat. Kellie wore an elegant short black dress with a matching lace headscarf. Sean glanced at the chauffeur, trying to gauge if he could overhear their conversation. ‘How did you sleep afterwards?’
‘Not very well.’
Yesterday had been a long day. They were at Heathrow at 5 am for their flight to Moscow. Changing at Copenhagen, they eventually landed at Sheremetyevo International at 5 pm local time. She was chatty to start with, but when they arrived at the hotel she was tired and had wanted only the briefest supper before retiring.
Five minutes after 2 am he heard a knock. He opened the door a fraction.
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ she said in a low pitched voice.
Sean took in the fetching nightie and the fact she had taken the time to put on some makeup on. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, still holding the door.
‘I’m finding it difficult to sleep.’
For a second he hesitated. If this was a ploy he would tell her to go back. However she sounded genuine en
ough, and as a representative from the Foreign Office he had his part to play. He moved to allow her in and switched on the light above the writing desk. ‘Drink?’
She followed him in and sat on the bed. ‘Please. Gin and tonic if you have it.’
From her breath, Sean guessed she had already had a couple from the personal bar in her room. He brought out the drinks, taking a diet cola for himself.
‘Are you not joining me?’
‘Early start this morning.’
Kellie groaned and put out a hand to her head. ‘I’m not used to travelling and getting up so early.’
‘You’ll be home later today.’
‘I’m cold.’
‘There’s a spare dressing gown you can wear,’ he said guardedly. He went to the wardrobe. ‘Here.’
She stood up and allowed him to help her into the sleeves, then hugged herself. ‘Would you mind if I stayed tonight?’ she asked in a mild tone. ‘You could keep me warm.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
She gave Sean a searching look. ‘You know I was divorcing Nic?’
‘No. I’m sorry to hear your marriage wasn’t working out. I was a little surprised when we met..’
‘That I wasn’t quite the grieving widow you expected?’
‘I wouldn’t say that in those terms.’
She flipped her hand. ‘But it’s what you thought. I have been, well, fairly faithful to him.’
‘I sense a but.’
Kellie paused. ‘He hasn’t always been true to me.’ The next sentence came out in a rush. ‘Recently he started to go with other men.’
The silence lingered. Sean finished his drink and placed it on the table deliberately. ‘Well, you deserve better.’
‘Do you have someone?’
‘Yes.’ He didn’t mean to sound curt, but he was tired.
She picked up her glass and downed it in one go. ‘I’m happy for you.’ She walked to the door and half-turned. ‘I’m just sorry for myself; that's all.’
After she left he went back to bed. His mind was alert now, and he couldn’t stop thinking of Natasha, wondering if she had met up with her family. Picking up his mobile, he tried to work out what time it would be in Italy. He should be entirely focused on his mission; a moment’s distraction might have serious consequences. On the other hand, it was hardly a dangerous assignment.
Sean tapped out a short text before falling into a light sleep.
see u day after tomorr
sean x
CHAPTER SIX
The American embassy chauffeur picked up Sean and Kellie. He drove in silence and Sean noticed the route took them northwest of the Kremlin.
Sean glanced at Kellie. She wore an elegant black dress and a lace veil. When the car slowed he peered out of the window. They were on Tverskoy Boulevard, approaching a red brick church. ‘This must be St. Andrew’s’ he said quietly.
She glanced at Sean. ‘Nic always claimed to be Church of England, though he never attended church at home.’
The limousine drew up to the gate and the chauffeur stepped out to open the door for Kellie. A welcoming committee of three stood in front of them.
One of them, a tall man in a black suit, came forward and introduced himself to Kellie as the funeral director. He presented the chaplain who wore a cassock and surplus. The third man wore a smart suit and was the representative from the American Embassy.
The funeral director indicated the entrance. ‘There will be a short service inside.’ He took Kellie’s elbow and gently steered her to one side. ‘Unfortunately you won’t be able to view your husband as the coffin must be sealed before being taken aboard the aircraft.’
Sean followed the group in. ‘How was he identified?’
The director turned. ‘By Nic’s manager.’ Speaking to Kellie, he said: ‘Afterwards I need you to sign some documents, and then you can accompany the coffin to the airport.’ He looked at the chaplain, and then Kellie. ‘Is there anything else you require? If not, we can proceed in to the church.’
Sean examined the environment before they entered the large wooden doors. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary in the street. As they made their way inside, the darkness of the vestibule contrasted sharply with the bright sunlight outside. He stopped for a few moments, and Kellie walked on. While he waited for his eyes to adjust, Sean checked the corners of the church. A tall figure knelt in a pew on the opposite aisle, his head drooping from the shoulders. Sean’s pulse quickened.
Elsewhere the church was empty, except for a small group in an aisle near the altar. Sean assumed they were colleagues from Nic’s oil company, coming to pay their respects.
The chaplain entered from the sacristy and began the ceremony. Prayers were said, and at one point a wheezy organ lead the small congregation in hymns. The whole service lasted no more than 20 minutes. Afterwards Kellie was taken into the sacristy to sign the papers.
Sean made his way out, and the embassy representative approached. ‘I’m afraid I have to hurry back for a meeting. Please convey my deep condolences to Mrs Tyler.’
‘I will. There seems to be a lot of confusion over his death,’ Sean observed.
‘Yes, it’s unfortunate’ he replied, offering no explanation.
‘What can you tell me about the circumstances?’
The man transferred his weight from one foot to another as he spoke. ‘Not much. He was found by a reindeer herder several miles from the town. I think it was the next day before they got an ambulance out to him. When they brought him to the mortuary it took a while to locate someone from his workplace.’
‘How did he get to be so far out of the town?’
He squinted at his watch. ‘I can only assume he walked.’
‘That would rather imply he wanted to commit suicide.’
‘Er, yes. I believe it does.’
‘But no suicide note was found.’
‘No, none I’m aware of.’
‘It would be simpler to take an overdose.’
He nodded. ‘It would, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than I’ve told you already.’
‘Just one last question. What was the cause of death?’
The man stared at the ground, as if tired of all the questions. ‘The post-mortem confirmed heart failure following extreme hypothermia. I’m sorry, I really do have to go.’ He shook Sean’s hand and headed for his car.
A few moments later the funeral director appeared with Kellie. ‘I’ve arranged for a cortege to the airport. Mrs Tyler and Mr Quinlan will follow the hearse in our car.’ He indicated a black Zil behind. ‘I’ve placed all your husband’s effects in a bag next to the coffin.’ He faced Kellie. ‘You will need to present both yours and your deceased husband’s passport at the airport.’ He grasped Kellie’s hand in both of his. ‘I’m really sorry for your loss Mrs Tyler. I hope you have a good flight home.’
A shadow fell in front of Sean and he turned. The person at the back of the church was standing nearby. Sean motioned to the director. ‘Please see Mrs Tyler to the car. I won’t be long.’ He watched as the director put a comforting arm around Kellie to guide her.
‘Sean.’ The man’s voice was a bass grumble.
‘Serge.’ Sean nodded, wondering what he knew about his mission in Vienna.
Zlotnik hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind at the last moment. ‘Have a safe journey.’
‘Why are you here Serge?’
‘Do you have him?’
‘Who?’
He looked to one side, as if Sean was already trying his patience. ‘We both know who.’
Sean shrugged.
‘Where is Khostov?’
‘If I knew, you would be the last person I would tell.’ Sean began to walk away.
‘Careful Quinlan.’
The warning tone in his voice stopped him in his tracks.
Arctic Firepath (Sean Quinlan Book 2) Page 5
