Jack Grimwood - Moskva

‘Who is this man, Mary?’

‘ Vor v zakone , sir. Mafia, with connections.’

Sir Edward kept his gaze on her and waited to see if she had anything else to add. When she didn’t, he said, ‘By connections, I’m assuming you mean high-level protectors. Why would anyone murder the child of a gangster with connections?’

‘Maybe his protector’s no longer so powerful,’ Tom said. ‘Perhaps it’s revenge, and the killer’s been waiting for this moment. Apparently the Politburo’s at war with itself. The Soviets are big on fighting wars through proxies. Beziki’s definitely a proxy. Maybe whoever killed his son is too…’

‘Beziki said that?’ Mary’s gaze sharpened. ‘About the Politburo?’

‘As good as.’

‘Interesting choice of location for the body.’

‘Very, sir.’ Mary Batten agreed.

‘You’d better tell Mary how this connects to Alex.’

From the look on her face, Mary was already busy joining the dots between the ambassador’s stepdaughter being missing and Beziki’s son being dead, and not liking where those thoughts led her at all.

‘What Sir Edward’s been keeping private,’ Tom said, ‘is that he received a second note. Not from Alex this time. It contained…’ Tom glanced at the ambassador. ‘I’m not sure what it contained.’

‘When did this one arrive, sir?’

Sir Edward looked worried. ‘Just after Tom told Anna and me about the fire.’

Tom thought of Black Sammy, the Sad Sam cat, hanging flayed in his kitchen, felt the bile rise in his throat and decided he should tell these two about that too.

Mary looked grim.

And Sir Edward… Tom spent the rest of that evening replaying Sir Edward’s reaction. The blood drained from his face. There was no other way to describe it. The man went pale, and he gripped his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

For a moment, Tom thought he might cry.

‘You don’t tell my wife,’ he said finally. There was a quiet fury in his voice. A steeliness, as if a blade had just been unsheathed. ‘This isn’t something Anna needs to know. You keep it to yourself.’

‘Sir…’ Tom protested.

‘I’m serious, Fox.’

‘But at least tell me what the note said.’

‘It’s secret. I mean that. As in, I don’t know your security clearance off the top of my head, but I very much doubt this is something you’re authorized to know.’

To Mary, the ambassador said, ‘Get me a line to London.’ He nodded towards his door and his secretary beyond. ‘Don’t leave it to Grace. I want you to place the call yourself. Fox, you can go. Mary, you’d better stay behind.’

Tom left. Fury at being cut out of the conversation followed him like a cloud.

In the three days that followed Tom heard nothing from Sir Edward, had his request to see Mary Batten turned down and was invited to supper by Beziki on the afternoon of the third day. Partly out of bloody-mindedness, mostly because he was fucked if he was going to be condescended to by Sir Edward, he asked Anna Masterton if she’d like to come too. He didn’t mention the cat, though.

The place Beziki suggested was shut for refurbishment, according to a sign outside. The shutters were closed, right enough. And the scaffolding on Gorky Street had made Tom wonder if he and Anna had come to the right place.

They had. Inside, chandeliers glittered, candles flickered and the tables were laid with cloth and silver. On the wall, an engraving showed three hunters cross-legged on grass. They wore muted robes, heavy beards and criss-crossed cartridge belts. The man who handed Tom a wine list could have been their grandson.

‘Has Alex’s relationship with Sir Edward always been difficult?’

‘She took her father’s death badly.’

‘So you mentioned. It was recent?’

‘Alex was six. We were divorcing anyway.’

Empty Shampanskoye glasses stood in front of them. These had been hurried across the moment they entered. But no one had offered a refill and Anna was jumpy enough to leave if Erekle Gabashville didn’t arrive soon.

‘More wine?’ Tom asked.

At her suggestion, he ordered a Tsinandali, which arrived in an ice bucket with a crisp napkin over the top. Tom sniffed the dribble he was poured and nodded to say it was fine, waiting for Anna to take the first sip.

‘How polite,’ she said.

‘Shouldn’t you be somewhere?’

She hesitated on the edge of taking a second sip.

‘I mean…’ Tom looked at his Omega, a present from Caro, as were his cufflinks. As was his shirt come to that. ‘Seven thirty on a Wednesday night. Isn’t there bridge, or something? An embassy wives’ committee to attend?’

‘Don’t be a shit. Edward’s in meetings. Everyone’s in meetings. Well…’ She shrugged. ‘Everyone who matters.’

‘I’m not.’

‘There you go.’

‘He’ll ask how your evening was and you’ll say fine?’

‘Something like that. I won’t lie. But I’m not going to volunteer information unless he asks for specifics.’

‘Tell me again…’

‘I had a call from a militsiya major. Svetlana something. Her English was perfect. Her manner less so. She said she’d heard my daughter was delinquent. And a foreign teenager answering Alex’s description was shoplifting in GUM.’

‘Why didn’t they stop her?’

‘Alex has embassy credentials, for God’s sake. She isn’t even officially missing. Edward won’t tell the Soviets and he won’t tell me why. Maybe the major was just being kind and thought I should know?’

‘What did you do?’

‘Went straight to GUM, obviously.’

Three hundred yards long, a hundred yards wide, three storeys high and roofed in glass, the department store had a hundred and fifty shops selling nothing very much and four hundred thousand people a day looking to buy it. Finding someone in there who didn’t want to be found would be damn near impossible.

‘Any sign?’

‘Nothing,’ Anna admitted. ‘I’d just got back when you called to ask if I wanted to go to supper. You didn’t say we’d be meeting someone else.’

‘Did you get the major’s number?’

She scowled as if he was the one changing the subject. ‘No. I should have done. But I was so excited someone had seen Alex… I know it’s stupid. It’ll be the first thing my husband asks.’

Alex in GUM? Shoplifting?

If she’d simply run away with her boyfriend and they were both at large, then possibly. But Tom figured her boyfriend was dead, killed in that fire. And Alex, well, wherever Alex was, he doubted very much she was wandering department stores. Although the shoplifting was a nice touch.

It’s what delinquent Western girls would do.

Tom wondered who was winding Sir Edward and Anna up and why. He’d barely done more than consider the question before the manager hurried from behind his counter and headed for the door. He helped Erekle Gabashville out of a full-length sable and folded the fur coat carefully over his arm. Tom rose to meet him.

‘What’s she doing here?’

‘You should meet her.’

The man’s eyes flicked to Anna, who sat very still and looked so serene she had to know she was being discussed. All signs of her earlier jumpiness were gone. Tom couldn’t help being impressed.

‘How should I name her. Lady Anna?’

Tom nodded. It would do.

She was Anna, Lady Masterton.

Tom didn’t believe it mattered. Caro would though.

But then Caro was Lady Caroline Fox, daughter of an earl. She wouldn’t revert to her maiden name when they divorced. She’d regard that as common. She’d remain Lady Caroline Fox until she became Lady Caroline Someone-Else.