Alex Dryden - Red to Black

She begins to clear away the empty plates and Adrian almost shouts, ‘Get it now, for Christ’s sake!’

She flees from the room and Adrian drains his glass like some medieval monarch in a fifties movie. And then he fills his glass again and holds out the bottle towards Finn, but Finn hasn’t touched his first glass yet.

‘You’re in a wasteful mood,’ Adrian says. ‘First you waste your life and then, much more importantly, in my opinion, you waste this very decent wine. Never mind, I’ll be glad to finish it alone.’

And he does just that.

They leave Boodles after Adrian has made a long, staccato phone call on his mobile phone from the entrance to the club. It has started to drizzle outside, just in time for Wimbledon, Adrian says cheerily to a passing member.

A doorman takes them down the steps carrying an umbrella, which Adrian, as the most formidable party, gets most of the benefit from, and they step into Adrian’s car which draws up as soon as the surprised driver sees him waving his arms like a madman from the top of the steps.

There isn’t far to drive, they could have walked, really; up to Piccadilly and past the Ritz to the entrance to Green Park underground station. The drizzle has set in as Adrian’s driver opens the door for him, umbrella at the ready, and Finn slides across the seat and out on to the pavement.

The two of them enter Green Park and Finn sees the deckchairs that have been out for summer lunchtimes the day before are now packed and stored away in their wooden boxes.

There is the mist of light rain up in the summer greenness of the trees’ leaves and Adrian’s umbrella bounces against the umbrella of another who’s travelling with equal purpose and equal lack of care. Adrian makes no attempt to offer Finn any shelter underneath it.

They take a right fork along another path and walk at a diagonal across the park towards the walls of Buckingham Palace and Adrian’s Queen. Adrian is angry. He’s angry that he ever hired Finn in the first place, angry that he doesn’t control Finn, angry that Finn might even end up damaging his credibility. He’s angry like those Russians, standing on the podium for the great march past of Soviet military might. He’s angry that, no matter how much effort he puts in, how red his face gets, he cannot control everything. Human beings keep getting in the way. He’s angry that he doesn’t have a barren depeopled world to control.

They head towards the trees in the centre of the park. But as they close on a park bench away from the paths that criss-cross the area, Finn sees there’s a man sitting there, with his back to them. He’s wearing a kind of pork-pie hat and a black shapeless coat and Finn seems to recognise his back.

They come around to the front of the bench and Finn sees this is where they’re stopping, to meet this man. And then Finn sees it is Lev.

‘Hello, Finn,’ Lev says, without moving, and ignoring Adrian.

‘Lev,’ Finn says.

Finn doesn’t know whether to be disappointed that Lev has been talking to Adrian, even though it was inevitable.

‘Tell him,’ Adrian says.

Finn sits down next to Lev and Adrian stands in front, a little too close, and looks angry while the rain drips off the edges of his umbrella on to Finn’s head.

‘Are they offering me more money?’ he asks Lev in an attempt at light-heartedness.

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘Ten million not enough?’ Adrian snaps. ‘More than I’ll earn in a bloody lifetime, you wanker.’

‘Well, it was only dollars, Adrian,’ Finn says, and sees that Adrian would now really like to have him on his own, in a soundproofed room.

‘I can tell you who’s behind the offer, the bribe, the payment-call it what you like,’ Lev says. ‘It’s not the Russians, not anyone from Russia, either.’

‘Oh?’

‘The offer comes from a bank,’ Lev says, and he gives Finn the name of the bank and Finn’s lost for a second in confusion. ‘But this bank represents a whole consortium of banks,’ Lev continues. ‘All of them, like this one, are American. You were being offered the money by American banks to stop your investigation, not by the Russians.’

Finn notices the past tense.

‘These all-American banks have deposits of Russian cash, some legal, most not, which amount to hundreds of billions of dollars. If the origins of this cash are brought into doubt, if the cash is shown to be laundered or illegal in some way, there will be big turmoil, Finn. The flies on Wall Street say that, if these deposits are shown to be of questionable legality, it could bring the whole edifice tumbling down. They talk of financial meltdown, the sums are so great. So the legality of this money cannot be questioned.’

‘Get it?’ Adrian says to Finn. ‘The financial system of America tumbling down.’

‘But what about Europe?’ Finn asks Adrian. ‘Isn’t that where we live?’

‘You’re even more of a fucking fool than I thought,’ Adrian says.

Lev puts his hand on Finn’s knee.

‘Listen, Finn. America is the hope, the future, for your country and for mine. It always has been and maybe always will be. Not Europe. Europe is all but lost. You know that from your investigations in Germany. Europe is riddled with collaborators, Europe’s assets are being handed over to the Russians bit by bit. In Europe they’ll be able to hold off the KGB for a while, but not for long. There’s not the will. America is the only power strong enough, and willing enough, to stand up to the Kremlin. That’s why we have to look to the Americans, not Europe. It’s just about money, Finn, that’s all. It’s about the power of money and we can be glad that the Americans have the sense not just to see that, but to act on it. They hold the Russian loot in America, that’s good. It’s got to go somewhere, and we’re better off that it’s there. But if you or anyone tries to tamper with that, the flies are right. It will bring down the system, there’s too much money involved. Your ten-million-dollar offer represents less than petty cash compared to the cash deposits we’re talking about, deposits whose origins, if brought into question, can bring down the whole house. You don’t want that, do you, any more than me or Adrian or our countries do?’

‘It’s the kind of thinking that makes a lot of sense when there are no human beings in the way,’ Finn answers him. ‘Let the KGB make mincemeat of the European economy and institutions, and in the process build up a richer, more powerful America.

‘The Cold War’s back on, that should please Adrian,’ he says, looking at Adrian. ‘But this time the front line is really going to crumble, right? Europe doesn’t matter any longer. Why didn’t you tell me?’ Finn says facetiously to Adrian.

But Adrian ignores Finn and walks to a nearby tree and makes a phone call. When he comes back, he looks at Finn.

‘It only remains for me to decide what’s to be done with you,’ he says, as if he’s the headmaster talking to a prep school boy who’s posted a turd through his letter box. And then he stares back at Finn in his victory. ‘I don’t know if we can afford to have you wandering about any more. Not with all this shit you’ve managed to vomit up. Perhaps you’ll turn out to be insane,’ he says mysteriously, as if insane is a colour he’s considering for his new bathroom. ‘That would keep you quiet.’ And now Adrian’s warming to his happy thoughts of revenge. ‘And then there’s your girl, isn’t there. Your wife, isn’t she? The Russian hooker. I bet she gives good head in uniform. That what you like about her, is it?’

He looks at Finn, hoping he might lunge at him, so he can chop him down with some specialist move, and then kick him half to death. But Finn remains calm.