Charles Cumming - The hidden man

‘He’s retiring. He’s bought some property in Spain. He doesn’t like the weather in Latvia and wants to build his own house south of Granada. Why?’

Instantly, Ben said, ‘Well, you could use that.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You could rob him of his dream.’ In the tight confines ofthe bathroom Ben was rushing on sheer adrenalin, eager to help out. ‘If Randall needs evidence on Kukushkin from within, Duchev would be the man to give it to him. They could recruit him as an agent, threatening to take away the land…’

‘What?’ Mark looked appalled. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘Just that. Just what I was saying.’

‘Have you done a line, brother?’

‘Of course I haven’t done a line. You think I’d do coke before something like this…?’

Mark was shaking his head, an exhausted, disappointed smile.

‘This was a big mistake, bringing you in on this. I didn’t realize how fucked you’d get. I don’t know what I was thinking…’

‘What?’

‘I should never have got you involved.’

Ben came towards him.

‘You got me involved because you can’t do this thing on your own. You need me to help you out, to do it for Dad…’

‘No.’ Mark was intractable. ‘I don’t need you to help me out. It’s not safe. I asked you along tonight so you could see the Russians for yourself, to prove to you that Bone’s letter was a fake. I didn’t get you along so that you could start playing I Spy like it’s a game or something. The two of us just being in here is bad enough. You shouldn’t have followed me from the table.’

Ben turned away, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

‘You’re drunk, brother,’ he said. ‘You’re paranoid.’

‘I am not drunk, Benjamin. I am not paranoid. You just need to calm down.’ Mark was very careful not to raise his voice. ‘Do you know anything about Duchev? Do you realize how dumb it would be to try to recruit someone like that? This is one of Kukushkin’s most trusted employees. This is a guy who, four years ago, took a leading Moscow mafioso into the countryside in the boot of a car, found a nice isolated spot, chopped off his fingers, hammered out his teeth and then set fire to his vehicle. The bloke was still alive. That was just a job for Kukushkin, a favour. All in a day’s work. That’s what I’m dealing with, brother. This is the kind of person I’m up against.’

‘What about Tamarov?’

‘What about Tamarov? Go back to your paints and charcoals. He’s just sussing you out. Can’t you see that? He’s sussing both of us out. These guys, they value loyalty and honour above everything else. You make friends with him and he’ll become fucking depraved if he realizes what we’re up to. A man like Tamarov is either your best fucking friend in the world or the worst mistake you ever made. That’s what I need you to bear in mind so that you don’t fuck this thing up.’

‘You should get out of this,’ Ben said calmly. ‘I can see you’re not…’

Mark flashed him a look of contempt.

‘Drop it,’ he hissed.

‘All I said was that d’Erlanger went to Moscow. That’s all I came in here to tell you.’

‘And?’ Mark’s hand was coiled into a fist, leaning on the bathroom sink. ‘You think that’s big news? What do you think MI5 do all day if they’re not tracking — ’

He did well to stop talking as quickly as he did. The internal door of the bathroom had shifted fractionally in a movement of air created by someone entering on the other side. When Tamarov came into the room his eyes narrowed in the brighter light and he stopped in his tracks. He looked first at Mark, then at Ben, and said, ‘Everything OK?"

Ben let his brother do the talking.

‘Oh, fine,’ Mark replied. ‘Fine. We’re just having a chat about one of the girls. You all right, Vladimir?’

‘Not too bad,’ Tamarov said, standing with his back to them at the urinal.

‘Good.’

‘So you like one of the girls?’

He had twisted his neck round and directed the question at Ben.

‘That’s right,’ Ben replied, falling gratefully in to the lie. His pulse was sprinting like rain and he hardly dared look at Mark. ‘Her name’s Ayesha. The one with Philippe. She’s nice, eh?’

‘Very beautiful, yes. I could tell you liked her. We are talking, Mark, and your brother is very interesting on the subject of modern art. But his eyes they keep moving to this girl. He cannot take them off her.’ Tamarov laughed, zipping up his flies. ‘But you have a problem, I think. Philippe is very drunk and he is carrying a lot of cash. You will have trouble persuading her to leave him.’

Ben smiled — though it looked to Mark more like a grimace — and did his best to keep up the charade.

‘Oh, that’s OK,’ he said. ‘One dance is enough for me. Besides, I’m married, Vladimir, and that American girl took me a bit by surprise.’

‘Yes,’ Tamarov said, washing his hands at the sink. ‘By surprise. Perhaps this is what you were talking about when I came in.’

There was a dreadful silence, the sound of taps and muffled music, and they left the bathroom together. Mark allowed Ben to walk ahead of them and tried to gather his composure. They were at a set of double doors leading backinto the club when Tamarov took hold of his arm.

‘Come with me to the bar,’ he said. ‘I want to speak to you in private.’

‘Sure,’ Mark replied coolly. He desperately wanted water, ice, something to take the dryness from the roof of his mouth. They were moving through the darkened VIP area, Ben up ahead and girls on all sides dancing in the laps of half-hidden men.

‘What will you have?’ Tamarov asked him at the bar.

‘Just something soft,’ Mark replied. He was still irritated by Ben. ‘I have to be up early in the morning.’

Tamarov ordered two Cokes and jerked his head contemptuously in Macklin’s direction.

‘Thomas must also be awake early tomorrow,’ he said, looking across at the table. ‘We have important series of meetings on Saturday, no? But I think he does not care.’

‘Oh, Tom’s all right,’ Mark said, thinking that a display of loyalty would play in his favour. ‘He just likes a drink from time to time. Likes to let his hair down.’

The barman set down two Cokes on the bar and Tamarov paid him with a stiff fifty-pound note. Then he trained his eyes on Mark, saying, ‘What has he told you about me? About who I am?’

Mark didn’t flinch.

‘That you’re a lawyer.’

‘But by now you understand how business works in my country? You understand that in order for your operation to succeed it has been necessary for Thomas and Sebastian to make certain arrangements?’

‘Sure,’ Mark said casually. ‘I understand that.’

Tamarov moved his mouth slowly from side to side, like a man tasting expensive wine.

‘So I want to speak to you privately today because we have not met before tonight and there are matters on my conscience that I need to discuss with you.’

‘On your conscience,’ Mark repeated.

‘Let me be clear.’ Tamarov straightened his back and swallowed a mouthful of Coke. ‘Your father was working for Sebastian at the time of his death. I am aware of this. We were all aware of it. This is how business is done.’

‘I’m not sure I’m following you.’

‘What I want to say is this.’ Now he reached out and put his hand on the shoulder of Mark’s jacket. It was like being touched by a priest. ‘When I heard about your father’s murder, I was shocked. It came to me as a surprise. It came to all of us as a surprise. Do you understand what I am telling you?’

For a time there was nothing between them but pop music and distant, idle chatter. Girls in peripheral vision and Mark calculating all the time. Under pressure, he made a decision.