Brian Freemantle - Kings of Many Castles

“Nothing wrong at all,” agreed Charlie, quickly. “How many trips did he need, to get everything up?”

“Two. He took the camera and mount up first and put down a line to gather up the leads. Then went back for the rest of the stuff.”

“What about security checks?”

The man shook his head. “We had our identity discs, of course.But we arrived in an NTV van. The security people saw us: knew who we were.”

Charlie sighed. “He would have got the rifle up on the second trip?”

“Yes.”

“What did he have to do, when you were filming?”

“Keep out of my way until I asked for something.”

“Tell me what happened, from the time you heard the cavalcade was coming.”

“Got the warning from the scanner … from other cameras along the route … Picked the cars up as soon as they crossed the Kalininskij bridge on to Krasnopresnenskaja nabereznaja. Tracked them all the way to the White House. Refocused, for the tight shots, as they got out of the car. Saw the president go. The blood splashes. Then the fucker went into me. That’s when I saw the gun. He was bringing it towards me, I thought, so I grabbed at it …”

“I saw the fight,” broke in Charlie. “What did he say, when you were fighting. You were saying things, both of you? I saw you!”

“I don’t remember, not properly …” Sakov cupped a hand to each ear. “I still had the cans on at first, to the scanner. Then they got knocked off. We were swearing. Calling each other cunts. I think I said what the fuck was he doing and he said it was right. That he had to. He said he’d kill me, to get me out of the way. Tried to turn the gun. I couldn’t hear much when the helicopter came over, only to get away from him but I couldn’t. When I tried, he started to turn the gun.”

“How many shots did you hear?”

“None.” He cupped his hands to his ears again. “I told you I had earphones on, to the scanner.”

“Did you know Georgi was trained as a sniper, in the army?”

Sakov snorted, disbelievingly. “No.”

“Did he ever talk to you about himself … about the army … what he did in his spare time …?”

Sakov shook his head. “Didn’t even know his father was a spy until I read it in the papers.”

Bendall would have absorbed the language from the age of four, remembered Charlie. “What about politically. Did he talk about hatingthe new regime … the Americans … anything particular?”

“No.”

“Why do you think he did it?”

“Because he’s fucking mad … useless.”

Mad maybe, thought Charlie. But not useless.

“Is it a long way away?”

Not by Russian distances but Sasha would probably think it was. “Yes. A long way,” said Charlie.

“Do you have to go by aeroplane?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be gone a long time?”

“No more than two days.”

“Will you bring me back a present?”

“Sasha!” corrected Natalia, sharply.

“Maybe if you’re good,” said Charlie. There was a tightness about Natalia but they hadn’t had chance to talk yet. “And being good is going to bed.”

“It’s not time yet,” protested the child.

“It will be when you’ve finished your milk and cleaned your teeth.”

“Not fair,” pouted the girl.

“Bed,” insisted Charlie. “I’ll be back by the weekend. We’ll do something. You choose.”

“The circus!”

“The circus,” agreed Charlie.

Charlie had drinks ready-his Islay malt, her Volnay-when Natalia returned from Sasha’s bedroom.

She said, “You spoil her.”

“That’s what fathers are supposed to do.”

Natalia didn’t smile. “Don’t buy her anything expensive.”

“What would you like?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s tonight’s problem?”

Natalia’s disclosure of a presidential commission was hurried, disjointed, but Charlie let her talk herself out. “I’m being dragged in, deeper and deeper. We’ll be discovered, you and I,” she concluded.

Charlie regarded her for a moment in total bewilderment. “Natalia! It’s a commission into how-and why-things disappeared from old KGB archives! How can that extend to us! You cleared all the records of anything to do with us.”

“It’s possible.”

“It’s not!” She could make monsters from every shadow; sometimes from no shadows at all.

“It’s a risk!” she persisted.

“It’s not.”

“I’m more in the middle-more the object of everyone’s attention-than we ever anticipated. I’ll be seen an an enemy of the KGB successors.”

“Nothing’s changed!” Charlie insisted. But it had, he thought.

“What have you been called back to London for?”

“People wanting to appear to be doing something. It’s called consultation.” He paused. “Do you wish it was for something more permanent?”

“No,” denied Natalia.

Charlie didn’t believe her. He’d been wise not to tell her that Anne Abbott was being recalled with him.

“I didn’t expect things to end like this,” said Olga. That wasn’t true. By the time they’d got to the brandy-French at his insistence-they’d both known they were going to sleep together. There hadn’t even been any conversation about it on their way to his apartment. What she hadn’t expected was the dinner invitation-of course impossible to refuse-or that he’d choose the Mercator, which really did have to be the best French restaurant in Moscow. Most unexpected-and pleasurable-of all was how good he’d been once they’d gone to bed.

“Sorry?”

“Of course not.” His body-and his performance-had been even more athletic that she’d fantasized about, looking down at him approaching the hospital earlier that day. She turned sideways, pleased that he’d kept the light on. “You?”

“Of course not. There’s something I haven’t told you, until now.”

“What?”

“I played your interrogation tape at the Kremlin.”

“To Okulov himself?”

“And Trishin. Their opinion was the same as mine, brilliant. But we decided we don’t want you to question Bendall again until after the British.”

“Why?”

“There might be something they’re holding back we can use to break him.”

“I can break him by myself.”

“We’ll do it this way,” said Zenin.

He hadn’t allowed her to take control in their lovemaking, either, but she hadn’t minded that as much as she did this.

Charlie got the jump seat, which jammed his knees beneath his chin so tightly he couldn’t have jumped anywhere, difficult anyway after the exertion of already shuttling between the British and American embassies to ensure they were completely up to date before their encounter with George Bendall. At least, Charlie consoled himself, he was opposite the slender-thighed Anne Abbott and not the fatassed Richard Brooking. They travelled initially unspeaking, the lawyer and the diplomat exchanging transcripts of Olga’s interrogation of Bendall and Charlie’s meeting with the NTV cameraman. As Brooking finished Vladimir Sakov’s account of the gantry struggle he looked uncomfortably to the woman, who’d read it first, and said, “Appalling language!”

“Dreadful,” agreed Charlie. “Shouldn’t be allowed.”

Anne smiled at Charlie. “A lot of openings.”

“We’ll do it as we did with the mother.”

“You lead,” said Anne.

“We need to talk about that,” interjected the head of chancellery.

“About what, exactly?” demanded Charlie. He didn’t want the man buggering things up.

“This is not something I’m accustomed to,” admitted Brooking. “In fact, I haven’t ever done anything like it before.”