Brian Freemantle - Kings of Many Castles

“I think we should be extremely careful we don’t in some way fall victim,” said Zenin.

Precisely what she’d warned him about in the very beginning! remembered Olga. “We can be.”

“How did the exhumation go?”

“I advanced the timing, as you suggested. It was over before anyone else arrived. The tissue samplings were delivered to the laboratory by mid-afternoon. Kayley called six times during the day, trying to make contact.”

“What about the British … their new man?”

“Nothing.”

“Let’s talk tomorrow, early.”

“I’m missing not being with you,” she blurted and at once regretted it, wishing she could bite back the words.

“What …?” he started, just as unthinkingly but instantly recovered. “Yes! I’m sorry. There’s things … tomorrow? Tomorrow night, I mean. If you’re free?”

“I’m free,” said Olga.

As always, Charlie let Natalia talk first, knowing her need was greater and afterwards kept his account brief and factual.

“Well?” she prompted, when he’d finished. She hadn’t mentioned the inference of the FBI possibly being expelled, not wanting to trample over ground already muddied by being walked on too many times before.

“You couldn’t be better protected, against our situation becoming known,” assured Charlie, sure that was the point of her question.“You’re spanning everything, knowing everything.”

“And attracting enemies in doing so,” she said. “I’ve convened the first session for tomorrow. Summoned the FSB chairman himself, along with all the rest.”

“ Above any enemies, looking down at them,” out-qualified Charlie. “You can dispose of them before they can endanger you. You’re ahead, whichever which way you want to look at it.”

“You’re actually taking things forward professionally, as a criminal investigation,” Natalia allowed.

“I wish I’d known about the Pentathol before seeing the pathologist.” It would mean a second visit, he supposed. “What state is Bendall in now?”

“Still sedated.”

“It was a good suggestion you made about a visitor’s log,” praised Charlie. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“What’s it like, being back there?”

The moment for guilt, Charlie recognized. Nothing came. “I’ve been too busy to do much else but work and appear before committees. I did get time to buy Sasha a doll. It wets itself and has to have its nappy changed.”

“She’ll like that.” He’d forgotten buying Sasha the same on a previous recall to London.

“I hope you’re looking after her,” he said, with insufficient thought.

“I was looking after her very well a long time before you reappeared on the scene,” came back Natalia, at once.

His mistake, Charlie accepted. “Best of luck for tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“I hope to get back the day after.”

“You told me already.”

“Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”

She hadn’t told him she loved him, thought Charlie. But then he hadn’t told her, either. He was still by the telephone when it rang.

Anne said, “That was a hell of a long call! I’m in the bar, waiting. Liberace’s look-alike ghost is about to make a pass at me.”

“If it’s Liberace’s ghost, you’re safe,” said Charlie.

Charlie had again to filter what he could tell the lawyer from what he shouldn’t have been in a position to know but there was sufficient for Anne to remark that he seemed to be working hard to provide her with a TV soap opera defense. Short of that being available, however, the decision had been made to have Bendall examined by two independent Russian psychiatrists to formulate a plea of mental impairment or even outright insanity, depending upon their diagnosis. But all that hinged on what sort of recovery the man made. It would also help if the court psychiatrists had access to Bendall’s previous psychiatric history that Vera had mentioned. A Russian lawyer necessary to lead Bendall’s defense had been engaged by fax that afternoon from the list Anne had brought to London with her.

“So you’ve finished?”

“Everything discussed and decided,” she agreed.

“You going back tomorrow?”

She frowned, in mock offense. “You in a hurry to get rid of me?”

“No,” said Charlie. “Not at all.”

“Good. And I haven’t done any shopping.”

They’d eaten again at a restaurant of Anne’s choice in Notting Hill and they had a nightcap again in the hotel bar and went unquestioningly to his room. Afterwards she said, “We’re getting very good at this. Maybe we should take it up professionally.”

Charlie said, “I thought we had.”

The bag containing Sasha’s doll was by the wardrobe, “toys” prominently printed against the name of the shop in which Charlie had bought it. Anne said, “You’ve already managed to do your shopping?”

“Some,” said Charlie.

He waited for the obvious question but she didn’t ask it.

Natalia Fedova had triumphed in a jungle of human animals for a long time before Sasha’s birth and for three years afterwards and in doing so, like Charlie, had perfected a number of survival rules. One-unknowingly again like Charlie, with whom she’d never discussed it-was never to be pulled down by the mistakes and misjudgments of people who imagined they knew better than she did. Which she anticipated, without needing proof, would be the attitude of both Yuri Fedorovich Trishin and Pavl Yakovlevich Filitov and why she set out from the very beginning to impose the control inherent in her appointment. She recognized the danger of the strategy and hoped Charlie was right in his assessment of her strength.

Befitting their presidential credentials they were allocated a suite of rooms, with a five-strong secretariat, within the Kremlin itself and Natalia summoned both men to it an hour before their scheduled start supposedly to brief them upon everything that had come before the crisis committee. She did so with two of their secretaries at the prepared apparatus, determined that everything be recorded. Filitov was just slightly ahead of the chief of staff with the authority-challenging protest that he’d thoroughly assimilated all that had come before the committee, with which he’d been provided overnight but Natalia talked them both down, insisting upon her agenda that their initial concentration be upon the missing KGB dossiers, extended only to what the succeeding FSB might have taken from the Bendalls’ Hutorskaya Ulitza apartment. Because of her intimate knowledge of the former KGB structure-as well as her personal knowledge of the crisis committee discussions which might not be reflected in its written material-she intended leading the questioning but of course expected them both to contribute. It was not until Natalia said she would seek Filitov’s advice before invoking theirimprisonment provisions that she got the impression they were beginning to defer to her, although the prosecutor’s reaction at first was more one of undisguised surprise.

“I don’t think we should lose sight of the rank and importance of people with whom we’re dealing,” cautioned the lawyer.

Nor, suspected Natalia, of the clear threats Petr Tikunov had made at yesterday’s press conference. “It’s precisely because I’m aware of the rank and importance that we’re discussing the provision now.”

“An opinion surely based upon a personal experience which ended several years ago?” suggested Trishin. “I don’t believe the acting president intended the recourse to be used lightly.”

“It won’t be,” assured Natalia. “We won’t forget, though, that it exists.”

Trishin attempted to restore his prerogative by querying Natalia’s full understanding of the other terms of reference, which she’d anticipated and not only answered without hesitation but corrected two that he misquoted. Filitov remained silent until that day’s witness list was brought in by the registration clerk.