Brian Freemantle - Kings of Many Castles

“You remember that time?”

“Wasn’t frightened.”

“I’m sure you weren’t, not someone capable of doing what you’ve done now.”

“Wouldn’t do what they wanted, when I got in the army.”

Charlie thought he heard Anne’s intake of breath. “What was that, Georgi? What did they want you to do?”

“Doesn’t matter, not now.”

“It would have mattered to them, if you refused.”

“Thought they had me, but they didn’t.”

“Why would they think that, because of your father?”

“No!” rejected Bendall, loud voiced. “Didn’t need him! Never needed him!”

“Always your own man,” flattered Charlie. Could he chance it? “They helped you get in the army, though?”

“Didn’t become their man because of it. Not like my father. Taught them a lesson.”

This could be the opening of the gate, thought Charlie, hopefully. If the KGB had got Bendall into the army he would have had a Control. “They must have been pissed off at that, made life difficult. Had people argue with you, try to persuade you?”

“Tried. Didn’t work.”

“He must have got into a lot of trouble, the man who tried to persuade you?”

“Took him away.”

The lead, at last! “There was a man who came to see you, like they came to see your father?”

“Yes.”

“A soldier, like you. I bet he wasn’t as good as you with a rifle?”

Bendall smiled at the continued blandishments. “Wasn’t a marksman.”

Charlie breathed in deeply. “What was his name, Georgi?”

“Don’t remember.”

The reply was too quick but it would be wrong to press, to risk the gates closing. The Control would have joined Bendall’s unit around the same time as Bendall was installed, giving them a date from which the name could be deduced from the man’s withdrawal.

“I suppose you had to use all the skills you learned in the army to set your White House operation up? It must have taken a lot of time, a lot of planning?”

“Clever.”

“Certainly that. You’re going to be very famous. They’re going to know Georgi Gugin. There’ll be books written.”

Bendall’s eyes moved back to the lawyer, who was sitting with his head slumped, beard flowing over his chest. Part of the preparation was for Noskov to remain unidentified. Charlie said, “No, that’s not right. There won’t be books.”

The remark brought Bendall back to him, frowning. “Yes there will.”

Charlie shook his head. “Not the way you’ve organized it. There’s not enough known for anyone to write a book, a book needs all the facts and information. We do know about Vasili Gregorovich, though; know that he was killed, drugged and left to die in front of the train. I really don’t understand that. Vasili Gregorovich Isakov was your friend: your special friend. Why did he have to be murdered? Wasn’t he doing things properly, obeying orders?”

Bendall’s uninjured arm began to twitch, violently, and Charlie tensed for another uncontrolled outburst. Agayan came forward, too. Bendall said, “The bastard killed him.” The voice was uneven, snagging the words.

Agayan said, “Easy, Georgi, easy now.” To Charlie he said, “You’ll have to stop.”

“Who’s the bastard, Georgi? Tell me,” encouraged Charlie, ignoring the warning.

“That’s enough!” insisted Agayan.

“I know who,” said Bendall, more controlled.

“He’s all right,” Charlie told the psychiatrist. To Bendall he said, “They should be punished, for killing Vasili, attacking your group.”

“Have been.”

Charlie knew he’d lose it-lose Bendall-with one wrong word but he didn’t know how to go on. “People should be told, know what happens to anyone who attacks you.”

“Yes.”

There was movement from the doorway, where the two guards were, but Charlie didn’t look, wanting to hold Bendall’s eyes. Which were very clear and quite alert. The man knew what they were talking about, understood what was being said. By comparison Charlie felt he was blindfolded. Into Charlie’s mind echoed the psychiatrist’s words. I got the impression that he wants to tell someone. After all his life being discarded and downtrodden he’s suddenly someone, the focus of everyone’s attention . “The television of the shooting was incredible. It’s been seen in every country in the world. Millions of people have watched.”

There was a positive smile. Bendall didn’t speak.

“A world stage, with you on it.”

The smile stayed. “Yes.”

Charlie saw a way to continue. “That’s how it should go on.”

“I want it.”

“There’ll be cameras at the trial. Everyone will be watching you: listening to you.”

Arkadi Noskov stirred. There was more movement noise from the doorway. Bendall said, “That’ll be good.”

It was the prearranged time, determined Charlie. “Arkadi Semenovitch Noskov is your lawyer. He’ll be with you in court, we all will be.”

“To help you,” came in Noskov, perfectly on time. “There are things you want to tell the court?”

“Maybe,” withdrew Bendall, cautiously.

“You want them to know, don’t you?” The earlier, ordering command had gone from the sonorous voice, it was coaxing now, inviting.

“Maybe.”

“They’ll have to know everything, to understand. And it’ll be important not to miss anything out.”

Able for the first time to break his total concentration Charlie saw that despite their tape recorder, Anne was hurriedly scribbling notes on a large legal pad. He couldn’t see beyond the two remaining guards at the door. Agayan was sat back, seemingly content with Bendall’s recovery.

“Nothing will be missed out,” said Bendall.

“We’ll have to prepare carefully. Make sure of that.”

“Yes.” Bendall’s smile was back.

“That’s my job,” said Noskov. “Making sure nothing’s left out. You want everyone to know about Vasili Isakov?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll need to talk about it, for me to know all there is. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I suppose so.”

Charlie was nervous of the obvious doubt, aching to reenter the exchange but that wasn’t part of their car cramped rehearsal.

“It all has to come out, to make the impact you want,” encouraged Noskov and Charlie relaxed.

“I want to think about it.”

Charlie abruptly realized that Bendall was relaxing, too, formulating proper sentences instead clippping his responses to one or two words.

“I’d like you to do that,” urged the lawyer. “You’ve thought about it already, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have.”

“People will be surprised, won’t they?”

“It’ll be sensational.”

“We know it will. We’ll have to go through it before we get to court, though. So that I can guarantee we don’t forget anything.”

“I won’t forget.”

“It’s best that we talk about it first. There might be things I’ll have to do, evidence I’ll have to find to confirm what you’re going to say.”

“I want to stop now. Think,” declared Bendall.

“I’d like to talk a little further,” tried Noskov.

“When I want to,” insisted Bendall, exercising his imagined control. “Not when you want to.”

“I don’t want him pushed,” said Agayan.

The British psychiatrist’s assessment had been remarkable accurate, thought Charlie. Compared against all the other interviews, they’d made quantum leaps forward. But did he have a comparison against all the interviews, now that the Russians weren’t sharing information anymore? The situation between himself and Olga Melnik had to be resolved as quickly as possible.

“We’ll come again tomorrow. At the same time,” Noskov was saying.