Adrian Magson - Execution

‘What did they do to Tobinskiy?’ asked a woman from the Joint Intelligence Committee. ‘I mean, I suppose they weren’t there for his health, were they?’

‘No. They weren’t. They held him down in his bed and suffocated him.’

There was a stunned silence as they digested the blunt words. The woman from the JIC looked almost embarrassed, as if she had attended the event in person and wished she hadn’t.

Harry glanced around the assembled faces. Only Deane and Crampton seemed less than shocked, and he guessed they had already heard the grisly details.

‘The purpose of this meeting,’ Ballatyne continued, ‘is to bring everybody up to speed so that we’re aware of the ramifications. Tobinskiy was probably killed on orders from Moscow — like Litvinenko. Exactly who stands to gain by it is anybody’s guess. It could be old scores being settled, or a prelude to something else involving friends of the government jostling for position.’

‘That wouldn’t be unusual,’ the woman from the JIC murmured. ‘They’re like a nest of hornets, anyway.’

‘Yes. Either way, we have to handle this with care. More accusations against the Russians of wrongdoings without proof will not help international relations. I’m aware of the need for continued trade talks and negotiations regarding events in the Middle East, and that we must try to avoid fouling the atmosphere. But that is more long-term. What I want to highlight is that our problem is much more short-term and immediate.’

‘Really?’ Deane looked up. ‘Involving the Jardine woman? Where is she, by the way? Do we know?’

‘Just a second.’ The representative of COBRA — the Cabinet Office Briefing Room committee, which dealt with regional and national emergencies — spoke up. ‘I’m unclear as to why this Jardine woman was in this hospital in the first place. Isn’t it a specialised unit? And am I correct in my understanding that she was let go from MI6 following serious disciplinary measures — and accused of a violent attack against another officer?’ He spoiled his supposedly independent stance by glancing at Candida Deane with a faint smirk.

Ballatyne’s face was blank, but Harry knew him well enough to guess that the word ‘bitch’, aimed at Deane, might have floated across his mind. The COBRA representative had clearly been got at.

‘She was there,’ Ballatyne said quietly, ‘because she had been shot and nearly killed while assisting Mr Tate here, in mopping up a gang involved in trading secrets to foreign powers. She saved his life and that of a colleague, and undoubtedly saved many others by bringing down this gang, known as the Protectory. I don’t think it was asking too much for her to be given the best possible treatment in return. Do you?’

The man said nothing, but flushed under the gaze of the others.

‘What about her now,’ said Deane, filling the gap quickly. ‘Where is she?’

‘She’s safe. She’s still recovering from her wounds and this hasn’t helped.’

‘But you can tell us where she is, surely. Unless you think this room is bugged?’

A chuckle went around the table, but Ballatyne stopped it in its tracks.

‘That’s on a need-to-know basis.’ The words were flat and left no room for discussion.

‘So what now?’ Commander Crampton, the CO9 officer, queried.

‘For now, we keep looking for the two gunmen. I’m grateful for your unit’s cooperation, commander, and we’ll conduct an exchange briefing later. What we do if we catch them is not for me to decide, however.’

The meeting broke up shortly afterwards, leaving Deane at the table. The minder remained by the door, giving Harry a clear indication of who he worked for.

‘I object strenuously to having an outside contractor involved in this,’ she said, once the door had closed behind the last of the suits. ‘I take it Tate is a contractor?’

‘Your objection is noted,’ Ballatyne replied, shuffling some papers into a folder and standing up, pointedly refusing to answer her question. He waited while she digested that, then got to her feet and moved to the door.

‘I’ll be making a full report of this, Richard,’ she warned as a parting shot. She threw a last look at Harry. ‘This isn’t over, believe me.’

Once Deane had gone, scooping up her minder on the way, Ballatyne sat down again and looked across at Harry. ‘You’re very quiet.’

‘I’m still trying to figure out why you brought me here. I obviously couldn’t contribute, being an outsider.’

Ballatyne waved a hand. ‘I wouldn’t feel too bruised about what Deane said. She was just sounding off. Anyway, she uses contractors all the time; the bloody asset files attached to the Russian desk are bursting with former military and security spooks. It’s cheaper and reduces costs. You’d be amazed how much extra National Insurance payments can add to the budget every year.’

Harry wasn’t convinced. He’d been ushered here for a reason, like a prize dog at Crufts. ‘I was on show, wasn’t I?’

‘Not at all. Why would I do that?’ Ballatyne looked innocent.

‘I haven’t figured that out yet. To make a point, perhaps.’

Then he had it.

‘What?’ Ballatyne caught something in his face, thoughts betrayed.

Harry thought about formulating his next words with care, but decided it was too late for that. The shit was already sliding off the shovel. If professional sensibilities got bruised along the way, it was too bad. Anyway, he suspected Ballatyne already knew.

‘That was the point you were making: they were too organised and you wanted to make it obvious you knew.’

‘Who — the Russians?’

‘Yes. They had a plan to deal with Tobinskiy, which was one thing. But then they realised Clare had disappeared from the hospital. That shouldn’t have bothered them; by now they should have been long gone, back to Moscow or Minsk or wherever.’

‘So?’ Ballatyne’s expression was bland, waiting.

‘They didn’t; they stuck around. Worse, they went after her, using people on the street as a collective search team. They probably used CCTV footage, too, the same as we did.’

‘That’s quite a suggestion. Are you saying they hacked into the systems?’

‘Why not? If they were desperate enough to go back to the hospital and take the CCTV, the hard drive and shoot a security guard in the process, breaking the Computer Misuse Act wouldn’t trouble them one bit, would it?’

‘True. But it’s standard procedure, even for the FSB. They worked the evidence, the same as any cop would do.’

‘But this isn’t their back yard, is it? They came in to do one job. It’s the way they work: fly in a team, do what they have to and fly out again. No local contact, no mess, and most of all, no records. But this lot are different. They’re not residents, yet they knew how to work the terrain, knew the most likely area Clare might head for to hide in a crowd: Victoria. Why not Piccadilly or Trafalgar Square or a dozen other places?’

Ballatyne shrugged. ‘I think you’re reading more into this than is wise.’ But his eyes were glittering as if he were enjoying the idea being unravelled.

‘They weren’t messing around, either,’ Harry continued. ‘They came ready to shoot. They were desperate.’

A lengthy silence from Ballatyne, then: ‘Meaning?’

‘I’m saying they had help. That’s what you were punting in the air. . to see who reacted.’

‘They probably did have help. There are plenty of long-term embassy people who could have lobbed ideas and local knowledge at them.’

Harry shook his head. ‘That wouldn’t happen. You said they came in on false papers.’

‘Yes.’