Adrian Magson - Execution

‘No.’ Katya looked at her with sympathy, then at Harry. ‘After seeing you at the wheel, I was ordered back to the FSB office in the embassy. I was questioned about my motives for going to the wheel and asked if I had arranged to meet somebody. I denied it, of course; I didn’t even know Clare was here in Vienna. But they kept asking me, over and over. They checked my mobile phone, they searched my luggage, they questioned my colleague and the three banking experts we were guarding. It was only then, and the bankers all agreed that it had been entirely their idea to visit the wheel, and that I had not even mentioned it, that they seemed to believe me.’

‘But?’

‘They did not, of course. Mud sticks, isn’t that what you say? Especially as I suspect somebody had told them about my record.’ She looked angry for a moment, then continued: ‘It is not often that anyone is given a second chance in the FSB — or anywhere else in our security system. One infraction and that is the end of your career. I know there were some who believed I was guilty all along, and this would have been enough to confirm it in their minds.’

‘Would Gorelkin have known?’

‘Possibly, but not likely. It was all too recent for him. But he is a very experienced man; he would have made it his business to find out.’ She hesitated. ‘Especially, as I say, if the poison had been administered in the first place.’

The memory stick, Harry thought. Or did they have some other source of information?

‘How did you get away now?’

‘They let me go. They had no reason to hold me or send me back. I’m due to return to Moscow tomorrow afternoon, in any case.’

Harry walked over to the window and looked out. It was dark now, with a glitter of lights over the zigzag-pattern rooftops. He wondered what was going on out there. Were they having Katya followed? He had taken great care in bringing her here and watching out for tails, but shaking off a good surveillance team was not an exact science. Not that he could do much about that.

He turned back. ‘And you’re sure you don’t want to go back? It’s a big step.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m sure.’

‘What about Gorelkin’s men in London?’ he asked. ‘Is there any way of stopping them?’

Katya frowned. ‘Legally, I’m sure there is. If they have been recruited to kill a foreign national outside of the direct rules of conflict, then possibly they are acting against the constitution. Since 2010 there has been a new set of rules governing the use of force by all military and security personnel.’

‘Does that include the FSB?’

She gave a thin smile. ‘I cannot answer that.’

‘How about a non-legal answer?’

‘If they are acting under the direction of a person who is not part of a government agency, then they are classified as criminals. The only way to stop them would be by direct force.’

The words, voiced without drama or heat, seemed to lower the temperature in the room instantly.

‘Then that’s what we have to do.’ Harry was reaching for his phone to call a cab, when it buzzed.

It was Rik.

‘Bogeys are on us,’ he said quietly. ‘Two cars, one at each end of the street, plus two on foot. Looks like a war party, and they know exactly where we are.’

‘They’ve found us.’ Harry relayed the information to the two women. He drew his gun. This really wasn’t the place for a fire-fight, but he wasn’t about to let any of them be taken without some kind of resistance. If these new arrivals were acting on orders from Gorelkin, then they were looking to silence Clare and anybody with her. Finding Katya would be a bonus and her future would be equally short-lived.

‘That’s impossible,’ said Katya. She had gone pale, but looked quite calm. ‘How could they know?’

‘No idea — unless you were followed or have a tracker on you.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I was not followed, I promise you. Absolutely not.’

‘Then it’s a tracking device. But let’s get out of here first.’ He went to the door and opened it a fraction. The corridor was empty. He didn’t waste time checking the front window onto the street, but led the way along the corridor to the back stairs. Clare was in the middle with Katya bringing up the rear, gun still drawn.

Unlike most hotels, this one believed in making the fire stairs as comfortable as possible, with a decent carpet to deaden the sound of footsteps and lighting to make the descent easy. Harry went one floor ahead to check the way, cracking the floor doors a little each time to listen, in case the Russians had had time to insert anyone ahead of the main force arrival. But the building was quiet save for the hum of air conditioning and the occasional sound of music or voices.

They had just arrived at the ground floor where a lobby gave access to the kitchens and office, when a door to the front reception area opened and Rik appeared.

‘They stopped outside for a powwow,’ he told Harry quietly. ‘But they haven’t split up yet. I think they’re waiting for orders. The two on foot are right by the front entrance. They’re all in casual gear.’

Harry was still puzzled by how quickly the followers had got here. He was certain the hotel wouldn’t have had any reason to tell the authorities. And if they had, the new arrivals would have been police, not men in street clothes. But there had to have been something.

He looked at Katya and said quietly, ‘We can’t stop here, but you need to start dumping anything that could have been fitted with a radio tag. Otherwise there’s no point in us running; they’ll catch us wherever we go.’

She nodded and pulled out a wallet and her mobile phone. ‘I have never given my wallet to anyone. But this,’ she hefted the phone. ‘They took it away while I was being questioned. I think they were checking my calls and contacts.’ She put her gun away and ripped off the back of the phone, and took out the battery. ‘ Dura !’ she swore softly. ‘I’m an idiot.’

‘Show me,’ said Rik. He took the phone and slid out the battery. Behind it was a paper-thin disc, with a tab placed to share the phone’s power supply. He took it out and handed back the phone. ‘They didn’t trust you much, did they? Leave this with me. I’ll lose it. Come on.’ He turned and went through a rear door fitted with an emergency handle, although this was down. The door was propped open by a block of wood, no doubt where the staff took their breaks.

They emerged onto a small yard piled with beer crates, aluminium casks and a stack of delivery cartons, all lit by a single overhead light. It was impressively tidy. Double gates led out onto a service alleyway running parallel to the front street. It was shut fast. Harry pointed to a door set in a high wall bordering the side of the yard. ‘Where does that go?’

Rik stepped across and slid a bolt. The door opened to reveal a narrow passageway running between the buildings on either side, no doubt a left-over from when the area was criss-crossed with narrow channels to allow pedestrians easy access without venturing onto the streets.

‘They’ll know we went out that way,’ said Clare.

‘Not if it stays bolted,’ said Rik. He held it open while they filed through, then closed it behind them and slid the bolt. Using one of the beer casks to stand on, he put his hands on the top of the wall and kicked the cask away before clambering up. The cask rolled away and came to rest across the yard, near the rear gates. Dropping down the other side, he trotted after the others, flicking the tracking bug away into the dark.

‘Go!’ Captain Yuri Symenko gave the order to his men and switched off his radio. The rest was now up to him. A chance to prove himself worthy of better things.