Jack Higgins - A Darker Place

Svetlana looked at her. “Thank you, my dear. I presume you mean plastic surgery?”

“Not as such, although it’s a long-term possibility. Making him a new person, totally different in every way, that’s how I would approach it. What is a postman or a policeman? A uniform is what we see and accept, not so much as the individual. Take Alex. His persona is like a Hollywood costume actor’s-the hair, the beard, so extravagant. Svetlana has told me of his love for The Three Musketeers and Captain Blood as a boy, the swagger, the boldness inherent in such costume dramas. That is what he projects and what people see in him.”

“So how would you change him? By cutting his hair?” Monica said.

“If you did that and removed the beard, I think you would be amazed.”

They all thought about it, and Svetlana said, “He couldn’t live in the house, of course. But Kelly used to use the apartment over the garage as a study. They practiced judo up there.”

“Do you still use it?” Roper asked.

It was Katya who answered. “Until three months ago, we had a young Pole named Marek living there, taking care of the garden. He had a sociology degree, but in Warsaw that only brought him two pounds an hour as a teacher. We let him live in the apartment, and as long as he saw to the garden, we never queried what else he did. He was with us for almost a year before he decided to go home again.”

“There’s another possibility, too,” Svetlana said. “I have a cottage way down by the Thames estuary beyond Dartford looking out towards Sheerness and the Isle of Sheppey. Holly End the place is called, marshland, wildfowl, birds, shingle beaches. You can breathe there.”

“It sounds nice. Could Alex hide himself there?” Monica asked Katya.

“It’s lonely and desolate enough. The problem is if it’s too lonely.”

“We’ll take a look at it too,” Monica said. “We wouldn’t want Alex going stir-crazy, though.”

“There’s an old Russian saying,” Katya put in. “If you want to hide a pine tree, put it in a forest of pines.”

“What’s your point?” Roper asked.

“I may be wrong, but I recall a story about an important letter that was the object of a heated search.”

“I think I know the one you mean. The letter was in plain view all along, just another letter,” Roper said. “And you think that might work for Kurbsky?”

“Yes,” Katya told him. “Let me give it some thought. But now it’s time for lunch.” She smiled at Monica. “If you’d mind helping me?”

“Only if you call me Monica.” They went out together, and Svetlana reached and put a hand on Roper’s knee.

“There is much more going on with Alex than it seems, I’m sure of it. I don’t know what it is, but I will find out, I promise you, my dear.”

“So you and Katya will come on board, help us to find a solution?”

“What else would I do? Alexander is my blood, and blood is everything. Now-I’m an old woman now and haven’t time to waste, so forgive my directness. When Monica was telling us the story, she mentioned General Ferguson and one of his closest associates, a Sean Dillon, who used to be with the IRA.”

“Yes. When the General persuaded him, if you could call it that, to join the organization, he said it was because he needed someone who could be worse than the bad guys.”

“I see. And it is this man whom Monica favors?”

“You could put it that way.”

“I look forward to meeting him. Kelly flirted with the IRA when he was a student in Dublin. He once said it brought out the romantic in him.”

“There wasn’t anything in the least romantic about the IRA in Belfast in the years I was there,” he told her.

“But that is all over now, my dear, a long, long time ago.”

THAT EVENING, there was a council of war at Holland Park. Ferguson was there, Roper, Monica, Dillon, and Harry and Billy Salter.

“This is absolutely top security, this Kurbsky affair,” Ferguson said. “I’m not even informing Lord Arthur Tilsey of the matter. He’s got enough on his plate running the Security Services in place of the late and unlamented Simon Carter.” He turned to Monica. “You haven’t seen your brother since you got back?”

“No, his doctor wasn’t too happy with him. He’s gone down to Stokely Hall to take it easy for a while.”

“I must ask you to keep the Kurbsky matter to yourself. It’s absolutely essential if we’re to carry out this operation not only successfully but with total secrecy, as Kurbsky told you he wants.”

“So I don’t tell my brother?”

“It’s the name of the game, love,” Dillon said.

“So we’re it,” Ferguson said. “A nice tight crew, the six of us, and that’s the way we keep it. We handle it, no one else.”

“What about Svetlana and Katya Zorin?”

“I classify them as technical backup. I’m particularly interested in the Zorin woman and what she’s said to you. I look forward to hearing from her. You gave Kurbsky your Codex number?”

“I thought that was okay. I was told it was encrypted.”

“It is and you did right, but it puts you on the end of the wire. We’re already only twelve days away from when Kurbsky will enter the Élysée Palace to have his Legion of Honor pinned to his manly breast by the French President. When he calls you, Monica, find out when the ceremony is, morning or evening-they do both-how much protection he has, and whether he’s staying at the Russian Embassy or a hotel.

“I’ll give you a checklist. What are your movements?”

“Back to Cambridge tomorrow, long weekend, necessary business. I could be back in three days, I think.”

“I’ll feel more secure when you’re back with us. There’s a real element of danger here.”

“Look, you don’t need to worry about me, Charles. I’m involved by chance, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been in a dangerous situation. I was at Drumore, remember, during the shoot-out with those IRA thugs. And I killed a man. You were there. He needed killing and I got over it. End of story.”

“Very civil of you,” Ferguson said. “I think that will do for the moment, people.”

Harry got up. “Anybody want a bite to eat at the Dark Man? It’s only eight o’clock. Best pub grub in London, and on me.”

Monica nudged Dillon. He said, “Thanks, Harry, another time. Monica’s got an early start in the morning.”

“All right, lovebirds. Come on, Billy,” and they left.

Ferguson was writing away. “There’s your checklist.” He handed it to Monica, and she put it in her purse.

“We could stop in at that French restaurant in Shepherd’s Market on the way back,” she said to Dillon.

“Why not.” He turned to Roper. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve done enough travel for one day, Sean. A sandwich and the scotch, and I’ll catch up on cyberspace.”

Monica said, “What about you, Charles?”

He hesitated. “Oh, you don’t want an old fogey like me at the table.”

Her Codex went. She flicked to see where the call originated, her eyes widened, and she held it out to Roper. He took it from her, making an adjustment that linked it to his speakers.

She said, “Who’s that?”

“Monica? It’s Alex Kurbsky.”

Roper put a finger to his lips and waved the others to silence. Monica said, “What a surprise, Alex, to hear from you so soon. Where are you?”

“A special hotel the Ministry of Arts runs, but I move soon to a safe house outside Moscow, where the GRU will keep an eye on me until Paris.”

“Where are you staying when you go there?”

“They haven’t decided yet, but I’ve been thinking about what we discussed. I’d like to proceed.”

“That’s wonderful.”