Tom Bradby - The Master Of Rain

“I do not know.”

“Have you ever seen anything like a ledger-probably a series of them? Does he have a study? They must be somewhere Lena could get to them. Have you ever seen ledgers that could be accounting books anywhere near his bedroom?”

“No.”

“Nowhere in the house?”

Natasha shook her head, but the more she denied knowledge of the ledgers, the more certain he was that she knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Did Lena ever talk about them?”

“No.” Natasha stared at him. “When I go there, this is what you want?”

Field leaned closer. “I would like you to establish that these books exist and find out where they are kept.”

Her face betrayed nothing. “This is what you want me to do?”

“Yes.”

“When I go, this is what you want me to do?”

“Yes.”

She tilted her head. “If I am seen, then I will be executed, of course.”

Field didn’t answer.

Natasha sighed. “So this is why you slept with me?”

“Natasha, I-”

“You are a hard man. Perhaps like your father.”

“I don’t have a choice. And nor do you. My superiors will send you to prison if you don’t cooperate. It will be out of my hands.”

She stared at him. “So when I am vulnerable, you seek to punish me.”

Field shook his head.

“You have caught me in your net and you will watch me until I die.”

“I-”

“I hope you enjoy it, Richard.”

“It is not my decision.”

“A coward blames others for the work that he does.” Natasha shook her head. “I’m glad I was able to give you something before-”

“It’s not for them.”

“Not for who?”

Field stared at her. “What kind of life are you going to have?”

She frowned. “I do not understand.”

“It has nothing to do with my superiors. I want to break you free of Lu and this is the only way I know how.”

She shook her head, still frowning.

“He has overreached himself. He has the fatal weakness of a man who believes he cannot be touched. He has forgotten that the international powers still control this city. He can be broken.”

Natasha gazed out the window, a look of utter hopelessness in her eyes.

“What life will you have if you do not try?” he asked.

“It’s not about my life…”

“I’m asking you to trust me.”

She snorted, quietly but with derision.

“Can you speak and read Chinese?” he asked.

“Of course.” She looked at him. “Who knows about this?”

“A very small group of people.”

“And you trust them?”

“Yes,” Field said without hesitation. “Completely.”

“You shouldn’t. Everyone is corrupt here.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re young.”

“So are you.”

She didn’t answer.

“Parts of the force are corrupt, but not the unit that I’m dealing with.” Field pulled up his chair and leaned onto the table. “We believe Lu has overreached himself. He has become complacent and Lena’s murder was a challenge to the integrity of the force. We know we can break his hold on the city. I can take you away from here. When this is done.”

“When it is done?”

“When this is done,” he went on, “we will go away, somewhere better.”

“To Venice, perhaps.”

He hesitated, not sure whether she was mocking him. “If you like.”

“As a little girl, I dreamed of Venice.” She looked up at him. “Have you been to Venice, Richard?”

Field shook his head. “No.”

“Would you like to go?”

“Yes. My…”

She waited for him to go on.

“My sister also. It was a dream.”

“Then she is a romantic, too.” Natasha’s smile was fragile and hesitant. “What is it like, do you think?”

“My sister loved art. Florence, Venice. Even the thought of it was an escape. The idea of it.” He stared out of the window. “It was how we imagined life if money was no object: long hot days and hazy, languid sunsets over still water and the shouts of the boatmen.” When he turned back, Field saw the deep longing in her eyes.

“You would like to live in Venice?” she asked.

“I would like to live in Venice.”

“We could live there together.”

As she smiled at him, he tried to stop his stomach from somersaulting again.

“We could sleep in late and then have wine in the piazza-it is the right word?”

“It’s the right word.”

“And we could watch the sunset over the lagoon and then lie out and watch the stars.”

Field didn’t know what to say.

“Mama and Papa took their honeymoon in Venice. Papa was at military school in St. Petersburg and Mama only a schoolgirl; they met and married one month later and then went to Venice.” She looked at him. “Papa always talked of it. He used to take out photographs of the lagoon, and one of Mama, and there would be tears in his eyes. He told me how they had planned to go back, one last time, even as she was dying.” Natasha shook her head, tears in her own eyes.

Field reached for her hand, but she withdrew it.

“What do you dream of, Richard?”

He looked at her. “I dream of you.”

She stared at the table in front of her. “Then it must remain a dream.”

“Natasha…”

“My life is not my own.”

“There must be-”

“An escape?” She stared at him. “Don’t you think I have tried?”

“Dreams are what keep us alive.”

“When I was a girl,” she said, “my father took me to the circus. There was a hall of mirrors.”

“Yes.”

“There are no dreams here. Only illusions.”

“Then we can go somewhere else.”

“Where?” Her eyes narrowed. “Where do I belong now? Nowhere, and nowhere more than here. I have no passport, no money.”

“I can help.”

“No one can help.”

Field stared at her. His heart was thumping again.

“No one can help me. There is nowhere we can go. But I will do what you ask. I will try to help you.”

“Natasha…”

“Please. You may contact me by letter to tell me what you wish me to do. I will telephone when I am summoned to his house, but please do not come to the apartment again.”

“What about last night?”

“Richard…” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Last night was… it was not just for you.”

Natasha glanced across the road and suddenly stood. Field followed the direction of her gaze. Sergei was outside his apartment on the far side of the street, staring at them.

“Wait.”

“No.”

She walked away.

Field stood, then sat back down as she hurried past the window.

He lit another cigarette and smoked it. Sergei had gone.

Field left some money on the table and walked across the road. He climbed Sergei’s gloomy stairwell. At the top he knocked and waited.

Sergei opened the door a few inches. He was in a long white nightgown.

“Just getting in from work, Sergei?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been talking to yet another of your compatriots who has told me nothing, but if you speak to Lu, Sergei, you can tell him I’ll get to one of you in the end.”

“I have nothing to do with Lu.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

Sergei shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You looked very… close.”

Field stepped forward. “Want to see how close I can get?”

Sergei tried to shut the door, but Field pushed it open and barged his way in, forcing the Russian back to the center of the room. “You’re frightened of Lu, like the Medvedev woman and the rest of them.”

Sergei’s head drooped. “I’ve been working all night.”

Field looked at him, relieved. He did not think Sergei had seen anything that could have compromised them.