with a forewarning from another of his unproductive calls. “I’ve tried to speak to Olga Melnik but was told she’s unavailable. I’ve left messages, telling her we’re going to the hospital.”
“We’ve been officially told we won’t be able to interview Bendall alone,” reminded Anne.
“They’re making simultaneous recordings,” Noskov pointed out. “We’d hardly gain anything by being by ourselves with the man.”
“Do we have Russian psychiatrists available?” asked Anne.
The huge man nodded. “But I want to see Bendall by myselfwith just you two-first. I want to gain my own impression before getting theirs.”
Charlie half expected Olga Melnik to be waiting for them at the Burdenko Hospital, but she wasn’t. There was no attempted body search by the foyer protection squad but they insisted upon examining the briefcases that Noskov and Anne carried. Only Guerguen Agayan waited beyond the cordon.
At Bendall’s ward Noskov said to the obviously alerted second group, “Two of you stay. The rest get out, to make room.”
“I’ll stay, too,” insisted the psychiatrist. “I don’t want another collapse.”
Charlie was impressed by the lawyer’s unchallenged command. Even with only two guards and the doctor remaining, Noskov’s size meant the room was crowded, as the embassy car had been bringing them, Anne squashed into a corner of the rear seat with Charlie gratefully relegated to the front, beside the driver.
From the moment of their entering the solitary ward Charlie’s concentration upon George Bendall was absolute, registering the man’s consciousness of everything around him, instantly isolating the intentness with which Bendall’s eyes followed the initial chairshuffling uncertainty of accommodating themselves in the confined space. Charlie was very aware of how close to him Anne had to sit; he had to learn across her, physically touching, positioning the tape recorder carefully away from the already operating Russian equipment.
“Remember me, Georgi?” invited Charlie. Noskov had agreed during their cramped drive that Charlie should try to follow the London psychiatrist’s direction.
Bendall didn’t respond, his attention entirely upon the gargantuan Russian lawyer.
“It’s good to see you out of bed,” said Charlie, who hadn’t imagined the man would have been fit enough to be put into a chair. The injured shoulder didn’t look to be wrapped so heavily and without the head bandages the fair hair flopped, greasily.
Bendall continued to look unwaveringly at the bearded Russian.
Charlie said, “You’ve given us a hell of a lot of work, Georgi. And we’re getting nowhere. You really planned everything very well, didn’t you?” The attention faltered, briefly, Bendall’s eyes flickering towards Charlie who went on, “I don’t just mean us, the British. Everyone else, too. America. Russia. You’re really leading us by the nose.”
Bendall finally looked properly towards Charlie, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. The wailing hum was almost inaudible.
Charlie said, “I don’t know what we’re going to do. Admit we’re beaten, I guess.”
The dirge grew stronger. Noskov shifted, creaking his overburdened chair.
Charlie said, “You knew you could do it, didn’t you Georgi? Beat us?”
“Course I did.”
“That’s what everyone’s going to recognize, how much better than anyone else you’ve been.”
“I know.”
“I wonder if that KGB guy will realize it; the one who talked to you with your father that time?”
Bendall frowned but said nothing.
“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
