Red Star Burning

21

Rebecca Street was already in Monsford’s office when Straughan entered. Neither looked at the other. As he leaned sideways to start his recording system Monsford said: “I want to hear everything’s ready: that nothing can go wrong.”

The operations director waited until Monsford straightened, nodding to the unseen switch. “Everything working as it should?”

“Perfectly,” frowned Monsford.

“Let’s hope Radtsic’s extraction does the same.”

Monsford sighed. “I’m due at the Foreign Office at eleven. Diplomatically everything’s going to hell. So let’s get on with it, shall we?”

“Are we included in the meeting?” interrupted the woman.

Monsford shook his head. “Restricted to directors and government liaison: their decision. I’ll fill you in later.”

Straughan set out the operation chronologically, with Maxim Radtsic’s 6:30 A.M. departure from his Moscow apartment to the FSB’s Lubyanka headquarters, at which he’d remain for fifteen minutes, with an additional five allowed as failsafe, to establish his arrival. He’d assured Jacobson his leaving so quickly afterward would not be logged: according to Lubyanka procedure, he would be registered as being on the premises although absent from his desk: there’d be a staff voice mail that he was in unspecified conference. As a precaution against an unexpected summons, Radtsic would keep his pager with him. From Lubyanka he would be followed separately throughout the briefly broken journey by Jacobson and one of the three in-flight escorts. The other two would be waiting at Sheremetyevo airport to ensure Radtsic’s unimpeded arrival and passage through all the embarkation formalities. Radtsic’s arrival at Sheremetyevo would be the signal for the private plane’s departure from Northolt and for the Paris rezidentura to pick up Radtsic’s wife and son for Orly, where the landing and departure were factored for one hour, which again included a failsafe for unexpected delay. Straughan expected the linkup and takeoff to take no longer than thirty minutes. By that time Radtsic would be airborne and beyond interception, with just three hours’ flying time from Heathrow. There, transport and cleared-in-advance arrival would already be in place. An hour earlier the plane carrying Elana and Andrei would have landed at Northolt, from where they would be taken to the prepared safe house in Hertfordshire to await Radtsic.

Straughan rose as he finished talking, glancing imperceptibly although blankly at Rebecca, to put in front of Monsford the thin file from which he’d recited the details. “Everything’s there, annotated against the timings.”

“Nine thirty tomorrow morning,” Monsford at once challenged. “Why not today: I told you I wanted it all over as quickly as possible.”

“And I made it clear we needed seat availability,” reminded Straughan. “Nine thirty tomorrow was the first direct flight with four seats available.”

“Is Radtsic all right about that?”

“Jacobson’s concerned at Radtsic’s demeanor,” warned Straughan. “Jacobson says he’s arrogant: walks around expecting doors to be opened for him and people to stand aside. I had all three independent escorts at the ballet last night, when Radtsic was given his escape itinerary: two of them told me this morning they hadn’t needed Jacobson as their marker. Radtsic looks so much like Stalin, which gets him too many second looks when his arrogance isn’t on display.”

“Have Jacobson tell the stupid bugger to behave!”

“Jacobson says he already has but doesn’t think Radtsic will do as he’s told.…” Straughan paused. “It doesn’t stop there. Radtsic announced he wanted to talk to Elana in Paris to tell her it was all set.”

“Jesus!” exploded Monsford. “It can’t fuck up over stupidity like this!”

“It won’t,” promised Straughan. “I’m just setting it all out, including the unpredictables.”

“Is Jacobson seeing Radtsic again?”

“He’s got to hand over the cover passport and tickets today.”

“Tell him he’s got to spell out to Radtsic the risk to which he’s putting himself; putting everyone, his wife and son most of all.”

“There’s something else,” continued Straughan. “I’ve made it very clear to Jacobson that Charlie Muffin’s assassination, as a diversion, is aborted: that everything’s canceled. We’ve got three of our people in Muffin’s support team with nothing to support after what happened yesterday at the Rossiya. I want to utilize at least one of them to be embassy liaison between Radtsic’s escorts and me, here in London. I need to know that Radtsic passed safely through Sheremetyevo to activate in their right order all the other stages of the extraction.”

“No!” irritably refused Monsford. “Why have you waited until now to bring this up! You knew we’d need a pivot for the schedule to work.”

“We intended using Charlie Muffin’s killing as a diversion for Radtsic’s extraction: Muffin was never going to leave Moscow and neither were his wife and child,” said Straughan. “We always had three of our own people available to be reassigned. My understanding of yesterday’s meeting and the disaster Muffin’s caused is that Natalia and Sasha’s extraction is never going to happen.”

“Yesterday’s meeting didn’t cancel the Muffin extraction. Nothing’s canceled until that bloody man’s been brought in and the danger he’s created closed down,” corrected the Director, tightly. “I can’t, unilaterally, transfer any of our people, who might very well be needed in that closing down. And we couldn’t anyway risk such a reassignment leaking out ahead of our getting Radtsic safely here. It would disclose that all the time we were running a parallel operation, using one to guarantee the success of the other.”

Straughan hesitated. “It’s essential we have four on Radtsic’s extraction. If I can’t have one of our three, I’ll have to take Jacobson off, to be my embassy link man.” He paused again. “Or we could bring in David Halliday. I know you ordered against his involvement but all he’s got to do is take Jacobson’s call from Sheremetyevo and relay it to me here: just two phone calls. Halliday’s briefing could be strictly limited, virtually telling him nothing except to pass Jacobson’s call to me in London.”

Now it was Monsford who hesitated, longer than the operations director. “Okay, we use Halliday. But limit the briefing as you’ve suggested. No name.”

“There’s another unpredictable,” announced Straughan.

“What else!” demanded Monsford.

Straughan gave his account of the previous night’s Paris encounter with Elana and Andrei in as much detail as he’d recounted Jacobson’s Moscow meeting and again at the end put a written report in front of the Director.

“I can’t believe this!” said Monsford, incredulously. “Doesn’t the kid know what’ll happen to him if he stays!”

“We’re meeting with them both again today.”

Monsford leaned forward over his desk. “Tell Miller to frighten the shit out of the kid. And if he still fucks about, to leave him. Tell Miller to assemble a snatch squad, to hold him long enough to get Elana airborne and then let him go. By tomorrow he’ll be in a Siberian gulag with a lifetime to reflect his stupidity.”

“Miller hopes Elana will persuade him.”

“You just told me she’s reluctant, too.”

“Reluctant but accepting reality.”

“You’re the director of operations, the man responsible for making this work,” threatened Monsford. “Don’t for a moment forget that.”

“I’m never given the opportunity to forget,” said Straughan.

“The whole damn business has escalated out of any control,” announced Geoffrey Palmer. “The Russians didn’t just reject our Note. They refused to accept the ambassador, sent him packing cap in hand after ensuring their media circus was assembled to see and photograph the entire humiliation. And then kept them there to do it all over again when the ambassador responded-as he diplomatically had to respond-to their summons to deliver the rejected Note. They’re refusing us consular access to those they’ve arrested, as well as the two heart attack victims, one of whose condition is reported to be giving cause for concern. I can’t ever