‘Okay, great. His name is Tarlanov. He speaks hardly any English but Su-ming is fluent in Russian.’ Cramer raised his eyebrows in surprise. He would have expected her to be able to speak Oriental languages, but fluency in Russian was an unexpected talent. ‘Tarlanov will have something for you, a sample of a chemical I’m interested in buying. Less than a kilo in weight, it’ll be sealed in a metal flask. I want you to look after it for me until I can get to London.’
‘What’s in the flask?’
There was a pause and all Cramer could hear was a series of clicks and faint whistles. ‘How much are you being paid for this job, Mike?’ Vander Mayer asked eventually.
‘What?’ asked Cramer, taken off guard by the direct question.
‘You’re being paid for this, right?’
Cramer realised that he’d never discussed money with the Colonel. When the job had been offered, it had been the last thing on his mind. Even when he’d been serving with the regiment, he’d never been concerned about how much he was being paid and under his present circumstances he hadn’t given it a second thought. ‘I’m not doing this for money,’ he said.
‘You’re doing it out of the goodness of your own heart, is that it?’
‘I was asked to help.’
‘You’re putting your life on the line, that’s what you’re doing. It seems only fair that you should be well paid for that.’
‘What’s your point, Mr Vander Mayer?’
‘Andrew. Call me Andrew. Seeing that you’re taking my place, it only seems fair that we’re on first name terms.’
‘What’s your point, Andrew?’
‘The point is that I’m willing to offer you a substantial fee for your help. Shall we say a quarter of a million dollars?’
Cramer caught his breath. ‘For what?’
‘I want you to work for me. I want you to see this man Tarlanov and to take what it is he gives you. But I also want your discretion.’
‘You want to buy my silence, is that it?’ Su-ming looked at him, a worried frown on her face.
Vander Mayer chuckled softly. ‘You’re not a man to beat around the bush, are you, Mike? All right, yes; I don’t want you telling anyone else about my business. You’re in a very privileged position, you’re going to be seeing and hearing things of a very confidential nature, things that a lot of my competitors would dearly love to know.’
‘Look, Mr Vander Mayer, I’m here to do one thing, and one thing only, and that’s to trap the man who’s been paid to kill you. As soon as he’s taken care of, it’s over. Paying me a quarter of a million dollars isn’t going to affect the way I do my job one way or the other. And I’m going to have to know what’s in this container you want me to take from Tarlanov.’
‘I’d rather keep that confidential,’ said Vander Mayer. ‘And please, Mike, call me Andrew.’
‘I don’t see how you expect me to meet this man if I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to be taking from him.’
‘Su-ming will handle the conversation. All Tarlanov wants is to see a man called Vander Mayer in person. There’s a lot of con men in this business, Mike, and he insists on a face to face meeting. But he’s not going to have much to say at this stage, he’s just giving me a sample to test and some documentation to back it up. If the sample is what he says it is, I’ll follow it up directly.’
‘So there’s nothing you want me to ask him?’
‘Su-ming will ask the questions.’
‘Won’t that seem a little strange, like the tail wagging the dog?’
‘Not if Tarlanov’s English is as bad as I think it is.’
‘And what if it isn’t? What if he understands more than you think?’
‘Su-ming will be able to handle it, Mike, don’t worry. Just play your part. Be polite, offer him a drink, shake his hand, then get him the hell out of my office.’
‘Is it dangerous?’
‘Is what dangerous?’
‘The material he’s giving me. Are there any special precautions I should take?’
Vander Mayer chuckled again. ‘You’re fishing, Mike. Just accept the sample and take it back to the apartment. There’s a safe in the study, Su-ming has the combination. Put the material in the safe along with any documentation he gives you. Do that for me, don’t ask any questions, respect my privacy, and you’ll receive a quarter of a million dollars when this is over. Now, would you put Su-ming back on, please?’
Cramer took the portable phone from his ear and stared at it for a few seconds, shaking his head in astonishment, almost unable to believe that a man he’d never met was offering to give him a small fortune for no apparent reason. He could only imagine how rich Vander Mayer must be to be able to offer such a sum without a second thought.
‘Cramer?’ said Su-ming, holding out her hand for the phone.
Cramer shook his head to clear it. ‘What? Oh, yeah, he wants a word with you.’
He gave her the phone. She walked to the far side of the study as if afraid that he might overhear. She stood by the curtained window, nodding into the phone as she spoke. Cramer could only hear her last few words before she cut the connection. ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper, ‘I love you, too.’
The phrase stuck in Cramer’s mind long after he’d got back to his bedroom. She’d said it without feeling, flat and devoid of emotion, as if Vander Mayer was forcing her to say the words.
Paulie Quinn sat on his mattress with his back to his wall, his arms wrapped around his knees, hugging them to his chest. He was praying, saying the Lord’s Prayer over and over again, but there was no solace in the words. Tears streamed down his face. He would never see his mother again, he knew that. He’d never leave the cell. He hadn’t told them anything, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. It wasn’t that they were violent, they hadn’t beaten him or even threatened to hurt him. They just kept repeating the same questions again and again, returning him to his cell when they wanted to rest but denying him the sanctuary of sleep. He knew that they wouldn’t let him go until he’d told them everything. He stared up at the lights, then at the locked door. There was only one way to escape. One way out.
He crossed himself, the way he’d done whenever he entered church, the way he’d done at his father’s funeral. ‘Dad,’ he said through the tears. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ He put his fingers into his mouth and took out the metal paper clip he’d managed to take from the interrogation room. It had been on the floor and he’d pretended to faint and managed to slip it under his tongue without the MI5 men seeing. He straightened the clip out, then wiped his tears away with the sleeves of his overalls. It was a mortal sin, but there was nothing else he could do. He’d tell them everything eventually, and then his life would be over anyway. At least this way his mother would be taken care of, and he’d have a hero’s funeral. At least he’d be remembered with pride and not branded forever as a tout. He held out his left wrist and looked at the blue-green veins under his skin. He believed in Heaven, and he believed in Hell. Paulie sobbed. Even after death he’d never see his father or brother. Suicides never went to Heaven. ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ he muttered through the sobs as he ripped away at his wrist with the end of the metal clip. The first few cuts were little more than scratches, but he closed his eyes and thrust the metal deep into his flesh as he recited the Lord’s Prayer like a mantra.
Cramer found the Colonel outside, standing in front of a flowerbed which had become overgrown with weeds. ‘It’s a pity there’s no one to look after the grounds,’ said the Colonel. He sounded distracted, as if his thoughts were a million miles away from the untidy flowerbed.
An owl hooted off to Cramer’s left. He shivered. ‘I’m not happy about this meeting Vander Mayer’s arranged,’ he said. The owl flew out of an oak tree on the other side of the wall which surrounded the school’s grounds.
‘Why not?’
‘You know he wants me to take something off this Russian guy?’
‘A sample, he said. And documents.’
‘Yeah, but he won’t tell me what it is.’
‘Does that matter?’
