seemed to feel some sort of loyalty to Levin. Popov was the weak link.
Volkov took out his address book, found Popov’s number in Dublin and phoned him. It was a mobile and found Popov strolling along Wellington Quay beside the River Liffey. It was raining and Popov was holding an umbrella over his head, a young woman named Mary O’Toole at his side.
“My dear Popov,” Volkov spoke in Russian, “Volkov speaking. How are you? It’s been some time.”
Popov was shocked and replied with difficulty, “General, I can’t believe it. It’s been so long.”
“Oh, I like to keep in touch,” Volkov said.
Popov and the girl were approaching a hotel he knew. He squeezed her waist. “Mary, my love, you go in and get us a table in the cocktail bar. This is important.”
So she went and he reverted to Russian. “General, I don’t know what to say.”
“Why, just that you’re happy to hear from me. How’s the job? Still at Scamrock Security? How
Popov swallowed hard. “My God, I didn’t realize…”
“That I got you the job? Oh, yes, Flynn and I go way, way back, to the very early days of the Irish struggle. That he hasn’t mentioned this to you shows how much he is to be trusted. I presume you find that your experience in military intelligence is of value in your work.”
“Absolutely, General.”
“You’ve heard about Belov International? That Max Chekov is the new chief executive officer? Did you ever serve under him?”
“I never had that privilege.”
“You may have that pleasure to come. I trust that I can still rely on you?”
“Of course, General.”
“Excellent. How is Chomsky?”
“He breezed through his law exams and works for a city attorney as a legman.”
“And Levin?”
“Enjoys himself. He is, after all, rich.”
“As I’m well aware. So, nice to talk to you. I’ll be in touch. But, please: keep this conversation private.”
For some reason he couldn’t explain, Popov was thrilled. “Of course, General.”
The line went dead and he went up the steps to the hotel two at a time. The bar was half empty and Mary was seated in a booth by the window. She was a secretary at Scamrock Security, was used to hearing him speaking foreign languages, for he was proficient in German and French.
“Russian,” she said, “that’s a new one. You always surprise me.”
Popov had an English mother, and he’d been raised on the language as a child in Moscow. He was perfectly able to pass himself off as an Englishman, and did.
“Business,” he said. “You can never get away from it. Now what would you like to drink?”
CHOMSKY WAS A different proposition. He had a first-class academic brain and a firm belief in himself. He’d completed his law degree in just over a year at Trinity, a phenomenal achievement, and working as a legman for a top firm of attorneys suited him perfectly. He much preferred to be out of the office, for he could handle himself and had a medal for bravery in Chechnya to prove it.
He was walking through Temple Bar, one of his favorite places in the city, with its bars, restaurants, shops and galleries, and was making for Crown Alley with its cafes and brightly painted shops. His intention was to meet Levin, enjoy a drink, go to the cinema and eat afterward.
When his phone rang and he heard Volkov’s voice, it did not affect him the way it had Popov. He was used to handling people, especially under the stress of legal and illegal situations. Nothing in life surprised him anymore.
He dodged in a doorway to avoid the rain. “General, what a surprise.”
“I thought I’d catch up. My spies tell me you performed magnificently in your law exam.”
“True, though I say it myself.”
“And your work for the Riley partnership. More than interesting.”
Chomsky laughed. “Why, General, you’ve been checking up on me.”
“My dear boy, we do have an embassy in Dublin in which the GRU is well represented. Checking on your activities gives them something to do.”
“I can imagine.”
“And how is Levin?”
“Come now, General, I’m sure you are well aware how he is. He has a luxury apartment looking out over the Liffey, and more than one lady, and he enjoys his life completely.”
“But a bit boring for someone of his background, I should have thought.”
“On that, I can’t comment.”
“This firm Popov works for, Scamrock Security, my information is that it supplies contract mercenaries to the trade. Now that there is peace in Ireland, there must be many members of the Provisional IRA seeking gainful employment.”
“Now if it was the police saying that to me, General, I’d have to say I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“But of course. Nice to talk to you. Good-bye for now.”
“And what was all that about?” Chomsky asked himself as he stepped out into the road.
VOLKOV CAUGHT LEVIN a few moments later, after he had stepped out of the rain into a quiet bar called Kelly’s. It was an old-fashioned sort of a place with comfortable booths giving privacy. He was greeted with familiarity by a barman named Mick, who brought him a large Bush-mills whiskey.
Chomsky entered the bar at that moment. “Same for me, Mick.” He took off his raincoat. “Guess who’s just been on the phone to me?”
“Shock me,” Levin said.
“Volkov.”
At the same moment, Levin’s mobile rang. He answered it and smiled and leaned close to Chomsky so that he could hear it was Volkov.
“General, what a pleasure,” Levin said amiably.
“Ah, Chomsky has joined you. You are still close?”
“Siamese twins.”
“This is good. How are you?”
“In excellent spirits. Rain in Dublin is curiously refreshing, and the girls are more than beautiful, they have Irish charm. Life couldn’t be better. Where are you, Moscow?”
“No, Paris. I’m with President Putin at the Brussels Conference. He was asking after you, Igor.”
“Really?” Levin said.
“Yes, Charles Ferguson was in Brussels, too, with the British Prime Minister. It jogged Putin’s memory. Ferguson ’s people have been an intolerable nuisance.”
“You could say that.”
“Plus Blake Johnson. My original order was to get rid of the lot of them, but we only succeeded with Superintendent Hannah Bernstein.”
The mention made Levin feel uncomfortable, always had in spite of the fact that all he had done there was chauffeur an IRA hit man to Heathrow Airport.
“What’s this all about?” he asked.
“Why, I miss your valuable services, you and the boys. The President wants you. I told him you’d decamped to Dublin and that it was difficult.”
“And what did he say?”
