In Moscow at the Kremlin, Max Zubin, bundled out of bed at Station Gorky, ordered to be dressed and ready in an hour, then flown at what had seemed like express speed, stood in front of Volkov’s desk.
“You have a wonderful opportunity to serve your country. Your finest hour. You will visit Paris as part of the President’s entourage, travel to London to perform the same service at the Dorchester Hotel, and then return to Moscow.”
“But what is the service I perform, Comrade?”
“Just your role as Josef Belov. There will even be appearances on television. I’m sure you’ll do very well.”
“Yes, but in the theater we’re expected to know our lines.”
“That’s really very good. There’s a press release here. Have a quick look.”
Zubin scanned it and handed it back. “I see.”
“So now you know what it’s about if anyone talks to you, but we’ll keep conversation to a minimum. Just remember you are Josef Belov.”
“Except to my captors.”
“Don’t be silly, those who guard you at Station Gorky call you Belov because that’s who they think you are. Of course, your controller listening to your phone calls knows.”
“Can I see my mother while I’m here?”
“If you introduce yourself as a friend. After all, you couldn’t possibly be her son, if you follow me. You were bearded – that’s who Mikhail, her chauffeur, knew.”
Zubin shook his head. “So my driver, Ivan Kurbsky, thinks I’m the real Belov?”
“Of course.”
“I’m just like the King in
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry, I got confused. May I go?”
“Right now.”
Zubin got out fast, and was escorted to his limousine. He gave Ivan, the driver, his mother’s address and sat back, brooding. When they reached the destination, Zubin put on his sternest voice.
“You will wait here. I am visiting a friend. One hour and then we go to the hotel.”
It was his mother who answered the door, and her face lit up. “How handsome you look,” and she drew him in.
“Where’s Sonia?”
“Very ill. She’s gone to stay with her sister. Come and sit down. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“I didn’t know myself. Things are moving very fast.”
She gave him a vodka and sat beside him, holding his hand. “So tell me about it.”
“My performance, Mama?” He swallowed the vodka. “The greatest of my life.” He handed her his glass. “Give me another.”
Sitting in Roper’s computer room at Holland Park, they were all there. Ferguson said, “Any trouble with the girl?”
“Not particularly. She thinks she’s being held illegally, of course.”
“Tough luck. After some of the stunts she’s pulled, she’s lucky not to be in a cell. Now let’s get down to it. What’s going on?”
“Before I start, can I ask you if the Prime Minister knows about the playacting over Belov?”
“Yes, President Cazalet discussed it with him. It’s one of those things where they prefer not to know officially, if you follow me, but I keep him informed. Anyway, what’s it all about?”
“Putin has a meeting in Paris with the EU, then he visits London, spends a night at the Dorchester – trade delegation stuff – then dinner with the Prime Minister.”
“Go on.”
“Lurking amongst his staff will be one Josef Belov.”
“What’s the purpose of his presence?”
“To be seen, to have him on television close to Putin, with any luck close to the Prime Minister. He won’t have a lot to say, if anything. They’ll keep tight control.”
“Any interviews?”
“No, but there will be a press release.”
“What about?”
“The Belov Protocol.”
“And what in the hell is that?”
“Well, excuse me if it sounds like a lecture, but here goes. Some years ago, the old Soviet government was going through economic crisis after crisis, always short of the almighty dollar, so they started selling off government utilities at knockdown prices – oil fields, gas, the wealth of Siberia. The oligarchs came along, men like the robber barons in the old days in the USA, men like Belov. He started with a billion, and the word is he got it from Saddam. In oil alone, his wealth can only be measured in billions.”
“Yes, I know that,” Ferguson said.
“Then, when the Rashid Empire was up for grabs, he took over.”
“So where is this getting us?” Dillon asked.
“To the United Nations Common Policy Division. Belov International has become so enormous, its tentacles reach every developing country in the world. It’s truly global. Can you imagine the effect all that could have if it was controlled by a single government?”
“The Russian Federation?” Ferguson asked.
“Many Russian politicians think it was a mistake to allow the State’s assets to pass into private ownership in the first place. Times have changed, Putin is a hard man, the Russians like strength. Things are getting more like the Cold War every day. Now is the time for a truly magnificent gesture from a Russian hero, Josef Belov. He’ll sign an item called the Belov Protocol, transferring all of Belov International into the hands of the government of the Russian Federation.”
“Just a minute,” Harry said. “If this United Nations outfit was worried about Belov International putting things out of balance, being too powerful, they aren’t going to be too happy about Russia taking over.”
“Neither will the United States nor the UK nor Europe,” Ferguson put in.
Harry said, “When I was young, under the Labor government after the war, we used to nationalize things, didn’t we? Well, this would be something similar. Putting things back into government control.”
“And an incredible boost in power and prestige for Russia,” Ferguson said.
Dillon nodded. “All performed in front of cameras, Max Zubin standing in for Belov.”
“I hope he’s practiced how to do Belov’s signature,” Harry said.
“Oh, that will be taken care of, no problem,” Roper said.
“And the beautiful thing from their point of view is that we can’t stand up and say, ‘That isn’t Josef Belov,’ ” Ferguson said. “Because we blew him up.”
“So there it is.” Roper shook his head. “A wonderful confidence trick. I don’t know about Putin, but Volkov must be laughing up his sleeve.”
“And there’s nothing we can do about it?” Billy asked.
“I’m not so sure.” Dillon turned to Ferguson. “Tomorrow night at the Dorchester, the Russian Embassy’ll have a reception. Putin will be there, the Prime Minister and Josef Belov.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I think we should go. Billy and I got into Igor Levin’s room when he was there. I don’t see why I couldn’t manage the same thing where Max Zubin is concerned.”
“To what purpose?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea, but he might have things to say, some personal suggestions.”
“You know, I think you could be right.” Ferguson nodded. “We’ll go. You, me and Billy.”
“Excellent.” Dillon turned to Roper. “You’ve often boasted in the past that if it’s out there in cyberspace, you can find it.”
