“Is Ferguson going to stand up at the Dorchester and say, ‘Excuse me, this isn’t Josef Belov, we assassinated him with American connivance’?” She took the vodka down. “I think not.”
“An amazing situation,” Roper said. “When you think of it, he could be Josef Belov for the rest of his life.”
“I don’t understand.” She was befuddled with too much vodka now.
“It’s just an interesting point. You know, the appearance of things and people believing in it.” He smiled. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do. Take Major Novikova back to her quarters, Sergeant.”
She got up, staggered a little and leaned on the table. “What was all this about? What were you after?”
“I’d go back to bed if I were you. Greta, have another sleep.”
She staggered slightly and Doyle caught her. “Steady now, miss, just come along with me.”
Roper lit a cigarette and thought about it, then turned back to the computers. The last message on his screen was the one about transportation to the Belov Complex, where his chauffeur, Ivan Kurbsky, would meet the plane and convey him to the Kremlin before the Excelsior Hotel. That would be for Volkov to give him a final briefing.
He sat there brooding, thinking of every aspect, and it all started to come together, make sense. He thought about it some more and phoned Ferguson and found him still at home at Cavendish Place.
“I need to see you.”
“Why?”
“How would you like to make the Belov Protocol into a total balls-up? How would you like to leave the Russians with nothing but egg on their faces?”
“Tell me more.”
Which Roper proceeded to do.
When he was finished, Ferguson said, “Totally mad and also quite brilliant. It could be absurdly simple.”
“The old Swiss watch syndrome. If it all worked.”
“All right, what do you want?”
“A meeting with you at the soonest with me, Dillon, Billy, Squadron Leader Lacey and Parry.”
“Is there anything I should know before we meet?”
“Yes, I’ve got a few requests.” He went through them. “There are a number of things I can sort out via my computers. I’ll take care of those aspects. Can we meet in, say, two hours?”
“Absolutely. Holland Park?”
“I think so. It’s useful if we need to refer back to computer information.”
“Of course. There is one thing I’ve got to say.”
“And what’s that?”
“Max Zubin – it would all depend on his willingness to play ball.”
“Well, we’ll see about that.”
Roper switched off and went back to his screens.
At Holland Park, Roper was doing the briefing. “This whole thing hinges on some sort of contact being made at the Dorchester with Max Zubin. It seems obvious to me that he’ll return to Moscow still playing his role for the sake of his mother. That means the day after tomorrow, he’ll be seen on the world stage signing the Belov Protocol. The only way to prevent that would be to get Zubin out of Moscow with his mother.”
“And how do we do that?” Billy asked.
Roper turned to Lacey. “You know the Belov Complex in Moscow?”
“Of course. We’ve been there a few times. It’s close to the main airport, handles private traffic, executive aircraft and courier planes. We’ve done it for the Embassy run a few times.”
“So if the great Josef Belov turned up there with his mother and had a walk around, how do you think he’d be treated?”
“With fear and great respect. I know Russia.”
“And if they ended up on your courier plane and you got out of there fast, how long would it take you to leave Russian airspace?”
“If I was given the Citation X, half an hour at the most. Since the demise of Concorde, it’s arguably the fastest commercial plane in the world.”
“So you’d be out of it, in effect, probably before they’d even had a chance to scramble another aircraft to see what you were up to?”
“With any kind of luck, yes.”
“If you volunteer for this, you’d be in uniform, RAF rondels on the plane and so on, everything to confuse the issue.”
“That’s good, sir, and by the way, we do volunteer.”
“My God,” Billy said, “it could work. It’s so bleeding simple.”
“Which only leaves us with the problem of getting Max Zubin to agree,” Roper said.
“I’d say you’ve already worked that out.” Dillon smiled.
“There’s plenty of security at the hotel, both Russian and British. You, Billy, have your identification, so that’s all right. The fact that you speak Russian, Sean, could be useful. You could growl your head off at any unfortunate room service waiter as much as you want and carry your copy of the Putin warrant just in case, to confuse any Russian security people.”
“But meeting Zubin will be difficult.”
“Not at all. He’s been given one of those magnificent park suites on the fifth floor as befits his status as Josef Belov. There is a small bedroom with separate bathroom next to it, double doors in between, which are kept locked unless it’s booked, to provide a second bedroom for the suite.”
“And this one isn’t?”
“Well, it was, but I canceled and then fiddled the computer to make it look as if it’s still occupied. I recall when you got into Levin’s room, you had a house key like staff use.”
“Still do.”
“As regards Levin, he’s with the Russian Embassy party and Boris Luhzkov. I suppose they know we won’t lift Levin.”
“What would be the point?” Ferguson said. “And they can’t lay a finger on us. I’m going and you two can join me,” he said to Dillon and Billy. He turned to Lacey. “You’d better get on with arranging the courier flight out of Farley. You have full authority.”
“Certainly, sir.”
They all got up, and Roper said, “I was thinking, Dillon, take an extra Codex Four. If this idea works and Zubin agrees, it will give him a link with you.”
“Good thinking.”
“Well, let’s get on with it, the game’s afoot,” Ferguson said.
At the Russian Embassy, Boris Luhzkov was in his office when Igor Levin went in. “I got your message. What’s up?” “Nothing, just a thousand and one things to do.”
“You worry too much.” Levin lit a cigarette and sat on the window seat.
Luhzkov said, “It’s all right for you, the big war hero, used to running around at the Kremlin.”
“Luhzkov, what can I do for you?”
“Volkov insists on your presence tonight so you can make yourself useful.”
“I’m not exactly persona grata to our British friends these days. You’re sure Charles Ferguson won’t try to have me picked up once I’m on the street?”
“Look, Igor, I don’t know what you’ve been mixed up in, and I don’t want to know. You work for Volkov, carry the Putin warrant, that’s enough for me. One thing I do know. You’ve got diplomatic immunity. If the Brits want you for anything, all they can do is send you home. Now go along to the Dorchester and check how our security people are getting on.”
“On the instant, boss.”
“Always the clown, Igor.” Luhzkov shook his head. “Greta Novikova is still gainfully employed, I trust?”
“I wouldn’t ask, Boris, I really wouldn’t.”
