Kozlov wondered if Olga would agree to what he wanted, to make things right. ‘You
Olga bit her lip, making a performance of sipping her drink to cover the closeness of tears. ‘Damn her!’ she said. ‘Why couldn’t the bloody woman have agreed to a divorce!’
‘I told you what happened before,’ reminded Kozlov. ‘Before I came to England and we met. She said she’d never be a rejected woman … never be abandoned.’
‘I would have accepted things going on as they were,’ said Olga.
‘I wouldn’t,’ said Kozlov, positively. ‘I want to get rid of her completely. I want you as my wife, not a mistress from whom I can be parted by a whim of some posting, from Moscow, for either of us. Look how long it took us to get together again, here …!’ Kozlov put his drink aside, sat next to her and said: ‘I love you, my darling. Completely and absolutely. So no more half-measures. No more hiding from everyone in the embassy, frightened of a chance look or gesture being seen and interpreted.’
‘I’m frightened,’ conceded the woman. ‘I thought it was a brilliant idea and I know I went along with it, but now it’s …’ She moved her hands in front of her, searching for the words. ‘Now I think it’s impossible: that it can’t succeed,’ she said.
‘It can,’ said Kozlov, coaxingly. Was now the time to tell her what she had to do?
Before he could speak, she said: ‘Did she ever come here?’
Kozlov hesitated. Then he said: ‘She had to; she had to think it was for her protection. I told you that.’
‘Did you make love to her here?’
Kozlov’s hesitation this time was longer. At last he said: ‘It was meaningless … nothing …’
‘Just something else that had to be done!’
‘Olga!’ he said, consciously trying to avoid a different irritation. ‘For fifteen years I lived with a woman able to find fault with everything, hidden reason in everything and question in everything. If I said it was day, she said it was night. Black was white and white was black. I could have lied just now. I could have said Irena never came here, only knew the telephone number, and that I didn’t go to bed with her here. I didn’t because I love you and don’t intend ever lying to you. I brought her here and made love to her here because I thought it was necessary: because she had to believe and not, for once in her life, question.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the woman. ‘I’m really sorry …’ She smiled and said: ‘This has got to be our place, from now on. Somewhere secret, which nobody else knows. Make love to me now …’
Kozlov felt out for her and she was coming to him when the telephone sounded stridently into the room. Each jerked away from the other, startled. Kozlov said: ‘I told you it would be all right.’
He nodded, in unnecessary confirmation, when he heard Irena’s voice and said: ‘Darling!’
Olga, softly, said: ‘Bitch.’
The aircraft made its lower-than-the-hilltops approach to Hong Kong and then the sharp starboard turn as if it was going to land among the skyscrapers, instead settling on the water’s-edge postage stamp that is Kai Tak airport. With only a travel bag, Charlie had no luggage collection delay, hurrying through the terminal and out into the melee of the taxi and hire car area. It was markedly warmer than Tokyo, a heat blanket wrapping around him, and Charlie felt the perspiration form at once.
He pushed his way through the touts, passing the taxis and then the hire car reservations, going to the very end of the line. It was a yellow Mercedes, the For Hire flag on the passenger side. The driver was uniformed, a black or maybe dark blue outfit, and wore a peaked cap. Charlie got into the rear, settling back as the driver manoeuvred himself through the traffic crush and then out of the airport complex.
‘Any company?’ said Charlie.
‘Not yet. But there’s going to be.’
‘Good to see you again, Harry.’
‘Like I said,’ replied Lu. ‘It’s been a long time.’
Harry Lu lit an inevitable cigarette as the car dipped into the tunnel to Hong Kong island and said: ‘It’s put a strain on my loyalty, Charlie. If it hadn’t been you, I’d have sold out, after the way London’s cut me off.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Charlie. Fuck Harkness and his columns of figures. He hoped Lu was telling the complete truth, not just covering his back.
‘The Americans have woken up everybody they’ve ever used. I’ve had three separate calls from people, asking if I know anything. Money no object.’
Let Harkness argue that away, thought Charlie. He said: ‘I expected it.’
‘People are coming in, apparently.’
‘That too,’ said Charlie. He smiled at Lu’s reflection in the mirror and said: ‘See you’ve still got Hong Kong buttoned up.’
‘Like to know what’s going on; feel safe that way,’ said the other man.
‘How is she?’ asked Charlie.
‘Edgy,’ said Lu. ‘Very edgy.’
‘What have you told her?’
‘That there had to be a change of plan and that you’re coming.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Mandarin,’ said Lu. ‘That was before I heard what the Americans were doing. Warned her we’ll be moving on; it’s too high profile and obvious now.’
‘She knows there’s a pursuit?’
‘Of course not!’
Charlie registered the frown of the man in front of him and said: ‘Sorry. Silly question.’ The American reaction meant any civilian aircraft was impossible. Charlie wished he’d agreed to a military plane being despatched; now there would be at least a day’s delay in getting Irena Kozlov away.
Lu said: ‘Russian?’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie.
‘Any link with the plane explosion in Tokyo?’
‘They all died,’ said Charlie.
‘Who did it?’
‘CIA,’ said Charlie.
‘They must want her very badly?’
‘They’re going for the double,’ said Charlie. ‘They’ve already got the husband.’
The Mercedes emerged on to Hong Kong island into an immediate traffic clog. Charlie looked up at the jumbled skyline of uneven skyscrapers and thought Lu was right about moving from the Mandarin Hotel: the island was too easy to block off.
‘London know I’m in?’ asked Lu, from the front of the vehicle.
‘The Director himself,’ assured Charlie.
‘No objection?’
