the West, and shake his hand, grinning, while behind them the memorial spire to the fallen of Mother Russia, not just those who died in the Great Patriotic War but all the others as well, was exploited for sickening political ends. The Estonian thinking was clear:
There was nothing symbolic in what Venedikt and his people were going to do. Nothing ambiguous at all.
He switched off the television and went to stare out of the window. It was far too early for daybreak, but the night seemed to have shed some of its darkness, as though conceding grudgingly that its allotted time was passing once more. Two dawns left, and on the second the sun would rise on a very different city. A different world.
The day had been a perfect one and had ended perfectly, with the news about the Englishman. He couldn’t believe their luck. Nothing like this had even been considered when they’d first made their plans all those months earlier, yet the opportunity had fallen into their laps. Occurrences like this almost made Venedikt question his rejection of religious faith.
The excitement threatened to keep him further from sleep, so he went back to bed. In his mind he rehearsed the sequence of events over and over until it was smooth as a beach pebble.
Thirteen
Between finger and thumb Rossiter held up a SIM card.
‘Tracker. We exchange it for the one in her phone while we interrogate her.’
They were back in the office. Purkiss, not by inclination an early riser, had taken his time responding to Klavan’s gentle shake at seven. His eyes felt knotted and his neck and limbs ached as if he’d slept folded into a crate. Teague had gone out for coffee and hot rolls, and on his return he offered Purkiss a selection of his clothes. Purkiss chose loose ones for running in, chinos and a shirt that was a little big across the shoulders. In the shower he flexed and rolled, trying to work the tightness out of his muscles.
Teague and Klavan had been up early, working the Web and their phones. They’d achieved the breaks they’d wanted: they had the name of the woman in the nightclub, Lyuba Ilkun, as well as her home address. Teague had phoned the club and said he was a police officer investigating the two bogus detectives who had appeared the previous night and taken away the man suspected of leaving the body in the toilet cubicle.
‘That took some nerve,’ said Purkiss. ‘Hats off.’
Klavan had checked the name of the man in the toilet cubicle, Abram Zhilin, and discovered that he’d had a military career, six years’ service in the Ground Force, the Estonian equivalent of the Army, after his compulsory national service. She’d phoned a contact of hers in the Ground Force’s records office who promised to look up Zhilin’s file once he’d got into work.
Rossiter put the SIM card on the table. ‘Two of us do the snatch, two the interrogation.’ He looked at them in turn, pale eyes lingering on Purkiss. The anger was there still, livelier, as if sleep had rejuvenated it. ‘You and Chris do the grab. Elle’s an experienced interrogator, and a woman, which Ilkun will find disconcerting.’
Purkiss shook his head. ‘No use my grabbing her. She’d recognise me. It’s better not to let her know for sure who’s got her, even if she suspects.’
‘She wouldn’t recognise you if you took her without her seeing you. There are ways, you know, using hoods.’ Rossiter voice was thin, disparaging.
‘No. Besides, I have to meet someone.’
Even Klavan and Teague stared at him. Rossiter became very still.
‘Say again?’
‘An associate of mine’s arriving in the city this morning.’ He stood. ‘Oh, for goodness sake. I’m working with you but of course I’m not letting you in completely. I need insurance, some kind of backup in case things go wrong. You’d do the same.’
‘And when’s this…
‘Late morning.’ Purkiss spread his palms. ‘You lot take the woman — I take it you can do it without my help — and I’ll meet you back here once you’ve got her and I’ve done my business.’
Rossiter’s eyes moved, calculating; then he said, ‘Fine. And if you’re late, you won’t mind if we start without you.’
Abby’s text had arrived just after eight, minutes after the sun had come up:
Klavan and Teague offered him a lift to the airport on their way to Lyuba Ilkun’s address and he sat in front this time. From the back Teague said, ‘Pissed him off a bit there.’
‘But he did understand.’
After a silence Teague said: ‘He thinks you’re the Ratcatcher, you know.’
‘What?’
‘The Ratcatcher. The outsider, tracks down Service personnel who’ve broken the rules. Emerged in the last few years.’
‘Never heard of him, or her.’ Purkiss shook his head. ‘See, that’s one of the reasons I’m glad I left the Service. It’s such a hermetic world you end up losing perspective. Everyone’s either with you or against you, an ally to be exploited or an enemy to be destroyed. Eventually you end up believing in fairy tales. Vast conspiracies, masked avengers smiting wrongdoers. It’s insane. You go crazy.’
Klavan said, ‘You’ve got to admit, though, that your story’s an odd one. You turn up here on the trail of a renegade agent on the eve of an international summit. And yes, I know you have your personal reasons for wanting Fallon. But the part about this Seppo alerting you and then turning out to share a flat with Fallon… it doesn’t ring true.’ Her face in profile was amiable.
‘It doesn’t make sense to me either, as I’ve said. But you need my help, so you have to trust me up to a point.’
He was at the airport an hour and a half early and he used the time to carry out a complete counter- surveillance routine. He doubted the two agents would have bothered trying to keep tabs on him after dropping him off, but there was no harm in making sure. He booked a hire car at a kiosk, choosing a nondescript Toyota. Afterwards he ordered an enormous all-day breakfast at a restaurant in the arrivals hall, bearing in mind Kendrick’s military dictum that when it wasn’t clear how long it would be until your next meal, it was worth fuelling up when you could. He took his time eating, watching the boards.
Abby came through fifteen minutes after landing, dwarfed by the rucksack and suitcase she was lugging. He made sure nobody was observing her before catching up with her at the entrance.
‘Hope you manage to find a fast enough connection with all this gear.’
She smiled up at him. ‘It’s one of the most wired cities in Europe.’ Her face fell. ‘You look
‘Nicked myself shaving.’
He helped her with the suitcase and they found the car he’d hired. Abby had booked a room at a chain hotel near the city centre and on the way he told her as much as she needed to know: about the SIS agents, and about Fallon and what they suspected his presence in the city meant. He described Fallon as impersonally as he was able, leaving out what he had done to Claire. As far as Purkiss knew, all Abby was aware of was that he’d lost a girlfriend many years ago just before leaving the Service.
She rummaged in her rucksack and took out a tiny object and handed it across. ‘What you asked for.’
He took it and, still driving, glanced at it. It was the size of a pinhead, metallic with a row of minute hooks like an insect’s bristles.
‘Terrific.’ In turn he fished out the memory stick he’d found in Seppo’s flat. She slipped it in her pocket.
At the hotel he offered to help her to her room but she said, ‘No, I’ll manage. Go.’
