Ratcatcher

that Fallon was in competition with them.’

‘Yes.’

They had come almost full circle and the car was in sight.

‘You said three possibilities.’

‘The third is that we’re completely wrong about the first two.’

At the car they took turns, one keeping watch for tags while the other ducked to peer under the chassis for tracking devices. They’d parked far enough away that it wasn’t likely they had been spotted emerging from the vehicle but it was worth taking precautions.

He’d thought about telling her about the satnav he’d salvaged from the wreck of the car earlier, about what he had planned for that evening once dark had fallen. But he thought again of how he’d been caught off guard by his surprise when she’d pulled the gun.

No. It was best to trust only those you knew.

‘Play it back.’

Venedikt had gone inside as soon as Dobrynin called. The noise of the men in the yard was distracting. He sat at the kitchen table and listened to the live feed, then to Dobrynin’s voice directly into the mouthpiece: ‘They’ve gone.’

He listened again, keeping his breathing even, trying not to let delight overwhelm him.

Afterwards he said, ‘As we suspected.’

‘Yes.’

‘Our British friend has been lying to us.’

‘It looks that way, Venedikt Vasilyevich.’

Venedikt sat staring at the flagstones, pondering. Then he said, ‘Did you try to follow Purkiss?’

‘It wasn’t worth it. What staff aren’t with you we needed to close the office down. We have to assume our British friend will keep track of him.’

‘A big assumption. He’s disappeared twice already.’ Venedikt stood. ‘But you’re right. How’s the shutdown progressing?’

‘Just reception left, really.’

‘Good.’

‘A pity. Years of memories, Venedikt Vasilyevich.’

‘It has to be. We can’t turn back now.’

Unlike previously, Purkiss felt bad about giving her the slip. It seemed dishonest, and he had to admit he was rather enjoying her company. Nonetheless, the best time to do it was when she was least expecting it. As Elle started to pull away when a light turned green he said, ‘Sorry about this,’ and popped the door and swung out and slammed it shut. He took off across three lanes, weaving expertly through the blurt of horns and not looking back until he was lost in a warren of back alleys.

Police helicopters criss-crossed the darkening sky overhead. Assuming Elle wasn’t the one working with the opposition, she’d be adrift now, with no leads to follow up on and a deadline that was drawing ever nearer. He appreciated the frustration she must be feeling.

As he strode the streets looking for what he needed, he made an effort to untangle the threads. Seppo had photographed Fallon and alerted Vale, but it seemed Fallon and Seppo were sharing a flat. Seppo had been murdered, almost certainly by Fallon, and Purkiss’s phone call to Seppo’s phone from London had been traced and watchers had been set on to Purkiss from the airport. Fallon had had a relationship with a member of Kuznetsov’s crew, and when Purkiss had come around asking questions Kuznetsov’s people had tried to kill him. One of the three British agents was working with Kuznetsov. Kuznetsov’s second-in-command appeared astonished to discover that Fallon was ex-Service.

A snarl of ends, tangled like weeds and choking out coherent thought. All he had at the moment that seemed to hold out some promise was the address on the satnav. If it was a base of some sort then he might have a way in.

It took a frustratingly long time to find a car rental place and by the time he did it was a quarter to six. Once more he used the Hughes ID. It was a risk, but not a great one. There was one risk he wasn’t going to take, however. Once behind the wheel of the car, a year-old Fiat, he slipped out his phone.

‘Change of plan, Abby. Tell Kendrick to meet us at the hotel. The opposition might be watching the airport, so I need to keep well away.’

*

The Jacobin normally preferred being outdoors, finding the confines of a room, however large, unpleasantly claustrophobic after too long. This evening, though, the sky had a smothering aspect, pressing down like a cold shroud. There was no stillness on the streets. Even the tourists seemed to be affected by the sense of anticipation, even of awe, that the events of the next morning were kindling.

A quick stroll to calm the mind and stretch the legs. As if on cue the Jacobin’s phone rang. Kuznetsov.

‘You lied to me about this other man. Fallon.’

‘I didn’t lie. I just didn’t give you the full facts. In any case, you’ve been lying to me all along. You know where he is.’

‘No, I don’t.’ Kuznetsov’s voice was thick with something — fury? ‘But given what we’ve learned this afternoon, don’t you think it might have been relevant to tell me earlier about his background?’

‘As I say. I’ll give you full disclosure when you afford me the same courtesy.’

This time the anger was unmistakeable. ‘Don’t fuck me on this. It’s worked out well so far — ’

‘Agreed.’

‘But I owe you nothing, beyond the protection we owe each other.’

‘I have no quibble with you there. But remember this isn’t over yet. Fourteen hours. A lot could go wrong.’

‘Purkiss could destroy everything.’

‘Yes.’

‘He’s killed two of my men.’

‘I know.’

‘Give him to me, damn it.’

‘As soon as you give me Fallon.’

‘I’ve told you, I don’t know — ’

‘Then we’ve nothing more to talk about for the moment.’

The Jacobin folded away the phone and idled back down the street, expecting it to start ringing again. It didn’t.

Purkiss’s latest disappearance might be his last. Perhaps it was time to do as Kuznetsov asked, to hand Purkiss over or get rid of him. The longer he remained active, the likelier it was that he’d get lucky and find a way in.

And yet… and yet. Purkiss’s fanatical need to find Fallon was driving the man, and he wouldn’t stop until he was successful. Since Kuznetsov was being uncooperative there was no better way to locate Fallon than to follow where Purkiss led. After that and only after that would it be safe to dispose of Purkiss.

No; not only after that. There was another circumstance in which Purkiss would need to be got rid of, and that was if he was in imminent danger of exposing and stopping the operation. Then he’d have to be despatched, and quickly.

Twenty

Abby had turned the cramped hotel room into a home from home. Two laptops sat opened on the writing desk, flanking an enormous flat-screen monitor. Across the carpet were arrayed a printer, scanner and