‘Christ,’ he said, out of breath. ‘Armstrong sent us.’
‘I’m sorry. I thought — ’ But he suddenly felt too tired to finish.
‘Two men are in Daniel’s flat,’ Meena said, taking over, reluctantly releasing her man. She made no apology for the mistake. ‘Moroccan intelligence.’
‘That’s why we’re here,’ the other man said, getting up off the road. ‘They showed up on the grid this evening.’
A bit late, Marchant thought, recalling the trouble he’d had earlier in Grosvenor Square.
‘Delay them, will you?’ he said. ‘We need to get to the airport.’
53
Salim Dhar sat back and stared at the screen, watching his plane spin in a sickening cartwheel of flames.
‘You forgot to add some right rudder,’ Sergei said, coming over to the simulator with a cigarette hanging limply from the corner of his mouth. He was tall and loose-limbed, wearing a flying suit and holding a helmet in one hand. His face was awkward and angular, almost avian in its features. Dhar assumed that was why comrades called him the Bird.
After the air-show crash, Sergei had been stripped of his wings, tried and sent to prison, where he would have remained for the rest of his life if it hadn’t been for the unusual summons to train up a surly Muslim for an SVR black op. He knew enough not to ask any questions, that he was expendable if he played up. ‘They will shoot me after I have served my purpose,’ he had once said, only half jokingly, to Dhar.
The daily training sessions took place in an airless hut across from the hangar where Dhar was living at Kotlas airbase. Dhar didn’t know where the Bird roosted at night. They didn’t do small talk. No one else was in the hut, and there were two armed guards positioned outside the door.
‘How will you ever learn to deploy your missiles if you’re always crashing on take-off?’ Sergei continued. ‘We’ve one week left and you’ve only got the
Dhar sat in silence, his hands resting on his legs. He tried to filter out the instructor’s tone of voice and focus on the content. He was right. Just then a jet roared low over the hut, mocking Dhar with its menacing ease.
‘Let’s do it again,’ Dhar said calmly. ‘In formation this time.’
Sergei looked at him for a moment and smiled.
‘OK,’ he replied, tossing away his cigarette as he walked over to the other simulator. ‘So the Bird is your wingman.’
54
The lights were off in St George’s Chapel, but Marchant could make out the tall figure of Marcus Fielding sitting quietly at the back of the airless room, in front of the font. It was Heathrow’s only chapel, built into the basement like a vaulted crypt. Marchant had found it quickly. Its location between Terminals 1 and 3 was well signposted. He was sure he had been here before, a long time ago, coming from or going to India. His father had sat outside with him in the memorial garden, where he could picture a large wooden cross. It must have been not long after the death of his twin brother, Sebastian.
Fielding didn’t look up as he entered the room, and for a moment Marchant wondered if the Vicar was praying. His eyes were closed. Marchant hesitated by the door, looking at a plaque that commemorated the crew of Pan Am Flight 103, who had died 31,000 feet above Lockerbie. Then he walked over and sat down on the brown padded seat next to Fielding. Still the Vicar said nothing, his eyes closed behind his rimless glasses. Finally, he spoke.
‘Did he give you anything?’
‘Nothing. He told me he’d passed information to my father, low-grade product, but that it was the least he could do in return for the quality of RX my father was giving to the Russians.’
Fielding’s face creased into a smile as he opened his eyes.
‘And did you begin to doubt him?’
‘Who? My father?’
‘Yes.’
Marchant didn’t say anything. Instead, he tried to read the words on another plaque, by the font, which had been put up by Dr Jim Swire, whose daughter had died over Lockerbie, too.
‘Moscow was all ears,’ Fielding said. ‘I told you he’d give you nothing.’
‘Were you able to listen?’
‘I heard enough to be worried.’
‘About Primakov?’
‘About you. Perhaps it was asking too much. No one likes to hear his own father being branded a traitor.’
Marchant bridled at the implied criticism. Did Fielding think he wasn’t up to the job? ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Please.’
‘Did you ever doubt him?’
Fielding paused, long enough for Marchant to look up, for more thoughts to ferment.
‘Your father always talked about this country as an island, our sceptred isle. It wasn’t shared democratic values with America that made him go to work in the morning. It was the mist rising from fields at dawn in the Cotswolds.’
‘I take it that’s a “no”, then.’
Fielding didn’t answer, closing his eyes instead. For a moment, Marchant wondered if he hadn’t heard. He hated it when Fielding did this. The ensuing silence unnerved him enough to keep talking, just as Fielding intended. It was how he got people to reveal more than they wanted to.
‘I still thought Primakov might give me something — a look in his eye, a scribbled note on a napkin, the smallest hint that we both knew. But nothing. Just a letter.’
Fielding opened his eyes. ‘From whom?’
‘My father. It told me to trust Primakov as if he was family.’
‘Well, there’s your sign. If you trust your father, then you must trust Primakov, too.’
‘And if I don’t trust Primakov? If I don’t believe he’s one of ours?’
‘Did Primakov mention Dhar?’ Fielding asked.
‘He wants me to meet him.’
‘That’s good. But you mustn’t appear too keen. Not yet.’
‘Which is why you’re sending me to India with Lakshmi Meena, the delightful dental assistant.’ Fielding had met Meena in the chapel before Marchant. She was now waiting in departures.
‘Our new Leila. At least this time we know she’s working for the CIA.’
‘And for anyone else?’
‘She’s different, Daniel. You can trust her.’
‘Thanks for the advice.’ The Vicar as agony aunt, Marchant thought. God help us all.
‘I want Dhar’s mother brought back to the UK. It won’t be straightforward. The Russians have got wind of her too, and will try to bring her in.’
‘What about the Americans?’
‘I’ve spoken to the DCIA. Provided we pool everything, he’s happy for her to be brought here for questioning, given their recent track record with Dhar. But they want Meena to run the operation. That’s the deal.’
