Nyman nodded sagely throughout this.
‘Then who gave the order to kill Hisami, Harland and me?’
‘That doesn’t concern us at the moment. This is the settling of some old scores by persons unknown who were undoubtedly annoyed about the disappearance of all those laundered millions. It’s all water under the bridge at Narva.’ Ott was pleased with that line.
Macy gave Samson a look to say that there wasn’t any point – the intelligence services had the solution they wanted. He made a move to leave.
‘There are a couple of outstanding matters,’ said Ott. ‘We’re anxious to catch the Matador and, of course, we wish to protect you, Samson.’
Samson gave an audible groan. ‘When Peter mentioned this I made it clear that I didn’t want any kind of surveillance or protection.’
‘He very nearly succeeded in killing you yesterday. You do need some help looking after yourself.’
Samson got up and turned to face Nyman and Sonia Fell, who had barely moved in the last half-hour. ‘These two will tell you that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself and, at the same time, clearing up their mess in Macedonia and bungling ineptitude in Estonia. That kind of protection I can do without.’
Macy patted the table and rose. ‘I think we have contributed all we can here.’
‘There is one other thing,’ said Ott. ‘We would rather like to know what you were doing at that intersection in north London yesterday.’
‘Would you?’ said Samson.
‘The area is of interest to Caroline and Shriti’s colleagues in the Security Service. And they wondered how you came to be in that particular spot.’
‘I was hoping to meet someone.’
‘Did you meet them?’
‘No, things fell apart, as you’ve just seen in that video.’
‘Name of person?’
‘That has absolutely nothing to do with your operation, and it is a private matter.’
‘So you don’t know why the Security Service and the police were there? We are to believe your presence was a coincidence?’
‘Yes, I have no interest in the area.’
Shriti looked unconvinced but gave a resigned shrug.
‘Then we thank you both for your time,’ said Ott.
Outside, Samson found himself groping for a cigarette, although he’d quit many months ago now. ‘That,’ he said as he and Macy started walking, ‘is exactly why I don’t work with those people any longer – all that wheels-within-wheels shit and turning tricks for our American friends.’
‘Didn’t use to be like that. We knew who the enemy was in my day. Now you wonder . . .’
As they walked towards Pall Mall, Macy stopped to admire some almond blossom near the Athenaeum Club, an oddly intense expression on his face. ‘You do know that was all cock and bull,’ he said. ‘The whole purpose was to put us off the scent. However, being rather foolish, they underlined at least one area of interest.’
‘The Edgar Building,’ said Samson.
‘Indeed, but also the fact that they are determined not to blame the Russians. By the way, Ott is not as ahead of the game as he thinks. Vladan Drasko was found dead in a motel room in Virginia. Poisoned himself handling the nerve agent, no doubt.’ He stopped to hail a cab. ‘What’re you going to do now?’
‘Talk to Zoe Freemantle.’
‘Denis put £20k behind the bar, as it were. So you have no worries about money.’
‘There’s something else that interested me. Peter Nyman let slip yesterday that Bobby had been working on something. They didn’t mention that today – why? That must mean they have an idea what it was, but they didn’t want us to pursue it. It would be nice to know how much Denis and Bobby saw each other.’
‘Then you may have to talk to Anastasia. Or Ulrike. One of them must know.’ He glanced at Samson. ‘And by the way, don’t think those bastards are going to look after you. If my hunch is right, they’d rather we didn’t find out what they’re trying to protect, and that means hanging you out to dry won’t be a problem. They’ll keep tabs on you, but they won’t lift a finger to save you.’
‘Yes,’ said Samson. ‘That was precisely my interpretation.’
Macy opened the cab door. ‘Can I give you a lift to Cedar?’
‘Thanks, but I need some exercise.’
‘Okay. Go and find the people who ordered my old friend’s death, Samson.’
Samson walked briskly to Jermyn Street and turned right into one of the arcades that led to Piccadilly. As he looked absently into a store selling expensive shaving brushes and creams, thinking of his father’s reverence for the finer things of what he supposed to be the English gentleman’s life, the call came in from a more recent immigrant. It was from Naji Touma, the Syrian kid who, over five years before, had darted through Greece and Macedonia like the lively bug that supplied his codename – FIREFLY. He was now in London, on a six-month secondment at Imperial College, where, to Samson’s mild astonishment, he was thought to have original things to say about dark matter and dark energy.
‘Naj, we need to talk.’
‘About Mr Harland? I know.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Mrs Harland. She emailed me.’
‘I see. I’m sorry. It’s very bad news.’ Naji and Harland had formed an unlikely relationship during the days before and after Anastasia’s release. While Samson and Anastasia were debriefed by Estonian intelligence, the pair of them sat at Harland’s kitchen table in his seaside cottage, talking for hours. Harland was fascinated by the speed and range of Naji’s mind and murmured to Samson that he sometimes felt he was in the presence of one of the great intellects of the day. Samson remembered looking over at Naji’s vacant expression and doubting that, but a year later Naji had won a prize for early career astrophysicists with an essay written in English. Harland went to Norway to watch him receive it.
