turned, and walked away around the coppice, joining the few people getting back onto the train.
He returned to the restaurant car and found the book where he had left it. The headwaiter approached with the bill. Kurbsky paid him in euros and tipped well. “I’m obliged to you. It was excellent. When is the next stop?”
“Another hour, perhaps more, Monsieur- Rennes.”
Instead of returning to the compartment, he worked his way back to the club car and peered in. Ivanov was standing, talking to the car steward, upset. The steward was shrugging, obviously unable to satisfy him. So Kokonin and Burlaka had missed the train. Not his fault. They’d have to get the next one. That seemed the official attitude.
Kurbsky turned and went back. From the first day you put on a uniform, you had to accept you could die wearing it. He was fighting in a war of sorts; he seemed to have done so all his life. He should have had a little pity for the two dead men perhaps, but he’d used that all up in Afghanistan and Chechnya.
HE DIDN’T GO in when he got back to the compartments, simply checked to see that his three companions were still resting, turned, and started to make his way toward the rear of the train. It was time to finish the thing, whatever it took. The entire train seemed to be asleep, a passenger here or there with a magazine or a book.
After midnight, when anything is possible and death is in the air. It wasn’t Shakespeare, he knew that, some minor writer from times past, not that it mattered. He had reached the club car. The car steward in his cramped booth was asleep and the passengers in their seats seemed well away too. He walked along between the seats to where Ivanov sat by himself, eyes closed, head back, arms folded. Kurbsky slid into the opposite seat, and Ivanov opened his eyes and nearly jumped out of his skin.
Kurbsky said softly, “Don’t say a word. You’ve been caught up in a matter of the highest security to the State- we both have. Now, keep your voice down.”
“What about Kokonin and Burlaka?” Ivanov whispered.
“Back at Belleville. I disarmed them and told them to run for it or else.”
“But why did you do this?”
“I am under orders, from Putin himself.” He stood up. “We can’t talk freely here. Come out on the viewing platform.”
He went and opened the door that gave onto the platform with the ironwork rail; it was a spot much popular with smokers in these anti-cigarette times. Although there was a canopy, the rain blew in.
Ivanov said, “We’re going to get soaked. What the hell is going on?”
Kurbsky produced the silenced Walther, jammed the muzzle into him at close quarters, and shot him in the heart. He lurched back, half turning, and fell head down over the rail. Kurbsky toppled him the rest of the way over, and the body was swept away in the darkness and rain. He replaced the Walther in his belt clip, his iron composure clicking in, and calmly worked his way up the aisle to the end, where the car steward still dozed in his booth.
After midnight, when anything is possible and death is in the air. It wouldn’t go away, went around and around in his brain. He had killed three men without a hint of pity, but he’d have to put that behind him, as he had with so many others over the years. He was clear now to follow the future mapped out for him, however uncertain.
Back in first class, he went into the lavatory and called Luzhkov, who had not been able to sleep, waiting for news.
“It’s done, Boris. I’ve killed all three.”
“Will there be repercussions?”
“I shouldn’t imagine they’ll be found for a while. Their bodies aren’t on the train, if that’s what you mean. By the time anybody finds them, we should be flying out from Saint-Denis.”
“Did it give you any problem, Alex?”
“Boris, people like you, acting on behalf of the State, have sent people out to do your killing for years. When did you ever ask if it gave them a problem?”
He rang off, paused, and then called Roper.
ROPER ANSWERED IMMEDIATELY. “How are you? Dillon called just before the train left, saying you were in good hands. How’s the trip so far?”
“It turned out to be rather lively.” Kurbsky started the lying now. “The others were having a sleep, and I went into the restaurant car for a bite to eat. We stopped at Belleville for fifteen minutes, a few people got off, and to my astonishment I saw Kokonin and Burlaka, two of my GRU minders, having a stroll.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“Pure bad luck. I found out later some chambermaid saw me get into the taxi, heard where I was going, and told them. They got their act together and followed me to the station. They must have just caught the train.”
“So what did you do?”
“At Belleville? I slipped off the train, followed them to a suitable spot, and braced them.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“I shot them both, left them in a ditch, and got back on board.”
“What about the third man?”
“Ivanov. When we got going again, I searched the train and found him in the club car. I think he thought they’d simply missed the train. I told him we were all victims of a complicated plot direct from Putin himself.” He lied again. “When I asked him how he’d got on my tracks so quickly, he told me about the chambermaid.”
“And where did this confrontation take place?”
“On the viewing platform at the end of the train. It’s a smokers’ paradise these days, but not so much for him.”
“You killed him too.”
“Of course, and put him over the rail. I had to, Roper, you can see that. Those GRU idiots would have cocked things up big-time. By the way, speaking of the GRU, has Boris Luzhkov turned up at the London Embassy yet?”
“So I hear,” Roper said. “What were Dillon and Billy doing while all this was going on?”
“Sleeping the sleep of the righteous.”
“And it didn’t occur to you that they might have appreciated the chance to join in?”
“You have a point, but there was Monica to consider, and frankly, I thought it’d be more efficient if I took care of it myself. I’ll leave you to break the news to Dillon.”
He left the lavatory and paused to look in at the compartment, where Monica was sitting up now and swinging her legs to the ground.
“Have you had a good trip?”
“At least I slept.” Sean and Billy were stirring next door. “What about you?” she said.
“Trains and planes, I can never sleep on them,” he said. “I had a great meal in the restaurant car and read your book on the Roman army in Britain.”
“And what was the verdict?”
“Wonderful. Action and passion, that’s what I like. I’ll go down and get a table for breakfast. I’ll see you there.”
Billy was at the washbasin and Dillon had his mobile to his ear and looked serious, so Kurbsky got out fast.
FIVE O’CLOCK and still dark outside, rain driving against the window. The headwaiter provided the black bitter tea. “Would you care for vodka with it, Monsieur?”
“Why not?” Dinner, breakfast-his time scale was seriously out of joint. He swallowed some tea, knocked the vodka back, and examined the passport and papers Dillon had given him when he’d first boarded the train. Dillon arrived, still looking serious. Billy, on the other hand, was full of excitement.
“Three at one blow, Kurbsky! I always thought that was for flies on a slice of bread and jam.”
Dillon said, “Damn it, Billy, this is serious.” He turned to Kurbsky. “I understand discovering Kokonin and Burlaka was a shock, but you should have called us in. That’s what we’re here for.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Kurbsky told him. “I needed to act fast.”
“And Ivanov?”
“Look, I knew him, so I knew how to handle him. It’s done now. How’s Monica?”
