“I’ll join you.”
They sat on either side of the counter, and Kurbsky said, “You’re not very busy.”
“Not during the lunch hour-it’s all local trade.”
“There’s just you, then?”
Hitesh laughed. “My father and mother have gone home to Bombay for three months, and I’m sitting in for them. A couple of local ladies come in part-time.”
“What do you usually do?”
“I’m a medical student, just starting my fourth year.”
“Where did you go to university?”
“Here in London.” He laughed. “A great disappointment to my father, because I’m not a businessman. I’m too English for them. I was born here.”
“I know the feeling. I have a French father and I was born in Devon. I read English at London University, then I worked as a journalist, before…” He gave an excellent performance. “Well, you know what I mean. Look, thanks a lot. I’ll see you again.”
“Take care,” Hitesh told him, and Kurbsky left.
HE APPROACHED THE house from the mews. Katya answered, opened the gate, and he walked through the garden and found her waiting on the terrace. She took his hands and kissed him on both cheeks.
“We were getting worried. We expected you earlier.”
“I’ve just been having a cup of tea with Hitesh Patel and showed him your letter. He’s a nice guy.”
“Svetlana’s waiting.”
They went into the conservatory and found her in her usual wicker chair. She reached up to kiss him “We were worried for you.”
“No need, Babushka. Last night I went down to the Salters’ pub at Wapping and had supper. I got a taxi and then walked the streets. This morning, I did the same. Actually, I had a funny experience on Oxford Street.”
“What was that?” Katya asked.
He told them about the episode in the bookstore. “Isn’t it wonderful?” he said. “Even with my photo on the book he was holding, he still didn’t recognize me.”
Katya said, “There was a call for you.”
“There couldn’t have been,” he said.
“Sorry, I mean the call was through me. Major Roper gave me one of those encrypted Codex mobiles. He said he’d been trying to get you but couldn’t get a response.”
“I’ve had mine on vibrate. I’ll speak to him.”
“I’ve got chili con carne for lunch. I’ll show you the room over the garage afterwards.”
“But first, there’s champagne,” Svetlana told him. “A celebration of your return after all these years.”
“Just give me a moment,” he said. “I must call Major Roper.”
“YOU WERE TRYING to get me,” he said when Roper answered.
“Yes, there was no response, so I got worried.”
“I put my Codex on vibrate, and it’s easy to miss that faint tremble, especially when you’re walking in the crowds of Oxford Street. What did you want?”
“There’s a breaking story on all the news shows. Shadid Basayev and his driver, a man named Josef Limov, were stiffed at that church in Mayfair where he has a memorial to his wife.”
“And when was this?”
“The priest, a Father Meehan, came across the bodies in the church cemetery not much more than an hour ago.”
“So information will be thin on the ground at the moment. What do you think, a Russian connection? SVR perhaps,” he said, naming the Foreign Intelligence Service, which was in many ways a successor to the KGB.
“I’m not so sure. In the old days, they often hired the IRA to do their dirty work. These days, Muslims are popular.”
“Mind you, he was a bad one, Basayev,” Kurbsky said. “He won’t be missed.”
“I’ll give it some thought. We’ll speak again.”
“I might drop in to see you.”
“You know where I am.”
LUZHKOV HEARD WHAT Bounine had to say, was shocked and delighted. There was no point in holding back on the story, and as it started to break, he contacted the Prime Minister’s suite at the Kremlin and spoke to Putin.
“I am obviously pleased that Basayev has finally met his end, but the manner of it gives me pause for thought.”
“I can see that, Comrade Prime Minister. He treads a dangerous path. You don’t want to make fools of Ferguson and his people.”
“On the other hand, it’s a brilliant stroke if he gets away with it.” Putin laughed. “I like it. Let it ride, Colonel, and we’ll see where it leads.”
Bounine, sitting opposite him, said, “How was he?”
“Delighted. I think the idea of Kurbsky making fools of Ferguson’s company actually pleases him. I won’t try to speak to Kurbsky. I’ll leave it to you, Yuri, you’re the man he trusts.”
THE LIVING QUARTERS over the garage were not quite as he remembered them. The bathroom had been improved, but the big room where Kelly had taught Kurbsky judo had been developed into another apartment, a kitchen area in one corner, a living room in another, and a wide window looking out over the garden. It was nicely furnished and in good order.
“I had cleaners in after Marek left, and a plumber to improve the bathroom and kitchen. It’s linked to the central heating system in the main house,” Katya said. “Svetlana wants this to work, Alex, and so do I.”
“Sit down for a minute.” She faced him across the table, and he took her hand. “You’ve been great to me, your input in this affair has been fabulous, and I know you’re a true friend to my aunt. It seems to be working, my new identity. As I’ve told you, I’ve been out and about, and I feel that Alexander Kurbsky is the invisible man. I can come and go at Holland Park as Henri Duval. Let’s take it a day at a time.”
“Good,” she said. “Regarding your new identity, I hesitate to bring this up, but-”
“But you think I’d better actually do some gardening now and then, to fit my cover story, right?”
“Right,” she said with relief. “I’ll just show you the garage and the equipment and we’ll go back to Svetlana.”
Downstairs she pressed a button, and the garage door lifted. There was a riding mower, garden tools of every description, and a small Ford van in dark green. “It doesn’t look like much, but I use it as a general runaround. It’s been in here for years. Just use it as you see fit. The right documents are in the glove compartment, and they include Henri Duval’s name. The key’s in there also, and a hand control to let you in or out at the front gate.”
“Excellent.” He smiled. “Let’s go back to the conservatory and help Svetlana finish that bottle of champagne.”
SHORTLY AFTER THE news came out of the bloodbath at St. Mary and All the Saints, Ferguson had spoken to Roper. “It’s like Belfast on a bad Saturday night in the old days. The Prime Minister and the Cabinet Office are not pleased.”
“People like Basayev shouldn’t be allowed in our country just because they’ve got a few hundred million or a billion or so and it suits the City of London and the Treasury.”
“That’s as may be, but it doesn’t look good in the papers.”
“Oh, dear, I’m heartbroken, I really am.”
“So who’s responsible? Have you spoken to Lord Arthur Tilsey?”
“As a matter of fact, I have, and the Security Services are just as mystified as the rest of us.”
“It’s the Russians. It’s got to be. They tried to collar Basayev in Moscow. That’s why he fled here in the first place. Have you had words with Special Branch at Scotland Yard?”
