‘Certainly, sir. What number please?’
He knew Natasha’s landline by heart and, within a few seconds, could hear the phone ringing out in Barcelona. Be at home, he whispered. Be at home.
‘ Hola? ’
It was Nick, the boyfriend. The operator explained that a man was calling ‘collect’ from London and would Nick accept the charge?
‘Sure.’ They were connected. ‘Sam?’
‘Yes. Is Min there?’
‘What?’
‘I said is Min there?’
Nick wasn’t taking too kindly to Gaddis’s tone. He had accepted the charges, after all. He deserved a bit of respect for his generosity, some appreciation, a little small talk. ‘You want to talk to Min?’
‘Yes, Min. My daughter. Is she there?’
‘She’s at school, Sam. You sound flustered. Is everything all right, mate?’
Gaddis didn’t want to be called ‘mate’ by anybody at a time like this, least of all by Natasha’s feckless, underfunded boyfriend.
‘No, nothing is all right. Where’s Natasha?’
‘I think she’s at work.’
‘What do you mean, you “think”?’
‘Tell you what, mate. Why don’t you call her there? Sounds like this is a conversation you should be having in private.’
‘I don’t have her num-’
To Gaddis’s disbelief, Nick hung up. He swore at the phone, so loudly that two passers-by on the street turned and looked at him with a look of fear in their eyes. Slamming down the receiver, Gaddis gathered up the loose change from the floor and realized that he could not remember the name of the company that Natasha worked for in Barcelona. All of his numbers were stored on a mobile phone still lying, battery-dead, under a filing cabinet in her apartment. He could not even recall the name of Min’s school. It was a Catalan word, some regional anomaly that he had always found impossible to remember. How was he going to find out if she was OK?
He stopped. He tried to regain his composure. No news is good news, he told himself. If Min had been harmed, Nick would know about it. Besides, the note had been a warning. All he had to do was drop the Crane story, forget about Platov and Dresden, and all his problems would be over.
He opened the door of the phone booth. Cars were being held at lights on the Cromwell Road. It was cold and Gaddis zipped up his coat against the wind. He lit a cigarette and smoked it while pacing the street, back and forth, like a prisoner in a yard. He could conclude only one thing: that he would never be free of the FSB. The note was meaningless in this context, the hundred grand just a lure. As long as he was alive, he posed a threat to Sergei Platov. If he agreed to the blackmail, it would only postpone his demise — in a car crash, from a gas leak, from a little polonium-210 in his California roll. He walked back to the phone. The only way of securing Min’s future was to get his hands on the tape. That would at least give him some leverage, something priceless with which he could negotiate her safety.
This time the phone accepted the pound coins. He dialled Holly’s number. Her voice as she picked up was like his last chance of salvation.
‘It’s me,’ he said.
‘Sam? Where have you been?’ She was more perplexed than irritated. ‘I’ve been trying your mobile for days. Where are you?’
‘I had to stay in Barcelona longer than I thought. My mobile got stolen.’ What choice did he have but to lie to her? ‘Just got back to London. I haven’t got round to replacing it.’
‘We were meant to go for dinner.’
Christ. Quo Vadis on Saturday night. He had completely forgotten making the plan; it had just been a smokescreen for Tanya and GCHQ. He apologized and waited for Holly to say something, but she remained silent. Did she know that he was lying to her? Did she know what had happened to Wilkinson?
‘I need you to do me a favour,’ he said.
It was far from the best approach. He owed Holly an explanation for his behaviour. Now, without bothering to ask how she had been, without even being honest about Wilkinson, he was expecting her to do his bidding in an emergency, the details of which he could not reveal to her. He was thinking only of Min’s security. Whatever it would take to keep her safe, Gaddis would do it, even if that meant manipulating Holly.
‘You want me to do you a favour?’
‘I know it’s a lot to ask.’
‘You haven’t even asked it yet.’
He was grateful that he had found her in a reasonable mood. ‘It’s about your mum’s files. Are you sure you gave me everything? The other day you said there might be other boxes in the basement.’
‘There are,’ she replied plainly. It sounded as though she was being distracted by something in the room from which she was talking.
‘Are you at the flat now?’
‘No. An audition.’
‘Could you go down there as soon as it’s finished? Would you be able to do that?’
‘Probably.’ Again, Holly sounded distracted. Gaddis experienced a strange desire for her to succeed at the audition, to be given a part that she could sink her teeth into, something that would take her away from him. She didn’t deserve to have been dragged into all this. He wanted her to be safe and yet, at the same time, he needed her to save Min. ‘Why don’t you come over and we can both do it?’ she said.
It was as though she was testing him. ‘I can’t get away.’ Gaddis looked out at the Cromwell Road and knew that he was no more than ten minutes by cab from Tite Street. But if he went there, it would surely draw FSB surveillance towards the tape. ‘I’m right in the middle of this MI6 thing. The book.’
‘About Bob?’
‘About Bob, yes.’ The lies were paper-thin. ‘If you could just go down there and have one more look, particularly for any tapes or cassettes that your mum might have mislaid.’
‘Tapes or cassettes?’
A woman in a raincoat appeared outside the phone box, waiting to make a call. Gaddis opened the door ajar and said: ‘I’m going to be a long time, I’m sorry,’ in a low voice. Holly was saying: ‘Sam?’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you all right? I’m worried about you.’
His body was bound in sweat. He had realized, even as he was talking, that he would never be able to publish the Crane biography, that there was now no hope of Platov’s defection becoming public knowledge. The president would remain in power and there would be dozens more Charlotte Bergs, dozens more Katarina Tikhonovs, who would lose their lives simply to prop him up in power. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘There’s just a deadline on the manuscript. I can’t get away. I can’t come to meet you.’
‘What if I find the tape?’
‘Then you must bring it to me.’
‘Where? In Shepherd’s Bush?’
‘No.’ That wasn’t safe. Holly would be observed and the tape stolen. He had to think of an alternative location. UCL was undoubtedly being watched. ‘Take it to the Donmar Warehouse and leave it with Piers.’
‘With Piers? Why?’
How could he explain that one? It made no sense. Gaddis cobbled together another shabby lie.
‘I’m working around the corner in a UCL building.’
‘Then why don’t I just bring it to you there?’
‘Security’s a pain in the arse. They’ll either lose it or tell you they’ve never heard of me.’ He was amazed by the speed of his lies. ‘The Donmar is less than a quarter of a mile away. I go there for coffee all the time. You can leave it at the ticket desk. Just call me at this number if you think you’ve found anything.’
He gave the landline number of Tanya’s house, wondering if even that was a safe means of communicating with her.
