we can work out how to protect him’. Brennan had reacted calmly to the news, just as he had seemed almost indifferent to the revelation that Acocella had activated two separate networks in Austria and Budapest in order to finesse Gaddis’s exfiltration from Vienna.
But the appearance of Maxim Kepitsa, shortly after Des had telephoned a second time, had taken Tanya by surprise. Up until that point, she had been prepared to give Brennan the benefit of the doubt. After all, Wilkinson’s assassination at the Kleines Cafe could have been a coincidence; she had no evidence that her boss had tipped off the FSB about Wilkinson’s movements. But Kepitsa’s demeanour, and his seedy bear-hug with Brennan shortly after he strode into the room, stank of a stitch-up.
‘Mr Kepitsa has come here today to help us try to piece together what may have happened in Vienna,’ Brennan began.
‘Is that right?’
Tanya remembered what she had said to Gaddis on the way back from Gatwick. I didn’t apply for this job so that my boss could toady up to the Kremlin and put innocent lives at risk. It was straightforward, really. She didn’t want to be answerable to a man who was prepared to overlook the cold-blooded murder of at least two British citizens in order to preserve the status quo of Westminster’s relationship with Moscow.
‘Here’s where we are on this thing,’ Brennan continued. ‘Our government has civilian and state contracts with Russia worth many billions of roubles. These would be severely compromised by any change of leadership in the Kremlin.’
‘You think?’ It was one of the least credible theories Tanya had heard during her entire career at Vauxhall Cross.
‘You know, Tanya, as well as I do, that the man most likely to succeed Sergei Platov in the event of any Russian election is in every way antagonistic towards Great Britain, the United States and to the entire European project. It would hardly be in our best interests to encourage such a man into power.’
That was the second least credible theory that Tanya had heard during her career at Vauxhall Cross. Nevertheless, Kepitsa was nodding vigorously in agreement. Tanya suddenly became aware of what Brennan was up to. It was obvious. Why hadn’t she realized it before? Platov knew that Brennan had the master tape of his defection. SIS had been using it as leverage against him for years. Whenever Moscow became too heavy-handed, Brennan would simply apply the thumb-screws of 1988. Stay away from our natural gas. Have a quiet word with the Iranians. Why get rid of a Russian president over whom SIS exercised such immense control?
‘What we propose to offer Doctor Gaddis is the sum of one hundred thousand pounds, which is more or less what he requires to extract himself from a mountain of personal debt.’ Brennan was pacing the room now, occasionally touching the spine of a volume by Sir Winston Churchill. ‘In return for this, he will agree to cease all enquiries into, and academic publications on, Edward Crane and the agent known as ATTILA. He will also choose to forget, of course, that Mr Platov, in a moment of youthful indiscretion, offered his talents to SIS during what was, after all, a very difficult time in the history of his country.’ Kepitsa coughed. Brennan caught his eye and offered the Second Secretary a reassuring smile. ‘Maxim, for his part, will ensure that rogue elements within the Russian state apparatus, who may have believed, however misguidedly, that they were operating on the wishes of Mr Platov, will be brought under the formal control of the FSB. In short, they will be ordered to cease all activities against Doctor Gaddis, who is, after all, a British citizen and an academic of not inconsiderable reputation. What we want, after all this hoo-hah, is a little peace and quiet.’
Tanya looked across at Kepitsa. He was a small thug of a man, not unlike Platov, she concluded. He was wearing an expensively tailored suit which still managed to make him look shifty and cheap.
‘So Mr Kepitsa knows about the tape?’ she asked.
‘What tape?’ Brennan was looking worried.
‘Platov’s interview with MI6 in Dresden. It was recorded. It was filmed by Wilkinson. He sent a copy to Katya Levette. Gaddis is in Tite Street as we speak trying to retrieve it from Holly’s basement.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Kepitsa, touching a spot on his chin.
‘Oh, it’s quite simple.’ Tanya suddenly felt liberated, a puppet severing her strings. ‘You see, Gaddis knows that you’ll try to kill him unless he has an insurance policy. You murdered his friend, you murdered Calvin Somers, you murdered Benedict Meisner and you murdered Robert Wilkinson. You can walk out of this room and reassure us that peace will reign and that the FSB bears no grudge against Gaddis, but, let’s face it, the evidence is against you. Your organization has a historical tendency to shut people up when they know too much or say the wrong thing. And Gaddis knows too much. He knows, for example, that the so-called saviour of modern Russia is just a power- hungry thug who was prepared to betray his country at its most desperate hour.’
Kepitsa looked imploringly at Brennan, as if it was beneath his dignity to be insulted quite so brazenly, particularly by a woman. Brennan was on the point of obliging him when Tanya cut both men a look that would have frozen the Neva.
‘The insurance policy is the tape,’ she said. ‘I assume that Doctor Gaddis has already made plans to have the film shown on every news channel and on every website in the civilized world should anything happen to him. If, on the other hand, you leave him in peace, he will go back to work at UCL and forget that he ever met any of us.’
Brennan spoke first. ‘What about Crane?’
‘Gone. Forgotten. It’s too late for that. Crane will remain a myth.’
Kepitsa stirred once again. He appeared irritated that Brennan had not leaped more robustly to his defence. Opting to fight his own battle, he rose to his feet and directed his attention towards Tanya. It was to his considerable disadvantage that she was at least five inches taller than he was.
‘Let me be clear about something, young lady. I would ask you formally to withdraw the accusation that my government would be in any way responsible should anything happen to Doctor Gaddis. As far as the FSB is concerned, British journalists and academics may write what they like about Russia and its politicians. We would not consider Doctor Gaddis an enemy of the state simply because he has written a book-’
Even Brennan looked uncomfortable at the effrontery of the lie. Tanya was grateful for the opportunity to skewer Kepitsa on his hypocrisy.
‘So it’s OK for British academics, is it? But as soon as you have a Russian academic, a Ukrainian journalist — say, a Katarina Tikhonov — then it’s a different story. You murder people like that, don’t you, Mr Kepitsa? You poison them. You send thugs to gun them down in their homes. You allow them to rot in prisons and deny them basic medical care. Isn’t that the case?’
The Russian was already reaching for his briefcase. Tanya expected him to say: ‘I have heard enough of this’, but instead he opted for the more tried and tested: ‘I have never been so insulted in my life.’
‘Oh, I expect you have,’ she said. ‘Just before you go, Max, do tell Sir John why you have two surveillance operatives sitting in a Mercedes, registered to the Russian Embassy, looking up at Holly Levette’s apartment as we speak? Tell him that. I’d like to hear your reasoning. I thought Doctor Gaddis was just a harmless British academic? If that’s the case, why are you taking such an unusual interest in his private life? Is it the tape? Are you trying to get to it before he does?’
‘Is this true, Maxim?’ Brennan asked.
Kepitsa turned for the door.
‘This meeting is concluded,’ he said, shooting Brennan the look of a deceived man already plotting his revenge. ‘The next time I come to visit you, John, I expect to be treated with a good deal more respect.’
Chapter 58
It was dark when Gaddis came out of Holly’s building and stood momentarily on Tite Street, looking up at a pale orange sky. He now had two disks concealed beneath his coat. In his left hand he was carrying an envelope addressed to a colleague in the United States which contained a DVD.
He needed a cigarette. He took out the packet, struck a match and brought the flame to his lips. It was his only mistake. The face of Dr Samuel Gaddis was momentarily lit up for the world to see.
‘I know that man,’ said Karl Stieleke.
‘Who?’ said Grek. ‘The guy who just came out?’
‘On Saturday. In Vienna. He was at the wedding. I saw him after the ceremony in the Stadtpark.’
