Charlie’s Apprentice

Thirty-seven

Natalia was ordered not to the traditional headquarters of the former Soviet intelligence apparatus at Lubyanka, but to the nearby White House, the seat of the new Russian government. There Vadim Lestov maintained an office suite in which he spent most of his time, in preference to the ochre-painted mausoleum so closely associated with KGB oppression.

Only when she approached the inner sanctum of the intelligence division, close to Lestov’s suite, was there any reminder of the old KGB security mania, but even here the officers who carried out the mandatory screening were young, open-faced and comparatively friendly, not the stone-featured automatons she could remember from when she first joined the service, which now seemed so very long ago.

Natalia felt completely alone and frighteningly vulnerable, without any indication of what or who she was going to confront. At this moment – this very last moment – the precautions she’d attempted, working blind, always having to guess where and how Tudin’s attack might come, seemed woefully inadequate.

A man was waiting to receive her in an ante-room, gesturing her at once towards high, divided double doors. Natalia was disorientated the moment she entered. She had expected an office, with maybe just Lestov or Tudin waiting inside. Instead she walked into a small conference room already arranged as an examining tribunal. There was a table across the end of the room. Lestov sat in the centre, flanked by his two immediate deputies, Vladimir Melnik and Nikolai Abialiev. A bank of tables to the left already harboured a recording secretariat of three men and two women. There were two rows of chairs facing the three blank-faced members of the committee. Fyodor Tudin was already occuping a seat in the first row, on the left. Eduard was directly behind. Mikhail Kapitsa was in the same row, but separated from Eduard by two empty chairs. Also in that row sat a third man whom Natalia did not know.

Her escort indicated the chairs to the right, separated from the others by a central aisle. Mustn’t become disorientated, confused by the unexpected! she told herself. She’d make mistakes if she let this tribunal hearing unsettle her. No reason why she should be unsettled. Her original KGB training had been as an interrogator, accustomed daily to being faced during debriefings with situations for which there had been no primer or rehearsal. It was at one such session that she’d met Charlie Muffin for the first time!

As she reached her designated place, Lestov said: ‘This is a preliminary disciplinary examination, of complaints from Fyodor Ivanovich Tudin, under regulations governing the security service of the Russian Federation. If those complaints are found to be justified they will be laid before a full tribunal hearing. Any such findings will in no way interfere with quite separate criminal charges that might be considered appropriate by the Federal Prosecutor.’

Tudin, the outdated traditionalist who only knew well trodden routes, had moved as she’d anticipated, pursuing her through the organization’s regulations first! Natalia felt a surge of relief. There was still a lot more she had to understand and perhaps prepare herself against.

When she did not respond Lestov said: ‘Do you fully understand what I have said? Why you have been brought before us?’

‘Absolutely.’ She didn’t welcome the irritation in his voice. Natalia came slightly forward, concentrating entirely upon the chairman, needing his attention, which at that moment was upon the documents laid out before him. Natalia supposed she had either met him formally or been in his presence among others on about four or five occasions since their respective appointments. It had been Lestov who officially confirmed her as chairman of the external directorate. He was an inconspicuous, undistinguished man who nevertheless conveyed an impression of the authority he clearly possessed. Head-bent as he was, the thinning hair was more obvious than she could remember from their previous encounters. He was not a career intelligence officer. At one time in the turmoil of fledgeling Russian democracy, which still didn’t properly exist, Lestov had served as Interior Minister, but had been dismissed because he was considered too liberal. Natalia hoped the charge had been true. Not having expected an investigating panel she certainly hadn’t prepared herself for the sort of prosecution that was clearly intended.

At that moment, fortunately, Lestov came up from his papers, looking enquiringly at her.

‘Will I have the opportunity to question the accusations I am going to face?’

Lestov went briefly to the men on either side of him. ‘Within limits. There is no reason for this to be a protracted examination.’

Already judged guilty, decided Natalia, worriedly.

At Lestov’s nod, Tudin hurried to his feet. The man was more florid-faced than usual, and Natalia guessed at a combination of nervous excitement at appearing before his ultimate superiors at last to destroy her, and an excess of alcohol in premature celebration. He’d dressed for the occasion. His suit was immaculate and there was the pose of a man in command in the way he was standing. Twisted sideways, Natalia could easily see Eduard as well. He wore the same clothes as in the detention cell and they were creased, but he was clean-shaven and the near shoulder-length hair was no longer lank and greasy, so he’d been allowed to shower. His belongings had been returned to him. As well as the earring she had seen there was a heavy gold watch on his left wrist and a gold identity chain on the other. There were two rings on his left hand, one dominated by a large purplish-red stone, and one on his right: from where she sat it seemed to be in the shape of a face or a mask. The dishevelled Mikhail Kapitsa, deprived by the formality of the proceedings of the habitual cigarette, was blinking rapidly and frequently brought his hands to his face, as if troubled by an irritation. His frowning look towards her was one of confused bewilderment.

Tudin avoided any flamboyant speech or mannerisms: his attitude was practically the opposite, an address delivered in a flat, sometimes almost boring monotone, with few hand or body movements. He listed precisely by their subheadings and numbers the regulations governing the Agency under which he was bringing the accusations, which he summarized as abuse of power and condoning corruption. In addition he itemized the criminal statutes he contended Natalia had broken.

The man quickly sketched Eduard’s youth at Moscow University before gaining a junior officer’s commission in the Russian army which had ended with the scale-down of the military.

‘Returning to Moscow he became a criminal, joining a recognized Mafia syndicate known as the Lubertsy,’ declared Tudin. ‘He told his criminal associates – as he will tell you here today – that he was in a particularly privileged position. His mother was a high-ranking official in the State’s security service. Her rank and influence put him beyond the law. If he were ever unlucky enough to get arrested, he could call upon his mother to intercede to prevent any prosecution or conviction …’

Tudin paused, and despite his control the man was unable to avoid darting a satisfied look between mother and son.

‘An arrest did happen, through brilliant detective work by Militia Investigator Mikhail Stepanovich Kapitsa, who will also testify before you today …’ Tudin turned quickly, identifying the detective with a hand gesture. ‘… Eduard Igovevich Fedova was seized, with eight other members of a gang of which he was the leader, in possession of narcotic and medical drugs and a considerable amount of black market material. Fedova’s first action was to offer Investigator Kapitsa a substantial bribe. Which Kapitsa of course refused. At that point, Fedova identified his mother. He told Investigator Kapitsa it was quite pointless the man attempting any sort of criminal prosecution: that his mother would prevent it. And he demanded to see her …’

Tudin coughed, his voice becoming strained, but also wanting the minimal pause, for effect. Looking directly up at the assembled committee, he said: ‘Natalia Nikandrova Fedova was contacted on the eighteenth of this month. Within an hour of a telephone conversation between her and Investigator Kapitsa, she arrived at Militia headquarters at Petrovka, to do exactly what her son had always insisted she would do, intercede upon his behalf to block any prosecution against him.’

It was impressive and convincing and Natalia felt a dip of uncertainty. There was no protest she could make, but the whole balance of the inquiry was unfair, weighted against her. Realizing he had finished, Natalia said quickly: ‘I would like to ask Colonel Tudin some questions.’

There was a peremptory, practically dismissive nod and Natalia tried to remain unruffled by Lestov’s clearly preconceived acceptance of the accusations against her.

She turned fully to confront her accuser, who came around in his turn to face her. He was impassive but still red, his attitude one of assured confidence. She was a long way from matching it, because she hadn’t expected the quasi-legality of an inquiry with witnesses arraigned against her and she still hadn’t properly adjusted. She tried to clear her throat but failed, so when she started to speak her voice was ragged and she had to stop and start again. A smirk flickered momentarily around Tudin’s mouth.

‘You are my immediate deputy, in the external directorate of the Russian security agency?’

Tudin hesitated, cautiously. ‘Yes.’

‘As such I have delegated to you particular authority concerning the new independent republics of the former Soviet Union?’

The caution was longer this time. ‘Yes.’

‘At a recent conference of all department and division heads did I have cause strongly to criticize your performance? And to insist upon substantial improvement within a stated time period?’ The smirk flickered again, and Natalia decided the man imagined she was attempting a defence in an indefensible situation by introducing internecine and irrelevant squabbles.

In immediate confirmation, Tudin turned invitingly towards the committee, visibly shrugging. Lestov responded with worrying speed and obvious impatience. ‘Is there any purpose to these questions? They have no bearing on what we are considering here today.’

‘They – and the attitude of Colonel Tudin – have everything to do with what is happening here today,’ argued Natalia, as forcefully as she felt she could. She was directly arguing against her chairman, she realized.

Lestov’s mouth tightened, but he nodded curtly for her to continue.

‘Was there disagreement between us?’ resumed Natalia.

‘I regarded it then and I regard it now as a department matter. I do not consider it has anything to do with these proceedings.’

Natalia’s voice caught again when she began to speak, but this time she did not regret the apparent uncertainty. ‘The conversation between myself and Investigator Kapitsa was a private matter: quite unofficial?’

Tudin smiled openly at what amounted to an admission of what he was accusing her of. ‘Exactly!’ he said, triumphantly. ‘In an official Militia inquiry you intruded unofficially to save your son!’

There was a stir from among the men comprising the examining panel. Natalia tried to remain unruffled. ‘How did you discover that contact between myself and Investigator Kapitsa?’

Tudin’s caution returned. ‘Rumours,’ he said shortly.

‘The directorate has an internal security division. It is not your function or responsibility to respond to rumours or gossip or suspicion of internal wrong-doing within the directorate.’

For the only time since the inquiry began, Tudin looked uncomfortable. ‘I regarded the matter as one of the utmost seriousness: one that had to be handled by someone with the authority I possess, to avoid any intimidation.’

‘Isn’t the truth of the matter that you were spying upon me, as your superior, because of your resentment of my holding that position and because of my criticism of your inadequacy to fulfil the job to which I had appointed you?’

‘No!’ denied Tudin, loudly. ‘I admit – and if the committee should require an apology then of course I offer it – that I did not strictly follow the procedures laid down for investigating matters of this sort. My only reason for doing so was quickly and effectively to prevent an abuse of power and authority. Which I have done.’

Natalia slumped down, stranding Tudin neither talking to her nor to the committee, but to the empty space in between. She hadn’t obtained an admission – as he had from her – but she hoped to have established doubt in the minds of the three men sitting in judgement upon her.

The unidentified man whom Tudin called first gave his name as Anatoli Alipov and his position as a lawyer with the security agency who had witnessed and formally taken the affidavit from Eduard. Alipov’s account was formal, nothing more than assuring the committee that the incriminating statement had been properly obtained.

‘What reason did Colonel Tudin give for your going with him to Petrovka?’ she demanded, when her turn came to question.

‘Legally to conduct the taking of an affidavit.’

‘An affidavit to serve what purpose?’

Alipov considered his reply, a careful lawyer. ‘To establish there had been an abuse of power according to our internal regulations.’

‘Which you considered to be established?’

There was another gap, for consideration. ‘Yes.’

‘Was that all?’

‘No.’

‘What else?’

‘To give an opinion on possible criminal action, too.’

‘What was your opinion?’

‘That there was a case to be made.’

As she sat, Natalia glanced unexpectedly sideways and caught the look of smiling satisfaction upon Eduard’s face, and when Tudin called him by name there was a swagger about the way he stood. He rested his hands upon the chair-back in front and at the beginning looked about him, and Natalia got the impression he regretted not having a larger audience before which to perform.

Tudin led.

The facts, from the moment of the interception on the Serpukhov road, were essentially the same as she had heard from Kapitsa, and there was a basis of accuracy in the account of the conversation she’d had with Eduard and which Kapitsa had witnessed, at her insistence. But it had all been subtly exaggerated, inference hardened into substance, innuendo presented as positive fact.

It sounded convincing and devastating.

Eduard adamantly repeated that he had never doubted her protection: at Petrovka his mother had assured him he would be freed and no action taken against him. His deepest regret was that his mother now faced this and possibly further, more serious inquiries. He had never openly asked her to be his protectress. He wanted to cooperate in every way he could, which was why he had made the affidavit. He hoped his mother would be leniently dealt with, at this and any other investigation.

She was quickly on her feet, but having risen she did not immediately speak, regarding her son steadily. How could she have ever had any emotion or love for this creature standing before her, thinking about him in the same terms – my flesh and blood – as she thought about Sasha? Her only feeling now was one of loathing hatred.

‘Where do I live?’ Natalia demanded, harshly.

Eduard blinked. There was shuffling in the room. Eduard said: ‘What?’

‘Where do I live?’

‘I don’t … I thought Mytninskaya but it wasn’t.’

‘When was the last time you came to Mytninskaya?’

‘I don’t …’ started Eduard, then stopped. He shrugged. ‘Some time ago.’

‘How long have you been out of the army?’

Another shrug. ‘Quite a while.’

‘Have you come to Mytninskaya to see me during that time?’

There was no longer any swagger or superciliousness. Eduard was suddenly aware it was not as easy as he imagined it to be, and was leaning slightly towards her. Tudin was half turned, but unable to provide any guidance, from his awkward position. Guessing the direction of her questioning, Eduard said: ‘I tried, but you weren’t there.’

He was improvising! Natalia realized at once, from long-ago experience. He was lost without guidance from Tudin and he was improvising as he went along! ‘When did we last meet, before you left the army?’

‘Can’t remember.’

‘The dates of your leaves and furloughs would be a matter of existing record, on army files,’ she warned, heavily. ‘It was six months before you left the army, wasn’t it?’

‘Maybe.’

Natalia was too far away to be sure, but she suspected there was a sheen of perspiration on her son’s face. Sweat you bastard, sweat, she thought. ‘What rank do I hold?’

‘Colonel. That’s what it was.’

‘Not what it was. What is it, now?’

‘Not sure.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Tverskaya.’

‘In what? An apartment?’

‘You should know! You’ve been there often enough!’

Natalia realized that her son was really remarkably stupid. ‘Is that what you’re telling this inquiry? That I’ve visited you there?’

‘You know you have.’

‘That’s not true, is it?’

‘You know it’s true! That’s where we reached our understanding!’

Tudin was turned away from Eduard now, head lowered towards the floor, and Natalia wondered how the man could have possibly imagined he would succeed with an attack like this. At once she answered her own question. The ways of the past, she remembered: once an accusation as blatantly false as this could have succeeded. ‘Tell the inquiry about that understanding.’

‘Already have,’ said Eduard. He’d been tensed but now he relaxed, believing he had beaten her.

It was important to inflate the confidence, in the hope that it would burst. ‘Let’s do it again. You were sure I’d get you out of Militia custody?’

‘That’s what you’d always said you’d do.’

‘When I came to Tverskaya?’

Eduard smiled. ‘Yes.’

The balloon was becoming stretched, decided Natalia. ‘What did I say, when I saw you in the cell?’

‘That it wasn’t just a matter for you: that you had to consider the Militia position.’

That was a fairly accurate recollection, she conceded. ‘How long had you been in detention when I saw you?’

‘Five days.’

‘When were you released?’

‘This morning.’

‘That is the agreement, is it? Your release in return for talking to this inquiry today?’

Natalia had hoped to get the over-confident, unthinking admission, but before Eduard could reply Tudin hurriedly stood. ‘I should tell the committee that I have today sent a full report to the Federal Prosecutor, recommending immunity in return for this man’s cooperation. At the moment, technically, he remains in Militia custody.’

It was the perfect rebuttal of what Natalia was striving to establish, that a freedom deal had been reached between Eduard and Tudin in return for Eduard’s testimony, and briefly Natalia was numbed by the despair of being so easily thwarted. For several moments her mind blocked and she couldn’t think how to continue – but more importantly how to win – this exchange with her son. And then her mind did start working again and the despair lessened, although she suspected everyone -the committee headed by the security chairman, and Tudin and Eduard and Kapitsa – would believe she had failed miserably to establish any sort of defence. Briskly she said: ‘We weren’t alone in the detention cell, were we? Investigator Kapitsa was there all the time?’

‘Yes.’ Eduard’s caution had returned.

‘He witnessed everything?’ A great deal depended on the honesty of the detective, Natalia realized: more than she’d anticipated until this moment.

‘Yes.’

‘Did you want him to be there?’

Eduard shrugged. ‘It was a matter for you. I didn’t mind.’

‘You didn’t suggest he should leave?’ Natalia concentrated not upon her son but upon Kapitsa when she asked the question. The detective was frowning.

‘No.’

Kapitsa’s frown deepened. Dear God, thought Natalia, don’t let him have reached any agreement or understanding with Tudin, as Eduard obviously has. ‘You identified me as your mother to Investigator Kapitsa the moment you were stopped on the Serpukhov road?’

‘That was what you’d always told me to do: announce it at once to prevent any investigation becoming established.’

Natalia intruded the pause, wanting the silence. Then she said: ‘So it had to be done quickly? You were to be got out quickly?’ Natalia saw Tudin stiffen.

Eduard said: ‘Yes.’

‘But it was five days before I came to Petrovka.’

Eduard appeared to realize the danger. He nodded, nibbling his lower lip, not replying.

‘Was it not five days before I came to Petrovka?’

‘Yes.’

‘If we’d always agreed to move quickly, why do you think it took five days for me to come to you?’

‘You tell me!’ said Eduard, defiantly.

‘I will! You didn’t have an address to contact me, because there had been no meeting between us for almost two years, had there? Just as there was no understanding or agreement between us, to look after you if you got into trouble.’

‘Always said you’d help!’ insisted Eduard, desperately. In front of him, Tudin was rigid, head predictably down over his papers.

Destruction time, decided Natalia: she was savouring the moment, even delaying for the pleasure of it. ‘Why do you think it was that when I promised you protection, which you say I did at Tverskaya, I didn’t tell you I’d been promoted to General, which would have been a much better guarantee than if I had remained a Colonel? Or why, during those visits, did I never give you my new address? And how did I know you lived at Tverskaya, when we hadn’t had any contact for six months before you left the army? Eighteen months before you even had somewhere to live at Tverskaya!’

There wasn’t any impatient shifting from the panel now. In fact there was no movement or sound at all in the room.

Natalia pressed on, relentlessly. ‘Colonel Tudin promised there would be no prosecution if you came here today, didn’t he? That’s the deal, isn’t it? Give evidence against me – incriminate me – and you’ll go free!’

‘He said he would recommend it,’ said Eduard, trying to stick to what they had rehearsed.

‘It’s with Colonel Tudin that you have an arrangement, isn’t it? Not with me? There’s never been an understanding or arrangement with me.’

Again Tudin came to his feet before Eduard could reply. Tudin said: ‘This evidence is becoming distorted: twisted. The facts are that General Fedova went to Petrovka and in front of Investigator Kapitsa, who has still to address this committee, undertook to prevent a prosecution.’

Tudin was floundering. Natalia didn’t think she’d won yet, not as absolutely as she intended, but the hostility from the panel wasn’t so easy to discern any more. She said: ‘The distortion of this matter is not mine. It’s that of Colonel Tudin, for the reasons I have already brought before you. I ask you to insist my question is answered.’

‘Well?’ demanded Lestov, of Eduard.

‘Colonel Tudin promised to recommend leniency,’ said Eduard, doggedly. ‘There was always an understanding between my mother and me prior to any undertaking from Colonel Tudin.’

Natalia risked the silence that lasted until there was a positive shift from the men at the table before saying: ‘So what happened to our understanding? Why did you have to wait another six days in custody after I had been to Petrovka before you were released, to come here? Released upon the instructions of Colonel Tudin?’

Before Eduard could respond to a question she didn’t want answered anyway – believing her intended effect was best achieved without an answer – Natalia sat down. The gesture left her son standing as ineffectually as she wanted him to appear and Tudin having to grope to his feet, to indicate that Eduard’s testimony was finished. But Natalia remained ready, believing that the inquiry was swinging in her favour, and when Tudin moved to call the Militia investigator she rose up, stopping him in mid-sentence, asking if she could recall the lawyer. The agreement from Lestov was immediate, which she took to be a good omen.

Alipov rose, as demanded, and Natalia said: ‘You were present at Petrovka when the affidavit was taken?’

‘Of course. That’s why I was there.’

‘At that meeting what promise or undertaking was given to Eduard Igorevich Fedova?’

The lawyer hesitated, looking momentarily at Tudin’s unresponsive slumped back. Then, visibly, he straightened as someone straightens having made a decision. ‘That there would be no prosecution.’

‘By whom was that assurance given?’

‘Colonel Tudin.’

‘Had there at that time – or at any time up until this moment – been any consultation or approval of that amnesty from the Federal Prosecutor?’

‘Not as far as I am aware.’

‘It was given entirely upon the authority of Colonel Tudin?’

‘Yes.’

‘Before or after the taking of the affidavit?’

‘Before.’

‘So the amnesty was an inducement for the testimony?’

Tudin moved to rise, but before he could do so Lestov waved the man down, refusing the interruption.

‘I do not believe there would have been a deposition without such a promise,’ capitulated the lawyer.

As she sat to end the re-examination, Natalia was sure that at least one person had abandoned Tudin. Surely the investigator would have realized by now which was going to be the winning side and be anxious to join it. All he had to do was tell the truth.

Very soon after Kapitsa began to talk Natalia decided there had been an attempt at a slanted rehearsal but that it was failing because of the Militia investigator’s effort to distance himself from this unofficial prosecution which was so obviously going wrong.

Kapitsa’s nerves were clearly stretched by his enforced deprivation of nicotine. His hands fluttered in constant movement over the chair-backs and he kept squeezing his eyes shut, in an exaggerated blinking expression. He exposed himself as someone prepared to compromise and bend any legality in a stumbling effort to explain why he had contacted Natalia, openly saying that Eduard – and the men arrested with him – clearly expected Natalia’s intercession to block any prosecution. The admission opened the way for Kapitsa to insist that throughout his discussions with Natalia he had always asserted the need for a prosecution.

‘Did you expect General Fedova to remove her son from any proceedings?’ demanded Tudin.

‘I felt I should discuss the matter with her before formulating any charges,’ allowed Kapitsa, miserably.

‘To what purpose?’ pressed Tudin.

‘I left General Fedova to decide that.’

‘Have you ever brought prosecutions against a high-ranking official – or any member of the family of a high-ranking official – in the State security service?’

‘No.’

‘Do you expect to?’

Kapitsa looked forlornly towards Natalia. ‘No.’

‘Did you expect Eduard Igorevich Fedova to be removed from the situation in which he found himself?’

‘Yes,’ said Kapitsa. His voice was barely above a whisper.

‘What, exactly, did General Fedova say to you after she left the detention cell at Petrovka?’

Kapitsa did not reply at once, and Natalia hoped he was searching for the most innocuous remark she might have made.

‘That she would be in touch very soon,’ he recorded accurately.

It was the ideal moment for Natalia to come into the examination, and she seized it when Tudin sat down, apparently satisfied. ‘Did I get in touch with you very quickly?’

‘No.’

‘Have we met at all from that moment, until today.’

‘No.’

It was not Kapitsa’s fault he was appearing so ineffectual. It was the fault of a far too recent favour-for-favour system and the blind jealousy of a man like Fyodor Tudin, and of no one being really sure whether Russia was going to go forward into new ways, in all things, or fall backwards into the familiar mire of the past. Natalia felt a surge of sympathy for the man who’d acted in the only manner he knew. She said: ‘There was more discussion between us, after I had been to the cells, wasn’t there?’

Kapitsa’s face furrowed, in the effort for recall. ‘Yes.’

‘Did I not say that my son’s arrest – and the interception of the convoy – had to be handled properly, to everyone’s satisfaction?’

Kapitsa nodded, eagerly. ‘Yes. And I said that was what I wanted.’

Natalia was glad the man had picked up on her offer, recognizing at the same time how he had sanitized his original reply. ‘So we were discussing a prosecution?’

She wondered if Kapitsa’s search for a reply she wanted was as obvious to the panel as it was to her. ‘Yes. That’s what I understood.’

‘Did I ever, at any time, say or indicate to you that I was going to prevent or stop a prosecution of my son?’

Kapitsa’s hesitation was greater than before. ‘No.’

‘I will not lead you on this question,’ warned Natalia. ‘I want you to recall, as precisely as possible, the remark my son made about embarrassment.’ You’re a detective, trained to remember things, thought Natalia: for God’s sake remember this!

There was a long silence. The man’s hands fluttered for things to do and touch. ‘He was talking about telling me your name and position …’ groped Kapitsa. ‘You agreed, when he guessed, that you had a higher rank than the one he knew …’ The investigator straggled to a halt.

Go on, go on, thought Natalia: she wanted it all. ‘Yes?’ she encouraged.

‘… He said something about there being much more openness in Moscow …’ Kapitsa’s face cleared. ‘And then he went on that it was very easy for people in important positions to be embarrassed: damaged by embarrassment even … and that we didn’t want any embarrassment …’

Natalia gave no outward signal of her relief. She had to risk leading now, to ensure the man answered correctly. ‘Did you interpret that remark as a threat?’

Seizing her guidance, he said: ‘Yes. It was clearly that.’

Enough, decided Natalia. She believed she had weakened Tudin’s attack sufficiently. Now there had to be the coup de grâce. She thanked Kapitsa, dismissing him, but remained standing to avoid losing the momentum. Addressing Lestov, she said: ‘If this is the end of what amounts to a prosecution against me, I ask the committee’s permission to call evidence of my own.’

‘A witness?’ queried Lestov.

‘The Federal Prosecutor, Petr Borisovich Korolov,’ confirmed Natalia, formally. The stir went through everybody in the room.

The publicity over John Gower’s arrest was greater in the People’s Daily than in the Western media – most of the front page was devoted to it, with a government statement about foreign conspiracies and counter-revolutionary crimes published verbatim – so Jeremy Snow learned of the seizure within forty-eight hours of it happening.

The Taoist temple was not named, but the district of Beijing was, which was sufficient for Snow to realize that he had not been abandoned and that an effort was being made to reach him through the prearranged system.

The priest’s satisfaction was momentary. Not was being, he told himself: had been. By someone now in custody. Which left him as stranded as ever. It was obviously pointless – dangerous, in fact – to go anywhere near the shrine again, for any other signal, which he had intended to do that day, maintaining the imposed three-day timetable. Or to any of the message drops, which might have been filled and be waiting for him. And anyone going to the British embassy now would risk automatic association in the minds of the permanently watching Public Security Bureau.

With a stab of helplessness, Snow accepted that he didn’t know what to do.

And then, quickly enough for him to have considered it some kind of superior guidance, which he refused to countenance because it would have been an ultimate blasphemy, he did see a way. Partially, perhaps: but still a way. The final inevitable, irrevocable blurring of everything, he recognized at once. So he wouldn’t do it: couldn’t do it. Not inevitable and therefore not irrevocable. He couldn’t prostitute his faith and its tenets. Wouldn’t do it.

It would still be a way out, though, partial or not. Once he pacified – perhaps deflected was a better word – Li Dong Ming. He’d try to think of something else: anything else first. Didn’t want to sacrifice ail integrity.

Appropriately Snow’s prayer came from the Book of Lamentations. Oh Lord, he thought, thou hast seen my wrong: judge thou my cause. Blasphemy, he thought again: therefore utterly inappropriate.