Execution

FIFTY-SIX

‘What is this place?’ Katya Balenkova looked with suspicion at the oak panels and heavy pictures on the wall, made drab by a yellowish light coming in from the outside. It was the room in Great Scotland Yard where Harry had attended the meeting with Ballatyne and the various security-related committees. She sat down gingerly between Harry and Rik. Clare was on her way to a private clinic arranged by Ballatyne, to undergo some tests. She had, in any case, refused to attend anywhere official after arriving back from Vienna, on the simple grounds that she didn’t trust Ballatyne or any of his sort not to lock her up and throw away the key.

‘We call it Room one-oh-one,’ said Ballatyne, settling in his seat at the head of the long table.

Katya gave him a flinty smile. ‘Of course. Where nasty things happen. How appropriate.’

‘You’ve read Orwell?’

‘Of course. It was how we learned about life in the west.’

Ballatyne realised that she was laughing at him. ‘How droll. Don’t worry, the only nasty thing likely to happen here is if you drink the tea. They use it down in Portsmouth to de-scale the hulls of clapped-out destroyers.’ He tapped the table, attracting the attention of Harry and Rik, John Crampton of the Met Police CO19 team, a young male official with a notepad and a lean and tanned individual seated at the far end, dressed in a plain suit straining at the shoulders. ‘Shall we get on?’

‘Who’s the strong silent type?’ Rik was the first to speak, jerking a thumb towards the man at the end.

‘He’s an observer,’ said Ballatyne. ‘Hopefully we won’t need his services, so introductions aren’t necessary. Our singular purpose for holding this meeting is to find a way of locating and stopping the two FSB operatives who killed Tobinskiy and tried to eliminate Miss Jardine. Beyond that, we do not go.’ He glanced at Katya. ‘Miss Balenkova, I understand your position; you don’t wish to operate against your countrymen, although it seems to me that you’re already doing that by being here. However, your presence here is a courtesy. You are not expected to take part in any direct action.’

‘I understand.’

Ballatyne shuffled two pieces of paper and continued. ‘We now have identifiable footage of the two men we believe assassinated Roman Tobinskiy in King’s College. The same two men subsequently raided the hospital’s security control centre and shot the guard after taking the hard drive to the cameras. They were then filmed both inside and coming away from Starbucks in Pimlico, and shooting an unarmed policeman in the street outside.’ He glanced at Katya. ‘They weren’t here to play games.’

‘How are the wounded men?’ asked Harry.

‘Recovering, although unlikely to ever work again. The shooter and his mate were seen dumping their car afterwards in the Park Lane underground car park. It all tallies rather nicely with footage of them entering the country six days previously, proof for cynics that the cameras do have a genuine function.’ He smiled drily. ‘I had my men canvas the area around Park Lane, and they turned up a doorman on the Grosvenor House Hotel who remembered them.’

‘Lucky break,’ said Crampton. ‘Or were they careless?’

‘Luck, apparently. But we all need it from time to time. This particular man used to run security in the casinos in Monaco. His skill was remembering the faces of professional card sharks and so-called lucky players. These two weren’t players, but he remembered them the moment he saw the photos. All we had to do was match his memory to the security cameras inside.’ He looked very pleased with himself for a moment, then said, ‘We came up with a surprise package. Our two shooters, whose names we don’t know, were there, having a cosy chat with one Sergei Gorelkin. And who else should walk in but a man known to us all, but most especially to Harry, here. George Paulton.’

Harry found he’d been holding his breath. He’d had a feeling Ballatyne had uncovered something important, but hadn’t known what it was. Now he knew.

‘Where is he now?’

‘Right now, no idea. You don’t sound surprised.’

‘I’m not. This business has his thumb-prints all over it. Gorelkin’s men must have been tipped off about who and what Clare was, and her connection to Katya and Six. Paulton would have known about both. You said Maine pulled his details off the files, possibly to find some dirt as a safeguard if Paulton cheated him.’

‘Correct. Sadly we can’t confirm that now Maine’s dead. But it’s almost certain that Paulton silenced him. I ran a check on Paulton’s operational log. It seems he and Gorelkin popped up simultaneously in Stockholm, Berlin and Madrid, among other places, several years ago. Paulton was running at least two officially sanctioned fishing operations against him, although the debriefs show nothing of significance was achieved. With hindsight, I think we can treat that with a certain amount of disbelief. I reckon he and Gorelkin came to an arrangement over the years, and may have even worked together since Paulton went rogue. He’s been out in the wilds, and unless he won the Spanish lottery, he’ll have needed funds.’

‘You think Gorelkin brought him in to help kill Tobinskiy?’ Crampton asked.

‘I doubt it; that was already an on-going operation. But he might have brought him in to gain access to MI6 and MI5 files, to find Jardine. That’s where Keith Maine comes in. He had the means and the knowledge, and Paulton would have known him well enough to exert pressure.’ He sat back. ‘Now I’ve established who did what, we need to find Gorelkin and his men before they latch onto Jardine again.’ He looked directly at Katya. ‘You told Harry that they might be operating illegally — or, at least, without proper sanction from the government.’

‘Yes.’

‘And that makes them criminals.’

‘Correct.’

‘It would save a lot of mess,’ he said slowly, ‘if we could get them pulled out by their own people. What are the chances?’

She thought it over, eyes on his. ‘You want me to contact someone about these three men?’

‘It would help if you could.’

‘But why would they believe me? In their eyes I’m now a criminal and a traitor. I could be acting on your instructions. . which I would be, of course.’

‘Plant the seed; that’s all I ask. You must know somebody you can call. If it means finding a private phone number, I’m sure we can help.’ He smiled knowingly.

She sat back, eyes clouding over, and thought about it for a full minute. ‘Maybe there is one person.’

‘Dare I ask who?’

‘His name is Bronyev. He was my colleague in Vienna. We were friends, too. He is a good man.’ She looked a little sad at the memory.

Ballatyne was sceptical. ‘A bodyguard with the FSO? Does he have any clout?’

‘Not him, no. But his father does. He is an army general. Is that clout enough, Mr Ballatyne?’

‘Good enough for me.’ Ballatyne nodded sideways at the young male official. ‘Go with Julian, here, and he’ll show you to a secure communications room. Take your time. Just tell them about Gorelkin and the others. If what you told Harry is correct, and they were acting illegally, somebody will take notice.’ He reached into his breast pocket and produced a memory stick. ‘This has still photographs of the men involved, taken in various locations. They’re good enough that even their own mothers will recognise them. Julian will help.’

They waited for twenty minutes, during which time Ballatyne arranged for coffee and biscuits, and the man at the far end of the table got up and disappeared to the bathroom. The atmosphere was heavy and utterly quiet, with almost no sound of movement in the corridor outside and just a hint of traffic noise from the street.

‘You spoke to Clare,’ said Rik.

Ballatyne nodded. ‘We had a brief chat. She seems to be bearing up remarkably well, but I thought she should have someone take a look at her, just in case. She must be feeling better; she asked for a laptop.’

Rik looked surprised. ‘Really? I could have lent her mine.’

‘No need. I arranged for one to be delivered to her at the clinic. It was the least I could do after all she’s been through. I asked if she wanted any help, but I gather she’s quite the IT buff on the quiet.’

Harry said, ‘What did she want it for?’

‘She wants to sort out her future, she said. Their future, actually; hers and Miss Balenkova’s. I believe they’re looking for somewhere to go away, far from the madding crowd of spies, lies and security officers. Not that I blame them.’

‘And you just gave her a laptop.’

‘On loan, actually. But why not?’ Ballatyne looked innocent. ‘She’s hardly likely to run off with it, I shouldn’t think.’

Harry said nothing. He was prevented from asking further questions by Katya returning with her escort. She looked pale but composed.

She sat down without meeting Ballatyne’s gaze and said, ‘It’s done.’

The MI6 man glanced at Julian, who nodded in confirmation.

‘Good.’ Ballatyne clapped his hands. ‘I think we’re finished here. Thank you, Miss Balenkova. I appreciate that wasn’t easy for you. Mr Ferris, can you watch Miss Balenkova’s back? I need to talk to Harry.’

Rik nodded. ‘Sure. I’ve got nothing else on at present.’