Quiller Meridian

Chapter 24: CURTAIN-CALL

He was in shadow, on the gallery below.

I'd expected him to be there but had still missed him, earlier, perhaps because of the angle of view. I was watching him between two uprights of the balustrade.

Sound of vehicles outside.

He was sitting at one of the little tables near some bookshelves, watching the delegates below. Not waiting, then, in the SAAB. Waiting in here.

The vehicles were nearing the building, snow-chains ringing, voices, orders shouted, the slamming of doors.

We have just learned that Marshal Trushin should be arriving very soon — his plane was delayed by bad weather.

The thudding of boots on the marble outside, a door banging open.

I used the background noise to move quite fast along the gallery until I was immediately above Talyzin, the bomber. There was light on my face but no one was looking upwards; they were watching Marshal Trushin and his aides making their entrance.

He was sitting at his ease, Talyzin, and on the little table beside him was the detonator.

The time gap narrowed with a slam and I knew precisely when he would reach out and press the button. It would be when Marshal Trushin sat down with the others. But it couldn't be a suicide run — there was no need for that. Talyzin could go outside if he wanted to the way he'd come, and make a run through the guards and press that thing before they could take him. They wouldn't know what he'd got in his hand; they'd go for him because he was running, that was all; but he'd use the remote and they'd be too busy watching the building go up to feel like running after him.

But he wasn't going to do that. He was comfortable here. The electric shock treatment and the sensory deprivation chambers and the other tricks they'd used on him inside the psychiatric hospital had left him just a teeny bit skewed in his skull, still cunning enough but skewed, and now that he'd got all these old friends of his together he was ready to give them the message: they shouldn't have done what they did to him, it wasn't fair.

And he wanted to see it happen.

Boots banging again down there, snow coming away from their and glistening on the parquet floor, chairs scraping back and people getting up.

'Marshal Trushin, let me present Marshal Jia Chongwu of the Chinese Red Army…'

He wanted to be there when it happened. He wanted to watch us all for those few milliseconds as the big ornate desk blew apart one the men around it began jerking backwards in a reflex action before the edge of the blast wave reached them and their uniforms began wrinkling, he wanted to watch everything he could before he could see no more.

And since time has a way of slowing down when our attention is locked in with reality he might be given quite a show, two or three minutes, even, as each minuscule stage of the explosion followed the last, an hour, even, long enough to start a mini-series.

'… Major-general Yang Zhen…'

Salutes, bows, handshakes, while Talyzin watched them from above, a puppet master with their last curtain-call in his hands.

He hadn't moved the detonator, or reached for it yet. He would wait for them to sit down. He wanted them to be comfortable too.

'… Lieutenant-general Zou Xinxiong…'

The voice of General Kovalenko drifted upwards into the great dome of the rotunda, left echoes rippling.

'… Colonel Rui Zhong… Colonel Wang Yongchang…'

Then they were moving towards the chairs, ushering gestures the order of the day as the senior ranks were given precedence and Marshal Trushin was invited to sit at the ornate redwood desk in the place of the Chinese.

I cleared the balustrade and dropped.

Talyzin had been directly below me on the lower gallery but I went down in a slight arc because of the balustrade and caught his shoulder, spinning him round on the chair as his hand went out for the detonator. He reacted with great strength, empowered by shock, rage, dementia, and smashed his knee into my ribcage as we went down together, the breath coming out of me in a soft explosion as I twisted over and felt for a target, not in the killing area because I didn't think it would be necessary, just in the nerve-centres to incapacitate.

Heard shouts from below, boots on the staircase, Talyzin's hand on my throat and squeezing strongly, triggering reflex and freeing my arm for an elbow strike that reached the side of his head and he lurched and went down and I thought it was over but he came up suddenly like a diver surfacing and went for the table and got his hand on the detonator and I couldn't reach it, went for the throat, for the kill, the fastest way, the only way to get the strength out of his arm, out of his fingers as his weight dropped and the table crashed over and the detonator hit the floor and he reached for it again but his arm was exposed and I doubled it backwards at the elbow and heard it snap, dropped him against the bookshelves and picked up the detonator and backed off as the first two guards reached the top of the stairs and aimed their rifles, shouting.

Talyzin didn't move.

'One of you look after this man,' I told the guards.' He's injured but watch him. I want the other one to follow me down the stairs — now move!'

There were more of them waiting for me in the well of the chamber but I told them to get back, called out to the generals. 'You know what this is?' Held the thing up.

It seemed to fox them, understandably. Here they were planning the creation of the new world order and suddenly there was a dishevelled-looking clown standing in front of them holding up a remote control for their TV set.

No one said anything, didn't matter, I'd spell it out for them. 'Marshal Trushin, this is a remote-control detonator for the bomb. installed in the desk you're sitting at now.' I gave it a couple of beats to let him think about it, and they woke up, all of them, I could hear the body movements going on, the rustle of uniforms as they shifted on their chairs, reacting.' I am not going to detonate that bomb if you agree to follow my instructions. Do you agree to follow my instructions, Marshal Trushin?'

In a moment he asked in a flat voice, 'Who are you?'

'Do you agree?'

Trying to get my breath back under control, I think he broke a rib up there, Talyzin, with that knee strike, the lung didn't feel as if it had much room on that side.

I waited.

If the marshal didn't agree, I was done for. I couldn't detonate that bloody thing anyway, I wasn't tired of life and we'd still got a mission running, I wanted information out of these people, the information that Kovalenko had told the Chinese delegates he'd give them later.

But all he would need to say, Trushin, was Take that man, and there'd be nothing I could do.

Behind me I heard the guard coming down the staircase, his boots thudding laboriously under a weight: Talyzin. I didn't know if the killing strike I'd made had got right through to the larynx; he'd moved a little after I'd made it, tried to reach the detonator. I took four paces back to bring him into sight; he was hanging across the guard's shoulder, the broken arm dangling.

From the centre of the rotunda Marshal Trushin was staring at me, stone-faced, jowls of a bulldog, black eyes locked on mine as he listened to one of the generals' aides, the one who had framed me on board the Rossiya for the death of Zymyanin. His voice was unintelligible at this distance because he was speaking softly, urgently, saying — I very much hoped — Marshal, this man was on board the Rossiya two days ago, and could well have set that bomb. Perhaps we should listen to him…

A log tumbled in the hearth and I heard a man catch his breath.

I went on waiting.

Marshal Trushin was still watching me. The aide was silent now.

'I agree to follow your instructions.'

Et voila.

'Very good. If anyone in this chamber leaves his chair, I shall detonate. Is that clear?'

Silence.

'Is that clear?'

'It is clear,' Marshal Trushin said.

I turned round so fast that the guard flinched, his eyes on the detonator. 'Make him as comfortable as you can,' I told him.'tell him there's a medical officer coming.' those bastards over there had wrecked Talyzin's brain and I didn't thank them.

There was a telephone in the first office I came to and I picked it up, watching the well of the chamber through the doorway as I dialled.

'Military Barracks,' the woman at the switchboard said.

I asked for Ordnance Unit Three.

Took an age, stood listening to the static on the line.

I shall resist arrest. I shall resist very strongly.

But it wouldn't do any good. He'd be outnumbered, and — 'Captain Rusakov.'

'Vadim,' I said,' this is Viktor Shokin, and I'm with the generals. You know where they are?'

'Yes.' A lot of energy in his voice, a lot of questions I didn't have time to answer.

'I need you here. We've got to contain the generals' military escort — their orders are to protect the generals and they're not going to listen to me. Do you trust them, Vadim?'

In a moment, 'Not necessarily.'

'How many trusted men can you muster for an emergency sortie?'

'Two hundred, under my own command.'

'Tanks?'

'One squadron.'

'All right. I need you to surround this building and take the generals out and put them into detention. At the moment they're inn under my control. Bring a medical officer, will you? We've got a man with a broken elbow. And a bomb disposal unit. I've got some work for them. How soon can you get here?'

'Allow forty minutes.'

'I can handle that. Any questions, Vadim, even from your CO, tell the officer commanding the military police to put him under arrest — this is a national emergency.'

'I understand.'

I put the phone down and opened up the radio.

'Frome?'

'Hear you.'

'Where are you?'

'Haifa mile from the building, south edge of the park, but listen, the DIF got through to base an hour ago, wants you to signal.'

Ferris.

I asked Frome for the number.

'All right,' I said and shut down and walked as far as the archway, the thing in my hand, took a look, saw that no one had moved, they were policing themselves, had to, if anyone thought of trying to get out of this place before it went up they'd shove him back in his chair.

I turned and went into the office and picked up the phone again and dialled.

'Yes?' Ferris.

'Executive.'

'I'm sorry,' Ferris said.' they were getting a bit too close, so I thought we'd better move. I told the support base as soon as I could. They said you're very active.'

I gave him the picture.

Ferris is not easy to shake, but it was a couple of beats before he answered. 'I'll report to London.' Then, 'What's your condition?'

He'd caught my breathing rhythm. 'Lingering concussion, broken rib.'

'Frome is still in support?'

'He's standing off but I don't need him. Look, they'll know what to do in London but from this end I'd say they should get this to the Russian president on the hot line and suggest he puts these people under the lamp without wasting any time, because they've set up this rebellion thing nationwide and it could be hard to stop.'

'Noted.' then I think he said something else, but sounds were fading and the floor was coming up, so I got a grip on the desk and steadied things and put the detonator down on the flat solid surface, took my hand off it, we didn't want, did we, didn't want the whole thing to go ker-boom by accident, wouldn't even be good for a giggle, sounds coming in again, that poor bastard Talyzin moaning out there, something Ferris was saying.

'What?' I asked him.

'London will be pleased.'

'Oh. Those buggers.'

'Greetings, incidentally, from Tanya Rusakova.'

Her image came in clearly, surprising me, the green eyes shimmering, no longer wary of me.

'She's safe,' I asked Ferris, 'and everything?'

'Of course. Anxious to see you.'

'Well, then,' I said, for the want of anything better. 'Listen, those Rusakovs — get them out from under, will you? Tell London to talk to Moscow right away, do it at high level. Give or take a bit of circumlocution, they've been instrumental in putting down this coup by wiping out Velichko. Tell London they're my friends, and I've earned this much, all right?'

Promptly and soberly: 'I'll treat it as fully urgent.'

Couldn't say more than that: fully urgent means everyone stops what they're doing and listens, right up to the Prime Minister.

I think I'd been silent for a bit, because he asked me,' Are you all right?'

'What? Yes. Need to rest up a little.'

'As soon as I can get the heat off you locally through London and Moscow we can find somewhere better for you.'

'Don't worry,' I said, 'I'm going to place myself under Captain Rusakov's protection until then.'

'All right. I can reach you at the barracks?'

'Yes, through him. But get the heat off him too, soon as you can.'

'Understood,' Ferris said, and we shut down.

They came soon after that, Rusakov's troops, their lights flooding across the snows, the night full of noise as the tanks rumbled through the trees of the park.

I thought I'd better reassure Frome, got him on the walkie: 'Don't worry, these are ours.'

'Jesus, we got an army now?'

Rusakov dropped off the leading armoured vehicle before it had stopped, his gun out of its holster.

'Who is the officer in charge?'

No one answered. No one moved. The men watched Rusakov.

'Lay down your arms and stand-to!'

They began looking at one another, and then a sergeant brought his rifle up and Rusakov saw it and used a head shot, dropping him, watching for other movement as one of the tanks rolled its turret and swung the machine gun up a degree, firing a burst as a group of men brought their assault rifles into the aim at Rusakov.

'Lay down your arms!'

Weapons began dropping as the smoke cleared, and the men moved towards the tanks with their hands raised. Hydraulics hissed as the turret in the nearest tank rolled again, the gunner watching for targets.

'All right, stretcher bearers!' then Rusakov saw me and came over.

'Where is the bomb?'

I told him, and he waved a vehicle in, black-painted with the yellow insignia of a bomb disposal unit on the side.

I opened up the remote-control detonator and pulled out the batteries and threw them a long way into the snow.

'Vadim,' I called to him, 'we need to get the generals out of there first, under your arrest.'

He swung back to look at me.

'On whose authority?'

It was a reflex question out of the military code book, that was all — I could have told him on the Pope's authority, or Tootsie's — those generals in there had been the confederates of Velichko. Rusakov also knew that I'd been able to 'request' his sister's release from Militia Headquarters and he knew I'd been able to seize control of the generals here together with their entire armed guard, so he wasn't going to quibble.

'On my authority,' I told him. 'The president of Russia is being informed of the situation and I can guarantee his approval of any action we take. Meanwhile I assume total responsibility.'

He turned away even before I'd finished, shouting orders to his lieutenant and two sergeants and bringing a rifle platoon to the entrance of the building.

'All right, we're taking prisoners. Block all exits when you get inside and hold your fire unless I order you to shoot.'

He led them in at the double and by the time I got there he'd drawn up his troops in straight extended order to avoid cross-fire. The generals and their aides were already on their feet, some of the chairs overturned on the parquet behind them.

Boots clattered to silence in the echoing rotunda.

Rusakov took three steps forward, came to attention and saluted.

'Gentlemen, I have orders for your arrest. Please surrender your arms.'

Marshal Trushin also took a few steps and the two Russian generals followed, flanking him.

'There is a mistake, Captain.' Trushin was a bull of a man, six feet six in his black polished boots, battle ribbons ablaze on his uniform. 'I shall hold you responsible for this intrusion, and will inform your commanding officer that — '

Rusakov swung his head a degree. 'Take aim!'

The phalanx of assault rifles swung up and steadied.

'Captain, you are exceeding — '

'Sergeant Bakatin and two men forward — take their weapons!'

Trushin knocked the first man's hand away but the sergeant brought the muzzle of his rifle to rest against the marshal's stomach while the soldier snapped open the polished holster and drew the revolver. The Hero of the Soviet Union's heavy face was white as the surrender began — most of them were in a state of shock as Rusakov's men worked their way among the prisoners, taking their weapons.

Vadim Rusakov stood watching, a hand on the gun at his belt.

I was slipping focus again, and straightened up, hearing the echoes in the great dome of the rotunda… Our troops and our tanks will act demonstrably as the allies and the saviours of the people… thus ensuring their loyal support as we gather the reins of power…

Another gun came out of its holster.

'Have your weapons ready, gentlemen! Smarten up!'

And another.

The opening up of new channels for international trade and the physical presence of the forces of the Federation in areas at present under the control of the West will be on a scale of unprecedented global significance.

Another gun was surrendered, and then one of the Chinese, a general, pulled his revolver and raised it to his temple and the shot blew his head sideways and he fell slowly, the others too shocked to catch him before he crashed across a chair, breaking one of its legs as he went down.

'Leave him there,' Rusakov ordered. 'Secure his gun.'

His men moved among the prisoners as blood crept from block to block across the parquet floor and the smell of cordite sharpened the air.

Thus ensuring the unification of purpose essential to the creation of a federal world power of' greater strength, of greater resolve, and of greater military capacity than has ever been seen before…

The last weapon was held butt-forward in surrender by a Russian colonel, and as the prisoners were escorted outside to the vehicles I picked up the walkie and signalled Ferris through the support base, told him we were finished here.

The End