The Lost Labyrinth

FIVE
I

There was one advantage working for the Nergadzes, reflected Edouard, as he and Boris were chauffeured out from Tbilisi International's Jet Aviation Terminal to the waiting Gulfstream 550. They knew how to look after themselves. The co-pilot welcomed them aboard and escorted them back to the luxurious main lounge, where two more Nergadze toughs were playing cards. Boris introduced them all briskly. Zaal was a short, lithe man with restless, suspicious eyes, as though he'd lived his whole life on the run. Davit, by contrast, was a smiling giant with cauliflower ears and a Zorro nose. There was something distinctly familiar about him too, though Edouard couldn't work out why.

He hesitated after shaking their hands, expecting to be invited to join their game, as Boris was. But no invitation came, so he shrugged and sank into a white-leather seat across the aisle, stretched out his legs, watched the crew go into departure protocol. They were taxiing almost at once, no nonsense about waiting for other aircraft, before launching into the twilight skies above Tbilisi. He watched through his widescreen window the scattered bonfire of the city gradually going out beneath him, doused by a few thin wisps of cloud. Then lamb cutlets were served on silver plates by a disturbingly androgynous flight attendant, along with vintage champagne in black crystal Faberge glasses.

His sinuses began to squeeze as they approached Athens, his ears blocking, his eyes watering: he held his nose and blew gently to equalise the pressure until they were safely down. Two immigration officers came out to the plane to process them. His ears were still plugged, he had to lean forwards and frown to make out what they were saying. A pair of Mercedes SUVs with tinted windows were waiting on the tarmac, keys already in the ignition. Boris took a folded sheet of note-paper from his pocket. 'This is Mikhail Nergadze's address,' he told Edouard. 'We'll meet you there.'

'But I don't know Athens. How will I find it?'

'The cars have SatNav,' said Boris. 'You do know how to use SatNav, I trust.'

'Yes, of course. But where are you going?'

'None of your damned business.'

Edouard flushed. It was one thing to be treated rudely by Ilya and Sandro Nergadze, another by their staff. 'I asked you a perfectly civil question,' he said. 'If you can't answer it in a manner that-'

'Your mobile and wallet,' said Boris, holding out his hand.

'I beg your pardon?'

'You heard me,' said Boris. 'Your mobile and wallet.'

'But what if I need them?' protested Edouard.

'We're here on a sensitive mission,' said Boris. 'Secure communications only. Your mobile isn't secure, so give it to me.'

'What about my wallet? Isn't that secure either?'

'Please don't make this harder than it needs to be,' said Boris. 'It won't do you any good.' He nodded to Davit, who wrapped him in the straitjacket of his arms while Zaal rifled his pockets, pulled out his mobile and wallet, handed them to Boris.

'What if I break down?' asked Edouard feebly.

Boris reached into his back pocket for a wad of euros, peeled off two twenties that he stuffed contemptuously in Edouard's breast pocket. 'I'll want them back,' he said, 'or a receipt showing how you spent them. Understand?' He didn't wait for an answer, just climbed into the back of the first Mercedes, while Davit and Zaal went up front, and then they were gone, leaving Edouard standing there, with only humiliation for company.