‘Wow. That sounds clever. Can I have a look at it?’
He looked flustered. ‘Why? It’s just a phone. Expensive, but anyone could go out and buy one.’
‘I’d like to see it. Please.’
She waited. After a moment, he shrugged. ‘Okay.’ He got up and went into his study, and came back with it. ‘Here you go. One iPhone.’
Liz held it in her hand and thought for a moment. There was something wrong here, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. ‘How were things left with Marina?’
‘Left? They weren’t really. I hadn’t heard from her for a few weeks, and suddenly there she was in the street, in a car. I don’t know how she had my address. Anyway, there she was and she offered me the phone and said if I ever wanted to talk in future, I should use the app to contact her.’
‘Did she give you her number?’
‘No. I don’t need a number. I’m just supposed to use the app – but I never have, except when she tested it in the car.’
‘I see.’ Liz wanted to ask if it hadn’t occurred to him that the whole thing was very strange and perhaps he should have told Peggy about it, but she didn’t think it would help just then. There would be opportunity later to quiz Tim in more detail. So she said calmly, ‘I want to take this phone away. I need to get some people to look at it.’ When she saw him starting to protest, she added, ‘I’d be really grateful if you’d cooperate with me on this. You’ve been very helpful today, and I’d appreciate it if you’d help with this one further step. In the meantime, if you hear at all from this woman via email – or in any other way – I’d like you to contact me right away.’
He considered this, and finally nodded. ‘All right. But it’s not very likely to happen, you know. I felt Marina pretty much gave up on my knowing anything she wanted. That’s why her giving me the phone was such a surprise. I didn’t think I’d hear from her again.’
41
In the morning Jasminder woke early. Bright sunlight was finding its way through the slats of the Venetian blinds at the windows of her room. To her disappointment, she realised she was alone in the bed; Laurenz must have stayed in the room next door. She told herself he hadn’t wanted to disturb her after her long flight, though part of her also felt a little resentful that she had come a long way in order to sleep alone.
She lay in bed dozily for a few minutes, wondering what the day would bring. She hoped it would be more fun than the evening before, and that she and Laurenz could get away from his boorish colleagues. She got up, stretched for a moment, then walked to the connecting door. It was only seven o’clock, but Laurenz was an early riser, and she was sure he wouldn’t mind her coming in. She tapped lightly on the door with her knuckles, but there was no reply. Poor thing must be tired; he’d been working so hard for the last few days, she thought, so quietly turned the door knob to peep into his room.
There was no one there. The bed was made, and there were no clothes on the chair; he must have got up extra early, and let her sleep on. She decided to get dressed and go and look for him; perhaps he was having breakfast, or sitting out by the pool. Then she saw the note on his dresser.
J
Have emergency meeting in Hamilton. Back after lunch. Relax and enjoy yourself. Everyone else will be around.
Lx
So much for spending most of the day together. The thought of sitting around in this shabby bungalow with these awful people, waiting for Laurenz to come back, was suddenly too much. She was tired of being second-best to his wretched bank.
She showered and dressed in some light cotton trousers and a blouse, then went out to the front of the house. There was no one in the kitchen, and the dining room was empty but breakfast had been laid out on a side table – a variety of breads, heavy-looking and dark, slices of cheese and chafing dishes with scrambled eggs, sausages and bacon. She poured herself a cup of coffee from a tall urn, and made do with a piece of chewy pumpernickel, wishing there were some fruit or yoghurt. As she finished she heard the front door open, and when she went out into the hall saw Kozlov in an armchair in the sitting room. He was wearing a jacket and open-necked shirt, with pressed dark trousers. It did not look like the costume of a man intent on relaxing.
In the far corner she saw the African man from the night before, staring intently at an open laptop. Near him a large television was on, but there was no sound and it was showing a street scene with people walking along the pavement in front of a row of shops. The camera didn’t move – it must have been some sort of CCTV, perhaps a security camera, she thought, set up to monitor the same place throughout the day. Jasminder couldn’t see it very well, but the scene did not look like Bermuda and it struck her as vaguely familiar.
As she went into the room, the African turned off his computer and the TV screen went blank. He got up and walked out without a greeting or even a glance in her direction. But Kozlov stayed put and boomed, ‘Good morning. I see you have had a good English lie-in.’
Jasminder looked at her watch; it was just eight o’clock. What time did these people get up on holiday? She said, ‘Thank you. Laurenz has a meeting this morning, and I wondered if anyone was going into town.’
‘There is a car and driver – he picked you up when you arrived.’
‘That’s right. Is he available?’ She hadn’t realised the driver was on call.
Kozlov shook his head. ‘Sadly, no. He is with Laurenz in Hamilton.’
‘Right. Well, perhaps I can call a taxi.’
‘Unfortunately, there is no telephone here, and it is impossible to get a signal for a mobile phone.’ Kozlov grinned.
This seemed curious. Her experience of the business world was limited, but it was odd that they would stay somewhere without any communications. Especially bankers. She wondered if there were buses nearby. Or maybe she could just stroll around the neighbourhood. Anything must be better than sitting by the pool, counting beetles. ‘There wouldn’t be a bicycle, would there?’
Kozlov looked at her as if she’d asked for the use of a horse. Then he laughed. ‘You seem very keen to get away. And this after I so enjoyed our conversation last night. Let us continue it. Sit down,’ he said, pointing to a matching armchair opposite his.
Reluctantly, Jasminder found herself doing what he asked. ‘It’s just that it would be nice to see something of Bermuda,’ she said.
‘Of course. I am sure that can be arranged. Later.’
She didn’t like Kozlov’s tone. He was acting as if he were somehow in charge of all of them. He continued, ‘I want to ask you some things.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Laurenz has told me about the work you do. It must be fascinating. To have access to information other people would give their right arms to see.’
‘I think you have the wrong idea about my job. I am in Communications – like PR work. I just deal with the press and the media on behalf of my employers. I am not involved in secret work and I doubt if I know much more than you do, or any member of the public.’
‘That seems to me most unlikely.’ Kozlov’s expression was no longer as friendly. ‘From what Laurenz has told me, you have access to information that has been very useful to him. And that’s without your even trying very hard. He was grateful to you, and so will I be.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She didn’t know how to deal with this man; inwardly she was furious. This was all Laurenz’s fault; he must have been boasting about her and her position in MI6. Some of her anger came out now. ‘This is not something I want to talk about. I am afraid you’ve been misled.’
Kozlov had got up from his chair now and was standing between Jasminder and the door. When he looked down at her it was from an intimidating height. He said, ‘Let’s not play Miss Innocent, all right? You passed on confidential information to your lover – that’s fact number one. You have access to information he and I and other colleagues would benefit from – that is fact number two. Fact three, in case you are wondering,
we will be happy to reward you for your services. Cash is possible, or if that would be difficult, payment in kind – holidays, “gifts” (you may want a car some day), travel. None of these are out of the question. But they require delivery from you.’
‘Delivery? What are you talking about? What do you mean – delivery?’ She wished Laurenz would come back and sort this out. Whatever he’d said, this man had got the wrong end of the stick. How could Laurenz have put her in this position?
Kozlov seemed to read her thoughts. ‘No, I am not misled, and if you are right now thinking that your Laurenz has no idea that we are having this conversation, then you are sorely mistaken. I know everything that has passed between you, and all that you have so far supplied. Do you understand?’
She didn’t understand at all. She felt completely bewildered. Who was this Russian man and what did he want from her?
She didn’t have to wait long – he suddenly thrust a piece of paper at her, perhaps confusing her silence with acquiescence. Despite her better instincts, Jasminder scanned the page. It listed items of information: JIC meeting agendas; JIC papers on Russia and former Soviet satellites; internal MI6 strategic analysis papers on Russia and former Soviet satellites; field reports from MI6 officers in Russia and former Soviet satellites, especially the Baltic States of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania.
Kozlov was still looming over her. ‘I want you to memorise this list, and then I will destroy it. When you return to the UK, I want you to begin collecting these materials immediately. Laurenz will brief you on the best ways to transport this information out of the Vauxhall building.’
She was frightened yet also outraged by what she was being asked. It was the stuff of spy novels and films – bribing an intelligence officer to provide classified information. She had never in a million years imagined something like this happening to her.
She had to put this man straight. ‘I think you’ve taken leave of your senses. And your attempt at bribery is insulting. I don’t know who you are working for, though I’m starting to have a pretty good idea, and I don’t think it’s a bank. But you can tell them I won’t do any of this – I wouldn’t dream of it.’ And she threw the paper on the floor.
She would have stood up but Kozlov was now only a foot or so away from her chair, looming over it threateningly. It suddenly struck her that their conversation was being recorded. She wanted to dissociate herself as much as possible from what he was claiming. ‘I have never given Laurenz any confidential information,’ she said loudly, knowing that, strictly speaking, this was not true. How she wished she had refused his request back then. ‘And if Laurenz knows we are having this conversation, then why isn’t he here?’
‘He’ll be back,’ Kozlov said flatly. ‘Though I think you may find him slightly different from the Laurenz you think you know. But that’s not the issue right now. You had better consider this: the help you gave Laurenz is documented – you took out papers from your workplace, which you are expressly forbidden to do. How do you think your famous C would react if he knew about that? You’d be out on your ear as the Americans say – and that’s if you’re lucky. Please don’t think I’m bluffing. If you refuse to help, you won’t get past Passport Control at Heathrow without your Special Branch asking you to speak to them in a small room. Your career will be over, your reputation in shreds.
‘But if, on the other hand, you act like a mature citizen of the world and help us with our modest requests, then you will continue to enjoy the prestige and benefits of your new position, continue to have a high reputation in your country, and if you like, enjoy some extra benefits as well of the kind I mentioned.’ He paused to let her take this in, then added in a softer, more reasonable voice, ‘Look, nothing we want you to do would endanger your country or its interests, I assure you. You would in fact be working for the peace we all want to have – nobody in Russia wants a return to the Cold War. So, will you help us?’
Jasminder suddenly went cold; her hands and legs were shaking. She had to get out of this room, out of this bungalow, into the air, but first she had to make it absolutely clear to this man what she was thinking.
‘I won’t do it,’ she said, firmly. ‘I would rather resign than betray the Service.’
‘You would rather go to prison?’
Jasminder had never been bullied successfully, and she wasn’t going to let that change now. What this man was asking her to do was inconceivable, whatever the consequences – she knew full well that if C or anyone at Vauxhall learned about what she had done for Laurenz, then her days at MI6 would be over. But she didn’t hesitate. She said, ‘Tell your people they have picked the wrong person to approach, both because I don’t know anything of value, and because I wouldn’t ever tell you if I did.’ Kozlov had taken a step back, so she stood up. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a walk.’
She didn’t see it coming, not until his open palm hit her with immense force on one cheek. The noise was like a firecracker going off, and the pain was excruciating. Jasminder stumbled and then fell back into her chair. Tears were running out of one eye and her nose was beginning to bleed; the skin on her face was alternately burning and numb. Kozlov was standing over her, his open palm poised to hit her again, his face a picture of barely controlled fury. He said harshly, ‘All right, you stupid little English bitch. We’ll see what you will and won’t do.’ He called out, ‘Siyamba.’
Within seconds the African man had come back into the room, and Kozlov motioned at the television set. ‘Turn it this way, so she can see,’ he ordered.
The African went over and twisted the screen so it faced the chair. It was the same picture, but this time Jasminder saw it clearly and knew why it was familiar. The row of shops it showed ended in a larger store on the corner, with a sign above its windows: Kapoor & Sons. It was early afternoon in Leicester, and the pavement was crowded with Saturday shoppers. People were going in and out of the Kapoors’ mini-market, and she could imagine the scene inside – one of her brothers would be there, supervising the tills, occasionally going back to the meat counter where the butchers would be working flat out to serve the customers buying their Sunday roasts.
‘You recognise this place, don’t you?’ Kozlov said.
She nodded, confused. Why were these people filming one of her brothers’ shops? What did it mean?
Kozlov went on, his voice low and menacing: ‘We know quite a bit about your family. They’ve done very well, haven’t they? Hard graft, I think the English call it. But they’re proud of their little sister, too, I think. You were the clever one, but you’ve stayed close. It helps, your not having children, I suppose; it keeps you interested in them, and their families.’
There was something ominous in his tone now, though the words were innocuous enough. He said to Siyamba, ‘Switch cameras now.’
The man held a remote in one hand and he clicked it. Immediately the screen shifted, and it took Jasminder a moment to make sense of it. The view now was from a pavement across a leafy, tree-shaded street. On the opposite side there was a gate and what looked to be a playground, with buildings behind it. A group of people, mainly women, waited by the gate; in the background a door opened in the largest building and dozens of small children poured out, then rushed towards the gate.
‘This was yesterday. It’s a school as you can see. Full of lovely little children. All sorts – some white, some black, some Asian. You have a niece called Ali, don’t you?’
The apple of Jasminder’s eye; she liked all her nieces and nephews, but Ali was her favourite. ‘You dote on that child,’ her brother had once said, laughing. ‘But I won’t let you spoil her.’
Kozlov said now, with chilling cheerfulness, ‘I think you may see your niece in a minute.’
Sure enough, from out of the helter-skelter mob of little kids, the camera focused on one who was running ahead, already halfway to the gate. It was Ali, tiny in her little grey blazer and skirt, with a smile of such high-spirited innocence that it tou
ched Jasminder’s heart. The girl suddenly jumped into the waiting arms of her mother – Jasminder’s sister-in-law, Laxme. Then the screen went blank.
‘You see,’ Kozlov said, in a sinister whisper. ‘We know exactly where she is. It would be a terrible thing if Ali had an accident… so I want to give you another chance, just to make sure that little girl can go on running out of school each day to her mother. Shall we have another look at my list?’ He bent down and picked the paper off the floor.
And now Jasminder saw that she would have to say yes after all. She wasn’t going to be doing it for money, or for love – she thought bitterly of how Laurenz had betrayed her. She wasn’t doing it, in fact, for any shameful reasons. She was doing it for Ali – to keep the little girl from harm. She didn’t have any choice.
42
Laurenz was acting like a marriage guidance counsellor, trying to help a client understand that her marriage was over. He said, ‘Things change, Jasminder, and that includes relationships. Think of it like this: we’re entering a new phase. No longer lovers, it’s true, but still close. Terribly close.’
They were sitting in the lounge area of a Lear jet. The owner, a Russian Jasminder hadn’t seen during her brief stay in Bermuda, was not travelling with them; Laurenz said the jet would return for him the following day. So Jasminder and he had the cabin to themselves, and sat opposite each other in the white leather extra-wide seats by the wings. A steward had placed two glasses of champagne on the table in front of them, then retreated discreetly to the galley behind a curtain up by the cockpit. None of the rules of commercial aviation seemed to apply to private jets, for they had bypassed security checks and watched as their bags were put straight into the Lear jet’s hold.
Jasminder hadn’t touched her champagne. She watched Laurenz as he talked on. He didn’t seem aware that her love for him had turned to contempt. Though she was still struggling to take in what had happened to her, still stunned by the transformation in… everything in her life, one thing was clear in her mind: she despised this man. He had played on her emotions to exploit her and now she would do whatever she could to damage him.
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