by T. M. Parris
“You’ve killed people too,” he said.
“Never on a whim. For a purpose! We had a code, Fairchild. Those people, they have none.” He stared out of the window as if glaring down on the Kremlin itself. Then he continued. “It’s not inevitable. People shape events, strong people who step in and influence things. The man they call Grom is a strong person. He is not known, he keeps himself hidden, but he’s at the heart of this. He feeds on the power in the Kremlin. He uses it for his own purposes. He’s a puppeteer, Fairchild. A master puppeteer. He was testing you. He wanted to see what you were made of, what kind of a man you were.”
“And what kind of a man am I?”
“You were not afraid to go into the heart of the battle, and you survived. You are a hunter, strong and fearless. You disagree? This man Grom will be impressed. But he also knows you have weaknesses. He knows what these weaknesses are. He knows,” – Roman swilled his glass – “he knows who these weaknesses are.”
Fairchild drank, feeling the fiery liquid in his mouth. This was exactly what he didn’t want to hear.
“He tricked Rose into going to Lali because he knew I’d go after her. But Roman, I’ve never even seen this man.”
“But maybe he has seen you. You take a lot of pride in being able to hide your feelings. But when you’re not prepared, you give yourself away. I saw it. I saw how you looked at her, when you weren’t expecting her to be there. Only for a moment, but it was enough. Somehow, he’s witnessed this and has realised how you feel about her.”
Fairchild felt his mouth go dry. His gaze went back to the view of Moscow outside. Where was Rose? Had she gone back to her flat? The FSB would surely know where she lived. He glanced around. The heavies were still by the door. Whether he liked it or not, he would be here for as long as Roman wanted him here.
Roman was watching Fairchild, following his thoughts. “Her dealings with you have put her in danger, my friend. This Grom, this Khovansky, I know now it’s the same person, his issue is with you, not her. But he used her to get to you. You might wonder, if you are a problem to him, why he hasn’t just had you killed.”
“He tried,” said Fairchild.
“Ah! But he did not succeed. So now he wants to find out who you are, give you a test. By doing that, he has told us a lot about himself.” Roman paused to pour again. “John, tell me this. Are you a threat to the Russian government?”
Fairchild smiled. “I could be, if somebody paid me enough.”
“Exactly! You do the bidding of others. You’re not a danger in your own right. So why does this Khovansky play these games with you? I tell you why. He has access to a lot of power, in his very-high secret service role. But he is using this power to serve his own ends. He has a grudge against you, because of your parents, because of something they did. Something they did, not you! You were only a child. But he doesn’t care. He still wants to end you, or punish you.”
Fairchild was only half-listening. Why does this Khovansky play these games with you? Why did his parents play games with him? Why were their tricks and riddles so important, their perpetual insistence that he fill his head with knowledge, their constant testing and challenging? He’d often thought, looking back over the years, that they’d been preparing him for something. Now he thought he understood what it was. It was this man: Grom, Khovansky, Sutherland. They anticipated that he would someday come back for them – and for him. They were trying to make sure Fairchild was ready. He wished he could ask his parents about it, find out for sure, but he’d never be able to now.
“How do you know all this?” he asked.
“Ah! Well, while you were away, I had an interesting conversation with someone. A person I didn’t know before, Fairchild. This person, though, had a very good understanding of how things work, how people work. She met him, this Khovansky. And she understood him. Yes, she opened my eyes. Now I understand more fully the situation I’m in.”
She? Fairchild was thinking hard, but there was only one person it could be.
“Kamila?”
Roman’s voice sounded strained. “It was Kamila who persuaded your Rose to walk into the lion’s mouth, you know. But she was only doing it because she was under pressure. This Grom likes to make everyone dance his dance. Meeting Kamila was a great benefit to me. Sadly, she did not survive our encounter.” A shadow crossed his face.
Fairchild thought of the delicate woman he’d met at the reception. It seemed that everyone had under-estimated her. Roman’s response was puzzling, though.
“But Kamila stole from the business, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did. She was clever. More so than I thought.”
“You don’t think it was Kamila who killed your son?”
“Oh, no. Kamila did not kill Alexei. She hated him, but she did not do that.”
“Then who did?”
“Russia killed my son,” said Roman. “The Russia we’ve become. It tempted him in and poisoned him. It turned him bad like it turns everyone bad, and then it wanted more. Grom is one of them. He is one of the worst.”
“But who pulled the trigger?” asked Fairchild quietly.
Roman was looking into the far distance. His words dropped like stones.
“I tried to reason with him. Think of the business, I said. The people we protect, what they need. But he laughed. He didn’t understand where it all came from, before things grew so large, before we became so respectable. I tried to show him, to make him understand, when he was growing up, but I failed. It was my fault.”
He turned to look at Fairchild. “We all have to sacrifice things. But we need to hold in mind what’s important, our role in the lives of others, many others. So I did the most difficult thing a father can do. I sacrificed my own son.”
His eyes filled with tears. It was Fairchild this time who filled the glasses. Silence invaded the room. They both drank. Fairchild stared at the carpet. What Roman had done was gross, horrific, against nature and all human instinct, and yet for him, for the Bear, it made sense.
Eventually the old man spoke. “Was I wrong, my friend? Would you do that? Kill your own kin for something bigger?”
“I really don’t know,” said Fairchild. “I don’t have any kin.”
“So you have no words of comfort for an old man. Well, no matter. I made my own choices. You must be strong too, Fairchild. You must separate yourself from this woman. As long as she’s important to you, she will be in danger.”
Fairchild couldn’t imagine a time when Rose would not be important to him. Roman leaned towards him.
“He will try to destroy you now. He will get to everyone you are close to. He will try even harder, now he knows what you are. And you must end it. You must kill him.”
They both drank, looking at each other.
“Why me?” said Fairchild. “Why don’t you kill him?”
“I’m old. I’m not as strong as I once was. And my men – they’re good and loyal, but they’re street fighters and ruffians. He’s not threatened by such people. He knows them too well. You, on the other hand, are up to the challenge. You are a match for him.”
His voice had become low and gravelly. There was no other sound, no movement in the room. “I will help you. My people, everything I have, we are at your disposal. Take your time. Form a plan. Do your research. Don’t be predictable. Don’t go where he would expect you to go. Stay clean, stay alert, stay alone. And when you finally get to him, when you finally get the chance, when he’s there in front of you, don’t hesitate. Whatever he says. Finish him, otherwise he will finish you. Do you doubt it? Look what he did to your parents, what he tried to do to you. He will try to flatter you and trick you. Don’t give him a chance.”
He poured, set the bottle down and drained the glass. “You need to get out of Moscow. Out of Russia, for now. While you form a plan. He’s too powerful here. I can arrange it. Transport, paperwork. It takes a couple of days. It’s becoming more difficult. You could get these things from government departm
ents if you knew the right people, but it’s more dangerous now. They call it anti-corruption. It means, only government corruption is allowed.”
“Two problems with that,” said Fairchild. “First, I don’t have a couple of days. If what you say about this man is true, I need to get out of Moscow now. Second, so does Rose. She’s in as much danger as me.”
Roman waved his hand. “She’s a diplomat. Her people can get her out.”
“Not necessarily. The Kremlin doesn’t always respect these niceties, especially at times of great international tension. And her people might not realise the situation. I take your point about keeping distance. To be honest, I think that’s something she’ll decide, not me. But I won’t abandon her in the middle of Moscow. It’s my fault she’s in this mess. I at least need to get her out. What she does after that is up to her.”
Roman was weighing it up. “You will promise,” he said. “You will promise to kill him. I made a sacrifice. I did not hesitate. You will do the same.”
He held Fairchild’s gaze with a look of steel.
“I promise,” said Fairchild.
63
Rose walked in through the main entrance of the British Embassy, in doing so putting herself back on the Russian watchers’ radar again. The cash-only back room of a central hotel was a good place to hide, but the FSB would be keeping tabs on who came in and out of here, that was certain. In the secret briefing room were Peter, Zack, and a familiar face she wasn’t expecting at all.
“Walter! I didn’t know you were in Moscow.” They air-kissed as they had last time they met, in a hotel room in Kathmandu. She got a strong whiff of his familiar after-shave. He seemed out of place here, with his small spectacles and threadbare brown jacket. He looked more like a retired academic on an historical city break.
“Didn’t John tell you I was here?” he asked. He watched her response carefully. Walter was getting on these days, but she knew from experience that he didn’t miss much.
“No, he didn’t.”
He registered this as though he’d consider later whether he believed it or not.
Rose’s debrief was shorter than she thought it would be. They didn’t need the everyday detail of how they all tried to survive the siege. She met some people, they died. Done. Of more interest was the Georgian defence, the Russian forces. But what she knew here was more limited, and out of date by now anyway.
Then it was her turn to ask. “So what’s the likely outcome? How long can this stalemate carry on? Surely there’ll be some intervention.”
Zack got in first. “Well, you know how this works. Everyone condemns it, then sits on their butts and waits for the USA to lead. Right? Even though this is basically Europe.”
“It’s not Europe, Zack.” This was Peter. “Georgia links Russia with the Black Sea and Turkey. What’s the other side of Turkey? Iraq. Iran. Beyond that, Saudi Arabia. These are places the USA has no interest in?”
“Okay, okay, it matters to us. But it matters to you guys as well. You just don’t want to do what it takes. What’s the point having armed forces if you don’t use them?”
Peter shrugged. “That’s up to the politicians, but direct military engagement risks the situation escalating. There’s more interest in squeezing Russia even tighter on sanctions.”
“Sanctions, right. That sure scared them after they invaded Crimea. Which they still occupy, by the way. So scared a couple of them turned up in some small town in England to carry out a hit under your noses.”
“The UK has plenty of issues with Russia and we’re not pulling any diplomatic punches. That episode damaged them, as you know, Zack, because we spoke out about it. But the view in Westminster and elsewhere seems to be that direct military intervention isn’t in the public interest at this time. In the meantime there are active negotiations going on for a ceasefire.”
Rose came in. “So that’s the official position. What about unofficially?”
“Yeah, well, discussions are being had,” said Zack.
She felt the need to press the point. “I mean, this isn’t a separatist issue like Chechnya. Georgia is actually an independent country.”
“So’s Ukraine,” said Zack.
“And it’s a neighbour of the EU, across the Black sea from Bulgaria and Romania.”
“So’s Ukraine,” repeated Zack.
“Conversations are ongoing,” said Peter firmly. “And all of these things are being talked about.”
Zack shifted impatiently in his inadequately-sized chair while Peter continued.
“What’s more relevant to Rose is the circumstance that took you to Georgia in the first place and what that means.”
“Well, clearly that was a trap,” said Rose. “Engineered by the FSB officer who’s the Morozov liaison. Known as Grom, probably also known as Mikhail Khovansky. Kamila was under pressure to persuade me to meet him in Tbilisi. She was looking out for herself, and I’m not sure she had much of a choice. Did Roman catch up with her?”
“Unfortunately for her, yes,” said Peter. “Our police contacts tell us she was found dead a couple of days ago at an industrial unit in the outskirts of Moscow. Shot in the chest and head. A clean kill. An execution.”
Rose thought of their last conversation, probably in the same place where she died. Kamila was so focused, so keen to make it work, pull herself up from a past of such heavy tragedy, find some meaning and happiness. But even then it had seemed fragile. Ultimately she was, like so many women, crushed underfoot by the will and aggression of the men around her, her life unimportant compared with their struggles.
“Are we sure it was Roman?” she asked. “It could have been Grom.”
“The police seem to think it was Roman, although they’re struggling to track down any witnesses. They don’t seem to be in any hurry to make an arrest. Roman has taken over the Morozov business. Asserted control, we’re told.”
“That won’t please Grom very much,” said Rose. “He had Morozov in his hand. You’d think he’d want to get rid of Roman. A murder conviction would do the job nicely.”
“What we need to understand,” said Peter, “is how the Russians pulled off such a feat of misdirection. They masked this invasion from us completely.”
“I think I can help there,” said Walter. “Clearly they’ve been planning it for some time and set up the training manoeuvres as a smoke screen. But as well as that, the Kremlin has the benefit of a sharp and duplicitous mind. Someone who knows exactly how to appear to give people what they want.”
“You’re not trying to claim that he doesn’t exist, then?” said Rose. “You’re talking as if you know him, Walter.”
“What did John say to you about him?” asked Walter.
“He thinks this guy killed his parents. And that he recently tried to kill Fairchild himself. That’s all.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
Walter fell silent. Peter looked towards Zack, and then back to Walter. Zack sat up in his chair.
“Is this British-speak for you’d like me to leave? Look, whatever Fairchild knows he’ll tell me, so I’ll find out anyway. He knows the guy’s real. He tried to have Fairchild killed. That’s real enough, isn’t it? So don’t mind me.”
“It might be useful to have him here, Peter,” said Walter. “If he can treat certain things confidentially? Avoid posting them on the CIA intranet, ideally?”
Zack waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah.” It was the best they were going to get.
“So we’re calling Fairchild by his name now, are we?” asked Rose.
Peter stepped in. “We conversed earlier about our work with the Morozovs and there was mention of a contractor, but no mention by name. That contractor is no longer working for any of us, is he, Zack?”
“Nope. Went off the job a few weeks ago.”
Rose looked at Peter. “So who sent him to Lali?”
“Well, he must have gone for his own reasons,” said Peter. “We’re discussing him now because he’s
very pertinent to this new threat which has emerged.”
“For his own reasons? You mean, you didn’t send him? You said you’d speak to some people, see if you could get me out.”
“And I did,” Peter said. “But it didn’t go anywhere, I’m afraid. I couldn’t get a confidential message through to let you know. It was considered too high-risk, the chances of the British being seen to be involved. And if it went wrong, questions would be asked about what you were doing there, of course.”
“So why was he there?” Rose asked.
“Didn’t he tell you, my dear?” asked Walter.
“I just assumed he’d been sent. That he was on a job.”
“You really don’t know?” asked Zack. He looked at the others. “This is one of your best people? And she doesn’t know that?”
Walter came in. “I think what Zack is saying is that you have yourself a guardian angel, my dear. I did suggest something like this earlier, I believe. When we last met?”
She felt her neck and ears going red. This again? “For Christ’s sake. I could have got myself out of there if I’d had to.”
“So why didn’t you?” asked Peter.
Rose had no answer.
“The point is,” continued Walter, “Grom, Khovansky – I think we can assume it’s the same person – his modus operandi suggests that he is indeed the Soviet agent who managed to infiltrate MI6 and work for us decades back, during the Cold War.”
Rose thought she’d misheard. “Excuse me? Khovansky worked for MI6?”
“Get out of town!” said Zack. “A British spy turned out to be a Soviet double-agent? There must be a special club for them all over here. If I put that on the CIA intranet, people will yawn.”
“Yes, all right, thanks Zack,” said Peter.
“But this is different, though,” said Rose. You’re saying this guy wasn’t even British? That he was Russian?”
“Why don’t we let Walter carry on?” suggested Peter.
Walter did. “This officer was known to John’s parents during their days in the Service. His name then was Gregory Sutherland. The Fairchilds investigated him. But the investigation ceased because Sutherland died in a car crash. The Fairchilds formulated the theory that his British identity and his death were both faked, and that he returned to the Soviet Union and became active within the KGB. I have to say I had some sympathy with that view, though others considered it far-fetched.”