Red Star Burning cm-15
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Charlie’s first awareness was of sound, not voices, and he hoped his eyes hadn’t flickered: weren’t flickering, now he was consciously keeping them closed. There was some pain, probably where he’d fallen, but not a lot: mostly he still felt numbed and didn’t know why. Didn’t understand much at all, although he could remember what had happened: Briddle with a gun in his hand, Halliday behind, arms outstretched as he ran forward, the shots-a lot of shots, impossible to count because of the echoing reverberations, falling-falling, although he hadn’t wanted to fall, not able to save himself because he was so numb. He could distinguish voices now; Russian, but he couldn’t properly determine the words. It was as if they were talking softly, whispering even: couldn’t understand why they were doing that, either. He tried to tense his body but not visibly move, to discover if he was restrained, but the numbness wouldn’t let him. Please don’t let me be paralyzed. Why should he be paralyzed?
“Why don’t you open your eyes?” came a voice, loud now, which strangely Charlie believed he recognized.
Charlie did but couldn’t focus: several people, some in uniforms, a small room, a bed. He was in a hospital. His vision cleared, intermittently. Mikhail Guzov, the FSB colonel he’d outwitted and beaten to expose the Lvov plot, was at the end of the bed, smiling down at him.
“We’re going to be together for a long time, you and I,” said Guzov. “Let’s start properly, shall we? How shall I call you? Malcolm Stoat, as you were listed on the Amsterdam plane? David Merryweather, as you were booked on the Finnair and MEA flights? Or Charlie Muffin?”
“Why don’t…” started Charlie but stopped, his voice cracking. He cleared it. “Why don’t you take your pick?”
“Charlie, I think. That’s what the two we’ve got in custody call you.”
Sasha didn’t know his name, snatched Charlie. Natalia and Sasha had got away! It had to be Briddle and Halliday. “Charlie’s fine.”
“You’re right, you are fine,” agreed the Russian. “The bullet, a bullet from your own side we think, went straight through your lower shoulder, didn’t even hit a bone. You were knocked unconscious from the impact shock: that’s still affecting you now, according to the doctors. But they say you’ll be up and about in a week, able to tell me all I want to know.”
Now wasn’t the moment to argue: finding out about Natalia and Sasha was the only thing that mattered. “What about the others?”
“Not so fine. The two colleagues coming for you, Briddle and Halliday according to the identification they were carrying, are both dead. So’s a Russian militia officer: another one’s badly wounded. So is an Arab who was in the line behind you.”
Who were the two colleagues who’d been arrested? “I’m surprised those you’ve got are talking so readily. What did you do to them?”
“Nothing.” Guzov smiled. “It’s amazing how fear affects some people. What about you, Charlie. Are you going to tell me so readily all I want to know?”
“I don’t know anything there is to tell you.”
“I do, Charlie. I’ve got a very long list.”
“What happened? The truth: you must tell me the truth, not lie.”
“There was an incident, a mistake. Caused by our own people,” said Aubrey Smith.
“What sort of incident?” persisted Natalia.
The Director-General hesitated.
“The truth,” she demanded.
“Some shooting.”
“Was Charlie shot?”
“Yes.”
Now it was Natalia who hesitated, lips tightly together. “Is he dead?”
“We don’t think so.”
“I know a lot about Stepan Lvov. It’s not right, what you think you know. You’ll make mistakes; are already making mistakes.”
“We want you to tell us about that, Natalia: to tell us all you know.”
Natalia shook her head. “Get Charlie out. I’ll tell you nothing until you get Charlie out. Then you’ll get everything. Save everything. But Charlie’s got to be saved first.”
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-9b4f2e-8b13-234f-93bb-2617-f514-447aa2
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 14.10.2012
Created using: calibre 0.9.2, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Brian Freemantle
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