No Time for Heroes cad-3

by Brian Freemantle

  Apart from Gusovsky and Yerin the room, set with four other tables, was empty. Again there was no evidence of any food before either man, although there was a wine bottle and two already filled glasses. As Danilov sat, Gusovsky poured wine into the third.

  ‘We’ve been trying to make contact,’ announced Gusovsky. The overlarge dentures were displayed in a supposed smile.

  ‘I’ve been busy,’ said Danilov. There really wasn’t a lot to say, but they had to be too frightened at the end even to begin thinking clearly. He knew they would be.

  ‘We know,’ said Yerin. ‘Why was Mikhail Antipov arrested?’

  ‘Because you used a careless man,’ said Danilov. ‘Which I warned you about. Antipov made mistakes: dropped clues that couldn’t be missed. He had to be arrested.’

  ‘We didn’t begin well last time,’ said Gusovsky. ‘We want to establish our relationship properly tonight. That’s what we’re meeting for, isn’t it?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Danilov. The humility must have taken a supreme effort of will from the emaciated man.

  ‘We’re concerned about the mistakes Antipov has made,’ conceded Yerin, in his carefully enunciated tones. ‘Not just before but after his arrest.’

  ‘You should be.’

  ‘Please don’t be so aggressive,’ said the blind man.

  ‘I want you to understand how serious it is, for you…’ Danilov hesitated. ‘… Personally serious.’

  Gusovsky topped up Danilov’s glass. ‘That’s precisely what we want to understand.’

  ‘He’s named you: both of you. Zimin too, obviously. Told me everything he knows, in fact. Hierarchy, structure, at least twenty other names. All your locations of which he’s aware. Rackets. What the operations are. Identified hits you’ve ordered. With his evidence – and what could come out in Italy – the Chechen won’t exist any more. You two – and a lot of others – could go to jail for life. You’d be finished.’ Danilov supposed he was in the Federal Prosecutor’s position, the previous day: looking at the truth through the turned-around telescope. And it was the truth: in his panic to mitigate what might happen to him, Antipov had talked of every one of those things, in as much detail as he knew. Knowing he had to swamp them with a lot of that detail to satisfy them he did know, Danilov gave examples, selecting three murders – of other Mafia members – at random and itemising airport heists and hotels where they ran the prostitutes, taking particular care to include Lena Zurov to let them know their photographic blackmail had been further reduced.

  They were swamped. So completely that, when Danilov finished, Gusovsky turned speechless for response to the blind Yerin, seeming to have forgotten the sightless man could not see the gesture.

  It was Yerin who did speak, recovering first. ‘You’ve come here.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘“Told me,”’ echoed Yerin, verbatim, having identified another qualification in what Danilov had said.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Danilov. The blind man was very definitely the cleverer of the two Mafia chiefs.

  ‘“ Could go to jail for life,”’ continued to isolate the other man.

  ‘Yes,’ said Danilov, for the third time.

  ‘So it could all be avoided?’ said Yerin.

  ‘I think so,’ declared Danilov simply.

  Tension eased from both men, as if the too-taut wires supporting them had been slightly relaxed. ‘You’d better tell us how,’ said Gusovsky. The resonant voice was still hoarse, from the shock of all he had been told.

  ‘It wasn’t possible for Antipov to tell us all he did, at one session,’ said Danilov, embarking on the unchallengeable lies. ‘It took a long time: one of the many reasons I couldn’t come any sooner. I was careful, how the interviews were conducted. It would be extremely easy to prepare Antipov’s final confession in a selective way.’

  Gusovsky smiled in understanding. ‘How selective?’

  ‘He has to go before a court. There has to be public satisfaction in America that the murders there have been solved and the killer convicted. But neither of you need personally be mentioned. We could cut out a lot of the other names, too. And most of the detail. It was the Ostankino who were involved with Serov and Paulac, not you. That Family could be substituted, a lot of the time…’

  There were expressions of satisfaction from both men. Yerin said: ‘You’re talking of satisfying American opinion. Does Cowley know about your meeting us? About this conversation?’

  Definitely the cleverer, thought Danilov. This was probably going to be the most difficult part. ‘You have some photographs of him, with the dead woman. And of my wife with her, as well.’

  The smiles went, replaced by expressions of wariness. Gusovsky said: ‘So that’s the exchange? The photographs – and the negatives, of course – for selectively presenting Antipov’s evidence?’

  ‘No,’ said Danilov, causing the confusion he wanted.

  ‘What then?’ frowned Gusovsky.

  ‘We haven’t talked yet of Switzerland,’ reminded Danilov.

  ‘We were going to,’ promised Yerin.

  ‘Let’s do it now,’ suggested Danilov. Already knowing the answer but having to ask the question, he said: ‘Did you try to access the account?’

  ‘It’s blocked,’ said Gusovsky.

  ‘With thirty million dollars in it,’ enticed Danilov.

  ‘At your last meeting you said you controlled it,’ said Yerin.

  ‘It becomes unfrozen the moment I officially inform the Swiss government the investigation is complete. Which it is,’ said Danilov.

  ‘Go on,’ urged Gusovsky, beginning to smile again.

  ‘The government are going to recover it. The bureaucracy will take time. I’m involved at every stage, but not directly responsible, if that bureaucracy goes wrong. Which bureaucracy often does… So I can orchestrate everything. I’ll trigger the release the day after tomorrow. You’ve got the replacement Founder’s Certificate: present it at the opening of financial trading that day. It will take a further day to be formally registered…’ He paused, wanting the announcement to be dramatic. ‘… Four days from now, at the opening of trading in Switzerland, you’ll have unrestricted control of thirty million dollars, maybe for as long as a week. It won’t take you more than a week to move it all somewhere else, will it?’

  Again – although more briefly this time – the Mafia leaders didn’t speak. But again it was Yerin who did break the silence. ‘I think we could probably do it in under a day.’

  ‘So what’s the deal you want?’ persisted Gusovsky.

  ‘I can’t suppress or edit the evidence alone. Or by myself create the untraceable delay in recovering the money. There’ll have to be substantial payments to others,’ declared Danilov. ‘I want a very substantial payment, for myself and for the others involved, a week from now…’ He allowed the brief silence, although it was obvious he had not finished speaking. ‘… And I want, before I do anything about the money in Switzerland or about adjusting the statements that incriminate you, all the photographs and all the negatives…’ He allowed himself to smile at last. ‘It’ll be payment in two parts: photographs first, then money. How does that seem?’

  ‘I think that’s very fair,’ said Gusovsky, without bothering to consult the other man.

  ‘We haven’t decided what substantial means,’ said Danilov.

  ‘What’s your figure?’ asked Yerin.

  ‘What’s yours?’ bargained Danilov.

  ‘Our relationship is to be ongoing?’ said Yerin.

  ‘That’s what we both want, isn’t it?’ said Danilov.

  ‘How about a clear million dollars from the Swiss money?’ sugested Yerin. ‘We’ll fix a permanent weekly retainer: no need to hurry about that, we’ll decide the figure when all this is settled. But it’ll be good; very good. You name the Western car you want and you get it. Anything, in fact – clothes for your wife, whatever you want for your home. You’re never going to have to worry about anything for the rest of your li
fe…’

  Was this the sort of arrangement Kosov, cringing outside, enjoyed? He had the car, and there was always the wad of dollars. ‘A clear million?’ qualified Danilov. It would be wrong to appear overwhelmed, although he was. ‘Deposited in Switzerland, I think.’

  Gusovsky nodded. ‘How much, for the others?’

  ‘Two-hundred-and-fifty thousand.’

  ‘Is Cowley one of those others?’

  ‘Additional.’

  ‘So he knows?’ said Yerin.

  ‘How could he not know?’

  ‘What does he say?’ asked Gusovsky.

  ‘All that is necessary for America is a conviction for the two Washington murders. He has no interest in anything else: anything in Russia. Unless, of course, it’s forced upon him.’

  Yerin gave a hunch of his shoulders at the threat, as if he were laughing, although he didn’t. ‘What does he want?’

  Danilov smiled. ‘To hear the outcome of my meeting with you today.’

  ‘Suggest half a million,’ said Gusovsky. He stretched across the table, offering his hand. ‘This is going to be a very good arrangement.’

  Danilov completed the handshake. Yerin extended his hand, sensing his partner’s gesture, and Danilov shook that as well, then said: ‘There is one problem, of course. Antipov will know his statement has been tampered with, when he gets to court. He’s made it as full as he has, to get a prosecuting deal.’

  ‘ His problem,’ said Gusovsky at once. ‘You’ve got access to him: remind him we forgive him, so far. But just this far. He’s to take things the way they’re presented, to the prosecutor and then in court. He’ll have to serve some time, after the sentencing, until he’s forgotten in the system. Then we’ll get him out and he’ll be looked after very well. He knows it’s possible, because he’s helped us do it before…’ The thin man stopped and Yerin took over, almost as if they had prepared themselves, which Danilov accepted wouldn’t have been possible.

  Yerin said: ‘If he doesn’t – if he argues or thinks he can get a better deal from the authorities – you tell him we will have him killed. Not at once. For as long as it pleases us there won’t be a moment when he’ll be safe from attack: not even if he goes into solitary confinement. And he will be attacked. Badly. He’ll be crippled and he’ll be blinded and then he’ll be killed. You tell him all those things, just like I’ve told you. He’ll believe it because he knows we can do it.’

  Danilov certainly believed it. Antipov would be tortured and killed: so would Maksim Zimin, when they learned the man was being brought back from Italy after his trial there. Danilov didn’t think any precaution or protection he tried to evolve would prevent it happening. ‘I’ll make sure he understands.’

  ‘A very good arrangement,’ repeated Gusovsky.

  ‘I want it even better,’ said Danilov. ‘I don’t see any reason to go on arranging our meetings through Yevgennie Kosov. You’ll have my direct line. I want always to be able to contact you quickly…’ Danilov finished the demand by offering the card with his Petrovka number.

  Gusovsky at once responded with the number Danilov already had, of the house at Kutbysevskij Prospekt.

  ‘And I’d like the photographs and negatives. Tomorrow. They’re no further use to you, now we’ve reached this understanding.’

  ‘None at all,’ agreed Yerin. ‘Best got out of the way. Forgotten.’

  ‘Be our guests for lunch here,’ suggested Gusovsky.

  ‘I’d like that,’ accepted Danilov.

  ‘Will the American join us?’ invited Gusovsky.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted.’

  ‘It could be a really good arrangement,’ said Gusovsky.

  ‘The best,’ agreed Yerin. ‘By releasing the photographs, we get the money. From it we can easily pay out less than two million dollars to get not just one but two investigators on the payroll. Once we create an account for Danilov in Switzerland, he’s ours. We can bargain the details of wherever we pay Cowley his money to the Genovese in New York, which gives them a senior executive in the FBI. It’s perfect! And it doesn’t cost us a single kopek!’

  ‘Antipov will have to be killed before any trial,’ said Gusovsky conversationally. ‘We obviously can’t take the chance of his staying alive. Danilov will have to organise that, the moment he’s taken the money and committed himself: he’ll have to arrange for the bastard to be held where we can most easily get to him.’

  ‘Let’s hope the Liccio people can get to Zimin, like they say.’

  ‘That would make it complete, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘More than complete,’ agreed Yerin. ‘We’ll have won absolutely.’

  ‘There’s no-one in the world who can’t be bought,’ said Gusovsky, wistfully.

  ‘Let’s hope there never is,’ said Yerin.

  ‘You think they want to gloat, having me personally accept photographs of my dick in a whore’s mouth?’

  ‘Probably,’ accepted Danilov.

  ‘I’ve never met Mafia dons. Punks, yes. But never dons.’

  ‘You want to know something?’ said Danilov rhetorically. ‘They frighten the shit out of me.’

  ‘So what’s it going to be like, later?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Danilov, still honest. ‘There’s not much they can do.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘There’s only one way I can go now.’

  ‘Kosov going to be with us tomorrow?’

  Danilov shook his head. ‘He almost wet himself with relief, on the way back. But it was a great recovery. Before we got here, he was making plans for what it was going to be like when he’s transferred and we’re a team.’

  ‘You any idea until today he was on the sort of deal they talked about with you?’

  ‘There was the car,’ said Danilov. ‘But no, not really.’

  ‘It occur to you we could handle this another way?’ asked Cowley, solemn-faced. ‘That we could accept the money?’

  ‘From the moment it was offered,’ replied Danilov, just as seriously.

  ‘The Medal of Valour!’ exclaimed Rafferty, reading the FBI internal bulletin. ‘A Russian’s going to get the Medal of Valour. What about us guys who stayed at home and did all the mix-and-match stuff!’

  Johannsen grimaced at the apparent resentment. ‘Stayed at home, safe and warm,’ he pointed out. ‘Not sat on our asses in the Sicilian dirt and got shot at with wolf guns.’

  Rafferty pulled down the corners of his mouth, apologetically. ‘Just talking, that’s all. Just talking.’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  The notification of the award was duplicated to Cowley, who reached Danilov at Petrovka slightly ahead of the official advice from the Foreign Ministry, to which it had been formally communicated by Washington. Cowley made the congratulations light, saying if Danilov kept thinking the way they’d both been doing before they’d parted the previous night, he could be the richest honorary FBI agent in history. The Foreign Ministry message was signed personally by Sergei Vorobie, who along with his congratulations called it an honour of which they were all proud: the information was being released to the press. Danilov telephoned Larissa before Olga with the news. Larissa said it was wonderful and could she tell everyone: Olga asked if it was just a medal or whether a cash award went with it.

  During the morning, while he was arranging the following day’s trip to Switzerland with Raisa Serova, congratulatory notes arrived from the Deputy Minister and the Federal Prosecutor. Nikolai Smolin repeated the praise when they spoke, for Danilov to learn that a Foreign Ministry lawyer would accompany him, carrying the Russian documentation in support of the official American release of the Svahbodniy corporation. When Danilov telephoned, Heinrich Bloch said that as well as Cowley, the American side was going to be represented by a legal team from the US embassy in Bern: the small luncheon party he had arranged, prior to the formalities, could now be extended into a small celebration for the American recognition of bravery, of which he’d
just heard. He added his congratulations, too.

  Despite the interruptions, Danilov still reached the Savoy in time for a drink with the American before they had to go to Glovin Bol’soj. They talked generally about the forthcoming encounter but agreed there was no purpose in the advance preparation that had gone into their interrogations in Rome and Moscow: the last thing they could appear to be doing that day was interrogating anyone. As a worried afterthought, Danilov asked Cowley if he’d fitted himself with any recording apparatus. Cowley said he hadn’t.

  On their way to the Mafia restaurant Cowley disclosed Washington were pressing for a return date; he’d vaguely indicated another fortnight, but guessed it could probably be sooner. Danilov had grown so accustomed to spending most of the day and many evenings with the American it was difficult to imagine their not being together much longer. The thought seemed to be with the American, too. He said he looked forward to their meeting in Rome for the eventual trial there, although he guessed the restrictive security under which they would have to live would become a pain in the ass after a while. It reminded him to pass on that David Patton was on day release from hospital: the story was he’d a DEA headquarter’s job when he was fully recovered. Patton had also sent a message of congratulation about the medal, through the embassy. Of them all, it was the one Danilov appreciated most.

  Their reception at Glovin Bol’soj was extreme, the courtesy and smiles stopping just inches short of patronage. Cowley decided they did want to gloat, and that all the men who nodded and grinned broadly at him, as he walked through the restaurant to the private rear room, probably had seen the photographs of him with his dick in a whore’s mouth. Lena Zurov had died because of him, Cowley thought, in familiar recrimination. She hadn’t been a whore, despite her profession: she’d been a chosen victim, like he’d been a chosen victim. He was sure he was going to enjoy – savour – what was going to come.